#it's just going to take some time and also the war for them to mature into the power couple that drives the fixing part of fix-it

[brightclothesforwinter]

Sneaking in right under the wire (it's 23:15 on the 21st where I am!) for @mdzswomen's week 3 - I'd only just been talking about the yanqing fix-it AU which is at least 50% an excuse to bang on about TCM, so when I saw that one of the themes was 'healing' that was obviously a sign.

So here's the very beginning, I make no promises about ever getting to the end, I am excruciatingly slow as a writer, but I think works OK as a self-contained piece in the meantime.

.

It happens like this: Wen-Zongzhu sends Wen Qing to the Cloud Recesses, to investigate their defences. Identify points of interest. She goes, because she must, her family's safety always held over her head, her little brother at her heels because that is all the concession she can wring.

She has her mission, which she cannot reject nor fail at.

She also has her calling as a physician, and even Wen-Zongzhu would not lightly command her to set that aside. He understands the levers of filial loyalty too well for that.

. . .

Wen Chao is not subtle, delivering them to the Cloud Recesses.

Wen Qing is extremely subtle. She wears a guest disciple's robes; encourages her brother to attend lectures on the men's side as she does on the women's. She is as confident as she can be in his safety, here, this quiet place set aside from the world, with its rules standing carven in changeless stone and apply equally to all. As siblings, they are granted guest quarters set between the two sides, allowing each family a little privacy.

Thus the Jiang are their neighbours, and Jiang Yanli is sweet and kind and friendly, and, to Wen Qing's trained eye, obviously unwell. She tires easily; pauses for breath on the steep paths where a stronger cultivator would not need to, and on some mornings she moves as stiffly as a much older woman. To have friends is a dangerous thing, in the Nightless City. But here - Wen-Zongzhu's plans will surely pose danger to Jiang-Zongzhu's only daughter, in the fullness of time, but Wen Qing's friendship will at least not make that danger worse. She cannot let her guard down - she can never let her guard down - but in this time, in this place, she need not be quite so guarded.

Should Wen-Zongzhu ever ask, she can say plainly and truthfully that she felt it wise to maintain a friendly facade, to avoid suspicion, and that she also felt there might be some value in gathering what observations she could of the Jiang sibilings, who can be expected to go on to be leader and first disciple of one Great Sect, and mistress of another.

As a physician and a friend, she offers, delicately, to examine Jiang Yanli.

Jiang Yanli has been examined and treated by any number of doctors. The flow of qi in her meridians is sluggish, her core correspondingly underdeveloped. She has been prescribed, at various times, exercises to stimulate qi movement, exercises to slow qi movement, and several entirely contradictory herbs; one of the ones she's been taking is probably partly responsible for the shortness of breath. It's obvious her esteemed professional colleagues have been grasping at straws.

It is not at all clear quite what is wrong with her meridians, but certainly something is. Were her core stronger, she would be at serious risk of qi deviation. Had certain of her prescribed treatments been effective, they would have caused a qi deviation. The blockages are partial and specific; at certain points, qi flow is restricted, and the regular core-strengthening exercises taught to cultivators' children have erratic results.

'A bit like a hydraulic dam,' Jiang Yanli says, explaining Wen Qing's findings to her brothers. The metaphor would not have occurred to her, but Wen Qing supposes it is natural to Lotus Pier's children to think first of water.

A-Ning is somewhat distressingly impressed with Jiang Yanli's shidi; his confidence, mostly, but also his innovative thought-processes. He is, she will grudgingly admit, intelligent and creative, at least when it comes to matters not involving Lan-er-gongzi. And he is in fine form now, theorising noisily aloud and messily on paper, while Wen Ning grinds ink and Wen Qing intervenes when his lack of medical knowledge leads his flights of fancy too far astray.

She is sharp-tongued by habit, but he seems, if anything, grateful to be corrected - his grin is quite indecorous - and Jiang Yanli's smile is soft, watching them all. It is possible Wei Wuxian is as brilliant in his own field as she is in hers. It is possible that together they can come up with something which might not do more harm than good.

'You do both like a challenge,' Jiang Yanli says, gentle and amused, as she draws Jiang Wanyin away from the increasingly involved discussion.

Jiang Wanyin is the most reserved; the most aware, despite being youngest, of the prospect that war will divide them. Not that Yanli-mei is unaware, but she chooses to take the moments they have, to offer friendship now, and leave the things that must divide them to their own time.

Wei Wuxian quite possibly does not think beyond the current moment. It is possible that without the project to help his beloved sect-sister keeping his mind occupied, he would be getting into even more trouble, from restless boredom and what she suspects isn't so much an inability to grasp the concept of decorum, but the inability to remember, in the pinch, that it matters.

They are unlike anyone she has ever known. His brilliance would not have saved him from his inability to play politics, among the Wen, and what would have become of Yanli-mei's gentleness doesn't bear thinking about. Jiang Wanyin might, perhaps, have learnt to curb his temper into bitter viciousness before he pulled the tiger's tail too hard.

There are dozens of arrays the Jiang use for the general purpose of clearing the river-ways. Some are ancient, passed down through the generations; others, Wei Wuxian has already had a hand in refining. They are, she learns, different for an obstruction which is floating or submerged, partial or complete, if it is of earth or of wood, or some combination. There is one for metal, mostly employed in retrieving dropped tools, several which put her in mind of the greater yang meridians, but are apparently employed in particular hydrological circumstances she still doesn't entirely grasp despite an enthusiastic attempt to make a miniature demonstration in sand, and one untested and entirely theoretical creation of Wei Wuxian's which he claims would be effective in the deeply implausible scenario that the flow of the river was somehow blocked by fire.

Implausible as a behaviour of physical geography, at least. As a political statement, that time may well come. And as an analogy to the flow of qi and the functioning of the body - the river-management arrays are the key she needs.

. . .

Wei Wuxian is protective; Jiang Wanyin is brusquely sceptical; Yanli-mei is steadfast and resolute. "Let us," she says quietly, "attempt the impossible."

Wen Qing is cautious. The first treatment is brief, tentative, the application of the smallest amount of energy she can muster to one of the blockages of the liver meridian. It is appropriate in function, it is a faint meridian, and most importantly for this experiment, it is a yin meridian; her own cultivation energies suffice, filtered through an array they have adapted from one which would be used to break up a submerged partial blockage of wood in circumstances where the disruption downstream must be minimised. She carries out the treatment at the hour of the sheep, when it will have the mildest possible effect, with all three of their brothers waiting anxiously on the other side of the privacy screen.

The liver meridian opens into the eyes. When Yanli-mei opens eyes just a little brighter, Wen Qing believes that it has worked.

When she actually snaps at her brothers for fussing over her, she is certain; the liver is also the seat of anger.

Nonetheless, she chases the boys away again, examines her patient's pulse and tongue, and traces the meridian from toe to crown before she pronounces their experiment a tentative success.

It is fortunate they did not attempt this experiment at the hour of the ox; Wei Wuxian actually whoops in triumph.

For the next few days, Wen Qing attends the women's lectures, observes her patient, and documents her process. Wen-Zongzhu gave instructions regarding the secrecy of her mission here, but none concerning any unexpected advances in medical cultivation. Nor is it something he is at all likely to enquire about, afterwards. She takes a copy to the Lan healers, for their knowledge and their archives; speaks quietly and respectfully, and tells them she feels it is always wise to keep multiple copies of such things. She dare not give voice to any more direct warning, but perhaps it will be enough.

They concur with her plan to address Yanli-mei's meridians by pairs, which if nothing else speaks well of their competence. There will be imbalances over the proposed six days of treatment, but to address all in one day cycle would be excessively strenuous for both patient and healers.

One of the Lan healers is a tall, quiet woman who - with obvious discomfort - describes herself as 'uniquely qualified' to assist with the yang-dominant meridians for the sake of decorum; Wen Qing thanks her kindly, but says she is accustomed to working with A-Ning, and that Yanli-mei's brothers are surely suitable chaperones. Delicacy and precision matter more for this than cultivation power or healing skill, and she is accustomed to directing him. That, too, is a hint, perhaps; that her didi has more skills than grinding her inks, brewing her herbs, and preserving her reputation as a young woman among men.

She leaves with a copy of one of their oldest and most poetically obscure treatises on healing, an invitation to study their other medical texts, and written permission for the five of them to rise at the hour of the tiger, to most effectively begin the treatments of the lung meridian.

. . .

Even in summer, the tiger hour is dark; when she and A-Ning cross the courtyard to the Jiangs' guest-house, and here on the mountain-side it is even a little cool.

Jiang Wanyin is groggy, grumpy, afraid for his sister, and trying with limited success to conceal all three. Wei Wuxian has obviously not slept at all, and can apparently keep quiet or still but not both. And Yanli-mei - her face is a pretty mask. A stranger would think her neither tired nor anxious, but she is brewing tea, and steaming sweet buns she must have prepared last night. Yanli-mei's anxieties manifest in food, drink, and practical matters, just as her discomfort manifests in warm politeness.

Even with a limited palette of ingredients, she is an exquisite cook. It speaks, perhaps, to a childhood less idyllically carefree than Wen Qing first thought.

The existing river-clearing array for metal prioritised intact recovery of valuable tools; the synthesis to one which would break down harmlessly was predominantly Wei Wuxian's work, checked over by Jiang Wanyin with his more reliable eye for detail. She has had them both check over her own work, the further conversion from the hydrological context to the medical.

She works methodically. The Jiangs have been at pains to warn that clearing a blockage upstream risks flooding - or in this case, qi deviation - downstream; she works in reverse, from the thumbs to the triple-burner, opening each blockage only a little on the first pass. It takes three passes, overall, and Yanli-mei slips into a drowsy doze, though this cannot be comfortable. The hour is almost over by the time she can remove her needles and rouse her patient.

Beyond the screen, their brothers have fallen quiet. Perhaps sleeping. She is the only one who hears Yanli-mei whisper, "it's so unfair," with tears welling in her dark eyes.

"It is," Wen Qing whispers back, holding her close. It might be her health, the incompetence of her previous doctors, whatever family trouble it is that has left her so inclined to make herself small, to show her love in practical ways, to wear a smiling face and play the peacemaker. It might be something else entirely, but Wen Qing does not for a moment doubt that it is unfair. Many things are.

The moment passes, as these moments do. Yanli-mei steadies her breath; dries her eyes. Presses her palms together as if to apologise -

- Wen Qing catches her forearms. "The lungs are the seat of grief. It is natural that your buried griefs would surface. It will pass."

Yanli-mei nods. "It is better," she says quietly, "that we are here."

And not in Yunmeng.

They wake their brothers; Jiang Wanyin gruffly insists on taking charge of the brewing of fresh tea. Outside, the dawn is breaking.

It requires several folded blankets and a certain amount of experimentation to position Yanli-mei so that she is sitting comfortably enough, but Wen Qing is still able to place all the necessary needles. Only when they are both satisfied does she call A-Ning and move the screen aside. She would sooner not have the distraction, but decorum is better satisfied if Yanli-mei's brothers are present and able to swear there has been nothing untoward; their word will carry more weight than hers.

There is nothing indecorous about the process, even by non-medical standards. Each array is bound to a pair of needles; A-Ning sits at the table where they are laid out, weighted down by pebbles from the courtyard garden, and applies power as Wen Qing directs. She is distantly conscious of the weight of Yanli-mei's brothers' attention, aware enough of Yanli-mei's swelling sadness to give an occasional, careful squeeze to the last three fingers of her hand, where the needles are not, but otherwise intensely focused on her patient's meridians and her shifting pulse-patterns.

"That smells wonderful," Yanli-mei says, as Wen Qing rises from the haze of concentration.

"It's plain rice porridge, again," Wei Wuxian replies, in a voice for tragedies, and almost drops the bowls he is setting out on the table.

It's Jiang Wanyin who actually explains, busy with brazier and kettle again. "The Lan kitchens sent someone with a tray." Wen Qing removes her needles and finds Yanli-mei a cloth to wipe her face and blow her nose, while A-Ning carefully rolls and ties the papers with the arrays, and sets them with Wen Qing's other tools.

Yanli-mei is shaky on her feet, when Wen Qing helps her up, but she insists on going to her brothers, drawing them away from their separate tasks.

"I am so sorry," she murmurs, embracing them both at once, and Wen Qing takes over the tea-making and files away the apologies she can't help but hear. The Violet Spider naturally favours her own son, while Jiang-Zongzhu, somewhat less naturally, shows greater favour to Wei Wuxian. Yanli-mei, she suspects, has been mediating between the four of them almost her whole life.

It's an exploitable rift, and Wen Qing wishes she didn't have to know that. She doubts it will be something she is able to keep back, when Wen-Zongzhu questions her.

. . .

They rest for the remainder of the morning, and attend the afternoon lectures, even Yanli-mei, who insists that major medical treatment or not, she feels at least as well as she ever has, and that she can't bear to lose any more time to lying around and resting. She sticks close to Wen Qing, wreathed in formless sadness, until one of the Jin girls - not Mianmian, the one with the sharp eyes who Wen Qing is certain is viciously jealous of her sect-sister's standing - raises an eyebrow at the pair of them together. Wen Qing is inclined to lift her chin and ignore her, secure in her own standing, but Yanli-mei steps forward, greets the snake with her usual impeccable manners, and says smoothly, "you know, of course, that this one's health has always been poor; since we are study-sisters here, the renowned physician-jie has kindly condescended to offer her skills." Which is several shades more polite than the first daughter of the Jiang needs to be to an Jin outer disciple who is not even particularly skilled in any regard herself, but there is the betrothal; perhaps Yanli-mei schemes to ensure these ones will look on her with kindness, later.

Their lecture is otherwise uneventful; the focus is on the various kinds of ghost for which a woman cultivator is most likely to be called; there are several which are particularly known to trouble brides-to-be, newlywed women, and those carrying a first child, and it is regrettably common for the afflicted young women to die because their families hesitated to bring a strange man into the household until it was too late.

Wei Wuxian's already poor impulse-control is, naturally, made worse by the lack of sleep; whatever he says in the men's lecture - or possibly the manner in which he says it - infuriates the teacher badly enough that he is confined to the library, copying the Lan code of conduct under Lan-er-gongzi's supervision.

Wen Qing and Yanli-mei request that he be permitted to absent himself from that task the following morning to be present for the treatment of Yanli-mei's stomach and spleen meridians. It is Wen Qing's reasoning - that opening these meridians will bring Yanli-mei's buried worries to the surface, and that to have both her brothers present will be some reassurance - but it is Yanli-mei's earnest, apologetic mien which wins them that concession.

The treatment goes as well as Wen Qing could have hoped for. Yanli-mei's worries are regrettably informative; of course - especially after yesterday's lecture - she worries for own future, as anyone would whose betrothed shows so little care for them; who will be her defender, alone and unwanted in the halls of Jinlintai?

She worries for her parents and her brothers, without her there to play peacemaker. Shocked protest, from them both, until Wen Qing rolls her eyes and points out that she can see exactly what Yanli-mei means, that they don't know how to express affection without shoving and fighting and sharp words; that they hurt each other, sometimes, and that she is always the one to help them reconcile.

Perhaps that has given them thought. Perhaps it will help.

The third concern is nothing Wen Qing can set at ease. Yanli-mei sees the way the wind is blowing, as clear as Wen Qing does; that there is war on the horizon, and it will set them on opposite sides. "You are not here to learn," she says, in a whisper, Wen Qing's hand clutched in hers.

Wen Qing could deny it. It wouldn't even be a lie; it's just that the things she is here to learn are not what the Lan are intending to teach.

"And yet I have," she murmurs instead. "I was not sent here to make friends, either, and yet."

"Must it come to war?" Yanli-mei the peacemaker pleads.

There is no kind way to say it. "The alternatives are worse." Wen-Zongzhu's ambitions will not be stopped by anything less, but that, she cannot say aloud. A fine line. "I wish it were not so." Yanli-mei is soft and kind and delicate over a core of determined practicality. She is as precious and lovely in Wen Qing's eyes as she is in her brothers', and Jin Zixuan is a fool not to see it. "That we might choose a path for ourselves, and not be pulled apart by duty."

"Even the boys don't get that freedom; what hope have we?"

"Tomorrow will be better," Wen Qing replies.

. . .

Tomorrow is better, but only because the heart is the seat of joy, Wei Wuxian's theoretical fire-blockage array works as intended, and Yanli-mei's joy is contagious. They have skipped the afternoon lecture for the treatment, and she spends the monkey and rooster hours preparing a celebratory meal for the five of them, animated with delight. Perhaps her culinary art is not rooted entirely in her fears after all.

Wen Qing wants to kiss her in the worst way. She cannot imagine a more ridiculously hopeless courtship than this.

Unfortunately, she doesn't have to; Wei Wuxian appears to be conducting one with Lan-er-gongzi. She's not convinced either of them have noticed.

The day after that, Wen Qing is expecting the treatment to awaken fear. She almost goes so far as to warn Yanli-mei's brothers, then concludes that their reactions will be deeply unhelpful. Yanli-mei herself, she does warn, which gets her a solemn nod, and, "promise me you'll finish it anyway?"

It's both an easy and a hard promise to give; she would be quite derelict in her duty to abandon this treatment now, but if Wen-Zongzhu were to arrive tomorrow and summon her back, she doubts any argument about her given word and the sect reputation would sway him. She tells Yanli-mei as much.

Not giving thought to the kidney's role as governor of desire may have been a mistake; Yanli-mei kisses her, enough steel in her spine that Wen Qing really internalises, for the first time, that this is the Violet Spider's daughter. Wen Qing is the one who has to pull away, to say, "Yanli-mei, you are reacting to the treatment, we cannot do this now."

There is all of her mother's fierceness in Yanli-mei's eyes when she says, "not now," and accedes.

. . .

They need written dispensation from the Lan healers again, the next day, if they are to continue the treatment past the hour of the pig. In spite of everything, it is easily granted; people - with the pointed exception of her betrothed, who has no idea how lucky he is - like Jiang Yanli, even the stiffest and most formal of the Lan.

Restoring the faint yin and lesser yang meridians of the hand brings emotional balance at last; Yanli-mei apologises to them all, quietly and unnecessarily, for her shifting moods.

The final pair, finishing with the liver at the hour of the ox, do not bring the anger associated with that organ, only an exhausted relief. They fall asleep on each others' shoulders, and Wen Qing suspects it is night-rat Wei Wuxian who covers them with a blanket.

. . .

"It's hard to believe it's real," Yanli-mei admits. "There were so many promises, when I was younger, and then I just - gave up hoping."

The extraordinary meridians do not seem to be afflicted with the same trouble. The three seas ebb and flow in their proper courses. It is likely that Yanli-mei would never have had any particular difficulty in conceiving and carrying a child.

When she mentions that a Jin midwife told her as much, Wen Qing has to fight down a red wash of fury at Jin presumption, that they would dare -

- of course they would dare. Their first young master, betrothed to one known to be in poor health; of course they would think it their right to know. Jin-Zongzhu would want a fertile brood mare for his single legitimate son. When Wen-Zongzhu's vast plans come to fruition, she will not be sad to see that one brought low.

