#father and son bonding time on the grass

[batsandbirdsandothers]

"the time will pass and you will forget all that was, between you and me, you and me, no i won't wait for you, but know this, that i loved you, for the last time, for the last time" - lyrics from "purque te vas"

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 12: Don’t Wanna Drive Another Mile Without Knowin’ You’re Breathin’

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 (Here!)

Twins are two halves of the same whole.

In many mythologies, twins are said to share a bond deeper than that of ordinary siblings. 

The bond between twins is often described as unique and incredibly strong, starting even before birth and potentially lasting a lifetime. This bond is frequently characterized by a deep connection, a sense of oneness, and a high degree of nonverbal communication.

Never one without the other. 

Not even in death.

Pietro had never known life without Wanda. 

The thought had never crossed his mind; it simply wasn’t a possibility to him. The sky was blue. The grass is green. Ice is cold. Fire is hot.

Pietro and Wanda, never one without the other.

Pietro and Wanda, always beside each other.

Pietro and Wanda, never far away from one another.

Pietro and Wanda, against the world and never away from each other.

Pietro didn’t exist without Wanda, and Wanda didn’t exist without Pietro. Sounded simple and logical, right? 

It sucks that the universe seemed to have a vendetta against the Maximoff family and loved to see them act as it’s puppets in the scenario of it’s favorite dramatic tragedy play.

Pietro had never known life without Wanda, and he refused to do so.

Three years. Three years since he last saw her. Three years since The Hex. Three years looking for her across the globe. Three years of dead ends and false alarms. Three years of nonstop searches. Three years without Wanda.

Three long years, feeling incomplete.

He could describe it as phantom pain. A missing limb, or more exactly, missing half of his body. There had been countless times when he had turned his head to cross looks with eyes that were no longer there. Times when he had talked to the empty air, expecting a voice to answer back. So many times, his fingers tried to grasp thin, long, gloved fingers just to curl them into tight fists or pull at the seams of his clothes until the fabric tore off.

Erik (whom Pietro had slowly warmed up to call Pops, especially after Wanda had gone… after he started to search for her) had made it his mission to get Pietro out of his spiraling thoughts whenever this would happen.

Pietro had rejected his efforts at first, snapping at him and telling him to mind his own business. Hurling insults and harsh words at him, or speeding away from the man as soon as he felt his stare on him.

But Erik didn’t let his attitude affect him. He was a patient man, and though Pietro was the opposite of patient, he knew his son was bound to crumble at some point from pushing himself so hard.

Erik would be there, waiting with open arms to catch his son when he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together any longer.

And he did.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Genosha was always open to the X-Men, despite their history with Magneto and the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Pietro had gone a few times with the team. But most of the visits were with Wanda at his side, trying to get him and their father to bond with each other despite his obvious animosity towards the older man. 

He knew what she was trying to do. Pietro had always known that Wanda wanted a family.

Their story was complicated, to say the least. The two of them had been raised by their maternal uncles, their mother having passed away a few months after giving birth to them. Not a single clue of who their father was until they reached the age of nineteen.

Back then, Pietro had been ecstatic to know about him. Even convincing Wanda to find him and finally meet him face to face.

Of course, that all went to hell when the twins had an encounter with Magneto, trying to destroy governments with his group of loyal mutants in the name of getting justice and rights for their people.

It wasn’t the best introduction, obviously.

Especially when the twins joined the brotherhood without telling the man of their blood relation.

For multiple years, Pietro and Erik’s relationship became a lot more complicated. He grew tired very quickly of his father’s constant need to ‘destroy humankind’, and spiteful of his lack of acknowledgment for his efforts to get him noticed by Erik.

Which led to him quitting the Brotherhood with Wanda and joining the X-Men… after doing a very dramatic reveal that resembled that Star Wars movie, but with switched roles.

As said before, a very complicated relationship.

Nonetheless, Pietro’s instincts led him to the only place his subconsciousness currently recognized as ‘home’.

Why was it Genosha, or more specifically, his father’s house, that he recognized as home? Who knows. 

Was it just the place that resembled his childhood home uncannily? 

Or was it the person who instantly walked out of the door to take him into his arms and shove him against his chest, consoling him while his limbs trembled out of exhaustion, adrenaline, and hopelessness as he wailed loud enough to make glass shatter?

Was home a place or a person? Pietro knew the answer.

Wanda was his home.

His home was gone.

But his father was here. Muttering to him in his mother tongue, words that Pietro did not understand, but judging by the soft tone and gentle, jagged hands going up and down his back and through his hair, he knew what Erik was doing.

“I-I can’t-,” His voice sounded strained and rough, words spilling too fast between sobs. “I don’t feel her. I can’t see her. I can’t find her. She won’t let me find her-”

“She is not ready,” Erik muttered. “She’ll come to us when she is ready.”

“I need her.” He sobbed, fingers clutching at his father’s shirt. “I can’t go on like this. I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost- and I just need to know if she is alive-”

“She is,” the older man declared. “You know that she is stronger than us. She is in pain, Pietro. Give her time.”

“Her pain is my pain!” He screams. “ She doesn’t have to do it alone! She mourns, and I mourn with her! It’s always been like this!”

His body slumps down, the adrenaline shutdown hitting way too fast. If it weren’t for the fact that Erik was already holding him, he would have eaten the dirt. The man didn’t even make a sound when the white headed boy stopped holding his body weight back.

They stayed outside until the next morning. Erik never moved him away, didn’t even complain about kneeling for those long hours or the shattered windows. Pietro only cried until he passed out in his father’s arms, and even then, tears still spilled out of his eyes.

That day, it had marked a year since Wanda’s disappearance.

That day, Pietro and Erik’s relationship became less complicated.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

It was a very rocky start, but it had turned out alright in Pietro’s opinion.

“What has you so deep in your thoughts, my son?” 

Erik seemed to have been watching him this whole time. He stood by the door of his room, looking at him with clear concern on his face.

Pietro had a bedroom at Erik’s house. Apparently, his old man had been more sentimental than he gave him credit for. From the moment Genosha was established as an official country, Erik added numerous rooms to his house, two of which were located directly next to his own room. One for Pietro and another for Wanda, who had stayed there a couple of times when she came to visit Erik by herself. Both Erik and Pietro would sit for hours on her bed in silence, simply letting time pass by.

“Nothin’,” He muttered, sighing deeply as he leaned back against the headboard of his bed. “Just got off a call with Hank.”

“That sounds like there’s more to that call.” His father approached a chair by his desk, which was filled with intricate LEGO figures. Both unfinished and finished.

…So what if he was a full-grown man who liked to build Legos as a pastime? He has already broken plenty of Rubik's cubes and fidget toys. He needed to keep his hands busy, and Legos worked, so sue him for finding a coping mechanism.

And it wasn’t like his dad judged him for it.  All those boxes he finds weekly on the dinner table are answer enough.

Pietro shrugged, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he scratched his head. “Just- I’m just helping him out with someone.”

That made Erik lift an eyebrow. “Someone?”

“Yeah, a kid,” his voice softened. “She has been melting off her shoes because of her mutation, so I let Hank look into my stats so he could make her something more resistant.”

“Ah, so she has super speed.”

The younger man smiled to himself, “Looks like it. Logan is keeping an eye on her and a couple of more kids. Something about a case, I think?”

“And why is this keeping you so deep in your thoughts?” His father asked slowly, as if hesitating to pry too much.

Probably because he already knew the answer.

Pietro went silent for a few moments, eyes wandering to the window showcasing the orange evening sky. A suncatcher was hanging from the top corner, letting the light reflect through the crystal.

Wanda had made it for him a few years back.

“Twins sometimes represent opposites. Like the Sun and the Moon,” she had said while handing him the gift. “You are my Sun, Piet. The Moon can’t shine without it.”

“Wanda’s oldest was just like me,” He said. “Same mutation. Same attitude.”

‘Same personality, too,’ his mind supplied, which got a wet chuckle from him.

He rubbed his nose quickly, gaze lowering down as he shrugged. “Guess it hit a bit too close, y’know?”

Erik’s eyes crinkled, a rare smile pulling at his lips.

Pietro didn’t speak a lot about what happened inside The Hex. Neither of them did, the subject still too sore despite having happened three years ago. 

“I know it’s way off base, but,” Pietro hesitated, palms rubbing against the fabric of his pants up and down. “Somewhere, in the back of my head, there’s this annoying pull that has me believing those kids are still alive. Still out there.”

“Pietro, you know that-”

“I know, I know!” he rose from his spot and started to pace around the room. “But something is telling me that they’re still alive, and I can’t help it! I mean, c’mon, Wanda’s powers are just-”

He groaned, slamming his hands on the desk and rattling the LEGO pieces and figurines, some of them falling on the carpet. Pietro closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, head hanging low.

“Maybe I’m just reaching out too much.” He uttered.

His father stayed quiet for a moment before standing up and reaching for his shoulder. Slowly turning him so they could see face to face.

Erik’s chest churned deep inside as he noticed the redness on the corners of Pietro’s eyes. His thumb gently rubbed the tender skin, gaining a murmur of complaint from his son.

“You could be right,” Pietro’s eyes perked up. “Wanda’s powers are beyond our comprehension, and there’s a chance the twins could have survived. They’re hers after all.”

Pietro took a deep breath. “So you believe me?”

“Of course I do,” Erik sighed. “But there’s also the chance that we could be wrong, and I don’t want you to jump to conclusions without taking this carefully and slowly.”

The younger man gave him a deadpan stare, clearly letting him know that does last words were somewhat ironic and a bit too much to ask of him.

But his dad was right, they needed to know more information. And thread with it carefully.

“Where exactly is this girl?” the older man asked. “Is she at the institute? Perhaps we can ask Charles for some insight.”

Pietro shook his head. “No, she isn’t there. Logan is still waiting to finish the mission, then he’ll move the kids to the institute.”

Erik frowned at that, his hands gently squeezing Pietro’s shoulders. “And where are they?”

With a roll of his eyes and a scowl, Pietro spat out the name of the city.

“Gotham."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Damian didn’t remember when it was the last time he walked through this specific hallway.

Back in the early days when he moved into the manor, he had taken it upon himself to explore the grounds. Get familiar with the new environment, or something like that. Probably his training pushing him to just know all the exits and entrances around the big building.

But this hallway, he avoided it as if it were the plague.

Especially after he found out who exactly resided in one of the farther rooms.

At some point, he stopped actively avoiding it and just forgot about it. There was nothing in there that could need his attention or concern him.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

He would probably choke the air out of his past self for thinking like that. For not being more willing to look past the whole ‘firstborn’ jealousy that burned through his blood when he met his sister.

Damian’s mind was a mess. Too many questions. Too much anger. Too much guilt. 

The guilt had caught him off guard. 

One of the things that stood out about Damian was that he was prideful. He held honor and pride above anything else. He was proud of being the son of the bat. It was his greatest honor and goal to take on the mantle once his father retired. He never apologized for being blunt. Never regretted it or felt guilty about it .

But as he stood before the door of her bedroom, all he could recognize was that bothersome feeling panging against his chest.

Finding out about her relation to Harvey Dent had put many things into perspective.

Did she actively hide it from everyone? How did he never notice? Was she also ashamed of being related to a villain? Why did she never say anything about it? Why didn’t she come to him? 

It would have been logical. He also had a direct relation to a villain: his grandfather and his mother. And while he no longer related to their views, he grew up around them. He had to leave his old home behind and embrace this new way of living. He had to adapt. He had to fit in.

And so did she.

He could only imagine what her life was like before Father took her in. A mentally unstable mother, now interned in a psychiatric ward. Apparently hostile and willing to harm her while having manic episodes. An uncle who was a crime lord, who was not able to take the hint that she was better off with her true family. Sending endless letters and writing pretty words about changing and wanting to move away from Gotham, so that she could live a normal life.

Away from the media. Away from scandals. Away from them.

Damian could understand why his father hid the letters. He was still mad that he hid them from everyone on the team, of course. Knowing about this information would have prevented a lot of things, but Damian could see why he did it.

What he couldn’t understand was why his Father hadn’t killed the bastard already.

It would have made things so much easier in his opinion.

Shaking away his thoughts to the back of his mind, Damian opened the door to the bedroom quietly. The creaking wood made him look down the hall, hoping that nobody would come sniffing around.

He didn't need anyone else giving him a reprimand about privacy.

He had his father's perspective on this mess, now he need hers.

Only the curtains fluttered by the tall glass window, despite no wind blowing since it was closed.

Thinking nothing of it, he went inside the room, closing the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was how cold and dark the room was. There was no light entering through the window, as if a dark cloud had blocked the sun outside the moment he made his way inside. He could feel the goosebumps breaking under his school uniform. 

He could only see the outline of the furniture around the room. The bed, the bookshelf, the wardrobe, and the desk. All of them left a chilling sensation down his back.

But Damian simply walked deeper into the room, each step heavy against the hardwood floor, until he reached the bookshelf.

His gaze moved over the backs of the books, starting from the very top shelf. Most of them were different genres of literature. He noticed that a significant portion of them had Spanish titles and a consistent repetition of genre types that he could recognize from having read them in his private lessons back in the league.

He never imagined his sister was an avid reader of Magical Realism.

The room turned colder and colder with every moment he continued to stand there. He could dare to imagine that if he let out a breath, he would be able to see it, just like in the cold winter days. If it weren’t for the fact that they were just starting October, he would deem it a possibility.

Then, his eyes landed on a book right in the corner of the lower shelf, sticking out slightly from its spot. As he began to crouch down, he noticed some bookmarking post-its standing on the top of the pages. Its title was worn off by time, barely able to read what it said, until the words registered and translated in his head.

‘The House of the Spirits’ by Isabel Allende.

Before he could reach for the book, a freezing, wet hand grabbed his ankle and pulled hard. Making him stumble and hit his forehead on the edge of a shelf and fall to the ground with a surprised yell.