If only Wen-Zongzhu would be content to plunder the vast wealth of Jinlintai and let the rest of the cultivation world alone.

They have the summer, at least, and if Yanli-mei is suddenly immensely busy, throwing herself into the training she has so long neglected, well, not even haughty Jin girls will raise their eyebrows when one so recently restored to health continues to visit regularly with her physician.

[rensylph]

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐇��𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 🥀🥀

Yandere genshin men being husband,

Characters : ayato, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, alhaitham, tartaglia, neuvillete, wriostheley.

AYATO

He would be a manipulative husband, he wants you to stay with him in meetings and basically wherever he goes, he will have high expectations for you if you ever lash out or you do not control your emotions, he will give you a glare and say that being a lady in the house should be filled with elegance and maturity not throw a tantrum like a child.

He will gift you expensive kimonos as well as high end jewelry, but he didn't give these gifts out of love, it worked as a collar and a sign of an ownership of you. He will also plan to baby trap you. He wants about 3-4 children or maybe more, if your body could keep up.

This was originally an arranged marriage form by him, your clan was on the brink of falling until the head of the kamisato clan offered your family an arranged marriage between you and him so your clan got to live, on your wedding day, that was the last time you saw them. You feel like a caged bird.

DILUC

He would totally see nothing wrong with his ways. You are only allowed to go out of the mansion or go to mondstat with him. He will see this as a way to keep you safe from the outside world. And every time you try to protest about it, he will bring out the excuse of keeping you safe.

He will expect you to give him a kiss or some physical contact from you 24/7, he will hug you like his life depends on it. Caressing your body. Using his vision to give you warmth during the cold nights. He also wants children but not yet until you're ready.

You were his fiance during his childhood, originally he always treats you as if you're a normal friend. Until his father's death he became clingy and during his trip out of mondstat, he said, when he came back from getting revenge you gotta be ready to married with him.

KAEYA

Kaeya would use his charming, manipulative and cunning behavior to isolate you, he would be playful and teasing you but he is also very possessive. he told you to just quit your job and let him take care of you.

He would also use his charms to flirt with some woman just to make you jealous, but if it's you with another man he will wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your cheek while giving the other party a subtle glare. And if you ask him to not flirt with another woman he would only if you promise not to talk to any other man.

You were originally a knight working under him, he would pass some flirting comments and would invite you to drink you with him in angel share. Originally you guys started a relationship and soon he proposed to you. But he's been very against you working as well just to stay as a stay at home wife for him.

ZHONGLI

Being married to the geo archon for centuries wasn't the life you expected, he was sweet and cared for you but sometimes it always feels like you're being suffocated by him to follow his routine. He expected you to be an obedient wife due to the contract that you have signed with him 3000 years ago.

Zhongli is a patient man, even when you lash on to him he will just stand there and look at you and ask are you done. Liyue has many tales of your love story change thru all of the centuries, but none of them once mention one of your accomplishments instead referring to you as his wife.

You were one of his servants that worked closely with him in the archon war, one of cloud retainers first disciple, ganyu was still a little girl during this time as well. And after when he wins the war becoming the archon of liyue he was allowed to be given any price he wants, and he picks you to be his price and his bride.

ALHAITHAM

He would be methodical and calculating, justifying his actions. He would already plan everything out, hes already planned everything before marrying you, calculating what's your schedule, how long will it take to date you until he proposed and he basically already planned everything before hand so everything could go perfectly.

He will maintain a perfect life around you making sure nothing goes wrong, making sure your diet consists of rich and nutrition enough for you to live long, say goodbye to those unhealthy junk food, I mean he would allow you to eat it but only once in a month.

You were a spantamad student, he will always find you sleeping at the library after completing your script, he originally wanted to wake you up but suddenly he stopped and sat next to the chair to your chair and for minutes he enjoys and soak up every feature of your face looking at if it's the most beautiful painting in the world. When you wake up he is already gone and planning your marriage.

TARTAGLIA

A so called or a wannabe shining armor for you, he has this persona or desire of wanting to be your knight and shining armor, he wants to whisk you away from the warm and comfort of your home to move you to a large palace, a cold and lonely palace isolating you from the world as well being a cage for you.

Tartaglia would buy you endless amounts of gifts every time when he's out on a voyage around the seven nations to fulfill the tsaritsa promise of a perfect world. he will be there every step to make sure that world will be fulfilled so you and him could live happily ever after.

Before every event that could lead him up at this point of his life. You and him were childhood friends or were simply forced to hang around due to both of your mothers being best friends, he would only want to play knight and shining armor while your the princess being trapped by a dragon and he comes to save you other then that he's favorite thing to play with you was playing house, him as the husband, you being the wife while his younger sibling who is a baby played as you guys pretend child.

Neuvillete

A refined and elegant gentleman, everyone in Fontaine is fond of you guys marriage, the ludex of Fontaine and his wife always voted number one couple in the steambird, articles of you guys small dates as well detailing on how romantic you guys are. Every time you go out he will guilt trip you to stay inside instead of going out.

Neuvillete will use emotional manipulation as well as guilt tripping to trap you inside the walls of his home, saying it was to ensure your safety. Every time when retrieved back from a trial or work he will personally ask to bath with you, it's the only thing to keep him calm and not worried about you. The melusine sees neuvillete as their father figure and they also see you as their mother figure.

Originally an oceanid that manages to retain their pure form and memory even after egeria turn every oceanid to live as a human and was a loyal servant to the first hydro archon, Egeria. Originally you were against being turned into a human wanting to serve your archon for eternity but During the arrival of Neuvillete you were offered to him as a spouse or a companion to stay by his side forever.

Wriostheley

A confident and head strong husband, he allows you to go outside but since it's the fortress of meriopede there isn't much to see inside as well for being safe due to the criminals that are being kept in line by your husband, so it's unwise to go outside his sight.

The entire fortress as well the staff calls you duchess due to your status of being married to him, you hated that title making you feel as if you were just an object that is held dear by the duke of the fortress, he always find it amusing to this nickname because it means people knew who you belong to for him the title of duchess is a sign or mark that you belong to him.

Originally a prisoner who was accused of a crime that you didn't commit, during lunch time you were eating this prisoner is sitting beside the table you were sitting and decide to make new friends during your time in jail, the prisoner was surprised for your present and ask why are you sitting with you gave him a blunt answer and he laughs and he ask you do you know who he is and you replied with a no, soon that day a Friendship blossom between you and him, until a new comer guard exposed his identity for being the duke, unfortunately it's already to late he has already fallen into a hole of love and obsession over you

[softspiderling]

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (II)

2nd instalment (I - II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

Though this soulmate thing had caused Sirius a bit of grief so far, he was feeling rather chuffed about it today. He was currently sitting with you in the library; you were currently doing research for your Herbology project, and he was pretending to work on his Transfiguration essay.

It was an odd sight, he was sure; Sirius Black found in the library working quietly without being involved in some sort of mischief. It was no secret he didn’t exactly take his school work seriously, but that was only because he didn’t have to; classes came easily to him and getting good grades didn’t require any extra work on his part.

But…

But, he had a pretty little thing sitting across from him, that was certifiably his, and she was spending time in the library, which meant he was, too. 

It was a precarious arrangement, but Sirius found he didn’t much mind when the unpleasantness wasn’t around. 

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness was insistent on following him around.

“Junior.” He growled lowly as a figure sidled up behind you and cast a shadow over your shared table.

“Black.” Barty sneered before turning a saccharine smile in your direction. “Hello, sweet darling angel.” He cooed, earning him a scoff from Sirius.

“Hello, Barty… what are you doing here?”

Barty laughed as if you’d made a particularly funny joke. “I’m here to spend time with my best girl, of course!” 

“Like hell you are!” Sirius barked, earning him indignant shushes from the other students around him.

“Barty… you agreed to this.” You tried placating.

“Agreed to share you with Black?” Barty squawked. “I’d sooner start wearing red and gold unironically.”

“Junior, this schedule was your idea. I get the library study time on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. You get the library study time on Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. It’s Tuesday; get lost.” Sirius lamented.

“But I don’t want to!” Barty pouted particularly petulantly, even stomping his foot for good measure. 

“Well, you can take it up with management.” Sirius taunted.

“You just sodding said yourself that this was my plan; I am the management!” Barty countered. 

Sirius mustered his most Noble and Ancient menacing glare from countless Black ancestors. The Slytherin boy had no problem reciprocating it, and it wasn’t until you intervened that the boys broke the silent war being waged between them.

“Barty, I…I think you should go see what Pandora is up to? And…maybe we can sit together at dinner?” You offered hopefully. Sirius was simultaneously grateful you were trying to rid them of the unpleasantness and also terribly jealous that Barty was going to share a meal with you.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll go get Pandora to help me organize a romantic meal for us tonight.” Barty beamed excitedly.

“Please. How romantic can a meal in the Great Hall be?” Sirius sneered, albeit slightly worried that Barty may in fact succeed.

“You mind your fuckin’ business, Black. Salazar’s balls you’re a pest.” 

“I’m the pest!?” Sirius exclaimed, but you were quick to place a conciliatory hand on Barty’s forearm.

“Please, Barty?”

Barty looked down at you with a pained expression that Sirius could understand all too well.

You were impossible to say no to.

Barty looked between you and Sirius a few times before groaning exasperatedly. 

“Fine.” He relented, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and stalking off.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief as you turned back towards the table with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh!” Sirius heard, causing him to let his head fall with a thump to the table before him. “I almost forgot.”

And Sirius lifted his head from the table to watch as Barty pulled at the collar of your uniform shirt to expose part of your neck and began sucking a bruise into your skin.

Sirius spit out a shocked guffaw as he watched Barty pull back, admire his work, press a chaste kiss to it and replace your collar to its proper place before leaving the library for good. 

“What…” Sirius started as he turned his attention from the door he’d been keeping an eye on to ensure that menace didn’t return to continue tormenting him back to you, just as you were embarrassedly rubbing at your neck. “...in the buggering fuck was that?”

“That’s just Barty.” You replied timidly. 

Sirius let out another scoff, eyes still glued to your neck. “Are you okay?”

You chuckled at that and offered Sirius a smile that was equal parts apologetic and equal parts teasing. “I’m pretty sure that’s his way of showing…affection? Or possibly marking his territory; he’s done it before when Diggory spent a, quote, ‘unreasonable amount of time complimenting my potion’.” 

Sirius relaxed a little at that. He supposed if you were comfortable with it, he wouldn’t push it. And though Sirius clearly had better impulse control than your other soulmate, he couldn’t deny how much he was tempted to do the same.

“Alright then.” Sirius relented, allowing you to return to your research.

“I hope you know you’ve just opened up the need to schedule meals now though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You groaned, plopping your head down into your textbook.

[brynn-lear]

Note: these are all yandere characters I had back in 2022. I'm describing them very vaguely. I can't bring myself to spoil even minute details I find intruiging even though it's unlikely I'll make this webtoon-isekai-otome game concept come to life. Shoutout to mochi and harmony. I would've forgotten these men exist if it weren't for them lol

Yan!Butler: People kept mistaking your deceased brother's butler as a nobleman, especially with how you both appear to be best friends rather than master-servant. His butler is one of your greatest allies and critic; not once has he missed his chance to tease you in such “polite” yet convoluted ways. But you at least know his sharp tongue comes from a place of affection, and not from disdain as he would with other nobility. Your older brother took him under the family's care when his small village was brutally extinguished by unknown assailants. That butler thinks all other nobles deserve gruesome ends. There's not a single day where he does not feel paranoid. So when you feel as though the pavement you passed by in your private gardens had splotches of red… you turn a blind eye. You trust your brother and his allies. As long as you ignore that what he does is far beyond ensuring your brother's safety, you can go on sleeping peacefully at night.

Yan!Eccentric Immortal: You honestly thought it was so weird for a wandering pink-haired tourist to wear red shades and a short-sleeved shirt with tons of hibiscus printed on it, but whatever floats his boat. At least, that's what you thought at first before you struck a conversation with him out of pure boredom. No matter how… “modern” he looks, he was dejected enough at the time to confess that he came to see how his hometown looks— only to discover it is practically unrecognizable. He kept pointing to business shops, claiming some used to be parks, a small forest, his favorite bookstore, and a place his old buddy used to have a successful shoe factory on. And then it hit you. This man you're with… is one of your ancestor's mayor turned revolutionary best friend who struck a contract with the devil. There's one small problem... You're involved in said contract.

("Oh, so he's immortal, huh… no wonder he was burying his face in his mushroom hat when we were walking around in the museum. On one hand, impressive that he was the first man ever photographed, but he's also the first photobomber ever. He was just cleaning his shoes and got in the way…")

[More descriptions utc]

Yan!Crown Prince: He is your childhood friend crown prince, who was once a quiet and lonesome kid. You belonged to the very few children who properly befriended him, but in each playtime, he always clung to you tightly. The adult nobles in your life had always made it a point to remind you to be wary of his lineage. “The royal bloodline’s first love is their last— and such obsession reigns supreme.” There is also a legend of how the first king confessed to his tactician after the war. However, he dismembered & hid her limbs when he faced rejection. The royal family has been plagued with unrequited love and unhappy marriages since then, yet you don’t believe him capable of perverse and violent thoughts. He harbors a hopeless puppy-like “one-sided” affection on another childhood friend of yours (THE main female lead) but he takes it “like a champ”, you're sure of it!!! Plus, the prince has grown so mature and independent, always asking for your counsel on politics more than personal affairs. You haven't met a man who enjoyed his duties as much as he does. If anything, he has distanced himself from you… Right?

Yan!Doctor: As a child from a loving noble home, you had remained firm in your stance on committing acts of kindness. When an injured kid your age was starving outside your estate, you did not hesitate to order your brother's butler to fetch food and drinks. Since he was nameless and you weren't one to gloss over a book of baby names— you gave him one that sounds like a dog’s. Years later, you've fallen gravely ill. No physician across the continent could help you despite your philanthropist reputation. But there was one who had done the impossible. The doctor cured you in under a month, and when you tried to cover his services, he said everything was paid with “three glasses of milk and a box of biscuits.” Honestly, you should've remembered who he was sooner, considering how strange his name was. Despite such a grand revelation that he apparently owes you his life, there's unbridled hunger beyond his “kind” eyes. Something lonely and unhinged.

Yan!Ex-Hitman/Politician: There was a boy you've always seen each time you went to church. You see him every week that you both watched each other grow up. Apparently he came from a noble bloodline just like you, but despite being the eldest, his parents greatly favored his younger sibling. Deciding he had no talent to best him, the boy went to the monastery to practice the word of God instead. You always thought he was an ambitious and good-hearted person— especially since it's not exactly common for someone in their late twenties to aspire for the position of prime minister and appear so incredibly wholesome. On your quest to find someone to help you solve the mystery behind your older brother's death— you found out that the kind mint-eyed man who often carved wooden toys and sewed plushies for the orphans was the notorious hitman who killed plenty of corrupt nobles in his prime. Could he be behind your brother's death…?

[lotsoflola]

all is fair in love and war [1] - s. johnny

summary: you hate johnny suh, you absolutely hate him, but when you're forced to spend time with him on a mission, your passionate hate becomes a different sort of passion genre: gang au, enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers warnings: mature themes, smut, angst, reader is a smoker (projection), TENSION!!!, hate fucking, heavy heavy heavy degradation, johnny's not very nice, the dirtiest fucking talk, dom!johnny, brat!reader, thigh riding, johnny gets head, johnny keeps fucking her despite threat of death, choking, wrote this at 2am lets be nice with my grammar word count: 6.6k author's note: welcome to part one of my baby!! this is the first chapter of all is fair in love and war and trust me, it just gets better...

series masterlist

neo city was a complete and utter shithole.

it had always been like that, at least as far as you were aware. you had lived here for the past five years, getting yourself a cheap starter apartment for half the price of anywhere else. it was a culture shock at first, being scared just to walk through the streets to your job, but you assimilated quickly, finding a job as a bartender in the inner city, in a cosy bar called the 'urban oasis'.

it was there you first had an interaction with gang life. it was a quiet night at the bar. you were practically dosing off, only a few regulars in the far corner playing darts, and everyone else had been sent home, leaving you to close alone.

a man walked into the building, and as he did so, the other men seemed to quieten down, stiffen slightly, stop playing their game. you were confused, but truly didn't care enough to question anything. instead, you turned to the man, and prepared to take his order.

he looked like neo city, if that was even possible. green neon hair, matching the fluorescent lights that covered the city, with tattoos up his neck and arms and a leather jacket to complete the look.

"whiskey on the rocks," he stated, voice harsh.

you rolled your eyes, hating rude customers like him. "what type of whiskey? we've got jack daniels, jamesons-"

"just give me your top shelf," he snapped again, and you gave him a pointed look before going to fulfil his request.

it didn't take you long, and when you passed him the chilled glass, you also handed him a receipt.

"that will be $45, would you like to pay cash or card?" you asked, watching as his face grew clouded.

"i'm sorry," his tone was almost testing, as if he was giving you a chance to take back your statement.

"i said it will be $45, you got our top shelf of whiskey," you repeated, going to wipe some glassware, but were met with a firm grip on your wrist. "what the fu-"

"leave it, honey," one of your regulars, a man called sooman, shouted across to you, fear lacing his voice.

"no, he got a whiskey, he'll pay for his fucking whiskey- let go of me," you tried to squirm, but his grip was harsh, and you truly couldn't escape.

"do you not know who i am?" he sneered, face dangerously close to yours.

you sighed. "i don't care who you are, i'm not getting fired because some dickhead wants to get away without paying."

and with that, you swang at him, your fist colliding with his head as he let go from the impact, giving you a chance to swing at him again. he jumped over the bar, and grabbing your arms, pinning them against your side before pushing you up against a wall, leaving you completely unable to move. it was only then you noticed the gun in his belt, and the tattoo at the base of his neck, one that had three letters.

n. c. t. the name of the most dangerous gang in neo city.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, practically convincing yourself that you were about to die.

"recognise me now?" he almost joked, and you gave him a look. a look that said if you're going to kill me, might as well kill me now. "i'm not going to kill you."

that took you by surprise, and he must have been able to tell, as he carefully let go of your hands. "scram."

the rest of the customers ran out of the bar, leaving just you and the man alone, and he gestured for you to sit. you refused however, instead grabbing a bottle of tequila and pouring it into your own glass, waiting for him to make the first move.

"my name is taeyong, i'm the leader of nct," he spoke calmly, and you tried to not show your immense anxiety pumping through your veins. "and judging by what i've just seen, i think you would make a good addition."

you could have laughed, instead taking a swig of your drink, the bruning sensation grounding you to this unbelievable reality. "me? in a gang?"

"it's not all killing, and drug dealing, and all the other things everyone thinks it is. you've got bite, got drive, and we need someone like you," he took a sip of his drink, leaning closer towards you, "and you'll make more in your first week than you would in a month here."

and hearing his words, though you wanted to deny, you found yourself accepting his offer.

~~~

four years later, here you were, high in the ranks of the most feared gang in neo city, a force to be reckoned with. the bar you once worked for minimum wage at you now owned, and nct used it for meetings and to unwind.

no one could touch you know, instead of fearing the streets people now crossed the road for you, and you felt untouchable. you had honed your craft, mainly in charge of wooing policemen and being eye candy during meetings. you didn't care, you didn't want to be making all the decisions, it was the sense of community you cared about more.

so here you were, ten pm on a monday night, a group of you playing snooker in the bar. a cigarette held loose in your fingertips, with a fellow member jaemin lying with his head in your lap, playing with his hair with your other hand.

"do you ever think that this is all a simulation and we're all actually fruit in a fruit bowl?" the boy in your lap mumbled, the alcohol obvioudly affecting his thoughts.

jeno, another boy with you, chuckled slightly, finishing putting a pool ball. "shut up, jaemin. i always forget you're such a lightweight."

"now, now, he's not that bad," you hummed, taking a drag from your cigarette.

"stop playing nice, cherry. he's had about three shots and is contemplating life on this earth," haechan sneered, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

cherry was the nickname you had earned yourself, due to the amount you ate the fruit around the members. you preferred it to your own name at this point, making it easier to seperate your personal life and, well whatever this life was, life.

"he's not as bad as jisung though, remember that night after the bank heist," chenle joked, earning a slap from the youngest member.

"it was a celebration, god, leave me alone," jisung mumbled, as the older members ruffled his hair.

it was at this point haechan fell over attempting to put the ball, collapsing into renjun as they both fell on top of each other, roughly slapping each other as they rolled on the floor. the group erupted into laughter, only stopped as a knock was heard on the bar door.

"who's that?" jeno asked, and you shrugged, taking another hit.

"bar's always closed on a monday."

"well, go check it out."

"why don't you check it out, haechan?"

"it's your bar."

"nct owns it. that means we all own it."

"you chose to buy it."

"suck my dick."

"oh my god, you have a penis?"

mark, the oldest of all the members, cleared his throat. "jesus christ, stop bickering, cherry, go get the door."

you flipped haechan off, but stood up nonetheless, causing jaemin to pout against your thigh.

"i'm just going to the door, jaem, don't you worry?" you patted his cheek, before wandering over to the door, and opening the peep hole.

"bar's closed," you sung, "get fucked."

the man sighed. "it's me, open the fuck up."

you recognised that voice. of course you fucking recognised that voice. the one member of nct who you loathed, who for some reason you couldn't stand.

"gonna need the password, i'm afraid," you teased, mouthing to a confused mark who was at the door.

"let me in or i will blow this bar to the fucking ground," he spat, and you oblidged, however much you didn't want to.

johnny suh was a tall man, towering over you as you opened the door, with washed out jeans and an oversized hoodie, with a beanie on his head do deal with the cold winter weather. he was handsome, but you would never admit that to him, because his personality made him completely insufferable.

"hi cherry." god, you hated the way he said your nickname, almost with a twinge of disgust behind it.

"what do you want?" you asked, hand still firmly on the door, not letting him enter just yet.

he smirked. "play nice, need to talk to jaemin about something. and a drink wouldn't hurt, go get us a jack and coke, huh?"

he was insufferable, the way he spoke as if you were nothing, just a pretty thing to run and make drinks and flirt. even the non-affiliates got treated better than you, and you had been here for four years now.

"go fuck yourself, john," you spat, wandering back over to the boys and shaking jaemin awake. "someone's here to speak to you."

"is it the fruitbowl?" he asked, and you sighed, placing his head back down in your lap.

johnny wandered over, and you watched his face drop as he noticed jaemin's state. "why would you let him drink?"

the question was targeted at you, for whatever reason, and you fought back. "i'm not his mother, john. what did you want anyway?"

"don't be snappy, cherry," his voice was laced with venom, a patronising tone irritating you entire being, "it concerns you as well. it was meant to be you and jaemin, but someone's going to have to step in."

you hummed as you realised what he meant. a group of four of you had been working on stealing money from a large formal dinner happening at the mayor's house tomorrow night. that was partly why you and jaemin were drinking, courage needed for tomorrow. it was the two of you, johnny, and another member jungwoo, but the entire thing was already planned out. it was weeks in the making, so you didn't know what johnny was talking about.

"what do you mean?" mark spoke your mind, being somewhat in the know about the situation. he was selected before you were, when they decided they needed a girl to step in.

johnny sighed, palm stroking down his jaw. "you know how we were going to use that catering company, sneak in as waiters for the evening."'

you nodded, resisting the urge to role your eyes at him. you obviously knew this, you had gone over it again and again and again until you could recite the entire thing like the back of your hand.

"well, the numbers have dropped, and therefore we've been dropped from the waiting staff."

you tilted your head. "can't we demand they let us in?"

"they don't know we're nct, that was the only way we could get in," johnny groaned, once again looking at jaemin's drunk state, as if affirming that he was knocked out cold. "cherry, i need you not to freak out."

this startled you; sentences that start like that don't normally end well, especially when someone like johnny suh was saying them.

"there is another way we can get in though, through the hwangs."

haechan wandered over, perching behind you on the armrest of the sofa, grabbing the cigarette from your hand and taking a hit. "they're the businessmen, right?"

"yeah, very quiet, keep to themselves a lot of the time," johnny stated, copying haechan's actions as he settled behind jaemin's feet, "they're also with us, we do a lot of their dirty work."

"but how does that help us?" you jutted in, grabbing the cigarette back from haechan, almost burnt to the filter.

johnny tuts. "i was getting to that, sweetheart."

sweeheart was arguably worse than cherry.

"the hwangs have two children, hyunjin and yeji. but they've never been seen, both of them are off at school in a different part of the country. the plan was that jaemin would go in as their son, and infiltrate that way, but obviously he's not prepared to be briefed tonight."

your hand found it's way to jaemin's hair, your acrylic nails gently massaging his scalp. "so what else can we do?"

"well, there's another option. you," he gestured loosely, and you flipped him off before taking your final hit of the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray as smoke filled the room. "you're going to go to the event as hwang yeji and represent your parents."

it wasn't that absurd of an idea. you could spend tonight learning some family history and dropping the rough slang you had learnt.

"that doesn't seem that bad," you hummed, grabbing your bag and pulling another cigarette out. "hyuck, have you got a lighter?"

he passed it to you, and you ignored johnny's judgemental stare of your brought the stick to your mouth, the low light of a flame illuminating your face. you took a long drag, head leaning back against haechan's thigh as you exhaled.

"well, i'm not sure whether you know, but for formal events like these, girls cannot attend without a male escort," johnny informed you, and you stopped in your tracks, understanding the implication. "no, no, johnny no."

"there's no other option, cherry," he groaned, and you took another hit.

haechan started laughing behind you, the vibrations travelling through his legs to your head. "you've got to go with johnny, cherry that's absolutely brilliant."

"fuck you, haechan," you spat, eyes locked onto johnny's. "why can't i do it with jungwoo?"

"he's a kim, he can't get away with that."

it was true. the kim's, despite many of them now turning to the crime world of neo city, used to be a very influential family. there was no way jungwoo could walk into the ball pretending to be someone else."

"and there's really no other way," you asked, desperation in your tone, taking another hit before haechan took it from your hands.

jisung wandered over to you. "come on, it's not that bad. johnny's supposedly a gentleman."

"ji, i love you, but there is no way johnny fucking suh is anything resembling a gentleman," you spat, making grabby hands towards haechan, wanting your cigarette back. "come on, hyuck, give."

"smoking's a vice, cherry."

"so's being a dick, give it back."

you could hear johnny tut, but chose to ignore it, instead trying to comprehend the situation. "can i get a makeover?"

haechan scoffed. "really? that's what you're after?"

"i'm just a girl, hyuck."

"yeah, she's just a girl," jaemin stirred, and you gave him a loving pat on the head.

johnny quickly checked his watch. "come on, we've got a fuck ton of backstory to get through."

"is there really no other option?"

"trust me, sweeheart. if there was, i would have found it."

and with that, you gently slid jaemin off your lap, placing a kiss on his forehead, before standing next to the tall man.

"come on then john. i need to get my nails done."

~~~

soft rnb music filled your apartment as the sun set over the skyscrapers, perched in front of your mirror as you carefully applied your eyeliner, ensuring they were equal either side. you had barely slept, spending the entire night with johnny and jungwoo, learning everything you would possibly have to know about the hwangs, and for a rich family in neo city, there was a fucking lot.

you had managed to convince taeyong to get allowance for your makeover, heading to the salon today to get a new set of nails, long and red to match your dress. your hair was in loose ringlets, fingers dripped in expensive rings, wrists the same with bracelets. a diamond hung around your neck, sitting way above your low cut dress. the hwangs were known for being scandalous, despite their quiet nature, so to fit the part, your dress was a low cut v, the back hollow crosses of loose satin, sitting halfway down your thigh.

with a swipe of lipgloss you were finished, packing a small clutch with perfume, lipbalm, and your gun. maybe the gun wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't blow your cover, so you though it better to be safe than sorry. half the people in neo city carried guns, and the other half walked with people who carried them/

you checked the time quickly. 5:57. johnny said he would be at your flat at 6, so you quickly checked through your phone. you had a few texts from mark, asking about the new show you guys had been watching, and a few from jungwoo, wishing you luck for tonight. it wasn't a scary thing anymore, you had done so many of these tasks that they felt like second nature. you were one of the few girls in nct that didn't mind going out, which made you incredibly useful for situations like this.

the doorbell rang just as you finished texting jungwoo, and you groaned, wandering through your kitchen before opening the door, seeing the man himself on the other side.

fuck. he actually looked good.

he was in a black tuxedo, bowtie tight around his neck. he was a tall man, that much was obvious, but with dress trousers he somehow look taller. his hair was in curtains, a deep brunette that hung just slightly over his eyes. not that you would ever say it out loud to him, but jesus fucking christ.

"you ready to go?" he asked, not even acknowledging your outfit.

you rolled your eyes. you knew you looked good, there was no way that he didn't realise how fucking good you looked. "nice to see you to. i just need to put my shoes on, calm down."

the set of red louboutin heels fit you perfectly, sliding into them with ease. you stumbled just after putting them on, but quickly grabbed your bag, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter off the table, before meeting him at the door.

"ready," you hummed, placing your key in the lock and shutting it behind you, before placing them in your bag.

he scoffed. "you really need the cigarettes?"

"you really need that terrible attitude?" you shot back, following him into the lift and pressing the ground floor button. you checked yourself out in the mirror, cleaning up the lipstick that had somehow escaped your lips.

"terrible habit," was his only reply, one that you didn't think needed a response, though you did notice the slight flick of his eyes to your boobs as you leant forwards slightly, an action that led to a smirk on your lips.

you quickly noticed that johnny's car outside, not a limo like you presumed. he seemed to notice your confusion as he deliberately didn't open the door for you, waiting for you to climb in yourself.

"ever the gentleman," you teased, watching as he started the engine, pulling away gently.

"we're driving to the oasis, that's where the limo is," he explained, not even given you a glance.

"why didn't you just ask me to walk to the oasis then?"

johnny scoffed. "like you would have walked through neo city in a slutty dress and high heels."

you flipped him off, but he did have a point. you would never do that anyway, least of all neo city. instead, you pulled out a cigarette, rolling down the window and lighting it, the bitter taste a comfort on your tongue.

"i'm serious when i say you shouldn't smoke."

"i'm serious when i say you have an attitude problem."

he rolled his eyes, eyes darting towards you as you tapped the ash onto the road. you could see the oasis in the distance, the familiar comfort of the bar calming you slightly. all you wanted right now was a drink, just a little bit to calm your nerves.

"fancy a shot?" johnny seemed to read your mind, pulling into the carpark quickly.

you both made your way into the building, the bustle quieting down as they noticed you and johnny walk in. you smiled as you saw jaemin behind the bar, the hangover evident in his eyes. his arms enveloping you in a tight hug.

jaemin was like a brother to you. he had taken you under his wing very quickly when you joined nct, but unlike a few of the other guys, he genuinely had no ulterior motives. he saw your beauty, understood why guys like haechan and jeno were so into you, but that just wasn't him. he was one of the few people you knew would always be there for you.

"fuck, cherry, you look gorgeous," he breathed out, and you planted a soft kiss against his cheek.

"thanks, jae. how's the hangover?" you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of tequila and two glasses, pouring two glasses for you and johnny.

he groaned. "how do you think? i am so sorry though, it should be me there right now."

jaemin had spent half the morning apologising over the phone, saying how you've taken his place and if only he hadn't drank so much. you appreciated his efforts, but you both knew you were more than able to do what needed to be done. despite all this, he paid for your lunch today, and that was a win.

"don't be stupid, besides now there's two of us going. even if one is practically incompetent."

johnny didn't like that, finishing the shot before turning to you. "watch yourself, sweetheart."

"bite me, john."

jaemin seemed to sense the tension, pouring you guys one more shot before leaving you to it. your rivalry was well known throughout nct, even some of the runners knew how much you loathed each other, and most people understood it was better to leave you guys to it, let you fight it out, and hope neither of you killed each other. or that whoever was your favourite made it out alive.

"you're insufferable, you know that," you spat, downing the second shot in quick succession, needing the alcohol to settle the violence in your gut.

"rich coming from you, can't even stand being in your presence."

"you're lying to yourself, suh. saw you checking me out in the mirror," you teased, leaning in closer to him.

he matched your energy, face bending down slightly saw your eyes were almost even. "i was not checking you out, i can assure you of that."

"tell yourself whatever you want, if it helps you sleep at night, but your eyes don't lie."

"half the guys in nct want you," johnny's voice was a low growl at this point, face so close to yours basically all you could see was him. "and do you know what? i don't fucking get it. you're a bitch-"

"lovely choice of words-"

"you think you rule the world, you think you're better than fucking everyone, but you're not. there is nothing special about you, and the sooner you realise that, the better."

"do you know what, suh?" you could feel the anger running through your veins, nails digging into your palms to stop yourself planting your fist into his face, leaving shallow crescents in your skin. "you think you're so smart, so precious. oh, johnny suh, johnny of nct, the johnny- no one can fucking stand you. god knows why taeyong keeps you around, half the young guys don't even want to know you- ever wonder why it's the same two guys who volunteer to be with you? because no one else even wants to be near you."

johnny opened his mouth, probably to insult you even further, smirk creeping onto his lips, but a notification on his phone went off, and he pulled away from you quickly.

"limo's here," was all he could say, and you pushed your anger back down inside you.

you were hwang yeji. be hwang yeji.