Damian quickly turned his body upwards, sliding back against the bookshelf as he looked around the now completely dark room.

He couldn’t see shit, but he could here something moving.

Or more like someone.

The creaks of the floor put him on the edge, way too slow and scattered all over the place for him to pinpoint where exactly they were coming from. Cold sweat goes down his temple, making his skin even colder.

Then, he gets pulled again. This time, he gets dragged through the room and underneath the bed. 

He could feel his limbs hitting some plastic and the clattering of small boxes getting spread all over the floor. His nails scratched over the wood, grunting and struggling to kick off whoever was gripping his leg.

Hands wrapping around the neck of his shirt, and lifting him until his head hit the metal frame of the bed, got his attention. And he finally came face to face with it.

Its face was scrunched up in pure fury, pale skin with prominent black veins crawling up from the neck to the jaw. Hair drenched in water that left a heavy stench, making his stomach churn. Deep red blood dripping down a side of the head and mouth in a snarl that showed all of its teeth, deep gutural sounds coming from its throat.

“Mind your business, you brat.” Its voice clawing at his ears like sharp, shattered glass, making him shrivel in his skin.

Without thinking twice, Damian grabbed the nearest object at hand and hit the being on the side of the head with it.

It let out a distorted scream, throwing him far away and sliding his body once again across the floor. He quickly got up, eyes wide as stuff around the room began to rattle and fall to the ground, and covering his ears as the screams grew into a higher tone. 

As soon as he saw its hands claw at the ground, its body sliding out from beneath the bed, Damian ran out of the room. Almost taking down the door with him as he took off through the hall, slamming against corners and walls until he reached his room.

Not far away from there, Maximoff stood by the stairs, looking confused as to why she had just seen the gremlin looking so pale and scared while running through the halls. 

“Damn, what is his deal?” She muttered until the wails coming from her bedroom hallway entered her ears. Quickly, she ran to her room, cursing to herself.

Back in Damian’s room, he gripped with shaky fingers an old cassette. It was slightly busted, the tape torn and worn. And now, after hitting whatever that was with it, it looked even more broken.

With a deep sigh, he slid down against his door and passed out.

Meanwhile, Maximoff had to deal with pissed off, hurt ghost who refused to put some ice on her bruised forehead.

Neither of those three had a good night.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Warren rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply. “Never in my life did I think I would be doing some insane shit like this…” he looked to his right side, shaking his head from side to side. “I knew my life was gonna be fucked up from the moment I was born, but this takes the fucking-”

Bobby shushed him, waving his hand dismissively at him without lifting his gaze from the flashlight that was flickering slowly and writing the patterns in his notebook.

“Complain later.” He muttered, biting his lip while scribbling the translation from the Morse code in an unreadable handwriting.

The two boys had been sitting on the benches of the track field for quite a while now. Bobby was even wearing his baseball uniform, having come up to meet with his friends as soon as his practice was finished. The same with Warren, who had finished his debate practice early.

Usually, they wouldn’t be in such a hurry to meet up. But today was a little different compared to the other days.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you got the chance to meet a real ghost.

“She looks beyond pissed today…” Warren muttered, his gaze returning to the running track.

Maximoff was wearing headphones today, some old thing that was already falling apart, and had the leather cuffs flaking off. But she didn’t give it a single thought.

Her eyebrows had a prominent frown that could be seen from the distant spot where the guys were sitting. Hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that wasn’t budging, no matter how hard the tail was wiped around with wind as she ran with a scowl.

She had that expression the whole day.

And that’s without mentioning her snappish attitude. Even Mr. Logan seemed to take his distance from her, just handing her the keys to the field lock and letting her be by herself for today.

Wayne made the flashlight roll off the bench, making Bobby chuckle and put down his pencil.

“Who wouldn’t be? I don’t have siblings, but I would be ticked off if my little brother messed around in my room without permission.”

Warren gave him a quick look, grumbling between his teeth. “Not her brother, remember?”

“True,” Bobby sighed, his hand brushing his hair back and looking around him. “But still, bet you were also pissed?”

The flashlight spun on the ground and pointed directly at Bobby, making him groan when the light hit right in his eyes. Which made Warren laugh, along with an odd sound similar to a sharp whistle, letting them know that Wayne was also laughing at him.

Wayne had also fitted right in with them.

After what happened last night with Damian, Maximoff decided that Wayne needed to get out of the manor for the day. It didn’t take a lot of convincing from her part, since both of them, no matter how annoyed, didn’t want to actually kill the family from a heart attack.

It’s supposed to just make them suffer, nothing else. No need for murder.

No matter how tempting it seemed.

That’s how Wayne was officially introduced to the boys. Well, to Bobby at least.

Warren and her weren’t exactly close back when she was alive. They just found a middle ground where they could benefit from each other. Despite it being a bit embarrassing for both sides, since the two of them made that deal out of searching for approval from their families.

Two fucked up rich kids, with even more fucked up family dynamics, finding a bit of comfort with each other. Sounds about right.

Neither of them talked about what happened behind the walls of their manors. Didn’t need to. The comfortable silence between them on their daily rehearsals was enough, and that was it.

No matter the sinking hole in Warren’s stomach that had been bothering him since that day they went to the mall.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have done something to prevent her death. Maybe if he hadn’t canceled the rehearsal that day, she wouldn’t have been killed. Maybe if he hadn’t canceled their meeting just because his father was actually at home for once and reached out to have some dinner with him, she wouldn’t have suffered that fate. 

He could have given her a ride home. Or maybe even walk her back. Anything to stop the tragedy from happening. 

But that would have meant not having Maximoff with them.

And he liked Maximoff. Probably the first friend, along with Bobby, whom he had ever had that didn’t approach him for need of favors or fame. Just genuine friendship.

But what Warren had with her? With Wayne? It was something different.

Something he never dared to put a name on, and never will get the chance to do so.

Warren got startled out of his thoughts when he felt a cold sensation against his fingers, making him look down at his hand. 

A pale, delicate hand brushed its pinky with his fingertips, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. He let himself smile for a moment, a warm light feeling against his shoulder when he drifted his gaze towards the jogging girl who started to approach them.

“Did you guys find anything?” She asked, pulling off the headphones and picking up the flashlight.

“Well, we got plenty of info on the meanings behind the cards,” Bobby said, flipping through the pages of his notebook. “But, it’s pretty confusing if we don’t know about the context behind the reading.”

Maximoff sat on the grass with a sigh. “It’s a start, though, right?”

“.-- . / -. . . -.. / ... --- -- . --- -. . / .-- .... --- / -.- -. --- .-- ... / .... --- .-- / -- --- -- .----. ... / ...- .. ... .. --- -. ... / .-- --- .-. -.- . -..”

We need someone who knows how Mom's visions worked

The speedster bit on the nail of her thumb, thinking to herself about who could probably be helpful.

Alfred was out of the question. He didn’t know Bianca enough to be considered an option.

Bruce? Hard no.

Rio? Yeah, not unless they wanted to get tangled even more in her little game.

“There’s just one person left…” She muttered, looking up at the guys and giving Wayne a lifted eyebrow from her place beside Warren.

“I don’t like that look,” Warren said, seeing right through her apologetic expression.

“.... . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .... . .-.. .--.”

He could help.

“Yeah, I don’t like that either,” Bobby muttered, eyes staring wide at the flashlight.

Maximoff sighed, patting her legs as she got up from the grass and took a deep breath. “Look, you guys can take a step back this time. It could get messy, and I don’t want to get both of you into trouble.”

“Well, too bad for you,” Warren stated, getting up from his seat. “Because there’s no way I’m letting you get into trouble by yourself. We still got a deal, remember?”

“And,” Bobby added, also getting up. “I’m also way too invested in this. Like, really invested.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, crossing her arms and nodding at them. “Alright, fine. What do we have this Friday?”

“It’s the recital,” Warren said, frowning. “You know? Part of the deal?”

“Well, the deal is changing now.” She chirped, tilting her head with a grin as Wayne gave a shrill laugh and made the light posts around the field flicker. The boy exchanged worried looks.

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this…”

Warren sighed deeply. “So what now?”

Maximoff hummed, “Do any of you know how we can sneak into Arkham Asylum?”

Bobby and Warren tried not to scream when they finally saw Wayne, who squealed while floating around them in circles.

Maybe they should have sat this one out.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Cass, I’m just worried. This is very confusing.”

Cassandra shook her head, hugging her legs to her chest while sitting on the sofa of Barbara’s living room.

She had come to the redhead’s apartment late in the night, looking over her shoulder every single time the tiniest noise was heard behind her. Frown deep between her eyebrows, and lips cracked by continuously biting on them with worry, on the whole way to Barbara’s home.

“Think about it.” The younger woman said. “You have noticed, too.”

“Of course I have noticed,” she acknowledged, moving her chair closer to the Cass. “But it’s probably just her being angry and hurt. She needs space.”

That got a sharp glare from Cassandra, taking Barbara off guard by how intensely the anger in her eyes was directed towards her. As if what she said was the greatest insult she had ever dared to say out loud.

It made her straighten up and clear her throat.

“What I mean is,” she started in a gentler tone. “She is a teen, and she is going through some harsh stuff. She needs time and understanding, not accusations of having an alter.”

Yeah, that was it.

After days of observing and analyzing the behavior of her sister, Cassandra came to this conclusion. Which was solidified when it was revealed that not only was the young girl related to a villain, but to Two-Face of all people.

 It made complete sense to her. 

The way of talking. Her manners. Her posture. The hostile attitude. The new clothes. The new everything.

Her dear sister had an alter, and it was all their fault.

She had done her research on the condition, the dissociative identity disorder, even going so far as to take Harvey’s file and compare any similarities between the two of them. It didn’t take long to figure out several common grounds amongst them.

Traumatic childhood? Check

Harsh upbringing? Check

Unstable relationship with family members? …sadly, also a check.

And the nail in the coffin. A traumatic event that could have started a new way of behavior or personality.

It was undeniable to her. There was no other explanation.

And it hurt. It hurt to know that she had a hand in this. That everyone had a hand in this. They all contributed. They all caused her harm. They all caused her pain. They all caused her suffering, and she didn’t know how to fix it. If there even was a way of fixing it. A way to atone for her mistakes and errors.

Was there a way to earn her forgiveness? 

… Of course, there was. Her sister was a saint. Her main alter, at least. She was good, forgiving, and understanding. She would see right through her and understand that she regrets pushing her to the side for just a moment of silence. That Cass would never ask her to be quiet once again. That she needs her to be loud and please talk to her once MORE-

…Back on track.

This new side was just a protective alter. A way made by her mind to protect her fragile side and punish those who have wronged her.

All that Cassandra needed to do was show that she had changed, and everything would be fine. Everything would be way better than before, even!

But first, she needs the others to believe her. That there’s proof.

Which is why she went to Barbara, who is the only person she thought would be able to understand what she meant.

Sadly, Barbara was not getting it.

“Look,” Barbara sighed, touching Cass’s knee. “It’s been a rough week. For everyone. How about you stay the night here, and tomorrow we can talk about it more calmly. I can see that you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Of course, she was not sleeping well! Her sister was suffering in silence, and she didn’t know what to do about it!

Cassandra stood up from the sofa, harshly shoving Barbara’s hand away and picking up her stuff, slamming the door of the apartment behind her as she stormed off into the street. Leaving a very confused and concerned Barbara behind.

If Barb was not going to understand, then fine.

She was going to find someone who could.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Did you brush your teeth?” Logan questioned with a raised eyebrow, staring down at the small screen of his phone. Where a little girl pouted back at him with a glare uncannily similar to his own.

“Hnn,” She muttered, nodding at him. He could also hear Hank’s deep chuckle somewhere in the background of the call.

Then, a black woman with striking white hair appeared behind the girl with a warm smile. Her hands gently, going over the girl’s shoulders and letting her snuggle up to her chest, all while still pouting at Logan.

“Laura is a big girl now, Logan,” Ororo said, making the girl hide her face away from the now smirking man. “She even helped out with the dishes today!”

“Did she now?” He said with a teasing tone. “Hopefully I’ll be able to see that when I get back.”

Laura then growled at the screen, nose scrunched up and glaring at her father. But to Logan, she just looked like an angry wet cat.

Just like a certain student today.

“Say goodnight, Laura. It’s quite late for your bedtime.” Ororo said, which Laura responded with a mumbled ‘night’ before she passed the phone to Hank, who also said his goodnights and waited until the two of them left to finally talk to Logan.

“How did the shoes work out? Any feedback?”

Logan groaned leaning back against the headboard of his bed. The professor had gone as far as to get him an apartment for his cover instead of sticking to a hotel and he was beyond grateful for it. Though, he currently preferred to wake up with Laura’s foot shoved against his face after she crawled up into his bed in the middle of the night.

He missed his kid. A lot.

“No complaints. The kid doesn’t look like she is afraid of melting soles anymore, so I guess that’s good enough.” He mentioned.

“I’ll take it, then.” Hank grinned, shuffling some stuff off camera. “How about the case? Any clues?”

“Not yet,” He muttered. “But I have the feeling that I’ll find something very soon. Especially with those three going rampant around the city.”

“Ah, yes,” Hank nodded. “The professor mentioned them yesterday during our meeting. I’m quite worried that such powerful mutants are going out all alone in Gotham of all places. The universe does have a strange sense of humor.”

More like a fucked up sense of humor.

“I’m guessing we will have to open four new rooms in the institute.”

Logan frowned at those words. He was watching three kids. Not four.

“Four?”

Hank looked at the camera and then let out a tiny gasp, quickly smiling while nodding. “Oh, I guess the professor hasn’t mentioned it yet. He detected a new mutant in New Jersey. A boy from Eastview.”

A boy from Eastview, huh?

“Did he sent Scott to pick him up?” Logan scoffed. He knew Scott wasn’t the best at handling breaking the news to families about their kid being a mutant.

“No, he didn’t”

“Huh, that’s good.”

“He did send Gambit and Rouge, though.”

“He sent who?!”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: Hello everyone, I have big news! I'll be taking a short writing break until the first week of July. My family will be traveling and I'll be facing finals from my summer class (And also working on a short film AS THE MAIN CHARACTER OMGGGGGG-). But, the asks will remain open and I'll answer as soon as possible, so don't hesitate to send asks or comments! Other than that, I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter and I can't wait to see what everyone thinks about it (YAYY, PIETRO IS HEREEEE-) Lots of love, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple @staarflowerr @xoxoyukixoxo @whyiseveryuseenametaken @holderoflostmemories @doggyteam2028 @leeiasure @shadowypeachsweets @jjoppees @astraeasworld @wrenbirde @scarletdfox @letsbedragonstogether @exactlynumberonekryptonite @randomlyappearingartist @angwlart @ceramic-raven @vndexd @suneaterscape @initial-ari

Bonus Memes:

[acid-ixx]

Future Posts Lineup (in no particular order of when to be posted) (uc)

a/n: some of these were also taken out from my planned fanfics post a few months ago whilst some are new ideas. just know i already have drafts written for all of these, hence why i decided to post this for anybody curious on further updates. anything labeled as uc means I'm too lazy to add a proper description yet.

Chapter 6, Part One - Part Two: Where the family finally gets to relive memories of you long buried, further deepening the deep-seated guilt and shame for just how much they've left you out. Whilst on the other side of the city, you get a new, feline friend you named Mr. Stinky who seems to be too just cranky for his senior age, and a new guy to crush on, Conner, whose flirting has you distracted from the watchful pair of eyes following you from when you left the alleyway where you found the cat. You realize after your lovely call with Conner, though, that your newfound motivation to leave Gotham wasn't as easy as planned, and that you couldn't possibly do it alone.

All Eyes on the Prize, Part Two: Bruce should've never left you, not when he now realizes how frighteningly great of a parent you are when him and his children find you smothering both Jon and Conner affection under the watchful public eye, and how brightly you glow beside Clark who's set on showing everybody that you already belonged to him. Your ex-children aren't also too keen on how their envy makes them wish that it was them being so closely monitored and scolded by you instead of those two, new 'self-proclaimed' kids of yours.

Confessions of the Damned and Unwanted: A day spent sitting beside you, silent and distant, unnervingly watching the rainfall patter on the silken grass with empty eyes has Bruce desperate to repair whatever love left you had for him as a father— it made him spill words he never meant, made you retaliate with details of your life far beyond what he could've comprehended. And under the watchful eyes of the fog encapsulating both your broken confessions does Bruce realize just how deeply the emotional cuts he inflicted on you were, just how much he never had been a father to you even after all the time he's spent with you after you've been unwillingly taken away.

Family Dinner: Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son: Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

Flowers on My Grave: Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Paper Weights (UC): (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire oneshort too which you try to serve Bruce divorce papers disguised as a contract for designer items you pretended to want. It's only when it's the next day where Damian angrily stomps all the way to Bruce's study with Alfred in tow does he discover his idiocracy and why you seemed so intent on having him hurriedly sign the papers. One of your new posts on your private account with a new wedding ring attached to your finger also stirred plenty of drama online).

Nightmares and Consolations (UC): (Again &. Again. Fluff oneshot where you get nightly terrors and they scheduled periodic breaks to comfort you every night through your sleep paralysis. The mission? Get you to sleep properly. The task? Failed successfully, because they instead end up awake throughout the night with you just trying to bond with you instead)

The Night Cryptid (UC): (Horror/NSFW series. Where a new, heartless monster introduces itself into the heart of Gotham City and induces a new kind of fear into its citizens. Except Batman and his team of kids end up smitten with this creature (and how they don't want to admit their curiosity upon whatever those tendrils of yours can do to them)).

Like Him, Redo (UC): (Yandere Batfam x Reader. Where your mother's resistance against having you be introduced to Bruce both made and broke you once you realized just how misdirected your rage towards Bruce was).

What Money Can Buy (UC): (Yandere Batfam x Broke Reader. Where you're dirt poor and go to the same school as Damian, became a friend of his, and also ultimately had to resort to criminal activity which captured the attention of his family and made them insist on having you work them. Except you refuse because you don't want to be seen as a charity case (They see you as a new addition to the family instead)).

The list will be updated occasionally.

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC(Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

Notes: You can find the rest of the chapters on my masterlist!

If you like the first snippet of this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

Atop the cliffs that line Dragonstone, Jaenara Velaryon watches the tide crash against jagged rocks littered below. Crystal blue waters lap at the sandy shores and white wispy clouds pass by overhead. She thought it unfair that a picturesque day such as this be wasted on tragedy. Jaenara grips the ground beneath her, plush green grass filling her palm and tickling the skin. Gripping harder, she reveals the dirt underneath as grime is pushed underneath her fingernails. She is alone now, away from her mother and brothers. From her step-father and step-sisters. Away from all prying eyes and listening ears. Away from hushed whispers, the only sound that fills her ears are that of the breeze that whips around her and the ocean below. 

She is finally free to weep. 

Tears litter the ground she sits upon. Although she is alone she chokes back a cry, as if fearing that the winds would carry her sorrow back to the castle. Her tears muddle in the dirt below, and Jaenara recounts the events of the past fortnight.  

— — —

Sunlight spills into the Chamber of the Painted Table, where Rhaenyra and Daemon are positioned at the head. The war room had seen more activity this past week than it had in many years, Jaenara had thought. She and her twin brother, Jacaerys, had sat in on a few meetings with members of her mother’s council. The passing of King Viserys had left the realm in disarray, and while her eldest uncle had made no claim to the throne yet, Jaenara understood that time was not on their side. 

“The instruction of a mother can only do so much, especially for a boy as unruly as Aegon,” Rhaenyra had said to her council, “While Alicent may urge her son to heed the wishes of Viserys, Otto and his council are surely whispering ideas of betrayal and usurpation into my half-brothers ears.” 

“I will not wait to see if Aegon honors my rightful place on the throne. It is time to act.”

Her mother had said this before leaving for King’s Landing, much to the dismay of some of her council. The presence of Prince Daemon - no - King Consort Daemon, had helped to quell some of their anxieties, as well as Jaenara’s. Though she knew, better than most, that her mother was a force to be reckoned with even on her own. They had left Dragonstone on Syrax and Caraxes, a formidable warning to the Hightowers and anyone else who opposed Rhaenyra’s claim.

Jaenara’s desire to accompany her mother and step-father had fallen on deaf ears.

“Jace and I must ride with you,” she had urged her mother, “dragons are stronger together.” 

Rhaenyra smiled at that. “There is truth in what you say, sweet girl,” her mother ran a hand through her daughter’s thick black mane. So unlike her own white-bonde hair. “But this is a delicate time. We may yet be on the brink of war-

“All the more reason for us to come!” Jaenara pleaded.

“You, Jace, and Luke are needed here.” Rhaenyra had not raised her voice at her daughter, though her piercing violet eyes scolded her all the same. “Keep a watch over Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon,” Jaenara let out an over-exaggerated sigh at that, turning away from her mother. 

“As well as watch over Dragonstone, atop Aetherion, Arrax, and Vermax.” Her mother added.

The princess turned around at this. 

“We can only hope your uncle and his council of vipers will allow this transition of power to be peaceful. But I need you and your brothers to remain here, to ensure that no one dares to bring harm upon this castle.”

The prospect of riding her dragon alongside her brothers seemed to satiate the princess’ desires. That had been the end of it. 

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

A week had passed. A cloud of tension hung over Dragonstone that Jaenara could only escape by mounting Aetherion. She patrolled the surrounding waters, in search of any signs of a siege on their isolated stronghold. Her dragon, still young and only slightly larger than a warhorse, danced across the waves below the castle. His dark, purple wings almost dip into the sea, allowing Jaenara to taste the salt in the air and feel the mist spray across her face. She had not a drop of Velaryon blood in her, though she enjoyed the water all the same. 

I am no true Velaryon, Jaenara had thought to herself - a truth she would never speak aloud. But I may yet prove to be the blood of the dragon.

She reins Aetherion upwards, into the clouds above.

The princess is handing Aetherion over to the dragon masters when she finally learns of her mother and step-fathers arrival home. Her ears perk at the faint roars of Syrax and Caraxes in the dragon pit, surely feeding by now. Without another word, Jaenara turns on her heel, and sprints into the castle. 

“Your mother requests your presence in the war room!” A servant had shouted after her. 

Still in her riding leathers, she makes a sharp turn down the hall leading to the room and stumbles into her twin. “Jace-” Jaenara catches her breath, “Mother and Daemon are home! You must come with m-”

“I know.” Her brother responds shortly. 

A pause.

“You have already met with them?” she asks.

Jaenara studies her brother and notices he will not meet her eyes. Her gaze drops to his fists, white knuckled at his side. “Go speak with her. We can talk afterwards.”

And before his twin has the chance to respond, Jacaerys is gone. 

A sickly feeling settles in the young princess’ stomach as she faces the large doors of Dragonstone’s council room. She decided that there was no point in stalling whatever awaited her on the other side. Jaenara pulls open the doors and steps inside. 

Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon turn towards the young woman, and Jaenara feels even more unease spread through her. The feeling nearly subsides when she looks upon her mother.

“Nara,” Rhaenyra sounds as though she has not seen her daughter in years rather than days. Arms outstretched towards her daughter, Jaenara breaches the distance between them and embraces her mother. “Sweet girl” Rhaenyra breathes.

“Mother,” Jaenara exhales and realizes just how much she had missed her. 

A moment passes before Jaenara finally pulls away. She eyes Daemon, and notes an unreadable expression etched upon her stepfather's face.

“Well,” Jaenara breathes, “I would venture to guess things went well?” she jokes.

Daemon turns away from mother and daughter and walks towards the large windows, looking out to the sea. 

Rhaenyra looks upon her only daughter. The blood of her blood. Her long black hair spills over her shoulders. Her black and crimson riding leathers, crested with the symbol of House Targaryen, grips her form. She meets her daughter's lavender eyes. The rest of her daughter’s physical image, so unlike her. But not her eyes. Lighter than her own, but still undoubtedly Targaryen. 

A deep breath from her mother. Daemon remains silent at the window. 

“An agreement has been reached. I will take my rightful place on the Iron Throne, just as your grandsire intended. Alicent Hightower, members of the council, and even some lords throughout the Seven Kingdoms rallied to my cause - vouched for my legitimacy as heir. Your uncle, Aegon, seems surprisingly content with this arrangement. His mother tells me he has no true interest in ruling. He only wishes to retain his status so that he may live his life in his own…selfish ways.”

Rhaenyra sighs. “We have the gods to thank for allowing reason to prevail so that the realm may be spared from being plunged into needless war. There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, and no war so bloody as a war between dragons…” Her mother trails off but finds her voice once again. “But there are terms to this peace - I have agreed that your uncle has a seat on my council.”

Jaenara looks between her mother and step-father incredulously. A scoff breaks from her throat. “That’s it? Well this is good news!” she exclaims, “And Jace, he should remain your hei-”

“Tell her the rest of it.” Daemon turns from his place at the window, finally facing his wife and step-daughter. 

The princess looks to her Queen, eyebrows raised.

“Mother?” Jaenara looks to her mother and sees a woman haunted. 

“You are to marry Aemond Targaryen, and you will preside over Dragonstone together.”

Silence fills the room.

“Surely you jest, mother.” Jaenara bites out. Her voice is as cold and hollow as the room now feels.

“Your mother is not so cruel as to make a joke out of this.” Daemon says to his stepdaughter. The princess of Dragonstone stares at her parents. Rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. A position they have paid for with her hand. Her hand.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra turns to her husband, “A moment alone with my daughter.” It is not a question but a command. He steps away from his place at the window and begins to leave the Chamber of the Painted Table. Daemon reaches his step-daughter and places a hand on her shoulder. Squeezes it. Leaves.

The door shuts and Rhaenyra moves towards her daughter, but not before Jaenara draws back.

“All my life,” she gasps, “All my life, you have told me you only wish that I may marry as I please. That I should not be in the position you found yourself in as a young girl. That I should not be some token of peace - some possession to be given away! You have allowed me to remain free in this position, even now at eight and ten!” Her hand finds her neck, as though she might start to choke. 

“And now…now you - you give me away to him. To that - that man. Who tormented me throughout our childhood together. Tormented Jace and Luke! Surely it will be a loveless marriage.” She looks the Queen in her violet eyes. Eyes that mirror her own. “But anything for your throne, right?” She spits out. 

Rhaenyra’s face falls at that. At a time such as this, she is reminded of herself in her youth and of her own mother. She remembers Aemma, her sweet mother, in her final days. Of when she had told young Rhaenyra that royal wombs as theirs are to serve the realm. Rhaenyra remembered the discomfort that had filled her, hearing her mother say this. And discomfort still surrounded her at the thought of her daughter following in her own footsteps. She remembered the gatherings of lords and their sons that had taken place in her teenage years. Auctions for her hand. Power hungry men only wishing to share her bed for a glimpse at the throne. 

There was the evident truth. She had given away her daughter, in exchange for the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra had condemned her only daughter to the same fate she had suffered.

Jaenara immediately regretted the vitriol she had spouted at her mother. Her mother, who faced hostility and disdain all her life - from even those who were supposed to be her friends. Her family. Deep down, Jaenara understood what was necessary to avoid all-out war. She had told herself she would do whatever she would need to, to secure her mother’s crown and to preserve House Targaryen. But it was not supposed to be like this.

As a dragon-rider, she was supposed to forge the path to the Iron Throne through Aetherion. Alongside her brothers. Her step-father and step-sisters. Her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Not through a marriage pact. 