and ignore the weird feelings going on in your chest right now.

~~~

"hey, cherry, how's it going?" jungwoo asked, robotic voice over the phone as you pulled out a cigarette, locked in the guest bathroom at the mayor's house.

you sighed, taking a deep hit to calm your nerves. "all good so far, no one suspects anything. you and jae should be all good to hack the system come 12."

all jungwoo did was hum in response, and you hung up accordingly. you couldn't do anything suspicious at all, there was too much on the line. you took another hit, the smoke fogging the room as you took a moment.

you had spoken to about half the city elite, acting like the prestine proper girl you were supposed to be, but it was taking it's toll. you and johnny had been here for about four hours, and that was four hours too long of pretending to be enamoured by johnny suh. he was disgusting, hand settled in the small of your waist as he laughed at your occasional jokes, planting soft kisses into your hair.

it made you feel sick, sick to your core, sick enough that not even the cigarette was calming you down. johnny suh was an unbelievably irratating individual, one who made you genuinely revolted as his eyes locked on yours, and it took every morsel of self control not to announce to the whole room that you were hating every second of it, that you hated him.

you finished the cigarette, spraying some perfume in the bathroom before leaving the room, walking back over to your 'boyfriend'. he was with another two couples, not sure who, but he quickly introduced you as you slid under his arm, his hand resting against your side, thumb rubbing against your ribcage.

"this is hwang yeji, my girlfriend," god, how his voice made you feel ill. he sounded so in love, and the way his thumb felt against your body just added to it. some part of you felt confused, he definitely did not need to be doing so much, and yet he still was.

stop thinking about that. focus on what you need to be doing.

"yeji, my darling, gosh how you've grown," the woman, moon bora, planted a cheek on either cheek, hand cupping your jaw. "i bet you don't remember me, i haven't seen you since you went to boarding school."

"i know, it's been so long since i've been back here," you hummed, body tensing as johnny gently guided you over to a small table, where bora and her husband jinhyung followed you. he sat next to you, arm over the back of the chair, as you continued on the conversation. "i do miss it, yeah, though there are definetly benefits to living by the coast."

"oh, i can only imagine. do you get to go to the beach regularly, i know college can be quite intense," jinhyung asked, voice full of curiousity.

you went to respond, but your voice was a sharp choke as you felt johnny's hand on your thigh. "sorry, but no we do make time to go. it's beautiful in the morning, watching the sunrise over the ocean, it's really something."

bora and jinhyung kept their questions coming, and you could barely focus and johnny's fingers travelled higher and higher up your thigh, crawling underneath the silk of your dress, gently massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh. you squeezed his hand, a warning, a 'stop this', a 'what the fuck are you doing?'.

his hand got dangerously high, to the point where you could feel him just against the lace of your panties, before you heard an alarm on johnny's phone. 11:45. you needed to get a move on.

"god, i'm sorry," johnny broke the conversation, hand finally leaving your thigh to turn of the ringtone, "that's my medicine alarm. sweetheart, will you come with me to the bathroom to take it."

johnny excused himself, but you were convinced if you went with him now you would genuinely kill him. "let me just say my goodbyes, i'll meet you in a moment."

he shot you a look, but you gave him one back, and he dropped it. you turned back to the couple, with bora giving you a knowing look.

"gosh, you guys are so in love," she sung, and you resisted the urge to spit out your drink. "it reminds me of us when we were younger."

you smiled at her, lying through clenched teeth. "i'm glad you can tell, he's honestly incredible."

"don't think i didn't notice the way you were flirting under the table," she gave you a suggestive wink, and you swore then and there you were going to kill johnny. "young love, how much i miss it?"

you couldn't wait any longer to kill him, so you quickly excused yourself, and travelled through the mansion, past the toilet to the computer room, in charge of the entire house's security, one you had previously mapped out in the planning stages.

"what the fuck?!" you exclaimed, entering the room where johnny was sat on a desk, laptop open with a download completing sign on the front. you locked the door behind you, securing it with a desk you pulled across the front. "what the actual fuck?!"

johnny payed no attention to you, keeping his eyes on the laptop as the percentage went up and up.

"fucking answer me you dick, what's your game?" rage coated your voice, your hands gripping his dress shirt and pulling him out of the chair, forcing him up looking at you.

"whatever do you mean, sweetheart?" he cooed, and the fake loving tone drove you crazy, crazy enough that you brought your hand up to slap him across the cheek.

the action through him back, surprise across his face quickly turning to anger. "you have issues, fuck."

"i have issues?!" you were seething, anger clouding your vision and your hand gripped his shirt tighter, pulling his head down so you were opposite him again. "you've been touching me all night, fucking groping my thigh, grazing my waist, are you mental?"

"do you not understand the concept of fake dating, sweetheart?" his voice was low and dangerous and, however much you wouldn't admit it to yourself, sexy as fuck. "we have to pretend to date-"

"dating does not include groping me."

"i didn't fucking grope you, calm down cherry," johnny sighed, and you pushed him away ever so slightly.

your hand ran down his body, tracing a line down the centre of his abs, watching his muscles contract as they tensed under your touch. "so this doesn't bother you?"

"not in the slightest," he tried to keep it calm, but the way his breathing shortened told you the opposite.

but you kept going, you were fucking fuming. "so if i touch you here," you hand trailed further down, running over the waistband of his trousers, your long nail circling around the hem, "that doesn't bother you."

"fucking stop," he ordered through gritted teeth, but of course you didn't instead keeping your descent until you were over were he did not want you to be, pushing just enough to push johnny over the edge.

and he snapped.

his hands came to grab your wrists, his physical strength easily overpowering yours as he pushed you up against the wall behind you, vaging you against the wall, the paint cold against your open backed dress. your hands were pinned above your head, and legs forced still by johnny's thigh in between your own, body pressed up against yours.

"i thought i told you," he spat, mouth so close he genuinely filled all your senses, "to fucking stop."

you hadn't lost your fight yet, though. "i thought you knew, that what you say means nothing to me."

"do you know what you are?"

"please, do enlighten me," you fought against his grip, but you couldn't escape. johnny was told and strong, and however much fight you had, you could not beat that.

"you're a slut."

those words were unexpected, causing you to gasp as they went straight to your gut, weird butterflies emerging in your chest.

"you're such a fucking slut. act all you want but i saw how your body acted when my hands were on you, when i looked at you like that. like a bitch in fucking heat."

you were genuinely gobsmacked. no words could come out of your mouth to defend yourself.

"but do you know what, sweetheart?" his teasing was endless, however, not letting up despite your lack of retaliation. "i think you like this, i think you like me calling you what you are. a desperate little whore-"

"i don't," you're voice was nowhere near as strong as you wished it would be, because deep down you knew he was right. the butterflies in your stomach were definetly telling you that you were enjoying this, and the way your core was aching.

"tell that to your thighs squeezing around mine," his lips were centimetres away, "because i've realised what you need. you need someone to put you in your place, to remind you of what you are. a needy, desperate, slutty little bitch, don't you sweetheart?"

all you could do was whine at his words, your hips rutting against his knee without even thinking. his words were doing wonders, you could feel how soaked you were without him even really touching you.

"grinding against my fucking thigh, you really are a bitch in heat," he practically scoffed, a hand travelled down from your wrists to wrap around your neck, squeezing enough to cut off your airflow slightly, the feeling making your head spin and vision dizzy.

"i know you've fucked hyuck," he stated the words so nonchalantly, like they weren't personal details you had never told him, "and i know you've fucked jeno. i'm pretty sure you've fucked jaemin as well, but they obviously didn't fuck you good enough for you to still have this attitude, huh, sweetheart?"

you couldn't fathom the words to respond, overwhelmed by the pleasure between your legs. your breathing got shallower and shallower and your air was cut more and more, rings indefinetly causing dents against your soft skin. johnny tensed his thigh, and you couldn't hold back the whine that escaped your mouth, the feeling just too good as your clit rubbed against the fabric of his trousers.

he could only scoff, his hand dropping your wrists and instead sliding down to your hip, kneading the skin as he manouvered your body, sitting down and pulling you down onto his lap, or more specifically his thigh. he finally let go of your throat, grabbing the other side of your hip, and you let out deep breaths, trying to gain back some sense of clarity.

"if you want to be a pathetic little thing," his tone was almost teasing, his large hands beginning to rock you back and forth, "then go ahead. get yourself off on my thigh."

and you followed his instructions, swinging your hips and getting into a steady rhythm. johnny's eyes dropped to where your body met his own, one hand sliding under the soft satin of your dress and feeling the lace panties you had on underneath.

"god, you're dripping, you're actually dripping against your thigh," he practically laughed, your wetness sticky on his fingers as he pushed the lace to the side, and the pleasure was just too much to contain, a moan leaving your lips. "shut the fuck up, cherry. don't want anyone to see how much of a whore for my thigh you're being right now."

you dived into his shoulder, biting down on his jacket to stop the sounds he was practically forcing from your throat. his hands sped up your pace, forced you to keep going as you felt the knot tighten in your gut.

you panted out, the sound of your wetness filling the room as he leant up, looking into his eyes with a sense of desperation. "gonna cum, john, need to cum."

"oh, you need to cum, do you?" he sneered, leaning back against the desk chair, feeling a sense of gravity as he watched the girl he hates fall apart on his thigh. "you need to cum."

"need it- need it so bad," you whined, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

johnny tilted his head, a mischevious glint in his eye. "stop moving."

"what?" you panted, confused by his words but not stopping your movements. "no, no, i'm so close."

"i don't care, stop fucking moving," he spat through gritted teeth and his lifted you off his thigh, your hips moving in mid-air as you groaned, feeling the pleasure leave your body as your high left your body.

your eyes locked onto his, tongue poking your cheek. "what the fuck!"

"needy sluts like you don't get to cum," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever, sliding back from the chair and spreading his legs, placing you down on the floor. you didn't even have the strength to hold yourself up anymore, collapsing against his leg, the cold concrete floor a shock to the system.

however much you hated to admit it, johnny looked majestic. with his legs spread, eyes glaring down at you, hair messy as his tongue ran over his bottom lip. you couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that worried you. you were on your knees in front of the man you hated, and for whatever reason you were actually excited about what was going to happen next.

johnny didn't say anything, but his actions spoke a thousand words, his hands going to his belt and undoing it with ease. you felt your mouth water as he slid his trousers down, revealing his hardening cock from his underwear. you leant forward, hands ready to grab it, but one of his own hands nestled itself in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulled you back.

"here's what's going to happen, sweetheart," he shuffled forward on the seat, tempting you to just have a look. you could tell from the bulge that he was big, and all you wanted at this point was your mouth around him.

god, how were you having these feelings about johnny suh.

"you're gonna let me fuck your face like the slut that you are," your thighs rubbed together as he returned to the degrading words, "and then i'll decide whether you deserve to cum."

his other hand pulled his now hard cock out of his pants, and your eyes widened at the sight. he was big, he was so fucking big, and there was no way that he could fuck your throat without cutting off your air supply.

"john, i can't-"

"you can, just open that slutty little mouth for me," his tip poked against your lips, and you complied, hesistantly parting your lips as he slid between them, the stretch agony at first. "there you go, relax your throat. don't want to hurt you that much, cherry."

those words were different, they were softer in a way. they were johnny being sincere, not 'putting you in your place' or 'teaching you a lesson'. and they relaxed you, enough that he slid even more into your mouth, tears building in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"god, you have no idea how good that feels," he groaned, seemingly not to you, but just to the world. "tap my thigh if i'm good to move."

you followed his order, typing his thigh twice before he started to move back and forth. you tried your absolute hardest not to gag around him but it was so hard when he was practically stopping you from breathing, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you physically had to gag around him.

johnny hummed, a pity hum, seemingly back to his old self. "what's wrong? thought you would be used to dick in your throat."

you took a deep breath as he pulled out, gasping for air as drool dripped down your chin, his dick hanging in front of you.

"don't tell me hyuck never fucked that pretty little face of yours?" he voice was playful, hand sliding from your throat to cup your jaw, thumb roughly dragging over your bottom lip. "look at how messy you are, sloppy little slut."

you took a deep breath, looking up at the tall man towering over you. "they weren't as big as you."

"aww," his tone was so patronising that if you weren't so dick whipped you would have slapped that expression off his face, "am i too big for you?"

you didn't resond, feeling like you were stuck in a trap, but that wasn't good enough for johnny. "i said, am i too big for you? because if you can't suck me off, you haven't done enough to cum tonight."

those words went straight to your desperate core, and you leant straight back to his dick, letting him back in as he pounded even harder and faster than before. you braced it, trying your hardest not to gag around him again. johnny's groans filled the room, and you just prayed you were doing well enough to get to cum later.

sa johnny's thrusts began to get more sporadic, he pulled out, hand leaving your head to jerk himself off. "open your mouth, tongue out."

you did as he said, sticking your tongue as you patiently awaited his cum, eyes glaring up at him as he kept his wrist moving at a quick speed.

"god, you're such a fucking slut, aren't you?" his words were said between low grunts and groans, obviously needed to get him over the edge. "tongue stuck out, drooling over my cock, thighs squeezing together at the idea of getting my cum in your mouth. fuck- cherry- fuck-"

and with that he came, most of it landing straight on your tongue, the salty taste filling your mouth. a small bit coated your lips instead, but johnny was quick to scrape that onto your tongue as well, before leaning down and spitting in your mouth. his saliva mixed with his cum as he barked out a 'swallow', and you did as he said. the action was so dirty, so vulgar, he was treating you like a messy, slutty object, and for whatever reason you were loving it.

"you did good, sweetheart," he cooed, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone, "i guess now it's your turn."

his hands settled under your shoulders, pulling you up from the group and back onto his lap, this time legs over his hips as you collapsed against his chest. you were fucking exhausted, head pounding from the pleasure coarsing through your veins. you could only imagine how you looked right now - mascara undoubtably smudged from the tears dropping from your eyes, lipstick removed from your lips and displaced onto your cheeks and chin, hair no longer its perfect ringlets and instead messy curls.

"god, you're still so fucking wet," he almost gasped, pad of his middle finger drawing a line through your folds. you could almost hear his actions, the squelching of your wetness deafening as your cheeks reddened with embarassment, your face hiding in his shoulder. "i bet you're so fucking sensitive- ah, yes you are."

your hips bucked as his finger pushed against your clit, so worked up from the lack of your last orgasm that you barely needed anything to become putty in his hands. he chuckled as he kept up his pace, other hand settled on your hip, rubbing up and down as you whined into his shoulder.

"still so needy, i wonder what would happen if i just...?" and with those words, a finger entered your pussy, curling up against that spot inside of you that caused your entire body to tense. "god, you're so fucking tight, would have thought this slutty cunt would be more used to cock than this, don't know how i'm ever going to fit."

you couldn't even understand the words coming out of his mouth. your orgasm was approaching so much faster due to how sensitive you were. and when he added another finger, the stretch just adding to the euphoria you were feeling, he could tell you were close. you just begged he would actually let you come this time.

but of course, he didn't. pulling them both out of you when you started to clench around him, and the denying pleasure for the second time made you absolutely crazy. your body was drained, completely drained of energy, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

"please," you sounded pathetic, most likely looked pathetic, and all you wanted was to cum. you sounded like the desperate whore he made you out to be, but at this point you couldn't even dispute it. "i can't take it, please."

johnny hums, as if considering your proposition, but really he knew your time was up. "need me to fuck you, sweetheat?"

"need you, john," you panted, using the last of your strength to push yourself up off his chest, to finally look him in the eyes, "please, wanna feel you in me."

that was all he needed, grabbing your hips and aligning you with his cock, and you were suddenly very aware of the position you were both in. there was absolutely no way you could ride him, you were far too out of it for that, but the way you were sat on top of him meant you couldn't think of another option.

but of course johnny was prepared, grabbing onto your hips and completely controlling your movements, sinking you down onto his cock for him and oh my god was he big. your mouth unknowingly feel into an 'o' shape with the stretch, feeling so so good as he bottomed out completely.

"pussy feels so good wrapped around me," johnny groaned, moving your hips up and down for you, so you were riding him without having to do any work. "dripping all over my cock, aren't you, my pretty little whore."

you couldn't even process the fact that he had called you both 'his' and 'pretty', instead trying not to scream and alert the entire house of the fact that you were locked in a room that you were definetly not meant to be in. your orgasm was incredibly fast approaching, the knot getting so unbelievably tight as you clenched around johnny.

"gonna cum, gonna cum," you repeated it like a mantra, until you heard a voice just outside the room. your hand flung to your mouth instantly, biting down on the flesh to stop any sound you were making.

johnny kept going though, despite the glares you were shooting him, to the point where you had to slap his chest in an attempt to stop him.

"fucking stop," your voice was a whisper, as quiet as you could muster while you could still hear voices outside. "i'm serious."

"you want to cum, don't you?" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and there weren't people outside who would definitely kill you if they found anything out. "so just keep quiet, and then you'll get what you want."

so you tried your hardest not to make a single sound, but johnny's pace was relentless, pounding into you at an angle that hit such a good spot inside of you, and you had to bite down into your hand to stop yourself moaning as you released all over his dick, the feeling so much better after your denied orgasms earlier.

but johnny kept going, still chasing his second orgasm, and you just let him use you as he thrusted up, soft grunts after every buck. "gonna let me cum inside of you, like the whore you are?"

"yes, please," you didn't even know what you were saying anymore, now chasing your own second orgasm while the voices outside grew louder and louder. "want your cum, johnny."

"of course you do, fucking slut," he spat, through gritted teeth, "i can feel you clenching around me, you close again? am i fucking this messy pussy so good that you're gonna cum again?"

you nodded against his skin, and you both came at the same time, and the feeling of him filling you up was the cherry on top of this entire experience. you couldn't move, you felt numb with pleasure as johnny lifted you off his softened dick, placing you on the chair as he ran over to the laptop, and a smile creeped onto his face.

"download complete," he smiled, voice low as possible, "let's get out of here, cherry."

you span around in the chair, looking at him like he was stupid, becuase that's how he was acting. "there's people outside, dumbass."

"then we'll have to climb out the window," he spoke in the same stupidly obvious tone, and you actually accepted his suggestion. you could see jungwoo's car from here, and a quick dash would mean no one would see your escape. "come on, let's go."

you tried to stand up, but your legs gave up straight away, causing you to collapse straight back into the chair. johnny chuckled slightly. "i fuck you that good, huh?"

"you mention anything that happened tonight ever again i will kill you, i promise you," you swore, voice low and serious.

johnny tilted his head. "so you didn't just beg for me to come inside of-"

"just carry me out of here," you snapped, and he oblidged, arms behind your shoulders and knees and he walked through the floor to ceiling windows, and wandered through to where jungwoo was parked.

"never mention it again," you repeated, "tonight never happened."

"tonight never happened," he agreed, but turned to look at you again, "but you better drop that attitude, cherry."

"or what?"

"or i'll have to fuck it out of you again."

[petriwriting]

Vero amore - Theodore Nott X Reader (Part 1.)

Summary: Theodore is on trial for being associated with voldemort due to his father and family history, His odds arent looking so good. Luckily for him you are called to the stand to testify on his behalf, and you just might be the key to his innocence.

Fluff, established previous relationship, Exbf!Theo, Older!Theo and others. Post hogwarts.

A/N: My first longer(ish) story. Let me know if you want to be tagged for part 2 and if you like it overall, I always like feedback! also if it is poorly edited I will go back and change a few things here or there. nothing major though. Please heed my warning this will have a lot of time jumps and memories but it will all make sense in the end promise. (Mini Series is now a WIP)

Italic is memories

"This could be the end of me." 