Rhaenyra gathers her thoughts and speaks, “My love…this is not a decision I made lightly. You see now why our visit to King’s Landing lasted so long. The negotiations were a labyrinth to be navigated. I know this is not fair to you, but we inhabit a world that is unfair to women. A world that deals in our lives and in our misfortune. A world built by men, for men. But when I sit the throne…I will build a new world. I will forge a new path. One that your grandchildren may be happy to live in.” 

Jaenara physically recoils at the thought. The Queen continues, “Though for now…we do what we must.” She takes her daughters hands in hers, “There are whispers about my ability to rule. There have always been, though now they are more present than ever. But you-” Her voice wavers and her grip tightens, “You have the opportunity to help me in ending the question of my capabilities. You can unite our house - we would all be the better for it. You will do the realm a great service in avoiding a war of fire and blood.” The mother finishes, squeezing her daughter’s hands again.

Jaenara breathes, low and steady. “Mayhaps I would rather see the realm put to the torch than marry a man such as him.”

“You do not mean that, daughter.” Rhaenyra is quick and stern in her reply. Now, her words burn Jaenara as well as her eyes. Jaenara does not shrink back, though she does not mean what she says. Not really. They are empty words, born from the heat of the present moment. It is not her mother she is angry with. The princess of Dragonstone is angry with the world, that it was made only in the interest of men. Angry with the gods, for making her a woman. Angry with herself. Angry at her now betrothed, for being who he was - for hating her so.

“I do not.” Jaenara finally replies. “But mother, he will not have me! Just as I will not have him!” Aemond Targaryen knew what Jaenara Velaryon was.

Memories of hurtful epithets from her youth—bastard, his Strong niece, the daughter of a whore—echoed in her mind, whispered by Aemond and Aegon alike, haunting her even now

All phrases that had been hurled her way in the days of their youth from him and Aegon alike. Words that followed her and her brothers throughout the corridors of the Red Keep. Words that coaxed tears out of the eyes of little Jaenara in the darkness of her bed chambers, where no one may see them. 

Aemond would not settle for someone he viewed as inadequate as his niece, and Jaenara would not stoop so low as to marry someone as detestable as her uncle. 

It would be a relationship doomed from the start.

Her mother’s words surprise her. “Aemond has agreed to the union.” Rhaenyra reasons with her daughter, “Alicent is very persuasive in her ways. She knows you to be good natured-”

The remarks earned a bitter laugh from Jaenara.

“-And not unlike him! You have both changed since the days of your youth. You are more alike than you may think.” Rhaenyra continues, “You would not be far from me daughter. Not far from the protection of myself and Daemon. As well as Jace. You would remain at the Red Keep for a time - before and after my coronation and your wedding - and leave for Dragonstone when you are ready.”

“He is vile. He despises me. And you.” Jaenara tells her mother.

“And yet my time at King’s Landing revealed a different side of my half-brother. He was not pleased with this proposal - though he took it much better than you have, Nara.” Rhaenyra reveals. A certain glint shines in her daughter’s eyes upon hearing this revelation, though it leaves as quickly as it had appeared. “Taking his hand will keep you close to me. You will both hold significant positions of power. You need not worry about being shipped off to the Riverlands, or gods forbid - the North - to marry a lord you barely care for-”

“I do not care for Aemond.” Jaenara interrupts.

“I would rather you take the hand of the devil we know rather than a devil we do not.” Rhaenyra remarks.

Jaenara left her mothers grasp and looked around the room before her. The room, which now belonged to her. And Aemond she thought bitterly. She had come to find profound comfort within the walls of Dragonstone. Some would call the castle dark and unwelcoming, though she knew its warmth came from the people within. Its merriment came from her time overhead, in the skies. But now, Aemond meant to ruin her home. Is nothing sacred? The princess wondered. In this moment, her thoughts felt so numerous that they may yet crack open her skull. Her emotions were so varying, she felt as though her heart would erupt from her chest.

Rhaenyra waits for her daughter to face her, and to finally give in to the Crown’s wishes. Instead, Jaenara lets out a noise akin to a wail and rushes out the door.

And Rhaenyra is alone.

— — —

Jaenara Velaryon’s tears finally stop and she feels as though she can finally catch her breath. She recalls the circumstances of the morning over and over, as if it were all just a bad dream she would soon wake up from. Wind whips her dark hair into her face. Salt kisses her lips. Salt from the air and from her teardrops mingle together.

A dragon does not weep.

“Dragons do not weep!” She echoes the words aloud, as if speaking them into existence will make it any more true. The words are carried away by the breeze and escape her.

“Everyone cries, child.” 

Nara does not turn around. She doesn't want her mother to see her cry, as though she were a child reprimanded. Rhaenyra settles into the grass next to her daughter and takes her into her arms. Jaenara feels as though a coldness inside her melts from the warm embrace of her mother, and she allows herself to cry. She was still her mother’s child.

“I am sorry, my girl. My Nara.” Rhaenyra wipes her daughter’s tears away as her own begins to pool in her eyes. 

Huddled in the warmth of her mother, Jaenara feels the anguish of her mother and sees the sorrow in her tears. How cruel it is, she thinks, that a mother could not save daughter from the same fate she once suffered — despite sitting on the most powerful seat in The Realm.

The princess understands sorrow to be a condition of life. A condition of womanhood, especially. But did sorrow have to become a hallmark of her life — for the rest of her life? Jaenara takes a shaky breath. She was a princess, a reality she had enjoyed as a luxury until now, when the weight of duty descended upon her. Marriage, a princess’s duty—she resolved it would not become her undoing, nor the source of her sorrow. Her duty is for The Realm. For her family.

In a moment of clarity, Jaenara understood the folly of her tears..

She sits there another moment, in her mother’s arms. She begins to picture Aemond Targaryen. His one eye, staring back at her with intensity. His sleek, white hair. The curl of his lip. Jaenara knew she could never come to love the man, and would never be able to love her. Duty, Jaenara thinks, is the death of love. 

The princess finally rises up to look at her mother. Sorrow has been replaced with resoluteness.

Rhaenyra had always seen echoes of her past lover, Ser Harwin Strong, in her daughter’s features and had cherished her for it. But now, watching Jaenara, she sensed a dragon’s fire within her.

“I will do it mother.” Jaenara begins, “I will do my duty, I will serve my kingdom and you as its Queen - I will wed Aemond Targaryen.”

— — —

The One Eyed Prince rises from a dreamless sleep. He remains in bed for a moment, his eye adjusting to the early morning light that had begun to creep into his bed chamber. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if today will finally be the day that an agreement would be reached. 

His half-sister and the Rogue Prince had descended upon King’s Landing on dragonback days ago. He regarded the gold and scarlet dragons with little interest. No matter, he had thought, mine is bigger. 

During their lengthy stay, Aemond observed the frenzy that had been set upon the Red Keep. A frenzy that had started after his father’s passing and had only grown. He had sat in on a few meetings between Rhaenyra, his mother, grandsire, and members of the former king’s small council. Some meetings he and Aegon had been privy to - some they were not. His elder brother did not seem at all perturbed by the prospect of his possible throne being wrenched out from under him. He understood Viserys had no intention of leaving him with the crown. And Aemond had thought that the realm was the better for it. 

Aemond and his mother had witnessed first-hand the kind of man Aegon had grown up to be. His sweet sister, Helaena, knew better than the both of them combined. It seemed the only person who wanted Aegon to sit the Iron Throne was their grandsire Otto - though he did not seek this out of the belief that his grandson could unite the realm. He only sought after a new puppet, one he could pull the strings of whichever way he pleased. 

Alicent and Rhaenyra had grown closer in the past few months before the King’s passing. Letters carried by ravens were exchanged, and now the two women almost seemed like the close childhood companions the court had once known them to be. Almost. It was still uncertain if time could truly heal all wounds.

Aemond thought his mother naive. Easily bent to the will of his half-sister. A phantom pain settles in the socket of his eye.

It was no matter now. As a second born son, Aemond had nothing to gain either way. If the gods were fair, he would have been born the eldest. And his weak, malleable father would have named him heir, rather than Rhaenyra. It was no matter now. Dwelling on fleeting possibilities would do him no good. 

Aemond is securing his leather patch over his sapphire eye when there is a rap at his door. Alicent Hightower stands before him. Dark circles sit below her eyes and loose, red curls frame her fair face. The negotiations between his half-sister and his mother’s family were taking their toll. “Your presence is needed in the council chamber. Rhaenyra and Daemon will be there, as well as Aegon and members of the small council.” She tells her son. 

“And so we finally relinquish our power,” Aemond breathes, “under what conditions?”

Alicent’s eyes drop from her son’s and she walks away without another word. 

His mother had always been a distant shroud. As a child she was wordless when he craved encouragement. Out of reach when he yearned for a motherly embrace. He tried not to blame her for this. He heard the stories that circulated the castle - of a girl who grew up without a mother of her own, forced to bring forth babes when she was not much older than one herself. 

So, he was used to her aloof nature. Though her lack of explanation at a time such as this did unnerve the prince. 

Aemond enters the council chamber where everyone else has already gathered. 

“The man of the hour!” Aegon bellows. 

Aemond regards his brother and wonders what has lifted his spirits at such an hour. Aegon delights in the misery of others, and in remembering this, Aemond feels unease.

“Aegon, enough.” Alicent is stern in her words, “Aemond, please sit.”

Prince Aemond sits opposite his half-sister Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon. Rhaenyra’s eyes rake over him, and he meets her neutral gaze with his cold one. Daemon lets out a wry chuckle at the wordless exchange. Ser Criston Cole, positioned at a corner of the chamber, stands stock still.

Alicent clears her throat and begins, “This council has come to a consensus,” Aemond looks to his mother.

“Rhaenyra…will be made to sit the Iron Throne, as King Viserys intended.” she shoots a sour look over to Otto Hightower, who sat on the far side of Aemond. Dismayed grunts and whispers circulate the chamber. “Aegon is to serve on Rhaenyra’s council. Jacaerys and Baela Velaryon are to stay here in King’s Landing. As heir, he will attend council with his mother and will make a place here.”

Aegon shifts in his seat and stares at a corner of the room, obviously bored. As if he had heard this to him recounted numerous times by now. 

“The more the merrier.” he says in a voice so low, Aemond wonders if anyone else had heard him. Aemond then wonders how his brother can be so content with relinquishing rule over the Seven Kingdoms to their sister. He hears Rhaenyra draw in a breath and his cold gaze finds hers once more.

“Aemond. We find ourselves in unprecedented times. One of the last things our father wished was for the infighting amongst his family to cease. We cannot expect the realm to watch as sister fights against brother.” She pauses and Aemond senses the hesitancy in her words. Alicent picks at the flesh around her fingernails. Rhaenyra continues.

“I only wish to unite our families and ensure that everyone has a place amidst my rule. Amongst my court. To do this…your mother sees it best to…” Aemond wishes she would just spit out her decree and be done with it. 

“I wish to wed you and my daughter, Jaenara Velaryon.”

Now that gives Aemond pause. 

Aemond had seen his niece a short time ago, when she and her family had come to King’s Landing to defend her bastard brother’s claim to the Driftmark throne. He had eyed her as Vaemond Velaryon was cut down by Daemon, intrigued by her unwavering gaze despite the horrific scene. He watched her at dinner that night, finding a smile gracing her face at times. He noted the joy she took in watching Jacaerys dance with Helaena. He felt her burn holes into him as he toasted to Jaenara and her brothers. His Strong niece and nephews, he had said. 

She despised him. And he gave her many reasons to. He did not have time to recount the enumerable times he had tormented her and her brothers during their childhood together at the Red Keep. A torment that was dealt back to him by the hands of his nephews.

Though Aemond could not deny, he held some sort of strange admiration for his niece. 

His half-sister's voice returns the prince from his thoughts. “Aemond?”

Aegon does little to suppress his glee. “What do you say, brother?” He laughs and gives him a rough slap on the back. “Will you have your bastard bride?”

Daemon Targaryen slaps a hand down on the table. “Daemon.” Rhaenyra stops her husband before he can speak or act. Aegon quiets once more, though a smug smile settles on his face.

Despite the truth in his brother’s words, Aemond takes offense to them. He found himself feeling that way more often lately, when the slights towards his niece had not been dealt by him. His thoughts return to the situation at hand. 

Aemond understands the position that he is in. This is not a request. It is a command by his new Queen. And by his mother. He considers that this may yet be a fortunate outcome for him. As the second-born brother, he has a small hope of ever sitting the throne. He had dreaded the day his mother would finally pass his hand onto the daughter of a lord that the Targaryens and Hightowers only wish to form political alliances with. Is that the only purpose children served? We are the bartering chips of our parents, he had thought bitterly. But with his niece - with Jaenara - Aemond would rule over the ancestral home of House Targaryen, and that seemed a better lot in life to have. They would retain their status. It could prove to be a comfortable position. But Aemond wondered if this is how low his family truly thought of him - to marry him off to a bastard. A so-called pure-blooded descendant of Old Valyria with hair as dark as the night. 

It was no matter now.

As Aemond considers the future that has been thrust upon him, a new thought crosses his mind. The line of succession.

Jacaerys is her heir.

And if something were to happen to his betrothed’s twin brother before he were to have an heir himself? If The Stranger were to come for the eldest male heir of the crown? Well, then Jaenara would be next in line. The realm had already accepted Rhaenyra as their ruler - surely they could come to accept another woman.

Jaenara Velaryon - or Targaryen - Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. And her King Consort:

Aemond Targaryen. 

It was hard to suppress the wry smile that began to tug on the prince’s lips. Aemond may yet use the cards he had been dealt to his own advantage. He could feel the cold steel of the Iron Throne beneath his fingers - power he may yet reach through his niece. He sat there another moment, as if still mulling over his options.

A sigh escapes him as Aemond once again meets the violet eyes of his half-sister. 

“As you wish, your Grace.” The One Eyed Prince bites. 

[thedemonofcat]

When Jaskier was thirteen, two life-altering things happened. First, his mother—the only person who had ever truly cared for him—died after a long battle with illness. Second, his father, the Earl of Lettenhove, summoned a witcher.

Jaskier had always known he was different. Whispers echoed through the halls of the estate—maids and stablehands murmuring that he was the product of his mother’s affair with a non-human. To the Earl, his son was a shameful reminder of betrayal, a "freak" unworthy of a noble title.

So when his mother passed, the Earl saw no more use for the boy and called for a witcher—not to help, but to eliminate what he believed was a monster.

But the witcher who arrived saw the truth. Jaskier wasn’t a monster—just a frightened, grieving child. Instead of killing him, the witcher faked Jaskier’s death and took him away.

Jaskier was too old to undergo the Trial of the Grasses, and even if he weren’t, few remained who could administer it. Still, the witcher couldn’t leave him behind. With nowhere else to go, Jaskier became his ward.

Over the years, they forged a powerful bond. What began as survival evolved into something more—trust, companionship, even love. The witcher, once a stranger, became the closest thing Jaskier had to a father. They traveled the Continent together, and when the time came, Jaskier enrolled at Oxenfurt Academy, where he began training to become a bard.

Then, on the eve of Jaskier’s eighteenth birthday, the witcher disappeared—no trace, no goodbye.

Desperate for answers, Jaskier set out to find another witcher.

That search led him to Geralt of Rivia. And thus, a new story began.

[parkerslatte]

Overlooked | Epilogue

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: minor injury of child. smut.

Summary: Nearly ten years after their wedding, Y/N and Eris spend time with their own small family.

Overlooked Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Epilogue

•••

The sun was high in the sky and Y/N was wearing a thin dress, keeping as much heat from her body as possible. It was a lovely day and Y/N had forced her family out into the garden of their small cottage. Eris had moved himself and Y/N there not long after their wedding. Their room at the palace was beautiful but both Y/N and Eris wanted something that was wholly theirs. Despite being High Lord and High Lady of Autumn, they both wanted to separate their duties from their family. 

Y/N walked across the vast grass area of their garden with a book in hand. She did not know where Eris and their children were. They disappeared a while ago and Y/N couldn’t even hear them. The large tree at the edge of their garden was surrounded by an array of flowers. Y/N smiled and settled herself down in front of the tree, resting her back against the bark. 

Just as Y/N cracked open the spine to her book, loud shrieks of happiness were heard interrupting Y/N from her peaceful bubble. Y/N looked up just as her two children ran into her vision. Eris ran after them, a flower crown on top of his head. Y/N smiled fondly, already knowing that it was their daughter’s doing. 

Eris chased their son and daughter around the garden before sweeping them both up into his arms, laughing at their giggles of delight. The love Y/N sent down the bond to Eris made him look up at her, a crooked smile on his face. Eris placed their two children back on the ground and they immediately began to run around the garden once again. Instead of Eris chasing after them, he walked directly to Y/N. 

“Sporting a new look?” Y/N questioned, glancing at the flower crown on top of his head. 

Eris smiled and sat down next to Y/N on the grass, pulling her body to his. He wore a simple white tunic and trousers, a lot more relaxed than Y/N had seen him in the previous weeks dealing with some difficult court officials. 

“I was thinking of replacing my own crown with this one,” Eris said, kissing the top of Y/N’s head.

Y/N smiled. “It suits you.”

Eris scoffed. “Of course it does. It was made especially for me.”

As Eris shuffled against the tree, Y/N noticed him discreetly wipe the sweat from his forehead, breathing slightly heavy. Y/N smiled playfully. “How can you be tired after chasing your own children, Mister Former General of the Autumn Court?”

Eris rolled his eyes. “For starters, have you felt the heat? And secondly, those little monsters have too much energy then they know what to do with.”

“Your powers are literal fire? How can you find it warm?” she teased, “And you could have sat out,” Y/N replied, knowing that Eris would never deny his children anything. 

When Y/N first told Eris she was pregnant with their first child, their daughter, six years ago, he had a lot of fears about being a father. Those fears stemmed from his father. Eris would stay up all night telling Y/N that he was going to end up just like him. And in those first few months, the more Eris began to distance himself from Y/N. It was the first time since they met that he did anything of the sort. But soon enough, Y/N managed to coax him out of his own head. She even enlisted the help of her sister, Feyre. 

It had been a few years since their relationship had been repaired. When Y/N approached Feyre in asking for a favour, her youngest sister was more than happy to oblige. When Y/N returned to her home in the Autumn Court, her nephew and niece, who was just a year old, Eris had a lot to say. 

“What is this, Y/N?” he asked.

“You have fears about becoming your father,” Y/N said, passing her niece to Eris. “Well, this is the perfect way to prove to you that you aren’t. Feyre and Rhysand are having a small holiday on the continent. She asked me to look after the kids.”

“She asked you, or you kidnapped them from their home. Doesn’t your other sister live in the Night Court?”

“Nesta and Cassian are busy with their own family,” Y/N answered. “And Elain is busy travelling with Lucien right now, so I was the last option.”

“Uncle Eris!” Nyx yelled and hugged him around the waist. 

Nyx had always liked Eris, to Rhysand’s dismay, and was always excited to see him whenever he visited Autumn or he visited Night. 

“Well, Mariana and I are going out for the day,” Y/N said and picked up her bag. “I will be back after dinner so don’t wait for me.”

“Wait!” Eris exclaimed. “Y/N–”

Y/N left him alone with the two children. 

When Y/N returned that night, she found Eris asleep on the settee in their living room. Her niece asleep on his chest and Nyx sleeping soundly next to him. It was all the proof Y/N needed for him.

And it was all the proof Eris needed too, as after that night, everything seemed to change. He seemed to be more excited about having a child.

“I will never deny my children anything,” Eris said, capturing Y/N’s attention once more. “I don’t care if I spoil them.” Eris fondly watched his son and daughter play in the garden. “All I want to do is give them the childhood I never had.”

Y/N smiled and kissed his cheek. “You have already been doing that since they were born. They adore you, Eris.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Eris said, his gaze turning to her. “For giving me our children and proving to me that I am nothing like my father.”

“You don’t need to thank me for something you prove yourself everyday,” Y/N said and pecked his lips. “But you're welcome anyway. Because I know you will only keep insisting until I say it.”

Eris smiled and pressed his lips firmly against hers, his hand cupping her face. Y/N rested her hand on his chest and smiled into the kiss. Every single time she kissed Eris, she felt giddy and light. His kisses always had that effect on her and Y/N was afraid that one day that feeling would fade. 

As Eris softly began to kiss across her jaw, loud cries were heard from their younger son. Eris and Y/N sprang apart and were up on their feet, running in the direction of the cries. 

“Mummy, Daddy, Octavian fell and scraped his knee,” their daughter, Arella, said and clutched onto Y/N’a hand. Eris scooped his son into his arms and together the family walked back into the cottage. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Arella asked, tears in her eyes.

Y/N bent down to match her height. “Of course he is, sweetheart. It is only a scratch and he will be running around again in no time.”

Arella was always a sensitive girl, with her own emotions and other people’s. If someone was hurting around her, so was she.

“Can I sit with him?” Arella asked.

“Of course,” Y/N said, holding onto her daughter’s hand. 

Together they walked into the dining room. Octavian was sitting on the table while Eris cleaned away the cuts and scrapes on his knees. 

“Ow!” Octavian exclaimed, flinching as Eris wiped at the injury. 

“I’m sorry,” Eris muttered, distress evident in his voice. “It will be over in just a second, I promise.”

Arella stood next to Eris and Y/N lingered by the doorway, simply watching her family with a hand resting on her stomach. She was not sure how her heart was big enough for three people, but it needed to expand for a fourth many months down the line. 

“All done,” Eris said and pressed a kiss to the top of his son’s head.

“I’m tired,” Octavian muttered.

“Me too,” Arella said. 

Eris only nodded and picked Octavian up in his arms before bending down to lift Arella up too. Y/N smiled at the care Eris had in his movements. Both of their children were almost a perfect replica of him, the only exception being their eyes. Instead of inheriting Eris’s amber eyes, they both inherited Y/N’s colour. But everything else about them screamed Eris. To their red hair to the freckles scattered around their faces. Y/N couldn’t ask for more perfect children. 

“Mummy, come with us,” Arella said. 

“I was planning on it,” Y/N said and followed as Eris walked into Octavian’s room first, placing him gently down in the bed. 

“Get some rest, okay?” Y/N said to her son, brushing his hair away from his eyes. 

“Okay, Mummy,” Octavian said. “But more play after.”

Both Y/N and Eris chuckled quietly at their son, whose eyes were already beginning to droop. “More play after.”

Once Octavian’s breathing became heavier and he was asleep, Y/N and Eris both exited his bedroom and entered Arella’s. Who was already fast asleep with her head on Eris’s shoulder. Eris gently lowered her down onto the bed and tucked the thin blanket over her body. It was still quite warm and he didn’t want his daughter to overheat. 

“How has she grown this big already?” Eris asked, looking down at Arella sleeping soundly. “Everything is going too fast.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I know, I hate it. Even looking at Octavian, I think he is growing too fast. I swear he only began to walk yesterday.”

“Let’s go back to our room,” Eris whispered. “I am quite tired myself.”

The two entered their own bedroom, it was by no means grand. But it was cosy and just what they both wanted to get away from court for a while. Eris sat on the bed and pulled Y/N toward him until she straddled his hips. Before she could say anything, his lips were pressed against hers, continuing what they started in the garden. Y/N sighed and melted into him, her arms lazily resting around his neck. 

“Have I told you that I love you today?” Eris pulled away to mumble against her lips. 

Y/N hummed. “Only when we woke up. When we had breakfast. Just before we went outside to the garden.”

Eris smiled and gently squeezed her hips. “I love you.”

“And just now,” Y/N finished.

“I don’t tell you enough,” Eris said.

“I’m sure you tell me more than enough,” Y/N said. “It makes up over seventy percent of your vocabulary.”

Eris rolled his eyes and kissed her, pulling her down to the bed with him. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to end up with you. Out of all the males on the planet, you ended up being my mate and later my wife. And you gave me two beautiful children who literally light up my world.”

“Three,” Y/N corrected.

Eris furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“Three beautiful children,” Y/N confessed.

“No,” Eris said. “You’re not…?

“I am,” Y/N said. “I had it confirmed a few days ago.”

“I would be able to smell the shift in scent,” said Eris.

“There is a tonic I have been taking which hides the smell of a pregnancy,” Y/N said. “I knew that you would be able to tell straight away and I wanted to surprise you. I had a big thing planned, but it just felt right to tell you now.”

“So we are having another child?” Eris asked.

“Yes, my love. We are having another child,” Y/N answered.

The smile on Eris’s face is one of pure happiness and joy. “Oh, my love!” he exclaimed and plants his lips on hers, kissing all across her face and jaw before nuzzling his head into her neck. “You have made me the happiest male in the whole of prythian.”

“You had a part in it too,” Y/N said, rolling off him to lay beside him. Eris pulled her body to his. 

“I don’t care!” Eris said, kissing her lips. “We are having another child!”

“Shhhh,” Y/N laughed at his excitement. “We can still use the surprise I planned on Arella and Octavian.”

“They are both sleeping like the dead. I am sure nothing will wake them,” Eris said. 

Y/N looked into his eyes and saw the mischievous glint in them. “And what are you suggesting, Eris Vanserra?”

Eris shook his head, playing innocent. “I am suggesting absolutely nothing.”

As he spoke, he rolled so he was hovering above Y/N. Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to her. Eris grinned wickedly and covered her lips with his own, devouring her like a starving man. They had not been able to be intimate for the past few weeks, every single time they tried, their children would always need them at that exact moment. Y/N craved him more than anything. 

The feeling of Eris touching her body was one that always took her by surprise. How well he knew her to elicit those small sounds of pleasure from her. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, begging him to touch her. 

As soon as their clothes were thrown onto the floor, Y/N pressed her body firmly against Eris’s, feeling every part of him. It had been too long since she had time to savour the touch. Quick bouts of pleasure was all they could afford for the past few weeks. Now that their children were fast asleep, Y/N could savour everything Eris had to offer. 

“You are the most beautiful being in the universe,” Eris muttered against her lips as he slowly entered her. 

Y/N gasped as she gripped onto his shoulders. He always filled her so perfectly. “Look who’s talking,” Y/N muttered as she threaded her fingers in his hair. 

As Eris began to thrust, he kissed every part of her body he could reach. He always worshipped her. Always made sure to make her feel loved. Between each kiss and thrust he whispered words of affection that would be seared in Y/N’s brain for all eternity, the whispers of the words would be remembered every night when she went to sleep. 

“Eris,” Y/N panted as he sped up. “I need more.”

Eris’s forehead rested against hers as his thrusts sped up once more. He buried his head into her neck, no doubt leaving marks across her shoulder. Y/N couldn’t find it within herself to care as she lost herself within the pleasure. Shamelessly she moaned out loud, not not even trying to keep quiet. That coil within her was beginning to unfurl. 

“You are perfect,” Eris panted against her skin. “So perfect. You were made for me.”

“Just for you…” Y/N replied, pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Y/N,” Eris groaned as he spilled inside her. 

The feeling of Eris filling her up pushed Y/N over that edge and she moaned loud as she came, chanting Eris’s name. 

“My love,” Eris said as he slowly pulled out of her and onto the bed next to her, “you are always so perfect.”

Y/N laughed, slightly breathless. “In your eyes, is there anything about me that isn’t perfect?”

“There is absolutely nothing.”

“There has to be one thing,” Y/N insisted.