Theodore sighs in defeat, he is exhausted, and takes a swig of butterbeer to calm his nerves. The years past had not been kind to the man, his shoulders were low, as if they were fatigued from carrying the weight of the world had weakened his posture. His eyes had sullen dark circles beneath them, and his hair was long and un-kept. There was a cigarette between his fingers, it was unlit, but waiting patiently. He wasn't so much nervous, as he was ready for this to all be over. He was more than ready to leave his family's reputation in the past and move forward to better things. He was slightly jealous of Draco Malfoy for that reason, Draco had even become much more acquainted with Harry Potter after the war, leaving his reputation in the past now as a mature adult. Theodore felt partially he hadn't matured enough, and that he was still the boy who was stuck in his 6th year. It was a harsh adjustment for everyone, but Theo was completely alone now, with his father pronounced deceased shortly after the war and an estate left to him. He was an only child, his mother was gone. He pushes away all his friends for the most part and had not bothered making new ones... Theodore Nott was a mess. With one hand holding the beer bottle and cigarette, his other hand found its way to his pocket, pulling out a tiny black stone, rubbing it between his fingers to self soothe. 

"Let's not be too dramatic." Blaise says, with a slighty comforting tone. luckily for Theodore, Blaise had been helping him through his depression despite his best efforts to push him away. It was an effort that was silently appreciated. "I doubt Y/N would lie to the council, especially since it happened so many years ago." He said, standing at the other end of the kitchen island looking over at Theo. 

"Well, considering my behavior... I broke their heart. I wouldn't honestly wouldn't be upset if they did, Maybe I deserve it.." Theodore said, running his hand through his messy curls. 

Things had been tense for him lately. The ministry began investigating all those who were suspected to be involved with Voldemort's operations, one by one. Some trials were famous for their unhappy endings, others not so much. With Theodore Nott being his father's son, he was one of the first people to be questioned, going through the lengthy process of trying to prove his own innocence. His fathers action had ruined his son's reputation. Of course many of his friends had tried to speak on behalf of his good character, but the court's jury still seemed unconvinced. They had called you to the stand to testify for him, and he was utterly terrified. Although some may argue that the odds were stacked against Theodore, with the trace of a dark mark still plaguing his arm, Though others stand to believe he was innocent. Many of his friends had gotten through unscathed, although due to his father's high esteem, Theodore felt conflicted and angry. He knew it wasn't right to put you in that position, especially after all the time that has passed. Being a pureblooded slytherin associated with all things evil, the cards were not exactly in his favor.

"Well, let's hope for the best, shall we?" Blaise says, after pouring himself a small glass to toast with Theo. They had managed to stay relatively close throughout the years, despite all the chatter.

*Clink. 

"thanks, I'll need it." Theodore says, finally lighting his cigarette.

.    .    .You were relaxing one evening when a stocky brown barn owl nearly crashed into your window, with it came a letter with a familiar silver wax seal. The ministry of magic. You were quite alarmed, as you had no reason in particular to be contacted by them. Was your wand permit expired? or maybe there was some urgent matter to attend to? These questions flooded your mind as you carefully opened the letter. It was a summons. "You are hereby summoned to testify in court regarding the alleged innocence and character of Theodore Nott."  Readinghis name made your heart flutter. 

You had to stop in your tracks, taking a deep breath. You would be in the courtroom, testifying on behalf of your old ex-boyfriend from your school days. You could not believe it. The rest of the letter was a blur, something about instructions and court behavior expectations and what not to bring. You and Theodore had had a very Illustrious history together. He was your first love after all. It was all you could think about, for days on end until the court date finally arrived. It felt like months of sitting and waiting in anticipation and anxiety. Your mind turned over every interaction you had that would somehow frame you in a bad way, you were scared they might open a case on you just for the affiliation. Part of you, maybe even the tiniest part, felt that this was some kind of fate. Perhaps you were simply destined to relive the past, even if it was some of the most painful memories, maybe you could finally progress and heal after this.

You ran your fingers over your hair, readying yourself for what was about to come about, how it could all blow up in your face, or worse... You simply had no idea what to expect. You didn't even know what Theodore was up to these days apart from the slight mentions you overheard from friends and gossip. Aside from everything you were scared to face the man who broke your heart.

With a sigh, you apparated to the ministry's main office. Rushing past you were business men and women, Aurors, and some office workers. everyone seemed in a hurry, which didn't help your heart rate at all. It was beating fast as the seconds ticked on by. You scurried through the busy halls to the elevator, you were instructed to meet outside courtroom Ten, on the tenth level. You approached the doors steadily although nervously. You were waiting to be escorted into the main room. This level was so silent, almost as if it was void of any people at all. 

Someone in a plumb robe appeared, with a soft smile. It was a much older woman, something about her was oddly comforting. "Alright love," she said, sensing how nervous you were. You were fixing your collar for the third time. "No need to be scared, You'll see a bright light, then I will escort you to your seat." she explained. "Very simple." you nodded along. You could feel your heart-beat in your chest, wanting to run away or apparate somewhere you were familiar with, but you managed to keep yourself collected. 

It wasn't that you were scared of the court or being sentenced, you knew you were innocent and that you had nothing to hide, but you were anxious about seeing Theodore. The clever and mischievous boy you fell in love with may not be in that room, he may have changed completely. You were scared of that change. For you, it was devastating, He was your whole world and you loved him with all your heart, but you were starting to think that you must not have been the same to him, as after the war he had moved away from the city with blaise, Never even bothering to send an owl or talk to you. You tried to justify it, maybe he had his own reasons. He was going through a lot, without a doubt. above all you were scared you would fold under the pressure of being on the stand.

"Alright dear." the old woman whispered, taking your arm. you were led into the hall, it was dark. The woman was truthful about that bright light, it was blinding, like a spotlight. You could feel the enchantments that had been done in this room, there was a fuzzy, but calming feeling washing over you. The jury were all dressed in the same robes, sitting in near rows of curved benches that opened up into a central clearing, where there was a large chair on a podium. That must be where they would question people, you thought to yourself. The bright light began to disappear more and more as your eyes adjusted, as most of everything else was dark. The Wizengamot stood, everyone followed suit. you were standing on the sidelines with your escort, there was so much going on you almost didn't see Theodore sat across from everyone. There were two Aurors on either side of him and he was in restraints. It pained you to see him treated like a criminal, especially after seeing how gentle he really was. He looked older, still as handsome, but tired. Exhausted even, with dark circles under his eyes and his curls a mess atop his head. For a moment, you saw him and your heart skipped a beat.

"Witches and Wizards of the court, we are gathered today for the testimony of Y/N L/N on Behalf of Mr. Theodore Nott. shall the information and insight given to us today be conclusive, we may not need perpetuation of this case."  The wizengamot says. "We will proceed with a brief summary of our evidence, and our trial shall commence with Mrs.L/N's Testimony."

A small, short stubby man wanders up to the front of the jury to recap the evidence. He explains the case in short detail. Theodore was being accused of being affiliated with his father's operations, and since his father worked for Lord Voldemort the evidence was conveniently stacked against Theodore. The first piece of evidence was Theodore's dark mark, and the jury had apparently stated that this was a choice made by Theo, although you knew deep down it wasn't. The second piece of evidence brought up from collections was a broken time turner, you could clearly recall the memory of this. Although that was the only physical evidence against him, The other witnesses were named. One of them was a Slytherin student who had a class with Theodore, but you quickly realized whatever she had said must have been against his innocence, since it was someone Theodore rejected countless times, and he even left her alone to pick up a project worth most of their grade during fifth year granted, he did have a good excuse it didn't matter. The other witness was named Theodore's neighbor, an old man who had been acquainted with his father. It was clear the old man hated the Nott family, having lived in silent hatred next to the Nott manor for many years. And then, the final witness was you.

After turning the thoughts over your head, and imagining all possible outcomes you realized that they were about to try Theodore Nott for an affiliation with Death Eaters that was not his doing. Theodore was about to become a criminal  .  .  . 

You knew in your heart that this wasn't right. It was unjust. You would be guilt ridden for the rest of your life if you didn't at least attempt to unravel these lies. You could disprove most of the evidence anyway, you also knew that it might not be enough. Your escort stood behind you as you stood on the central platform to be seated for the jury. The same man who spoke before and welcomed everyone to the trial turned to you. "Mrs. L/N," he said, you gulped and took a shallow sigh. "How do you wish to proceed?" he asked you. 

You looked at him for a moment, and then back to the jury. They seemed like they didn't particularly care about being there. Without thinking much, "I would like to request to present my memories as evidence." you said. "Very well." the man replied, receding back into the room. At this time, you had to be sure you were providing the best evidence even if it meant showing everyone in that courtroom your most vulnerable moments. It was a brave gesture. 

After a few moments of silence, some Aurors emerged into the room with a Pensive. A small silver bowl with runes and symbols carved on the inside and outside, within it contained a shiny silver liquid. It was placed in the center of the room. The Auror approached you, asking for your permission before proceeding with extracting your memories. You had read about this in school, but you had never seen one let alone used one for yourself. He placed his wand up to your head, twirling gently. You felt a tear escape your eyes, it wasn't painful, but it felt like a sudden rush and headache. The Auror added the memories to the silver bowl, and in almost an instant it began to glow.

"Mrs. L/N," one of the jury members began. "are you sure you wish to proceed?" they asked, you nodded quickly. 

You took a deep breath as you looked into the bowl, It was enchanted to allow everyone to see your memories, and the glowing ball of light sprung up to illuminate the center of the room, within it was your memory.  .  .

[scleroticstatue]

Feminine Plots

Okay, I've been thinking A Lot about basic plot types and how classically feminine stories fit into neither the traditional (masculine) archetypes nor the traditional plots. After a lot of studying the major plot beats, I think all female-led stories* fall into one of seven plots. I'm using Disney movies to demonstrate this because just about everyone has seen them, but I think you could apply these to just about any feminine-based story.*

So, without further ado:

The Hard Work Plot: The heroine of this story is a hard worker and is tested by the plot to prove her kindness and generosity. If she passes the test, she wins and is rewarded for it. This is the basic plot of Snow White, Cinderella, and Tiana/Princess and the Frog.**

The Beast Taming Plot: The heroine of this story is put in a situation where she meets a monster, learns to understand it (usually through a heightened state of empathy), and then tames it to become socially acceptable for the norms of society, often ending the story by using the tamed monster to defeat a more villainous character who has been accepted by society. This is the plot of Belle/Beauty and the Beast, Moana, Jane/Tarzan, and Lilo/Lilo & Stitch.

The Transformstion Plot: The heroine meets an outsider who is threatening her home/family/people, who are stagnating or stifling. She spends time getting to know the person and their culture, and then uses her friendship to transform her own culture into one of flourishing modernity. This is the plot of Ariel/The Little Mermaid, Pocahontas, and Jasmine/Aladdin.

The Restoration Plot: The heroine is in a kingdom/household of dwindling power. Her quest is to restore the damaged relationships and undo the evil that caused the kingdom to dwindle. There's a very high chance that the heroine doesn't actually do the restoration herself, rather she makes other characters realize they have responsibilities and duties they haven't fulfilled, who then fix the problem instead of the actual female lead. This is Aurora/Sleeping Beauty, Elsa/Frozen, Mirabel/Encanto, and Nala/The Lion King.

The Balancing Plot: The heroine is proven to be unfit for feminine life and goes on a journey to prove she is capable of fitting in with the guys, only to realize that what she needs to restore peace and joy to her home/kingdom is the very feminity that she rejected. This is Mulan and Merida/Brave.

The Maturing Plot: The heroine is a naive individual who is exposed to the big bad world. Her idealism transforms the big bad world to be softer, but she also realizes there are bad things out there and that are/will take advantage of her if she lets it. In the end, she usually has to fight the bad guy/embrace her duties and responsibilities to save her home. This is Alice/in Wonderland, Wendy/Peter Pan, Giselle/Enchanted, and Rapunzel/Tangled.

The Sacrifice Plot: The heroine has a group that she is some sort of caretaker for (a princess, a lover, a support class). She does something, usually accidentally, that causes her friends to end up in danger, and she has to sacrifice herself to make up for those wrongs and save her people, usually ending up coming back to life because the other leads are so inspired and love her so much they make sure to save her. This is Tinkerbell/Peter Pan, Meg/Hercules, Esmeralda/Hunchback of Notre Dame, Kida/Atlantis, Anna/Frozen.***

EDIT: After workshopping this, I've decided I was missing one which seems almost exclusive to mothers and wives:

The Witnessing: The heroine must prepare another to become a Sacrifice/go to war/fight without her interference, and she has to let go and let them take on the trials of the world. Her plot arc succeeds when the people she's equipped successfully encounter the world without her guidance. This is Mrs. Potts/Beauty, Grandma Tala and Sina (the mom)/Moana, and Grandma Fa/Mulan. It's rare, so there's not a lot of these are protagonists, but it is a legitimate feminine archetype.

Star explanations under the cut.

*I'm being very specific here and talking about stories that are associated with the feminine, not stories that are traditionally associated with males who have then taken on female leads. And, while you can look at these as entire plots, these are also applicable as character arcs. The Lion King, told from Simba's perspective is the classic Call to Adventure. However, from Nala's perspective, she is the Restorer who, after watching her kingdom fall to ruin, has to go find the proper authority, mend his relationship with his father, and then return him to the kingdom to fulfill his responsibilities. While some more modern stories have female leads that don't fit these categories, I would argue they're not trying to appeal to women, but to a general audience and just happen to have a female protagonist, who could easily be swapped out for a male protagonist without changing anything of the story (and that, imo, makes for a very bad story indeed).

**There is a secondary dimension in these stories, which is the staticness or dynamicness of the characters. The classical Hero's Journey features a dynamic protagonist, who is expected to change throughout the run of a story. However, in most female-led media, the lead character is already virtuous and good. She is a static character that is then tested to see if she will fold under pressure. Snow White and Princess and the Frog both feature Hard Work narratives; however, Snow White is a static character who has to prove through a series of trials that she's good hearted and the world won't turn her cynical, while Tiana is a dynamic character who has to grow from cynicism to accept love as a virtue. While it is more traditional of older stories like Grimms' Fairy Tales, the Arthurian mythos, or Classic-era novels, static protagonists have almost entirely died out in favor of the Hero's Journey dynamicness. However, it remains a staple in Feminine Stories, even in modern stories: Moana, Anna/Tangled, Lilo/Lilo & Stitch.

***The Sacrifice Plot is a little odd, because there's usually another plot on top of it; Anna has a (slight) Maturing Plot, Meg has a Balancing Plot, Kida has a Restoration Plot. However, in the end, it's not a philosophical shift that defines their character, but their willingness to sacrifice for those they love. Yes, Anna was duped by Hans and has to accept he's not the good guy. However, she still falls in love with a man she just met (just a different one) and her narrative is instead trying to fix the problem she made when she upset her sister and her climax is when she essentially dies for Elsa, who then saves her with their sisterly love.

[azrakaban]

Heyyy how are youu?

I saw your resquests are open and i wanted to ask:

Enemies to lover with the boys? Mattheo pretty please and reader being a hufflepuff?

Like the whole you meet and both hate each other from the start for years because reader is always in her own world reading caring for magical creatures but she isnt afraid to talk back to them when they're arguing (like calling them players or returning their insults) until one of them as a 'fuck it' moment and kisses the reader and confess their love?

Sorry that was long thank you for taking time to read and thank you if you do write it 🤭💋

I'm great my lovely! Having a good day? Did you drink and eat 2day? :)

actually fr giggled and blushed when making this tbh, have so many Hufflepuff friends so basing this off of them <3 Also totally happy to write for Mattheo hes so bbg !

Careful - Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo Riddle didn't like you. That was clear to anyone who saw you two interact, and honestly, there never seemed to be any kind of reason behind it.

The assumption was just basic house prejudice, but Mattheo was fine with other Hufflepuffs, so why were you so 'special'? You knew he had it in him to be nice, heck, you'd harboured a crush on him since third year, so why now had he decided to be an ass?

Maybe it was that you had a habit of tripping over certain uneven flagstones when reading, or accidentally smashing bottles in potions because you'd spotted a niffler. But you couldn't help being clumsy, right?

Everytime something like that happened, Mattheo would give a sigh and eye roll, which made you upset, naturally. It's not like you wanted to fall over!

As a result you would confront him and he would say the obvious. 'you're so uncoordinated it's almost painful to watch.' Well unfortunately for you, it actually was painful.

So you could imagine the reaction when Snape paired you for potions.

"Careful."

"Shut up, I am being."

A quiet sigh.

"CAREFUL!" He threw out a hand to steady a jar of frogspawn you had nearly knocked over. You glared at him.

"It wasn't my fault, it was in an awkward place..." You said quietly.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, with that same sigh. "I'm sure it was."

You rolled your eyes, mocking him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Mocking me? Real mature n/n." You mocked him again, and he copied you.

"Mr Riddle, Ms L/N, something you'd like to share?" Snape said acidly. You quickly stopped, shaking your heads.

"No sir."

Once he had turned away, Mattheo muttered to you. "Your fault."

You gasped, offended. "It was yours, whore!" You replied indignantly.

Mattheo scoffed, trying to continue work on the potion. You pushed him to the side, and he looked at you in shock for a second, before pushing you out the way.

You did the same, and it turned into a war, before you both pushed at the same time and ended up on the floor.

"L/N, Riddle, Detention." Snape said greasily. "And leave the class."

You both packed your things, flushing, and left.

"Your fault." He murmured, smirking.

"Honestly fuck you." You replied.

"Careful."

"Shut up."

"CAREFUL!"

You turned, glaring. "How about, until told otherwise, I'll be careful?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Good idea."

You two were stuck in detention together, polishing trophies. Mattheo sniggered.

"You should get one for falling over, your face seems to have magnetic attraction to the floor." You bit back an exasperated scream.

"Look, I don't get why you hate me Mattheo, but just stop!"

"y/n-"

"No, no, just shut up! Can you just stop?"

"Y/N-"

"I don't like it when I fall over, it hurts, but you seem to be a sadist on some level-"

"Okay fuck it, I'm just going to shut you up."

Mattheo kissed you then, cupping your face in his hands, pulling back after a few seconds.

"I don't like it when you fall over either, you know, y/n." He said, rolling his eyes. "I can tell it hurts, so it irritates me that you're not more careful! You get hurt, Y/N, I see the bruises, and that hurts me too. Just... look out for yourself? For me?" He pleaded with you.

You froze, trying to process.

"Okay so... you don't hate me?" You said, confused.

"No actually, I kiss all the people I hate to shut them up. Oh look, here comes Potter, I'd better give him a snog. NO, Y/N, I DON'T HATE YOU." He laughed.

You giggled quietly, then smirked. "You like me." You said in a sing song voice.

Mattheo flushed slightly. "Do not." He grumbled.

"Youuuuu like meeee." You sang, giggling.

He kissed you again, effectively shutting you up as you kissed him back.

"You like me too though, y/n, let's not forget that." He smirked.

"You know you can't just kiss me every time you need me to be quiet." He laughed at that.

"Don't worry, I plan on kissing you a lot more than that. Though you do have quite a tendency to yap." He reminded you.

You poked your tongue out, moving back to the trophies to continue your detention, and nearly tripping over another wobbly flagstone.

"CAREFUL!"

Love and thanks for the request, hope this was what you were looking for, remember to eat and drink water <3

[christinesficrecs]

I had a request for newer fics, so here you go! Also, some other recent fics were posted here.

They’re all together ooky, the Hale family… (Snap, Snap) by DropsOfAddiction | 12.4K | Explicit

Derek realises that he’s probably squashing Stiles a little bit, right at the same moment that Stiles apparently realises that he’s still holding onto Derek’s face.

They both definitely acknowledge Derek’s nakedness at the same exact time, judging by the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.

“So, you have no clothes on,” Stiles removes his hands and holds them above his head in surrender, cheeks a muddy red.

“In my defence, I was covered in fur less than two minutes ago,” Derek rolls his eyes and he pushes himself up and off him, hands covering his junk for Stiles’ sake.

“You’re still kind of furry now…” Stiles sits up, blinking rapidly, clearly just as weirded out as Derek. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking or anything.”

Derek smirks, because that… that was a lie and he cocks an eyebrow at him.

as dear as a brother by endversed | 10.3K | Explicit