“There is not one thing about you that is not perfect– actually there is one thing. Your ability to bake, that is definitely not one of your talents,” Eris admitted.

Y/N gasped. “You said you loved the cake I made for Arella’s birthday.”

“That is because it wasn’t the cake you made,” Eris chuckled. “I brought Octavian with me to the bakery in town where I replaced yours with one that looked exactly like it.”

Y/N pushed Eris away playfully. “You diabolical male!”

Eris laughed and the sound was music to Y/N’s ears. She always enjoyed when he laughed, even if it was at her expense. 

“I’m sorry, but it was just…not good,” Eris said, still laughing. 

Y/N smiled. “Just for that, I am going to take a bath by myself.”

Before Y/N had the chance to climb out of the bed, Eris wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “You are not going anywhere.”

Eris caressed her body gently, allowing her a chance to leave if she wanted to. But the moment his arms wrapped around her, Y/N melted into him. It was one of her many weaknesses when it came to Eris. The two continued to lay there in silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional bird chirp through the window. 

“Thank you,” Eris mumbled against the top of her head, “for giving me the most perfect life.”

“What did I tell you about thanking me?” Y/N replied. 

Eris rolled his eyes. “I know but genuinely thank you Y/N.”

Y/N sighed. “I should be thanking you. Before that night, I hated my life. My sisters didn’t seem to care about me anymore, I had no friends, I was simply…trapped. I wasn’t living the life I wanted to live. But you, Eris, gave me the opportunity to have the life I always dreamt of. I found you, the literal other half of my soul and without you, we wouldn’t have two beautiful children and another one on the way. I wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for you allowing me to stay that night. This whole life we live is because you allowed me to stay that night.”

Y/N shuffled her position so she was laying face to face with Eris. “So thank you, Eris. Thank you for giving me a home and thank you for seeing me when no one else did.” 

The look of pure love on Eris’ face was one Y/N wished to have imprinted on her brain forever. The look was so tender and adoring. Y/N was sure she shared a similar expression on her face. 

Eris caressed her face. “I love you so much.”

“I am happy to hear that, otherwise what we just did not long ago would be quite awkward,” Y/N jokes, causing Eris to let out a breathy laugh. “But I love you too, Eris. I never thought I could have so much love for someone before. But for you, for Arella, for Octaivan and for our next child. I love all of you so much.”

Eris pressed his lips against Y/N’s, his fingers tangled in her hair and Y/N sighed in delight when he scratched her scalp. Y/N only pulled away to whisper something against Eris’s lips.

“You are perfect, Eris.”

“And so are you, Y/N,” Eris whispered against her lips. “The most perfect female to ever exist.”

Y/N only kissed him again.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for..

March 16th

~*~

1. hiii do you know any fics where either wwx or lwj stalk the other, or they both unknowingly stalk each other? @ashxi-wx

you only ever touch me in the dark by sweetlolixo (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Age Difference, Boypussy, Intersex WWX, Feminization, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dirty Talking LWJ, Stalking, Size Difference, WWX Has a Non-Con Kink, Dark WWX, Daddy Kink, Mirror Sex, Restraints, Virginity Kink, Blindfolds, Deranged4Deranged Wangxian)

~*~

2. Hello! Hope you're doing well! 🩵

I was recently reading For You by 10thNoNamePerson (amazing story) and I was wondering if you could recommend some stories that have detailed fight scenes of WWX just letting loose displaying either his sword fighting skills, talismans or even resentful energy.

Here is an excerpt from "For You" that gives an example of what I'm looking for:

Slash. Stab. Strike. Faster. Faster. I need to go faster!

His movements become a blur, daring to step over the line he has firmly drawn when he gets too immersed into a fight. He can’t stop, won’t stop until Lan Zhan lets him step out. Back out, back out, just back out!

It doesn't really have to be WWX only, it could just have really detailed written fight scenes.

Thank you!! 🩵

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously) has WWX going toe-to-toe with Madam Yu, if that's any help?

If We Keep Holding On, Just a Bit Longer by Kestral (T, 55k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Urban Fantasy, Dark Fairytale, and seriously i mean Dark, will include specific content warnings for each chapter, Abuse, Torture, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Second Person, Multiple Povr, eaders are not expected to be familiar with changeling: the lost, trust me though changeling angst is so delicious read this for pain, Fae politics, Fae & Fairies, Non-Chronological, Slow Burn, Secret Relationship) I'm reccing my fic for #2. No wwx fight scenes posted yet, but there are several in the chapter i'm currently working on.

~*~

3. I want to read some fics that are sad and look into grief (especially LWJ’s morning after WWX died). Could it be set during the time period (e.g no modern or time travel AU’s) and have no incest. Bonus points for A-yuan being in it. Thanks mods !!

🔒 It Will Pass (but it is here now) by AmyNChan (G, <1k, LSZ & LWJ, Death, LSZ Needs a Hug, Child LSZ, Good Kid LSZ)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) check out the podfic with music if you want to use even more tissues

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship, [Podfic] Cold read of let the yoke fall from our shoulders by kisahawklin)

🧡 Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)) if you don't mind a little canon divergence?

New Perspective by mrcformoso (T, 8k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Major Character Death, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, Introspection, Feelings, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful LWJ, Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ)

partly frozen, partly flowing by astrolesbian (T, 4k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfot, Sibling Relationship)

🔒藕断丝连 by RoseThorne (G, 456, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Memory Loss, Memories, POV Third Person, POV LSZ, Rituals, lotuses)

~*~

4. Hiii itmf something cute where teenager WY is a bit older than LZ (like ~3-5 years) and LZ is fuming because he has a huge crush on him! Maybe they just meet as students during CR training arc, or maybe they were betrothed by their parents/guardians for a future political alliance. Shixiong WY is a very charming and competent older disciple and attracts people and friends, and small LZ is both territorical and furious that he likes this annoying and smiling bully (how dare he treat him like a kid?!). Any AU except modern w/o cultivation. Amazing if they get together when both are a bit older. Something fun and sweet, but longer works with angst and happy ending are also okay! Thank you!l

For the Sake of a Smile by Reikosama7716 (Not Rated, 94k, WIP, WangXian, Minor Everyone/WWX, CSSR/WCZ, Older!WWX, Oblivious WWX, Top LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective!JC, JZX's Attempt in Public Confession, WWX and his ducklings, Everyone is young and gay for WWX, WWX and Jiāng siblings are cousins, Canon Divergence, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, WWX in his YLLZ appearance, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Third wheeling of unfortunate sect disciples, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, wangxian, Historical AU, Imperial China, Emperor WWX, General LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Getting Together, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Slow Burn, Happy Ending)

you'll love me at once (the way you did once upon a dream) by sweetlolixo (T, 18k, WangXian, Dark Fairytale, Inspired by Maleficent (2014), Wingfic, Sleeping Beauty with a twist, Maleficent WWX, Prince LWJ, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, True Love's Kiss)

🔒As Years Pass Us By by Loqui (G, 32k, WIP, WangXian, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Age Difference, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, Pining LWJ, Introspective LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Slow Burn, very light, Light Angst, WWX is a Lan, POV LWJ)

I risk it all (just to be with you) by Manu_K (G, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, will mostly follow the book plot, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX)

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5. Been rereading Delight in Misery by nirejseki and it's got me in the mood for more fic where LWJ joins the Jiang sect after WWX's death or resurrection, if anyone else has written that? Thank you! @aroace-lukeskywalker

The Sun Sets Like a Whispered Regret by OrdinaryRealities (T, 41k, JC & LWJ, WangXian, Resurrect Your Gays, LWJ and JC enemies to brothers, MDZS Big Bang 2020, Minor Character Death, discussion of characters who have died, And the trauma of that, Kidfic, Sort Of, characters working through trauma together, Give MXY some GD agency, Happy Ending)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending) Jiang Yanli becomes sect leader following Jiang Cheng’s death and Lan Zhan moves to Lotus Pier where he and Jiang Yanli raise their children together after Wei Ying’s death in picking up the pieces

~*~

6. Hello, I have a nsfw itmf request:

Can you recommend works where wangxian ust is progressing into lz going silently forward with intimacy waiting for WY to tell him to stop (almost like gay chicken but lz is not joking, he just can't help himself) and WY is speechless but curious and letting him.

The way it is in "When you like somebody bite your tongue" by sophiahelix, "oh no, what'll I do, my perky ass groped on the train" by sweetlolixo or "Summer heat" by athena_crikey

Thank you! 😘

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7. Hey y'all! I was in the mood for some fics where the Lans treat Wei Wuxian as family. Not because of adoption, but just because Wangji loves him so much, so they, by extension, love him too. Do you know any fics like that? Thanks a million in advance! @fero-setsuri-blog

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, WangXian, JFM & LQR, Modern, Kid Fic, Good Uncle LQR, Neurodivergent LWJ, Baby LWJ, Baby WWX, Parenthood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, When we were small [Podfic] by Stasia Reader (Stasia), [Podfic] When we were small by sisi_rambles)

Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (G, 40k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Character Study, Introspection, In-Laws, Golden Core, Emotional Baggage, Family Bonding, Protective LWJ, Good Parent LQR, LQR has feelings, LQR & WWX become friends)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

Deeper Seasons by piecrust (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, WangXian)

~*~

8. Similar fanfic Set in Stone by thesongofsirens with Lan Zhan rejecting Wei ying? Thank you in advance 💕✨ @yuukikonnos-world

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) the rejection is out of gay panic tho

~*~

9. Hello, I'm in the mood for docs where wwx was adopted by or related to someone and the relatives loves him, spoils him, and nurtures his genius and boasts about him to others. It can be a kid wwx or whatever. Something similar to the fic "Sunset, Sunrise" by Ariana Deralte or "All Things Belong"" by kuroi_atropos. Thank you!

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NieLan, WangXian, SangNing, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family) Wei Ying is brought into the Nie sect as a child and nurtured and loved in shades of grey...and Heart of the Beast

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 488k, WangXian, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWX is a Niè, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, NMJ is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining, LWJ Has Feelings)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming) (link in 14B)

~*~

10. hello! an ask for ITMF! fics where wwx is a victim of/recovering from rape/sexual assault? preferably a central point of the story, any setting/au etc! thank you!!!

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas  (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma)  

~*~

11. I don't know if this group is still active, but I was watching Living Dead and had this thought... I wonder if there are any fics that follow on from the movie or tie Wangxian back into it. @lovelyseraph

~*~

12. Hello, 🤗 Could you please recommend something in the mood of "truth will be out on the video" and "Black sun"? Thank you!

An Unscheduled Stream by trippednfell (M, 77k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, Misunderstandings, BAMF WWX, BAMF Wen Popo, WWX cultivates resentful energy but keeps his golden core, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Presumed Enemies to Lovers, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, Time Skips, Dual Cultivation - Not the Sexy Kind, but ALSO the sexy kind, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Horny wound tending)

~*~

13. Hello! ITMF great Madam Yu stories, where she is a badass, independent and straightforward (read vicious and unashamed about it) woman, a strong cultivator and a great, caring in her not so gentle way, protective and fierce mother and aunt for the whole Yungmen trio! I really crave some good maternal figures for them lately. Also kudos if Jiang Cheng is both her little copy and a mother's boy, and if they both are badass and protective towards Wuxian and Yanli, especially towards their lovers. Thanks! ☺️ @shellennium

Sun Stained Lotus by MidnightLightHowlite (T, 70k, WangXian, YZY & WWX, Good Parent YZY, non abusive non toxic YZY, WWX still has his complexes tho, Angst, Fluff, Grandmasters of Miscommunication, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Good siblings, Trauma!, Death!, lots of death!, LWJ wants to help but he's emotionally stunted, LQR is a responsible adult!, sworn sisters YZY and CSSR, Emotional Damage, Suicidal Thoughts, Self depreciation)

suddenly my eyes are open (everything comes into focus) by eraiklys (G, 3k, YZY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, im sorry JFM but youre the bad guy in the verse, very gay undertones, Like, YZY and CSSR gay undertones, Cynophobia, Dog, JC's dogs, JYL is a sweetheart, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug)

🔒Aunt Knows Best by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (M, 10k, WWX & YZY, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Character Study, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Identity, Fix-It, Sexism, Trans WWX, Good Parent YZY)

Zephyrs Blowing Below the Violet by Comfect (T, 64k, FengYuan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Bad to Good Parenting, cursing, Anger Management, No Golden Core Transfer, Bad Parent YZY, Good Parent YZY, POV YZY, YZY Learning and Adapting, Not Everything Ends Up Sad, Happy Ending, YZY & JFM Live)

heavy is the head that wears the crown by izukillme (T, 41k, YZY/JFM, YZY/CSSR, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, BAMF YZY, YZY-centric, Good Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Jiang Family Fix-It, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, note: the suicide itself is offscreen, but is referenced multiple times through the story, Lesbian YZY)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas  (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) link in #10

🔒Hope series by RoseThorne (M, 69k, WangXian, WIP, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Memory Loss, Angst, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Kidnapping, Hostage Situations, Mentioned WCZ Disobeying Orders, Explosions, Yin Iron, Grief/Mourning, POV WWX)

~*~

14. A) Any and all fics where WWX embraces being Lan Er Furen and it's the best Furen Cloud Recesses has ever had! Or at least is acknowledge! Does anyone know of one?

B) I was just thinking if there was a fic where WWX is mistreated and/or evicted from the clans by the Jiangs very publicly and EVERYONE knows he is a prodigy and wants him, but WHR arrives first and basically gives him normal levels of kindness and wwx is almost like "daddy"? And he even promises to arrange a marriage for him with LWJ and all. Basically WWX being treated like he deserved, everyone wanting him, and WHR getting him and as a bonus, the second jade o lan. @lostandmessedup

14B)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort) has Wei Ying thrown out of the Jiang sect and he’s found with injuries that Madam Yu gave him by Wen Qing and Wen Ruohan. These next ones aren’t quite what they’re asking for either because Wei Ying hasn’t been cast out by the Jiangs in these, but they involve Wen Ruohan going after Wei Ying because he sees his genius and because he suspects Wei Ying is his grandson:

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming)

and

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 59k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ, Loss of Limbs)

~*~

15. Hello! This one is for ITMF: Any recommendations for Post-canon fics where characters get some sort of closure/bonding? Like, Yunmeng bros reconciliation, Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian being friends again, Wei Wuxian learning to love himself, Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian bonding, The Juniors being protective of Wei Wuxian, etc.? (not all of this has to be necessarily present in one single fic!! My only main requirements are Post-Canon, The Juniors, and Wei Wuxian)

(Some fics I have read with these are "Tell some storm" by qurbat, "Mark My Place" by BenevolentErrancy, and "The stone-filled sea" by yukla. All of them are absolutely amazing works and I'm looking for something similar)

Also, thank you for the last ITMF help (Feb 2, I think?), I enjoyed all the fic recs! @mysteriouslytragic

🔒 Lan by AmyNChan (G, 3k, LSZ & LJY, Family, they're cousins or brothers or something your honor, LJY has enough faith in LSZ to move a mountain)

🔒 I have a father by AmyNChan (G, 1k, LSZ & WWX, Some things stay the same, Derogatory)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff)

hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ (T, 15k, WangXian, JL & WWX, Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, BAMF WWX)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

the place your heart inhabits by Fleetling (T, 8k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Father Figures, father-son bonding, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Humor, Oblivious WWX, Pining WWX, WWX-centric, Good Kid LSZ, Adopted LSZ, Wingman LSZ, LSZ is LWJ & WWX's Child, Good LSZ, WWX goes back to gusu, resentful energy, Golden Core, wwx has both and it's a struggle, Unreliable Narrator)

🔒What Is Left Over by Loriqod (T, 30k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Yunmeng brothers, Post-Canon Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Happy Ending, WangXian in Love, bite-sized angst, Canon-Typical Violence, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Training Montage)

~*~

16. hiiiii do you have any canon divergence fics where wwx goes back to gusu with lwj? @ashxi-wx

Do not take that which does not belong to you by Selene210 (E, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Murder, Blood and Violence, wangxian married and have a son, Explicit Sexual Content, Biting, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Bath Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, WWX has an angry LWJ kink, Wangxian canon breeding kink, LWJ canon massive dick)

🔒 Swordless by WithBroomBefore (G, 32k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, LQR & WWX, Established Relationship, Canon Divergence, WWX goes to Gusu, Happy Ending, Trust, Healing, unofficial title: The Communication AU, Golden Core Reveal, Crying, Feelings, Trans Character, AFAB LWJ, philosophy, Kissing, POV WWX)

gone with the silence by SpeedingCheetah (M, 63k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Self-Harm, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, POV LWJ, WangXian-centric, Location: Cloud Recesses, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, Golden Core Reveal, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WangXian Adopt LSZ, Ambiguous/Open Ending, a sorta-kinda-maybe fix it story, WWX Goes to Gusu, triggers are in the notes)

Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, WWX learns to stand up for himself, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, WWX is Loved, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives)

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. Hi I'm itmf fics that A) confront what jc was doing to demonic cultivators after wwx died and B) fics that are jc critical/not jc friendly

17A)

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

The plagues of Jiang Wanyin by Lyna_Mei (T, 54k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Cultivation Sect Politics, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Torture, Minor Character Death, Not JC Friendly, JC suffers, Canon-Typical Violence)

17B)

to heal with the sunrise by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, Minor ZhuiLing, Canon Divergence, Not JC Friendly, Canon JC Characteristics, Bad Uncle JC, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Healing, Best Friends, Non-Linear Narrative, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending)

These Barren Lands In Between by lingering_song (T, 4k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, Misunderstandings, Cultivation Sect Politics, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not JC Friendly, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

The Price of a Golden Core by AshayaTReldai (M, 9k, WangXian, Angst, Tension, Aggression, JC pays the price for his choices, demanding letters, JC is a Brat, Supportive Lan Brothers, WWX deserves the best, Life Debt, Sad Ending Sad Ending for JC)

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, WWX & JL, WangXian, Dark JC, not JC friendly, Captivity, Angst with a Happy Ending, no reconciliation, Crossdressing, Non-Graphic Torture, Violence)

🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

🔒 Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

🔒 Worth of a Good Man by Vrishchika (G, 6k, WangXian, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, Not JC Friendly)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[sushiyuzu]

little warrior training

toji fushiguro and his little megumi

the sun was just starting to set, casting an orange glow over the park. toji stood with his arms crossed, watching his son, megumi, tugging on his small sneakers, determined to tie them just right. the park was almost empty, just the two of them, surrounded by the soft rustle of leaves in the warm evening breeze.

“are you ready, kid?” toji asked, raising an eyebrow, though his lips curled in a faint, amused smirk.

megumi stood up, puffing his tiny chest out, eyes full of determination. “yeah! i’m ready!” his voice wavered slightly, but the fire in his gaze was unmistakable.

toji crouched down to megumi’s level, his eyes softening as he ruffled his son’s spiky black hair. "alright, alright. we’ll start with something easy," he said, positioning himself a few steps away. “first, you have to learn how to dodge. come at me.”

megumi blinked, unsure. “but… how do i know when you're gonna move?”

toji chuckled. “you’ll just have to figure it out.”

with that, toji made a sudden but slow movement, his hand reaching out playfully toward megumi. the boy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he jumped back, barely missing the swipe. megumi stumbled slightly but regained his balance with a proud grin.

"see? not bad for your first dodge," toji said, crossing his arms again, his usual stern tone now holding a hint of pride.

megumi’s grin grew wider. “i can do better!”

they continued for a while, megumi darting around as toji tried to grab him. every time he dodged a bit faster, his small feet scurrying across the grass with more confidence. toji made exaggerated movements, pretending to just miss catching him by a hair, allowing megumi to feel victorious each time.

finally, after a few more rounds, toji stepped it up. “now, let’s see how strong you are,” he said, kneeling down and patting his shoulder. "try to tackle me."

megumi looked up at him, his eyes serious but also unsure. “but you’re big…”

toji smirked, giving him a mock stern look. “doesn't matter. you’re strong too, right?”

megumi nodded firmly, his tiny fists clenching at his sides. he took a few steps back, his little legs kicking up dirt as he charged forward. toji braced himself, letting his son run at him full speed. megumi collided with him, arms wrapping tightly around toji’s waist. toji, putting on a show, made a big deal out of stumbling back.

“whoa! so strong!” he said dramatically, letting himself fall onto the soft grass with an exaggerated grunt.

megumi stood over him, eyes wide and sparkling with disbelief. “i did it?”

toji, lying flat on the ground, chuckled. “yeah, you did it, kid. stronger than i thought.” he sat up, pulling megumi into his lap and ruffling his hair again.

megumi beamed, his smile reaching from ear to ear, his small hands clutching toji’s shirt. “i wanna be as strong as you someday, dad.”

toji’s chest tightened a bit at the word “dad”. he didn’t show it, though. instead, he leaned back on his elbows, glancing at the darkening sky. “you keep training, and you’ll be stronger. maybe even stronger than me.” he grinned, teasingly poking megumi’s cheek.

megumi looked down at his tiny hands and then back at toji, determination set in his bright eyes. “promise?”

toji nodded. “promise.”

they sat there for a while, the world quiet around them, just a father and his son, the bond between them growing stronger with every laugh and every promise shared under the setting sun.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi raven! I hope youre recovering well, please take care of yourself!

I was curious as since it is known that Rook changed into the flamboyant rook we know due to changing dorms as he was originally from Savannaclaw, whilst alot of people headcanon rook and his family to be prim and proper i find that that wouldnt be the case.

Originally, Rook is shown to be the opposite of how he is now. And with the tales of rooks childhood (e.g. how he was lost in a forest for a few days) i feel like his family would be the opposite of prim and proper aswell (despite what people say).

Do you have any thoughts on this?

[Referencing health update in this post!]

Hello ^^ I thought I would be completed recovered by now but I think I’m rebounding a bit?? Just a little phantom pain when I chew and swallow, nothing major. I was told it might be a few more weeks to fully recover 🥲

I don't think Rook's personality exactly changed upon his transfer to Pomefiore...? Certainly, his appearance did. Transferring to Pomefiore also changed Rook in that he began to”beautify” himself (whereas he previously didn't care to do such a thing). However, Rook seems to have been flamboyant PRIOR to switching dorms.

In 6-67-17 and 6-67-20, Vil shares many detailed opinions Rook expressed to him on his various performances (which is very similar to the way present-day Rook doesn’t sugarcoat his critique, as we see in Vil’s Labwear vignettes). This was to the point where Rook would talk for five hours straight in some instances. Furthermore, Vil states that even he had a hard time keeping up with Rook.

Rook states in his Halloween Dress vignettes that “[he] had trouble expressing [himself] as a child. But one day, [he] went with [his] family to the Shaftlands Royal Theater... And [his] whole life changed.” He was moved to tears by the entire production. Thus, it seems that it was his discovery of theater that would help Rook become as expressive as he is today, not his transfer from Savanaclaw to Pomefiore.

In Endless Halloween Night (3-13), Rook indeed shares a story of when he, at a mere 6 years of age, got lost in the jungle. He had to survive with nothing but the clothes on his back until he was rescued.

Rook states that his mother “cradled [him] in her arms, amazed I’d survived in nothing but a grass skirt.” This may suggest that Rook’s mother isn’t used to “roughing it” or that she at least lacks the same superhuman traits that her son has. However, it’s dubious as to whether or not this story is actually true or if it is simply a lie or exaggerated.

Trey suspects that the tale is made up. It’s possible that Rook did in order to form a bond with Sebek, who at this point suspects him of being a traitor.

We know very little about the Hunts outside of this. Rook tends to speak about his family as a collective (mom, dad, and 5 siblings; 2 older than him and 3 younger than him) rather than separately, so it’s very difficult to parse out traits for individual members. For example, he mentions that he used to have pajama parties with his siblings. Nowadays, the family is so busy that it’s rare for them to father in one place. If they can manage it (usually only once a year), however, it becomes very lively. At most, this implies the Hunt family members get along with one another.

Circling back to something I mentioned earlier in this post, Rook says he went to the theater with his family. This could mean the Hunts are patrons of the arts and attend formal events to indulge in them.

The only other lore we have about the Hunts is that they must be well-off and/or influential in some manner. Epel calls Rook “rich” in book 6, and, furthermore, Rook indicates that his family has villas located all over Twisted Wonderland. These villas are equipped with warp pads, which require special government clearance in order to build and use. While this is interesting lore, it doesn’t tell us much about the character of the Hunts.

(For more lore about the characters’ family members, check out this post!)

I really don’t think we have enough clues to come to a conclusion about what Rook’s family is like. I’m not sure if basing their character off of Rook’s would be accurate either; it could be the case that Rook takes after one relative more than another (like how Sebek is headstrong like his mother + also picked up many of Baur’s anti-human sentiments, but doesn’t have many traits from his father), or it could be that he’s not like his parents at all (like how Jamil is not eager to be as subservient as his parents are).

Even if Twst were to present us with more lore on the Hunt parents, this could be inaccurate (due to the characters’ bias) or later retconned. This was the case for Mr. Shroud, who was exclusively described negatively by Idia as calculating, uncaring, and results-oriented. This, along with the fact that the Shroud parents were not present in Idia’s post-OB flashback, led many fans to believe that the Mr. Shroud was a neglectful father. But then he appeared in book 7 and seemed very try attentive and loving, if not slightly awkward.

Because the Hunt family lore is so vague, it’s possible for people to theorize and come up with many different interpretations of them. It sounds like people might be going with the “prim and proper” (borrowing Anon’s phrasing for lack of a better term) interpretation due to a few fine details: their implied wealth, throwing money at formal theater performances, Mrs. Hunt (supposedly) being surprised that Rook survived in the wild, and them securing international permissions (the warp pads in their villas, which would require negotiations or a strong history or allyship with multiple countries). There can be a case made for the opposite (since Rook says his family can be rowdy when they come together + he used to not care about his looks at all, implying his family didn’t mind it), but there’s less we can extrapolate to come to that conclusion.

I don’t think one has a super strong argument over the other either way 🤷‍♀️ Again, we’re lacking in details about the Hunts. For all we know, we could have another Mr. Shroud situation—especially seeing as all the current information we have comes from ROOK, someone who isn’t exactly forthcoming when it comes to talking about himself.

[websterss]

SEE YOU AT THE MEADOW — GUILDFORD DUDLEY

REQUEST: yeah julie I’m gonna need you to continue writing fics for Guilford cause i’m pretty sure you’re the only one atm. so just a small request (reader is an ethian maid for the dudley’s so her and guilford just grow a bond over the years. she could be a cat and sometimes she’ll shift to lay in his lap to get pats or she’ll walk with him in the morning when he’s a horse to keep him company for a bit. just some good friends to lovers type vibe) I LOVE YOU JULIEEEEEE💗💗💗💗💗💗💗@raggedyoldwitch

WARNING(S): fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,002

PAIRING: Guildford Dudley x Ethian!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You were only a child when Lord Dudley’s second son made his first transformation. The news was short-lived when you and your mother were made aware of Lady Dudley’s death. You hadn’t received much news on the matter but whispers amongst the kitchen maids settled on Guildford being at the cause of it. You were just as grave as he was, especially when all the whole servants were dismissed besides Bertie.

Your mother begged to stay but Lord Dudley was persistent on having you leave them. it wasn’t until you transformed yourself into a cat that he was swayed.

He even thought that if you had so easily controlled when you could shift between forms then perhaps you’d be able to help his son accomplish the same.