“You are not allowed to sleep with him,” Scott says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles and Scott become best friends at college. Derek is Scott's hot older brother.

Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b | 33.5K | Explicit

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Messily Ever After by KaliopeShipsIt | 20.3K

When Stiles and his blue slushie have a literal and quite splashy run-in with an adorable five-year old flower girl and her panicking daddy in the middle of the mall, the last thing he expects is to get a date to a stranger's wedding out of it.

Let alone, a boyfriend and a kid.

His Accidental Touch by Hidden_Orchard | 12.8K | Explicit

It happened accidentally, the first time. All the many and varied times afterwards, Stiles would hold his hands up and admit full responsibility for. But that first time – pure chance.

Derek needs a cuddle. Stiles - generous man that he is - would never deny Derek something he needs.

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 48.5K | Mature

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.

There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.

He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

Red, Red, Red by loserchildhotpants | 9.4K | Explicit

“Just… it’s weird, I’ve been - uh. You ever, like, dream of something? Something you’ve never seen before, but then you see it out in the world?”

everywhere, everything (every day) by nerdy-stilinski (Captain_Ameriyeah), S3anchaidh | 14.3K

Derek’s never been the best at making decisions. That’s how he keeps waking up with Stiles in his arms, but never under the right circumstances.

Or: Derek agrees to a pack vacation and instantly regrets it.

Matchmaking in Fandom by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 13K

It wasn’t like it was a secret that the showrunners made terrible decisions when it came to their own show, so why he’d had actual faith in them not fucking the movie up, he had no idea. Really, it was his own fault.

He hadn’t even set the bar high for the movie! The bar was so incredibly low, like mid-shin height, and they somehow managed to get it subterranean. That was talent. A bad talent, but still a talent.

if i'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that i am? by EvanesDust | 13K

When Derek’s kids write out their Christmas lists, they insist he writes one too. Not long after it's deposited in Santa's mailbox, he's reunited with the man of his dreams.

Stiles.

Derek can't help but fall for him again. It's really too bad Stiles is so obviously taken.

...or the one where Derek’s a grump who makes assumptions about his pregnant omega neighbor.

[liasadventuretime]

✦ YOU JEALOUS ?

neteyam x reader x ao'nung

PROMPT ➜ neteyam and y/n had anything but a good relationship, always fighting and bickering over something. but once those lustful eyes and lingering hands started getting noticed, everything changed, but neteyam could possibly have realised everything too late.

TAGS ➜ angst, slight mention of sex, teasing, heavy language

"you know what, fuck off and leave me alone skxawng" if there's one thing that neteyam can do so well and effortlessly it's annoy you. he enjoys it, you can see it on his face from how hard that motherfucker smiles.

he was "The Mighty Warrior", the best, the smartest, the strongest, the most mature. but when jake and neytiri couldn't see him, he was just another teenage boy, who got more dick than brain. you were incredibly grateful for everything that the sully family did for you, taking care and trying their best to always make you comfortable, since you lost your parents in the same war where neytiri and jake met. one time, you remember well that night, while doing some late night talking with lo'ak, he said that it seemed almost like eywa took something but immediately gave it back to you, "what Eywa gives, Eywa takes". 

but if you knew how much this lil bitch was going to annoy you, you might've as well killed yourself. but you're grateful you didn't because Eywa gave you the mom, the dad, the brother and the two sisters you never knew you needed. you and neteyam used to actually be very close, as children always playing and laughing together, almost made neytiri doubt if Eywa sent you to them for him. but as soon as you two realised that you were both the best, things started to crumble. what was filled with love and laughter, was now filled with bitterness and competitiveness. the first fight of yours, became one of the many. 

but it seemed like everyone noticed it but the two of you. the tension, might as well say sexual tension, was thicker the more you two grew. it could intoxicate the whole room. flirting with eachother with insults, and punches. never realising what you felt , not being capable of explaining the attraction between y'all. so you simply ignored it, and continued bumping heads as long as you could feel his hands on you and as long he could hear you talking, actually insulting, to him. as long as he could look at you being so angry because of something HE said, making YOU feel something, anything, towards him. 

you were fighting once again because of ao'nung, neteyam always making comments about how he holds you, or kiss you while fake moaning with others around. to say the least, it was embarrassing and you were kind of scared ao'nung would take it the wrong way, because you knew damn well you didn't like him. 

"oh yes, ao'nung fuck me harder please i'm such a whore" neteyam said while laughing and getting in front of you to stop you from going away, you raised your head to look at him only to see that fucking stare and smirk he always seemed to have plastered on his face. that face. that handsome and hateful face. lo'ak was on the ground laughing his ass off, enjoying every single one of your fights, but he also stayed there and watched to know who was going to throw the first punch, since none of your arguments has ended without one of you being on top of the other, and not in the way y'all think.

"why don't you like him ? what are you ? jealous because you know he could fuck me but you can't even touch me ?" he suddenly stopped laughing, his grin being replaced with a serious face, making you smirk knowing you hit him where you wanted. even though you hated eachother so much, you were both so jealous. if your jealousy for one another could pay the bills, you'd be the richest in the fucking room, that's something neytiri always said. 

"you're such a slag you would let anyone with a dick and muscles fuck you 'till you're dumb" he whispered in your ear, feeling the smirk on his face without even having to look at his face. your grin dropped immediately, feeling your blood boil and before you even realised it, it was your last fucking straw. 

you punched him right in the jaw, taking him off guard and making him stumble, but you didn't even have to think a second about it before he returned the punch x5 harder but on your nose. lo'ak immediately got up annoyed but also kind of scared one of you would kill the other, it's not like you weren't capable of it. 

" dad ! " he called, when he saw you on top of him but with wrists restrained by one of his hands while trying to dodge your slaps and punches. blood was pouring down your nose, and the bruise was already visible on his face. your nose could probably bleed for maybe another five minutes, but he would have to carry the mark of your punch for the rest of the month. 

"my lord, fuck. DAD ! THEY'RE FIGHTING AGAIN !" he screamed and then sighed, jake immediately ran to the both of you, with the angriest expression on his face , since this was your third fight that week. he pulled the two of you apart. "if i hear you two motherfuckers ever fight again, i'll lock you both in a tent until you'll make peace, understood ?" 

you could barely stand on your feet, neteyam was still holding his jaw and jake was breathing heavily, so you didn't wait a second and you both said "yessir, sorry sir" at the same time, because if he got seriously angry, may the lord have mercy on anyone he comes across. 

neytiri tried to talk to him, and jake tried to talk to you but even after all the promises, you just couldn't avoid him. he was with you always. at home, in the field, in the clan, in picture frames, in dirty dreams, while ao'nung's hand was on your waist, lingering way too much... you just couldn't frame him out. 

it's not like he could do anything about you either. he lost count of how many times his mom tried and convince him of trying to at least not always end up with your hands all over each other, and a few new bruises. he just... can't ? for some reason he couldn't fathom why you couldn't leave his mind. you were imprinted on his eyelids, tattooed in his mind, even while battling, showering or with his hands between his thighs. he was addicted, and whatever you were, you were much stronger than the "herbs" he smokes with you in the nightime, which was the only part of your day where you would rant and talk about anything that came across your mind. 

you didn't like eachother one bit, that's true. but when he had something on his mind or just needed to talk to someone who could understand him, your tent was the first one he visited. with all the pressure and responsibility that you two hold, having someone that can understand you is important. basically every night you either met on the beach or his tent, to just smoke, talk or even cry. you ended each "peace" session with a hug and went back to hating eachother the next morning.

"hey, are you coming ?" lo'ak said while entering your tent, placing himself next to you while you were rebraiding your hair after your fight with neteyam. you looked confused for a second and asked "coming where ?". you weren't even sure you wanted to go wherever he was going, because you just know neteyam is going to be there. but why let him ruin all your fun ? ao'nung was probably going to be there, so why not ?

lo'ak looked around your tent and took the sandwich that was on the counter next to you, taking a bite off of it. "i was eating that if you don't mind" you said taking the sandwich out of his hands, to cut it in half and give him the other half. he smiled at your gesture, you could hate him all you want but you just had that sweet spot for him. lo'ak was definitely the person you were the closest with, having eachother's backs and protecting one another in any situation. if he wanted to get in trouble, you followed him while complaining because you were actually scared he would get in some serioustrouble.

"i don't know, tsireya just asked some people if they wanted to hang out and talk and shit, we'll see" he said while trying to be so non-chalant that made him look so nervous. you eyed him for a bit, and when he noticed you smiled and hummed.

"what ?" he asked with a confused expression on his face.

"nothing" but your smile only grew more. he knew what you were thinking, but he just wanted you to say to make sure it wasn't that obvious.

"no c'mon, what ? why are you smiling ?"

"you know that you will have to talk to tsireya alone if you want her to like you, right ? like, do you expect me to also be there while you eat her out or what ?" you laughed, while he was trying to hide his blush but it didn't work. 

"YOU'RE GROSS WHAT" he picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at you, but you dodged him before he even threw it. after that, lo'ak tried to not look at you in the eyes while calming down.

"sooo..." he looked at you with a smirk on his face and puppy eyes.

"so what ?" you asked while looking at yourself in the mirror, putting a bandaid on your nose to prevent the scratches from getting infected. is you, being turned because of the memory of him pinning your wrists with one hand to prevent from punching him, that bad ?

"YES !" he jumped up almost scaring you, proceeding to chant and grunt all over your tent. "c'mon, she might already be there, hurry up" you stood up taking his hand and running out of your tent. 

after just five minutes, you saw where tsireya was and immediately went there, lo'ak being way too impatient, but this is the actual first time he has liked someone this seriously, so who were you to tell him to calm down ? 

lo'ak immediately went straight to tsireya, but you decided to look around a bit to see if you could find anyone. well, maybe someone. 

you turned around the fire place, when you accidentally bumped shoulders with someone, but as soon as you realised who you were turning around for to excuse yourself, your heart almost stopped.

he winked at you with a smirk on his face, and immediately walked away. still confused because of your interaction with neteyam, you find ao'nung. he smiles and pats the space between his thighs, you walk there and immediately sat while looking at him. he used to hold you tight and place his chin on your head. even though you didn't like him that way, he was the first guy that held you without hurting you. he was sweet, kind and strong. the perfect man. he cared so much about you, but you both knew you didn't want anything serious, just someone to have a bit of fun with. between his big arms you felt protected, safe from everything and anyone.

his smile could light up a whole room, his back and hands could protect hundreds of villages, his words could heal the deepest wounds, his tears could wipe away continents but he loves so deeply he can get buried inside anyone's heart.

but for some reason…

...you still didn't feel the spark.

the spark, that unfortunately, you could feel with someone else.

whom you didn't realise was looking directly at you with the deadliest stare ever. when you noticed him, you immediately froze. but why ? why were you acting like you just caught ? why do you feel this drowning heavy feeling in your stomach ? why was your heart missing a beat, but you felt that heartbeat somewhere else ? why is it that everytime he makes you cry, another tear rolls down your thigh?

why, why, why ?

he held a cup in his hands, basically chocking it, but didn't get his eyes off of you. his posture rigid, his eyes cold and his arms veiny, probably because of the blood that was boiling in his veins.

then, an idea crossed your mind.

you took ao'nung hand who was, as usual, lingering on your waist and placed it on your thigh rubbing it up and down, making it get more and more near to your inner thigh with every stroke.

his patience was slowly thinning out. he couldn't stand it. you're so beautiful when you tease him, it hurts him so much. he wish it could be him. making you whimper and crave oh so more with those eyes which were veiled with tears, and how could he resist his beautiful girl ? how could he say no to you ? if you ever gave him the chance, he would destroy you.

he would treat you as if you were a princess, caring, protecting, and nurturing you but would fuck you as if you were a whore, biting, marking and making sure the next motherfucker could taste his dick on your clit.

he felt blood rush to his erection, making it more noticeable, but why the fuck did he feel that way ? WHY ? maybe he was jealous because he knew you can tell a joke, but will never tell a lie.

ao'nung has a chance, while neteyam doesn't. which makes him feel sorry for you, because he would make sure that everytime he fucked you, you would come back crawling and begging for more.

more, more, more.

nothing was ever enough. the lustful stares, the lingering eyes, the blush, the smiles you both tried to hide so much, but never worked.

why did he feel jealous every single time you hung out alone with lo'ak, or you laughed at everyone's jokes but his ? why did he get hard everytime you spoke near his ear or accidentally touched him ? why was he so sensitive around you ? every move of yours making his stomach flip ? why were so... you ?

meanwhile, ao'nung carefully moved your hair out of the way, making neteyam hold his cup even more tightly, and whispered in your ear "what are you doing, darling ?"

ao'nung couldn't act like nothing was happening, his smile plastered across his face, making neteyam even more angry and angry by the second. he probably enjoyed the teasing more than you did. you looked at him with those innocents eyes that neteyam couldn't resist, and whispered back

"nothing" and kissed the back of his ear, taking him off guard and making his erection now way too noticeable. that was neteyam's last straw, he could kill someone with his bare hands. but the difficult part was admitting he would've done it because of you.

he sometimes wishes you could die, because not having you makes his heart cry of pain every single day. in his opinion, it's his life's biggest torture. but as someone else would say, his heart and dick were so full of you, he could barely call them his own. the way you looked at him in the eyes while teasing another man, could make any person fall to their knees and beg, beg, beg. which you weirdly enjoyed, it's not like you didn't know the effect you had on people.

it was enough for now, you didn’t wanna take it too far.

you stood up, and lightly kissed ao'nung on the lips and whispered goodnight. neteyam immediately threw away his cup smashing it, and stood up following you, making people watch you and him as you both left making everyone ask themselves what was happening.

before you could enter your tent, you felt a big cold hand grab the back of your neck making you gasp, and making you turn around you and look up to stare directly at neteyam's eyes, the most beatiful and deadliest eyes ever. you could get lost in them, but did he know that ? was it even worth it to think all that stuff about him if he didn't know ? was all the fighting, jealousy and teasing worth it ? why ?

because you were both too proud to admit anything, nonetheless your weird and sick attraction for eachother.

"what the fuck was that kiss ? what the fuck are doing ? are you his whore ? hm ? " he said grinning his teeth and hissing, almost making a nerve on his temple pop, while keeping his hand tight on the back of your neck. the amount of time that you fantasised about his calloused hands roughly all over you. you could just feel his jealousy through every word he spat in your face, and lord why was it so attractive ?

this man was so angry, but so damn attractive and oh did it make you want to let him do anything to you. anything.

you smiled and grinned, knowing what was going thru his mind, and whispered in his ear, feeling his goosebumps and breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"you jealous ?"

[grace-mint]

A Fate Worse Than Death

Hardcore TW: Extreme Angst, SA, whipping, blood. It's rough y'all. Let me know if there's anything I forgot.

Also kinda shitty writing. This is my first fic, and idek if anyone will see this.

I rush into Rhysand’s office, slightly breathless. My mate sat at his desk in all his glory. He was the most beautiful male in the world, and if I wasn’t in a hurry, I would have taken the time to appreciate the spectacle of a being in front of me. Unfortunately I didn’t have that. “Rhys, the camps are getting worse, my father is back.” My father, the cruelest man I’ve ever met. He was a camp lord, but when Rhysand had placed the anticlipping laws into effect, he disappeared, along with multiple other Illyrian males who had the same beliefs as him: beliefs that females had no rights to their bodies. I had been on a mission, sent by Rhys, and I was in charge of protecting the females from these barbaric men. My father being one of them where I had an unfortunate run in with him Rhysand stood up from the desk, concern lacing his features,  and grabbed my hands. “Breathe, my love. Tell me what you found out.” 

I took a deep breath, clinging to my mate for stability. “He was there, and he was clipping a young girl’s wings. He left before I could kill the sorry bastard, but I was able to stop some of his men. They won’t be heard of ever again.” 

Rhys’ face morphed into one of anger. “I’m sorry you had to see him,” he said softly, before asking about the girl. “And the young girl, is she ok?” 

“I got there before any real damage could be done, and returned her to her mother, but she will be traumatized, understandably so.”

“How a man as wretched as him gave life to a creature as stunning and caring as you, I’ll never understand.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “One day, I’m going to kill him, and I will make it slow and painful.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I just don’t understand how a young girl’s life isn’t worth more to those men.” My brow furrowed. “It sickens me, it reminds me of how I grew up, and I swore I would never allow another female to feel pain at my father’s hands. I failed.” My mate’s head snapped up at my words, he gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You have never failed. You are the strongest female I’ve ever known, the strongest person I’ve ever known, “ he amended.”You are working so hard to fully enact this law. I wish I could help you more.” 

I knew he couldn’t, still dealing with the after effects of the war against Hybern. He was in the process of rebuilding relations with the other courts, trying to create stronger alliances. “I know you can’t, and I don’t blame you. My father, let him be my problem.” My father and I had a terrible relationship. He was raised in one of the worse Illyrian camps, with even stricter beliefs. He believed in cutting a female's wings out entirely and that thought was so outlandish that even the most cruel of males didn’t believe in it. But my father was a different breed of asshole. He and my three older brothers made my life a living hell. After my mother passed, giving birth to me, he blamed me for her death. He thought that since my mother had a daughter, and not a son, I was a curse sent to ruin them, so from a young age, I was a toy for their amusement. A plaything to take their anger on. They beat me often, hiding me away from the world. When I reached maturity and started to bleed, they were prepared to cut my wings. They wanted to hang them on the wall as a reminder of the curse I was. 

The day my father and brothers were planning to enact their plan, I woke up early and ran for it. I knew I wouldn't make it far, but I was hoping and praying to the cauldron that someone would take pity on me. That was the fortunate day Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were visiting our camp. As I ran, my eldest brother, Treyvis, was gaining on me. He tackled me to the ground, binding my arms and slamming my face into the ground. That was when Rhysand found me, the bond clicking in his chest when he saw me, though he didn’t mention it for years later. They stopped what was happening, not before giving my brother a warning in the form of a beating, and took me back to Velaris. That was about 100 years ago. Rhysand and I have been mated for 95 of those years now. We have been through plenty of ups and downs, but the bond remained strong and stable, even when we were both stuck under the mountain. I had never known a love like this.

“Give me the word, and he’ll be no one’s problem. I’ll kill that bastard in a second with great joy.” Rhysand unwound his arms from my waist, pressing a kiss to my temple once more, and made his way back over to his desk. I steeled myself, preparing to ask his blessing for another mission. We both agreed when we were mated, we don’t ask permission, rather each other’s blessing. “Rhys, I want to go after him, to end this. To take down the little cult he has accumulated. He’s been off the map for years and seeing him today hurting that young girl, I want him dead, and I want to be the one to do it.”

Rhysand, the one person who knew me better than anyone in the world, knew this about me. While I may have never vocalized it, this was what I wanted. He motioned for me to come closer, and so I perched myself on his lap, winding my arms around his neck. 

“You are my brave, beautiful mate. You can handle anything, I know you can do this. It makes me scared to send you alone, but I know if I ask you to take Cas or Az you will refuse.” He was right about that, I wanted to do this alone, especially if something bad were to happen. “But I know you can take care of yourself. You've spent many years training, yet I can’t shake this feeling that something bad will happen. I know you can handle your own, I just get terrified at the thought of something happening to you.”

My heart ached at his words. I press a tender kiss to his lips. “I will always find my way home to you, to our friends, to Velaris. And when I come back, I will be free of the fear and the strife of that man.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I should’ve listened to Rhys. I should have brought Cassian or Azriel with me. I cursed myself as I hung there, my arms bound in faebane shackles, with my father pacing in front of me. “Fuck you.” I spat at him. If I was gonna die, I might as well die with the satisfaction of pissing him off. I reached down the bond again, not being able to reach it still, due to the faebane I was dosed with. 

I pissed him off a little too well it would seem though. He walked up to me, chuckling. “Oh my dear y/n, how idiotic you are. You hide away with your little whore of a mate, thinking you are safe, yet you’ll never be.” His words send a shiver down my spine, anger flaring at the term he used for my mate. 

“I hope you burn in hell.” 

“Now now, dear y/n, I would shut up before you anger me even more.” As he speaks, he brings his knife down my arms, slicing a long line from my shoulder to my elbow, then he repeats this on my other arm. I show no pain though, not willing to show this man any vulnerability. He takes the knife, now slicing my legs in a similar fashion. I hadn’t even noticed my leathers were gone when I had woken. I shivered at the thought of someone undressing me. 

“I’ll give you a chance to beg, it won’t do much, but it might make me be a little kinder.” 

I know he’s lying, so I say, “When he finds you, you will feel such pain, he will do worse things than killing you, as that will be a mercy.”

He smiles sadistically, “ What I do to you, will be more merciless than anything your mate will do to me.” He spat the words at me as he made his way behind me. I hear the unmistakable slither of a whip. I look up to see my brother, Treyvis, walking in, whip in hand. I seethe at the bastard. He merely sends me a sickly sweet smile.

“Do your worst, I don’t care,” the words came out nonchalantly despite the panic raging in my chest. I didn’t flinch as the first lash came down. The second one, had my body jerking forward as I realized what he was aiming for. He was aiming for my wings. Panic seized my body, uncontrollably as my inane instincts to protect my wings kicked in and they folded up. Hands seized my wings, stretching them out to full length. I looked up to see my two other brothers had shown up and were the ones in charge of holding my wings open. I started to struggle, realizing the dire situation I was truly in. The whip rained down on my back and wings, lash after lash, until the skin was completely flayed. It still didn’t stop though. I hung, my whole body weight being held up by the shackles digging into my skin. 

“Stop. Please,” my voice, hoarse from screaming, rasped. I didn’t want to beg, but my wings were never going to heal from this. My pleas fell on deaf ears.

Minutes, maybe hours later, the pain stopped. It took me a second to realize the whip stopped.  I hung there, my head bowing having no strength to lift it. I was finally released from the shackle, and I fell forward, face slamming painfully into a pool of my own blood on the ground. I was yanked up by my hair, neck tilted to the side. I felt a needle being stabbed into the side of my neck, dosing me with more faebane. I fell forward, once more, after being released. I raised my head barely enough to see four pairs of feet exiting the cell I was in. It wasn’t long after until I fell unconscious.

Hours, or maybe even days later, I woke up. I had no concept of time anymore, darkness all around me. My wounds had clotted well enough, despite the dose of faebane, I was still able to heal somewhat, although not well enough to even stand. I lay there, chest down, on the ground and ran through my memories to keep me sane. 

Rhysand and I days after he rescued me. Our first Starfall. When the mating bond finally snapped for me. Our frenzy, that lasted weeks. I missed Rhysand so dearly, regretting ever leaving his lap that day. I lay there for what feels like an eternity, slowly drifting in and out of sleep. I woke up to harsh hands grabbing me once more. My hands were forced into the shackles, and I mentally prepared myself for what was to come, promising myself to keep my mouth shut, not giving them the satisfaction of vocalizing the pain they were causing me. 

I immediately broke that promise as soon as I felt one wing lifted up and the cool steel of a blade against it. I let out a yelp, both at the surprise of the action and the pain of them touching my wing. I felt my fathers voice in my ear, sending the millionth shiver down my spine, as he said, “You are a whore who defiled herself to another whore. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these for quite some time.” Shameful tears began to pour down my cheeks as I realized what was to come. “Don’t worry, y/n, I’ll return you to your High Lord, but he won’t want you barren of wings. He also won’t want spoiled goods.”  I stiffened at his words as male walked in, presumably one of his guards. “He wants to have his way with you while we’re here.” My blood turned to ice at his words. Fear sparking in my soul, more fear than I’ve felt these past few days. At the first hack of the knife against the root of my wing, I let out the most pathetic yelp in the world. The pain was unbearable. The hacking kept going as the male approached me. He put his hands on me, tearing my shirt and pants off. He ran his hands over my body as the pain in my back flared on. I wanted to throw up as his hands touched me. I wanted to die right then and there. I did throw up at the thud of one of my wings hitting the ground. The male in front of me cursed and backhanded me across my face. I was weeping at this point, weeping at the loss of my wings, the loss of control over my body as this man reached lower and lower stopping between my legs. Lastly, I weeped for Rhysand to come save me. I knew he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t.I hadn’t been checking in with him through the bond, but it was too late for him to find me anyway, as my second wing traded to the ground and the male in front of me, now naked and readying himself, spread my legs, and took the most vulnerable thing I had to offer. I hung there, numb, as he entered my body, the feeling wrong and disgusting. I had stopped crying long ago, finding no will in me to want to go on. 

The male finished, leaving me naked, cold, and devoid of wings. I wanted to die, I wanted to die and never come back. I never wanted to face Rhysand again,or any of my friends. I wished they would’ve just killed me. 

Finally, my father walked back in again. “Pitiful y/n. Pathetic bitch.” He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You should have never left all those years ago, and now you’ve paid your price. I’m going to take you home.” He saw the fear in  my eyes at his words. “Oh? Don’t want to go home to your husband? I don’t blame you, who would want you, after you let yourself be defiled and you were too weak to protect your wings.” 

If looks could kill, this man would have dropped dead. 

“Well, let’s go.” He unshackled me. I looked up at him in confusion. 

“You’re letting me go?” I couldn’t even recognize my voice. “Why?” 

“I’m condemning you to a fate worse than death. You have to face your family, and they’ll all have to see that you let yourself get taken by another man. How will they react? I’m sure they’ll be disgusted.” My father grabbed my bruised arm, I hardly winced in pain, too focused on his words as they raced around in my brain. Surely Rhysand would still love me. But I had insisted on going on this mission, who could blame him if he didn't.

My father threw me a slip that hardly hid anything, and I quickly put it on before he tossed me over his shoulder and walked me out of the cell. I could’ve thrown again up at the sight of my wings, limp and lifeless, lying on the floor, never to take flight again. I didn’t have time to dwell on it as a blinding light hit my eyes. We were outside. I was thrown unceremoniously to the snow-covered ground. I shivered and curled into myself, hoping to achieve a bit of warmth. I didn’t bother looking up to see where my father had gone, I laid there instead. Ready to face my death. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!! Oh fuck. Darling, wake up.” I felt a warm, gentle hand on my shoulder, rousing me from my sleep. I wanted to sleep, it was so nice and warm. A nice reprieve from the pain I had in my back for some reason. I hummed in annoyance, wanting the voice to go away. I was shivering though, my bed was extremely cold. It was then that all of the memories came flooding back, and I wrenched my eyes open with extreme effort. I attempted to sit up, but my back seized at the motion. I couldn’t move, I was paralyzed in pain. 

“Be careful, don’t move. It’s ok. Stay still, please.” I recognized that voice, and I looked up to the most wonderful sight I had ever seen. 

“Rhys?” My voice was still raspy from the screaming. “Yes, it’s me. Stay still, Az and Cas are coming.” I felt the warmth of a coat over my shivering body, as Rhysand wrapped me in his coat, careful to avoid the bloody mess that was my back. “Stay awake.” His voice filled with panic as I drifted off again with the warmth of his embrace. I didn’t want to stay awake. This was nice, I wanted to sleep.

“Y/n, my heart, you have to stay awake.” His voice shook as he pleaded with me. I could barely hear him as I slipped further and further and further into the void, the only sounds being Rhys’ cries and begging me not to go sounded like a lullaby to me as I welcomed unconsciousness with open arms.

--------------------------------------------------

If you made it this far, let me know! Gentle critiquing is welcome and appreciated.

[maybe-moonchild]

CH 2 𓆣 James Potter x Slytherin Reader summary: you could have worse company... you could also have less annoying company... WC: 4.5k ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sixth year ended uneventfully. 

You had a few more run-ins with Kaston, most involving insults, the occasional tripping or knock of your books out of your hand. The typical pure-blood ideology bullshit was sent Lance’s way too when he was around. Keith only hexed him once. 

Classes went well enough after final examinations were completed and you received report of your grades. Packing  up your dorm for the summer resembled shoving things into your bags the day before boarding the Hogwarts Express. That was it. Your sixth year was done and you had three whole months spending time with your family, enjoying the weather and exchanging letters with your friends until you got to see them. 

Most importantly, you had three months of no magic. 

You almost felt guilty how relieved you felt not being around wizards each day. You didn’t feel like you were behind, always playing catch up on their way of life. 

Your new found peace ended with your Hogwarts letter calling for you to return at the end of August. Your parents seemed almost disappointed when you told them you wanted to go school shopping alone, your heart broke at the way their excitement fell, plastering on a smile and chalking it up to you just wanting to be mature. 

You let them think that. It seemed a lot easier to let them believe instead of the fact that returning to Diagon Alley with your muggle loved ones seemed like they would just be in danger. So they agreed, making sure you planned your trip with Lance and Keith so you wouldn’t be on your own. 

Flourish and Blotts was relatively busy, the once lazy feeling in the air associated with summer turning to an excited hum for the upcoming school year. You were still waiting on the arrival of your friends as you stood between the shelves. You hadn’t been able to refrain yourself from grabbing the most recent edition of The Daily Prophet and flipping through its pages.

Sometimes you wondered if the war was truly ever going to end.

It seemed as if you’d missed a summer of awful news; more disappearances of muggles and muggle borns, their families found killed in their homes. Hogwarts and magic had once been exciting, filling the gaps in your life with wonder the more you saw and learned. Along the years of whispered threats and hissed insults at your back, you felt like you’d been chased away from your prior love of the Wizarding World. 

You were too enthralled in reading to notice a group of boys chasing each other into the store. 

Sirius accused Peter of stealing his recently purchased sugar quill as they stomped through the store. James was too busy reading through the list of things he and Sirius were supposed to purchase today to keep Euphemia Potter from being cross. Remus hid his smirk behind the stick of the sugar quill hanging from his mouth. 

When James glanced up from his list, the sight of you between the shelves they had just passed made him do a double take. For some reason, he just stopped in his tracks. He was staring, he knew that he was but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. You looked more or less the same aside from having gotten some sun and your hair gaining a little length. 

It wasn’t like he was watching you in a weird way… just… watching. 

“You going to go over there or just keep staring,” Sirius whispered in his ear before blowing into it. James jumped slightly as Sirius whispered in his ear, a scowl instantly forming on his face as he playfully smacked the back of his head. 

Laughing at his own antics, Sirius leaned back, raising an eyebrow in question as he settled against one of the shelves. 

“You’ve never been the quiet type before,” Remus murmured as he read the back of a book, “Even with Lily, you’d be tripping over your own feet to talk to her.”

"What are you-" James began, but the words got caught in his throat as he glanced up and spotted you once again. “This is- This is nothing like with Evans! I was just looking!”

Sirius snorted, “More like drooling.”

James’s mouth dropped uncontrollably, snapping shut in the hope that he could look unbothered. 

"I was certainly not," he muttered under his breath, his confidence sounding more like false bravado.

“Want me to wipe your chin, Prongs?”

“Want me to smack you right in the store?”

Thank Merlin you were both far enough away and too engrossed in The Daily Profit to even look up. 

Remus continued browsing the spines of books. “And yet, you are stalling,” he teased, not even bothering to glance up.

James was instantly on the defensive, his eyes narrowing as he shot Remus a dirty look. "Just because I'm not rushing over there doesn't mean anything," James muttered. His eyes returned to the piece of paper in his hands. 

“Why don’t you go talk to her then?” Sirius smiled smugly, barely able to contain how humorous he found the sight. “Instead of standing here like an idiot.”

"Oh, he’s got it bad,” Remus hummed with feigned sympathy. . 

“Is this how you usually land girls then?” Peter, a better actor than all of them, cocked his head to the side, “by staring at them from across a store?”

Sirius was nearly doubled over as he tried to stifle his laughter to keep himself quiet. Leaning forward to rest his forehead against the wood, Remus clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder, the both of them chuckling. 

“You know, you’re a real git, you know that, right?” James hissed, his voice sounding more frustrated than menacing. He turned to glare around at the other Marauders, who seemed to be taking great pleasure in witnessing his predicament.

Scoffing, his face turned even redder, shoving the list back into his pocket. "I'll have you know I am a certified charmer." He tried to say this with confidence, but even Peter's words had chipped away at his normally impenetrable ego. 

Sirius just laughed harder behind his hand.

"I was simply... trying to decide on the best way to approach her.” James was trying to maintain some semblance of his usual charm.

"You're not even approaching her," Remus pointed out dryly, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile.

The other three boys shared a look, one that had Peter and Remus slipping away while Sirius hung an arm around James’s shoulder. 

“Listen mate, you’re getting too into your own head. Sure, she may not necessarily be the biggest fan of you and your ego, but she doesn’t hate you- in fact! Once in a while you make her laugh at your own expense.” Both of them moved in your direction, James finding himself nodding.

“So, remember you’re a gryffindor, quite being a big baby, and talk to her.”  As Sirius finished giving his advice, he was all too ecstatic to give him a shove.

James stumbled forward, catching himself just in time to avoid falling directly into you. He could hear the sound of Sirius' laughter in the distance, but he ignored it as he found himself face-to-face with you when you had startled. 

Both of your eyes were wide for different reasons, yours in surprise and his in… well also surprise but because he really hadn’t planned on having to catch himself on a shelf at the last second. At least he had crushed you. 

You visibly relaxed at the realization that it wasn’t a threat, just an idiot. 

One that you didn’t hate horribly. 

“Hi James,” you drew out skeptically, amused nonetheless. 

His strange behavior fell away to reveal his usual charismatic appeal as he gave you a roguish smile. James adjusted his arm gripping the bookshelf where it caught his fall to lean against it with his forearm. You were sure you had seen him like this many times before. 

Usually it involved the Hogwarts library, Lilly Evans and an attempt at flirting. 

“Hi.” As if he remembered that himself, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You frowned in thought, “Is it? I didn’t think it was all that unexpected given most students do their shopping on the weekend.” 

You were unaware that James was half listening to what you were saying, and half shooting a dirty look to the other Marauders when they peaked out from behind a bookshelf. You didn’t see it, too busy trying to make sense of James, something you gave up on long ago. 

“Have a good holiday then?” James asked abruptly, grinning as he turned his attention back to you. 

“I’d say so, spent time at home, a little bit of traveling with my family, relaxing,” you shrugged, “Nothing special. What about you? Heard Black moved in with you. Your poor mother.”

James let out a snort of laughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. You didn’t hesitate to feel as lively as he looked. 

"Yeah, she was not thrilled that we accidentally crashed our brooms into her garden multiple times, but she loves us both nonetheless," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. Even though the conversation about the situation was lighthearted, you knew that Sirius leaving the house of Black was no small event. 

"As if I wasn't bad enough, they now get two of us.” He shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets as he leaned back casually against the bookshelf. The sight of the other Marauders watching them from a distance was not lost on him, but he chose to ignore it for the moment. “So eh, yeah. I guess it was a good summer, It was great having Sirius there with me. He could always crack a joke that would make even a dementor laugh.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.”

A group of Ravenclaw girls slipped by, greeting you both before erupting into a fit of giggles once they’d passed. You were at least grateful to know that you weren’t the object of their laughter. The thing about being in James Potter’s presence was that he always outshined you. That was fine by you as long as it kept any negative attention from hanging over your head. 

Clearly they were giggling about having successfully said hello to him.

“You finish your shopping then?” 

A movement behind him caught your attention as you opened your mouth, “No, just started actually. Waiting to meet with Lance and Keith at The Leaky Cauldron in twenty minutes.”

"I think I have a couple left as well," he said a little too enthusiastically, clearing his throat with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Why don't we, you know, shop together?"

You raised an eyebrow at the offer. Sure, maybe James had been a witness to your moment of weakness last year, but it wasn’t like the two of you had even exchanged letters this summer. But he looked so earnest about the offer, you felt like saying no would make him look like a kid who just watched you kick a puppy. 

So you smiled, albeit a bit unsurely, you smiled nonetheless. 

“Uh, sure.”

He instantly brightened, bright enough to hurt your eyes like you had stared directly into the sun. Luckily, you looked away quickly as you peaked behind him. 

“Will uh, your friends be joining us too?”

James whipped around to see Sirius, Peter, and even Remus sticking their heads out from behind a shelf. The sight was comical, looking straight out of a cartoon; even more so when they realized they’d been caught and jumped out of sight. 

You found it amusing to watch how he nearly cringed. “I suppose they will be,” he sighed. 

The five of you didn’t spend too much longer there, easily picking up the books you’d need for seventh year. You were pleasantly surprised to chat with Remus about books you had read over the summer, learning that he also enjoyed muggle literature. It made you more aware of how little you actually knew about The Marauders, aside from what was surface level. That was okay but you hadn’t expected to enjoy learning more. 

Given that you still had some time before heading to The Leaky Cauldron, you didn’t mind stopping at another store or two to pass the time.

Up until Sirius mentioned stopping at Quality Quidditch Supplies. James was ecstatic at the idea, quickly involving you in the plan given the three of you were the quidditch players of the group. The two boys were too engrossed in their conversation about what broom polish they preferred to notice your sudden discomfort. 

Sirius let out a loud exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you and James. "I could still outfly the two of you any day," he teased. “Come on, we’ll meet Remus and Peter at The Leaky Cauldron when we’re done.”

You opened your mouth, the words sticking apprehensively to the tip of your tongue. You urged yourself to say something, to even just feign disinterest and opt to head to Rosa Lee Teabag, just lie and say you really loved tea. 

Instead, your mouth closed and your shoulders sagged in defeat as you followed behind Sirius and James. 

You were quite familiar with Quality Quidditch Supplies, having frequented the store before each return to Hogwarts. The smell of boom polish was overwhelming when you opened the door, feeling like a sense of home. You couldn’t help but inhale deeply as the three of you stepped inside. 

You half-listened to James excitedly discuss the new broom he’d gotten over the summer. There was no doubt it was the newest model, his parent’s religiously sending him off to Hogwarts with the best model available given he was a star player. 

Normally, you would’ve been rolling your eyes; snorting out a sarcastic comment asking if that broom would be able to lift his massive head off the ground. You were just uncharacteristically quiet on the topic and it didn’t take long for it to be noticed. 

James glanced behind him, looking for evidence that something was wrong. Your mouth was twisted into a little frown, teeth worrying at your bottom lip as your fingers trailed along the broom handles in the displays. 

He wanted you to say something, anything. He couldn’t understand why you were so uncharacteristically quiet. Wasn't this your favorite subject? Quidditch had always been something you loved.

As Sirius announced that he would be going to look at new goggles, James hung behind when you stopped in front of a shelf. He reached over your head to pluck a jar of broom polish sitting over your head and pretended to be very interested in reading the label. 

“You alright then?” James asked, glancing over at you in hopes that he sounded flippant on the topic. 

You pretended not to hear him for a moment, humming in confusion so you could assess how closely he was watching you. 

“Oh. Yeah.” You shrugged, mirroring his attempt at looking casual by picking up a bottle of broom polish and inspecting it between your fingers. Neither of you were doing a good job considering the air seemed to feel thicker in the face of the awkwardness. 

You should just say it. 

Afterall, he’d been witness to your tears at the end of last school year following your humiliation at the hands of Elias Kaston. 

“I uh… quit… quidditch.”

From how big James’s eyes got and how quickly he whipped to look in your direction, you might’ve been speaking another language. You didn’t look up at him even though you could see how he was staring at you in complete shock. 

James couldn’t have heard you correctly, because there was no way that you just said what he thought you did.

"You... you quit?" His voice was obnoxiously loud. “You quit? Why? Why on earth would you quit quidditch?”

A few shoppers nearby turned in your direction, concerned at the sound. You turned to look at him and raised a hand, hoping to placate James and his knack for dramatics. “Okay, okay,” you hissed, “Keep it down, would you? It's not that big of a deal.”

If Sirius would have been in the vicinity, half of Diagon Alley would have known by now.

“Not that big of a deal? Really?”

“Which it’s not.”

“You’ve been playing since second year.”

“Yes, James. I am quite aware of that.”

“You were captain last year- you won the final match last year!”

You shrugged, the action far too tense to be as dismissive as you tried to be. “I just wasn’t feeling it this year, I don’t know.”

No one would believe that excuse, especially when you turned away, picking up a different bottle of broom polish. It gave you an excuse to avoid his scrutinizing eyes that made you practically itch as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

James’s lips pressed into a thin line, inhaling slowly through his nose and saying nothing. You didn’t need to. 

He stepped closer, speaking passionately in a much lower volume. “You’re a better player than Kaston.”

“It’s not because of Kaston,” you scoffed. James continued, speaking over your protests and speaking louder as your lies continued.

“You’re a better leader.”

“Doesn’t matter, it has nothing to do with that.”

“You had the potential to lead your team to another cup this year.”

“Well, I already won, wanted to give you a fair chance,” you shot back, feigning disinterest. His hand shot forward to pull your distraction away from you, holding it out of reach when you attempted to snatch it back. You had to look at him then, see the disappointment in his furrowed brows and parted mouth. 

“Are you really going to give that all up for an asshole like him?”

“I’m not doing it because of him!” It came out sharper than you had intended and you were immediately embarrassed; less so about the outburst itself and more because you felt stupid even bothering to deny it. James had been the one to see the effect your year as captain had on you last year when he found you in the kitchen, how defeated you were when you should have been celebrating. 

Being the captain of the Slytherin team last year had been a disaster and you couldn’t imagine doing it again. But the thought of remaining on the team while Kaston took your spot of power-

Who were you kidding? You wouldn’t have made it through the first round of tryouts.

You bit back something sharp that wanted to fall from your lips and impale him, just so you would maybe feel better. That would’ve been wrong; James was clearly still trying to help. So you forced yourself to look away and chewed on your bottom lip to give yourself a moment to take a breath.

 “I already told you last year,” you sighed, leaning back against the shelf and staring at your feet. “No one listened to me. There were times no one besides Keith showed up at practice. Do you know how many bludgers to the head I got last year? I stopped counting at 12.”

You opened your mouth before scrunching up your nose in the prospect of silence. 

There was the other, bigger, issue. 

You were going to spend the rest of seventh year keeping your head down. If it kept your family safe, then you would happily give up quidditch for your last year at school. Quitting hurt, you wouldn’t lie to yourself that you hadn’t shed many tears over the summer as your broom sat collecting dust in the corner of your bedroom. 

Getting over the loss of your beloved sport? You would get over it eventually. 

Getting over the loss of your family?

You would learn to be a spectator in the fan section. 

James’s frown only deepened when he seemed to understand the copious amount of reasons behind your decisions behind it. He knew from first hand experience you were a phenomenal player- you had beaten him several times last year. You were clever, quick witted, and had a sharp eye for spotting opportunities to go for goal; it wasn’t fair. 

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, the sound of a bell chiming cutting through the weight of the situation. 

He expelled all of the air from his cheeks, nodding slowly like he was coming to understand everything- at least to understand the best he could. 

“Alright,” James finally said, his voice soft but determined. "How can I help?”

Out of everything you’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. 

“What?” you blurted out. Your confused scowl didn’t deter the intent look he wore. With a sigh, you ran a hand down your face. “James, you can’t do anything. It’s done. I turned it down. The only thing you can do is beat him this season.”

“No, I can do more than beat him on the field.” He stepped closer, ducking his head so he could keep your eye. 

James didn’t want to just beat Kaston this season. He was going to obliterate him. 

“Help me coach Gryffindor.”

You almost thought you’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Help me this year with coaching the Gryffindor team,” he reiterated without missing a beat. 

Oh, so you had heard him right. 

“What? No,” you hissed back in an attempt to keep your surprise from projecting itself, “I can’t just… help you coach…” It came out less like a statement and more like a question. 

“Why not?” James didn’t miss a beat. When you tried to turn away, his body moved to cut you off. “You know the Slytherin team better than anyone, and you're a damn good player. That's why you were captain in the first place, right?”

 You pointed a finger at his chest and he wrapped his hand around your wrist. There was nothing you could do to escape the urgency in his eyes, like he was pleading for you to consider what he was offering. 

“You want me to… what,” you asked tentatively, “Help you coach your team on everything I know about the Slytherins plays in hopes to beat them?”

To spill all of the secrets you’d learned the past six years? To work on plays with James, the captain of the Gryffindor team so that they would win? 

Once you said exactly what he meant, he nearly beamed with excitement. 

“Yes! You can help me figure out the best drills for the team, give me tips and advice, make sure the people I choose for the team are well suited for the positions I put them in. You can directly help take down Kaston on the field.”

You shook your head but he didn’t even falter. Not even the way you looked like him like he’d grown a third head made a dent in his glow. Burning, burning burning; he was glowing white hot like the sun and you were going to get burned. 

"What do you think? I think it's a positively brilliant idea- one of my best yet," he grinned. 

"I think that James Potter has officially lost his mind."

He just laughed, eyes never leaving your face as they scanned your expression. It was like when you watched him fall down the stairs, how he’d laughed and you’d wondered why you didn’t just throw yourself down them to see what was so funny. 

“It's not just about beating them. It's about humiliating them.” As he spoke, James' tone grew firmer, his eyes gleaming with determination as his hands moved to shake your shoulders. "Imagine it, we’ll wipe that smirk right off Kaston's face."

Your doubt was clear but there was a flicker of something else- a spark of temptation.

“James, no,” you said sternly. 

“Think about it.” “No, I will not-”

“Come on, just for a second; really think about it.”

“I am not entertaining this-” “No one even has to know you were involved! Think about how he would feel not being able to carry his team to victory after a muggleborn did it the year before.”

That made the rest of your protests die on your lips. James nearly grimaced, attempting to reel himself back in and not scare you off because you were considering it. Albeit reluctantly, you were at least thinking about the possibility. 

“Think about it…” His eyebrow raised cautiously. “Think about how he’s going to feel when he realizes he can’t do something you did.”

How pureblooded Kaston would feel when he couldn’t do something a mudblood did.

Fuck. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you conceded. James somehow beamed even brighter, the feeling contagious as you laughed and he shook you enthusiastically again. 

You tried to make your face more serious. “I’m saying I’ll consider it. I’m not saying yes but… I’m not saying no.”

“Brilliant!” His grip on your shoulders loosened, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Yes! You won't regret this, I promise. We're gonna destroy them this year, I swear it."

“I said *maybe*. I need to think about it. So it’s just… it’s a maybe.”

Both of you stayed like that, biting down on smiles and standing closer than you realized. This close, you could make out the knick of a scar on his cheekbone, so faded that it had to be from his childhood. Words to describe his beauty easily escaped you. Those words were harder to retrieve with the way he was watching you. 

“I miss something,” Sirius said out of nowhere, appearing from behind a shelf with his bag of purchases and looking between you. Your trance was broken, both of you stepping apart. 

James recovered immediately with a crooked smile. 

"Yeah, mate, there's something going on," James responded, slinging an arm over your shoulders and guiding you towards the door. "Guess who just agreed to help... coach Gryffindor?"

“I did not agree.” 

After only a few steps out into the street, busy with witches and wizards as they shopped, you gave up on trying to dislodge yourself from under his arm. You chuckled to yourself, James doing the same when you nudged his ribs with your elbow. 

Sirius turned with a smirk as he led the group towards The Leaky Cauldron. "Just how friendly have the two of you been?” He asked, his tone mischievous.

“Shut it, Pads,” James replied. He got back at him by throwing his other arm over his friend's shoulder.

Sirius let out a yelp when he nearly spilled the quidditch supplies he carried. 

“I’ve just convinced our dear friend here to help us obliterate the snake house. Imagine, all three of us working together. We'll crush them so hard they won’t know what hit them."

You rolled your eyes, “Can I just remind everyone that I am still a part of said snake house. 

"Details, details," James grinned, dismissing that fact with a waive of his hand. 

quid pro quo masterlist main masterlist

[wilcze-kudly]

The Gaang being 'bad parents' didn't ruin their characters.

I've seen this argument tossed around a couple times and it's honestly one of my least favourite criticisms of lok.

Katara (and Sokka but we have no confirmed kids for him, which seems unrealistic with how much game he had) lost their mother as children and their father was forced to abandon them when they were barely starting their teens. They were raised by their grandmother with little to no peers of their own age.

Aang did not know his parents and a huge chunk of his childhood was him being groomed into taking up the mantle of the avatar and mastering airbending. He also was isolated from other kids his age. His closest parental figure was Gyatso who was more of a teacher than a father. Also the Air Nomads were literally wiped out so that adds to the trauma pile.

I really don't think i have to talk about Zuko's family life here, but at least he had relatively positive parental figures in the form of Ursa (though i do have a burning personal dislike of ursa) and Iroh. Despite this his struggle around the subject of his family and his trauma relating to his upbringing was a focal point of his character arc.

Toph was raised in isolation by her asshole abelist parents who did not listen to her, sent people to capture and bring her back and then disowned her. (If my cursory understanding of 'the rift' is correct, I need to actually read it because i am unreasonably obsessed with the Beifong family.)

Where, pray tell, were they supposed to learn proper parenting skills? On their brief stint as child soldiers? While fighting a war as literal children?

There is the argument that they must've matured later in their lives, of course. But you can only recover so much from copious amounts of childhood trauma.

Being a bad parent doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. Sure it makes you a failure in an incredibly delicate and important aspect of human life but it doesn't make you a bad person. And saying that it does takes a lot of nuance out of the conversation.

Like, do you know how easy it is to fuck up a child?

Especially that the ways the members of the Gaang 'fucked up' as parents feel mostly in character.

Bumi was going to face some struggles with self worth due to being the firstborn child of the Avatar and arguably one of the most powerful waterbenders in history, while being a nonbender himself. That much was unavoidable, no matter how his parents approached the issue.

And Aang was obviously going to be over the moon when Tenzin was born. Think about it. He's literally the last of his people. He has no one else 'like him'. No one else to pass down the traditions, the teachings that Gyatso and everyone else he cared about and who were horrifically murdered to. Aang is getting older and he feels like his culture and history and his entire life before he got trapped in that damned iceberg will die along with him. And then Tenzin is born and Tenzin can take up the mantle that had been thrust upon Aang.

I'm going to withhold my judgement on Izumi and Zuko, since we barely know anything about them. She seems well adjusted but that's all i can say right now. But Zuko has also been shown to be extremely, painfully aware of how fucked up his family is and has clearly been putting in a lot of work to unscrew what his ancestors have screwed up.

Toph situation feels very tragic to me,because it's obvious that she thought she thought she was doing better than her parents. She gave her daughters the freedom to do what they want, to not feel opressed and trapped like she had. How was she supposed to know that she was making her girls feel like she didn't love them? (Here's another post of mine about the Beifong family and how they just feel like they're cursed or something at this point.)

TLDR; I get annoyed by people saying that the Gaang being 'bad parents' ruined their characters, because to me it felt like it actually enhanced them.

Neither Aang nor Toph acted out of malice or a lack of love. On the contrary, Toph was trying not to repeat her parents mistakes, accidentally committing a bunch of her own. While Aang probably didn't even realise that he was neglecting Kya and Bumi.

But just loving your children doesn't always make you a good parent.

I think these flaws only add to them as characters. It makes them feel more real.

It's unrealistic and, frankly, just plain boring to go 'oh the Gaang were all good people so they would be good parents too.'

The Gaang were a gaggle of traumatised children forced into saving the world, because the adults around them failed them, that then grew into traumatised adults who have no idea how to be good parents.

[majorproblems77]

Linked maze updated which means I'm back! :D

Hello Linked Maze fans! :D

Linked Maze returns with scent pt10, which means I am back to ramble about the small details in the comic because I enjoy it!

If you dont know what Linked Maze is, It's a links meet comic. About the links in a maze.... Self-explanatory really, but trust me it's amazing and I love it. It's great! But also for more mature audiences, so do take care and heed the creator's warnings before going in!

Importantly - Linked Maze and all the art belongs to @linked-maze and its artist @frulleboi, this chapter also had a guest artist, so the second page's art is done by @marenwithanm. And thanks again for the permission to do this! I really enjoy making them!

With that out of the way, My timer is set, grab some snacks and a drink of your choice! And lets get started! :D

We begin with the small bean

He looks so happy, okay, I love him

Aww four, just wanted his sword back. Also here to straight up appreciate the detail with the little ticktacktoe on the scabbard of his sword i love him dearly.

Wolfie looks both Done and worried at the same time.

Also, them discovering Sky's sailcloth! I'm so excited about this okay I want these two groups to find each other so bad.

Also, I was interested cause I dont think we've seen the sailcloth in the story yet. So it's fascinating that it's here. I blame Angel, she has shenanigans that I think work for this. Like imagine when we see Sky and he's like the fuck why do you have my sailcloth I've not seen it since I got here, type thing.

Wind taking charge as he should be.

There's a bunch to unpack here, so just give me a moment.

That's not Sky's sword.

That's Twilight's sword.

The wrappings on the blade and the markings we see on it later match Twilight's sword. (From the character reference sheets.)

Do you have any idea how excited I was when I saw this? Then saw Wolfie's face like

Why the fuck is that there?

I think this tells us two things.

Twilight/wolfie is now able to be armed. So he's got the capability to fight without the wolf form now. So he might transform soon!

Angel/ djævel are using the hero items to bring the groups together for some reason.

But now im considering the implications of having these specific items here. Like, Thats an item from a character from some of the major groups that we know off right now.

Twilight's sword(Twilight, wind) / Sky's sailcloth (Sky,wild,Time) / Four's sword (four, warrior)

Was the idea for them to find it, or for just one of the groups to find it so that they could find the others.

Something to think about.

Moving on!

Me too four... me too

Yes it does. He's sat about five feet from you

Look at his guilty face, he know's but he can't say and he's sad about it.

Warrior looks worried, you think he's thinking of war stuff right now?

A sword planted into the ground with an important item beside it... a sword who they dont know its owner. Its owner who to them could be dead?

Twilight is the only one who know's his sword after all.

Good call Mr. Captain Warrior sir!

Again with the sad wolfie ears, they give me life okay I love him.

Good on Wind for being the one to lead the charge, we need a good vibe like Wind to get us through the shenanigans that I'm sure are going to ensue.

Again Twilight is looking towards his sword. When you think he would be looking towards Wind at this point. But his eyes appear to be looking towards the markings on the sword.

I love his shocked face. He's like

I can't track myself...

Totally not me going to be using this reaction when someone asks me to do something.

Wolfie is the real MVP of this chapter let me tell you right now.

I love this lot they are wonderful

Yes, you look to your sword and think about what you've done.

Sniff sniff out the cinnamon roll wolfie, find him!

Oh man, this update was fun, I got so unbelievably excited about the sword like it's great to basically have a confirmation about something that's been rotating around in my brain since we saw it before.

Thanks again for listening to me ramble my way through another comic update! :D

And thank you again @linked-maze for letting me do this, i will be continuing them (as long as you let me:) ) cause this was so much fun!

Thats me done for this update tho, so I'll be headed out!

Have a great night! :D

[dg-outlaw]

Batman #148 Thoughts... or Why Jason Todd is Awesome and Batman Doesn't Deserve Him.

So... I know a lot of the discussion about this issue has been about what happens to Jason, and IYKYK. What I want to discuss are parts of the rest of the issue and why I think Jason is one of the best characters (and more than how many perceive him). *spoilers ahead*

I know many outsiders and even those in fandom look at Jason Todd or the Red Hood and think of him as the hot, angsty edge lord who isn't afraid to break Batman's one rule. He's cool and badass so you want to be like him or he's the romantic fantasy bad boy with a soft side. These things are fine, but this is often where people stop with Jason or if they dislike him the above descriptions are why.

Some people want him to be an antagonist again because villains are cool and this is where we get things like 'The Boys' because it's edgy, subversive, or some intelligent deconstruction of superheroes. Colorful and honorable superheroes like Superman or Spider-Man are boring, just a fantasy, or for kids who don't understand the real world. Again, fine if that's your take, but I don't believe that one "graduates" from one to the other.

Beyond the Fast and Furious style cool factor of fast cars, guns, and explosions that often get associated with Jason, there's more to him than that and it's why he's still one of my favorites. Hell, this is the same character that writers thought would be a priest in the Flashpoint universe, a universe that had gone to hell in a handbasket but in all that chaos and darkness he became a PRIEST.

(The World of Flashpoint: Issue #2)

Say what you will about organized religion, Christianity, or the Catholic church (because there are definitely issues there), but I think two of Jason's core traits that I admire are his faith and hope. Traits that often get Jason hurt by the people closest to him, but that often see him through the darkest times.

The cheapness of using Jason's "death" aside, these traits are seen again in Batman #148. Not only is Jason willing to put his faith in Bruce again (after everything "not" Bruce did to him in Gotham War), but he's the first down into the cave.

This isn't blind faith, but a willingness to try. A hope that maybe this time he won't be hurt, even if time and time again history has proven otherwise. Note: This can be a slippery and dangerous slope and not one without consequences as many people fall into the trap of going back into or staying in toxic relationships that only bring them pain. (And I never said his greatest strengths can't also be his greatest weaknesses).

We also see some emotional maturity and growth in this issue and I love that for Jason. Has he been going to therapy? Maybe, but my money is that he's probably been reading lots of self-help books or something.

Does Bruce deserve this level of forgiveness and compassion from Jason? No, but Jason gives it to him anyway. I also feel like this is a soft challenge from Jason. "I'm not here to save you from yourself or to ask you to save me. We do this together or not at all."

And if you're thinking, "Oh no, Jason has gone soft. Not my Jason Todd!" He's still a cheeky bastard in battle, even when he's on the ropes.

Now, for Jason's "death", one could say that it was a cheap ploy by the writer or DC to get people talking or to have a random "Jason dies" scene (though he's revived in the same issue so I feel the emotional stakes/hype are less compared to leaving it open-ended until the next issue).

One could also look at it in a cynical light given it's Jason that Bruce brings down into the cave during the flashback reveal with the secret Lazarus Kool-Aid. Did Bruce plan that knowing Jason would volunteer in some sort of reverse psychology manipulation? Was it just a random plot explanation to justify having the "Jason dies" scene? Who knows? Though I think Dick or Tim would've volunteered as well. But my focus is on the conversation.

This is another example of Jason's hope and faith, and his faith in Bruce. Bruce's plan isn't tested, though one could assume that he's done the math so to speak, but it's still Jason literally putting his life in Bruce's hands. It's also fairly clever because if Failsafe is some echo of Batman, then something in his programming probably knows about the emotional pain of Jason's initial death. So not only is "killing" going to make him glitch out, but killing Jason is probably the ultimate Failsafe glitch.

Deep down I think Jason knows how much he means to Bruce, even if Bruce is terrible at showing it sometimes. He's willing to take the risk and die, not for Bruce, but for the greater good of saving the day.

Let's also not forget that in the span of a short amount of (in-universe) time, Jason has saved the entire East Coast (end of Gotham War), Gotham City (end of The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing), and is now ready to die again to stop Failsafe--all while his brain is still probably a little messed up from Gotham War.

Let this young man take a damn vacation!

Was this issue perfect? No. And I agree with others about it not being cool that Steph, Cass, and Duke got sidelined as the clean-up crew, but I do think it showed a lot of Jason's deeper character (flawed or not) and how he's more than just the edgy, sarcastic bad boy. That part of him is just the hard candy shell he's had to create to protect the gooey center that is his hope, faith, and love. After all, Damian has previously (and rightly) called him out as the "emotional one".

P.S. I know my previous post picked on Jason's Red Hood outfit at the end and I still stand by the fact that it wasn't my favorite, but seeing that it's Jorge Jimenez's art, I can forgive it. I love most of Jorge's art and would kill (not literally) to be as talented as him, but that outfit design is still a no for me. Sorry, Jorge. :(