You didn’t though…

It was only the beginning of your friendship. A little girl trying to help a boy, who thought he was cursed. His only contrast to his curse was that he fully believed for you to be given a gift. That got him a pebble thrown at his head.

”You cannot hit me. I’m of importance!” Little Guildford protested, rubbing at the spot he was sure to receive a nasty bump.

“Really. I did not know.” You proceed to throw him another rock.

“Stop that!”

“You are not even trying!” You sighed. "It's easy. Look!" You bent at the waist as your body morphed. Your human form no more as a brown and black tabby cat. Your fur is a mixture of colors, brown and black as though someone ran out of paint and used what was left on your animal form. You meowed at him once and sat down as him saying 'see'. A second had only passed when you shifted back.

“I am trying. Am I not!?” He scowled.

He began throwing rocks back at you. Some of them land pretty much in your exact area, others missing you by a long shot. But after a while, he became distracted by a passing squirrel. A pebble hit him straight on causing him to topple over onto the grass. Your eyes widened as you rushed over to him.

”Oh dear…quick what is your name?”

“You fool!”

“Okay, what is my name?”

He shoved you away. The shove causes you to fall on your bottom.

”You little bastard!" You exclaimed, before shoving him back twice as hard. He stumbled and fell back into a rose bush.

You two tumbled around before you were pinned by him. His breathing stilling as he watched your own eyes widen.

Your eyes widened in fright at the position you’d landed yourselves in. It felt like both of you were holding your breath as you watched each other’s expression. He’d never been this close to you before, and he found himself studying the way your eyes seemed to glitter in the moonlight.

“Y/n, Guildford, supper is prepared!”

Both your eyes widened at the soft voice of your mother, but by the time you’d both looked around she was nowhere in sight. Guildford looked back down at you, his expression a mixture of nervousness and confusion as he tried to figure out what to do next. His father was expecting him for dinner but he didn’t want to leave you alone here in the forest. He opened his mouth to speak. But for some reason, he just couldn’t find the words.

“I’m…I’m never gonna get this.” He relented, sitting back to allow you up.

You sat up too, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You then looked as he sat down next to you, a look of helplessness on his face.

”…don’t worry.” You told him, noticing how dejected he looked. “We can try again the next day. Night will come again.”

He shook his head. “You repeat it over and over. It’s not working. It hasn’t worked and it will not! It’s an unavailing attempt. It’s no use in getting our hopes up!”

You reached out and lightly hit his arm. “Hey, what sort of defeatist attitude is that? There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, right?” He didn’t answer for a moment before he turned his head away from you. You didn’t notice the blush on his face.

You sigh. You watched him silently for a moment, not wanting to speak and say something that would upset him further. After a moment though you spoke up anyway.

”…you should head inside.” You said quietly. “Your father will have your head if you’re not there soon enough.”

“Let me see you in at least. Your mother will have my head if you’re not there, soon enough.” He offered his arm and you grasped it.

You linked your arm with his and together he slowly began walking you back to your cottage. He tried to ignore the way your hair swayed with each step you took or the way your scent that of the poppies and lilacs in his mother’s garden you worked hard to revive again. But it was a hard task for a young growing boy who’d only just begun to notice these things.

When you reached the entrance, you both halted in your tracks at the sound of a raised voice coming from inside.

“My heavens, look at the lot of you. Filthy!” Your mother scorns you as she reaches forward to pull a leaf out of your hair. “Go…I’ve run you a warm bath already. Then dressed and down for supper.” You let go of Guildford bidding him a bye with a small grin. Then ran up the stairs.

“Guildford…” She eyed then sucked her teeth grabbing hold of his face. “Oh, that girl. Look at you! It will bruise!”

“If it lessens your worries, I got her back!”

”She's supposed to be helping you, not damaging your face.” She shakes her head.

His cheeks burned a deep red in embarrassment as she continued to fret at him. “I’ll be fine…it’s just a bump and a mark.” He mumbled.

She took her hands away, still in a disapproving mood as she crossed her arms. Before a smile cracked at her expression. ”You like her, don’t you?” He looked at her, his expression wide as she began to tease him. ”That’s how it starts. Yes! First, it’s just a bump and a mark, then it’s a broken bone, then you’ll be bedridden!” She then scolded.

"Well then Y/n will join my demise…" He shrunk in on himself.

Your mother laughed at his remark. “I believe she could just be my lord. That girl could be a little nightmare if she tried.” She then ruffled his hair before guiding him towards the stairs. "Go, clean yourself up before the food grows cold."

"I'm not a lord." He called over his shoulder.

"You will be." She chimed shaking her head as she watched him ascend to the second floor.

-

"And when that April with his showers soote-" Guildford had stopped reciting the poem from the book in his hands. His smirk grew as your animal form perched itself on his lap. He reached forward to scratch behind your right ear. "Shall I continue or are you simply here to be a distraction?"

The feline version of you closed its eyes at the sensation of his fingers scratching at the sweet spot behind its ear. You released a little noise that sounded a lot like a purr making it clear that you were enjoying the attention. You then used your front paw to paw at the pages of the book, as if telling him to go on.

"Very well then..." He emits a low chuckle.

Your little furry self settled down in his lap and listened to the dulcet tones of his voice as he continued with the lines.

His reading was like music to your ears. He made the words soar off the page and flutter around the room. You hadn't seen Guildford this calm in ages, not since the death of his mother.

The two of you remain in the library for hours, him continuing to read aloud to the little animal on his lap. But it's not till you release a sneeze that has him stopping, has him anticipating what would come next. He sighs moving the book onto the side table as he sits back. He holds his breath as he sees ripples of black and orange begin to transform your cat-like self. It's not long till you release another sneeze in your human form.

"Bless…" Guildford clears his throat. He keeps his hands and arms on the armsrest.

You get your bearings. Your hair is messy from when you slept on your side in cat form. And of course, you're only in a night dress. You look at Guildford, and he looks back at you.

He attempts to avoid looking at your nightie, but he's only a man, after all.

You palm down your hair, in hopes it doesn't appear untamed.

He watches you do this, his eyes darting over your face and down your body. He knows he should look away, but he can't. Not when you looked like this. It was just like in the forest all those years ago as children, the feeling of nerves and the rapid heartbeat.

"Sleep well?" He reached up caressing some of your locks behind your ear.

You nod your head as if his soft touch has you forgetting how to speak.

He can see the blush on your cheeks and he knows he's the reason why it's there. "You're adorable." He says, almost as if on autopilot.

You roll your eyes as you climb off his lap. "Fool..."

He watches you cross the room before stopping you at the door. Your hand holding onto the handle.

He lets out a sigh, his leg beginning to bounce. “You do know it is very uncouth for you to be wearing that in my presence.”

"It's my nightwear, Guildford. What do you expect me to wear?" You respond, half turning your head to look at him. "Besides, it's not the most inappropriate attire you've worn around me."

His face turns a few shades darker red as his mind drifts to that exact memory. The image of you in his thin white undershirt, with nothing else on…it hadn't been that many years when he convinced you to go with him to a lake. You had shifted into your cat form by accident leaving you rendered embarrassed and well without clothes. He doesn’t want to be having that sort of thought right now. Not when you were standing a little less than an arms-length away from him, in your very night clothes.

"Thought so…" You muse with a chuckle. "Good night Guildford." You bid him goodbye opening the door to make your way out.

He almost lets you walk out. But his mind has other plans. Before he could think better of it he bolts up and pauses at the door. You're only a few feet from the door before his voice catches your attention.

"Where are you going?" He softly chuckles.

"To bed. Some of us sleep before dawn Guildford."

"Care for a stroll through the meadow again…keep me company?" He looked down before he met your bemused gaze again.

"I'll ask Bertie to pack us fresh carrots."

He quirks an eyebrow at your words, but he can see how you consider it. After a moment, you let out a sigh. "I would never miss it." You bid him with that adorable contagious grin and go to your quarters for the evening. "Night, my lord." You were heavy with the emphasis of his title. Guildford let his weight fall against the threshold, knowing he had the morrow to look forward to. 

[vnfadinglight]

I had so many lovely comments from so many talented people on my Day 1 micro-fic for @azrisweek that I got so motivated to write this one, I wrote it in a day.

DAY 4: Read Between the Lines

Yeah. You know what Azris writers are famous for? Suffering. There is too much happiness everywhere around for Azris Week. So read, suffer and don't enjoy.

Cold water seeped into every crevice of his body, making him shiver. The lake was colder than he expected—barely a few degrees above freezing. His fire had been extinguished hours ago by the faebane his father had slipped him. Now, his own blood was slowly being replaced by icy shards. These were not ideal conditions to keep a fireling alive. By his careful estimates, he would die before nightfall.

He should have realized his father had struck a deal with a death god.

Maybe he should try to lie down and rest. Closer to the shore, perhaps he could find a spot shallow enough not to drown. There, maybe, he could think more clearly.

It wasn’t true, and he knew that. Resting would only hasten the inevitable.

Still, he made his way to the shoreline, into the thicket of cattails and tall grass. Maybe they’d shelter him from the wind, but he doubted they'd hide him from Koschei.

In the distance, he could swear he saw white specks above the water's surface—so many beautiful girls turned into snowy-white swans, collected like dolls and trophies. Maybe being male had saved Eris from that fate.

Which meant the Death Lord had a different use for him. A plan. Did he need an Autumn Court male to escape this lake?

If Koschei believed Eris could evaporate the entire lake—break the spell by making it vanish—he could have just demanded Beron do it in payment. If all it required was any other powerful fireling, Beron would’ve chosen his second son.

No, it had to be something else. Something personal.

With a thick splash, black tendrils rose from the water and gripped him, one coiling tightly around his neck.

Eris thrashed, snarled, tried to summon fire—but nothing came. The tendrils yanked him beneath the surface, water rushing into his mouth and nose. They wrapped around him like chains, binding his arms behind his back, and dragged him out of the lake—into an entirely different place.

“You have no use for him!” Cassian shouted from the edge of the water.

Through the blur of water in his eyes, Eris saw the Illyrian general, Morrigan, Nesta Archeron in tight leather armor, and… the Shadowsinger.

“Here you are wrong,” Koschei said from his right, his voice breathy, raspy—like a creature from another world. Shadows clung to his silhouette like smoke without fire.

Shadows.

Oh no.

“LEAVE ME HERE! RUN! DON’T—!”

Tendrils shoved him under. The lake poured into his lungs.

When he surfaced, he began coughing violently.

“I can give him back,” the sorcerer said, amusement curling through every word, “for a price.”

“And what is that price?” the Shadowsinger growled, stepping forward, furious as ever.

“DON’T LISTEN TO—!”

Again, the cold swallowed him. He heard muffled voices before surfacing, shivering violently. Even if he left the lake now, without his flame…

“...or he will die. Within a few hours, probably. And you wouldn’t let that happen to your mate, would you?”

Koschei must have noticed the bond the first time Azriel saved him. That was the plan—use Eris as bait to access the Shadowsinger’s abilities.

Eris wouldn’t let that happen.

“I-I-I reject… the bond,” he stuttered, teeth chattering. The formal wording was reject you, but he could never say that. Never reject him. The bond, yes. But not Azriel.

He saw the alarm in his mate’s face. The fear.

See it. See it for what it is, Shadowsinger.

“What the Cauldron made, I…”

A painful tug pulled him under, water flooding down his throat.

“Eris! Eris, don’t—!”

Soon it would be over. He’d either drown and free his mate, or reject the bond and do the same. He wasn’t leaving this lake.

“…cast away. With will and word, I break the golden cord tethering our souls.”

The words came out in bubbles, deformed, almost unintelligible.

A bony hand grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back up. He could feel the bond fraying—like something tearing from his soul, taking pieces of him with it.

One more line. Just one more. Then this would be over.

On the shore, Nesta stood tall, sword raised, a pillar of defiance. Cassian and Mor looked stunned. Apparently, Azriel hadn’t told them they are mates.

That they were mates.

Azriel looked heartbroken. Terrified. Eris had never seen him afraid before. Could he feel it—the bond unraveling with every word? Could he hear what Eris wasn’t saying?

You are far more important to me than fate. Than the Cauldron.

“Careful now, fireling,” hissed the Death God next to his ear. “Your mate came a long way to save you.”

He did. Cauldron, he did. Again.

Now it was Eris’s turn.

“Unchained. Unbound. I set us free.”

I set you free.

It HURT. Eris collapsed to his knees, meeting the cold water again. Half his soul had been torn away, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

Too bad the Shadowsinger would have to live with that pain.

He broke the surface again just in time to see Koschei’s skeletal hand clasp his throat, lifting him up. Azriel was kneeling on the sand, one hand clutching his heart.

“FLY! FLY AWAY! GET OUT! GET HIM OUT!”

Black tendrils dragged Eris under again. He fought them with the last scraps of strength. He had to see.

Morrigan recovered first. She sprinted to Azriel and grabbed him, winnowing them both to safety.

Cassian took Nesta in his arms and launched into the sky soon after.

They all got out.

He let himself be pulled underwater.

Koschei didn’t get the Shadowsinger.

Azriel would understand someday. Maybe not now. Maybe not in a decade. But someday.

And in a few centuries, when Azriel’s time came, Eris would be waiting for him on the other side—to tell him all the things he never said.

The darkness didn’t plan to let him surface again.

He could think of better ways to die than drowning.

But no better reason than dying for his mate.

Ex-mate.

What a waste of his last breath—worrying about semantics.

And thank you @olenvasynyt for lovely dividers for Azris Week 🔥🦇

[candyswirls]

Can we get Neoth panicking about Lilith's existence and thinking her a monster before realizing she's just like any other ten year old when she starts purring in his lap?

Well, and animalistic as well as cannibalistic due to the blood drinking, but she's fine, she just has the same markings as some African grass finch chicks have-

He rested his head on his fist, watching his grandchild. What did he do to merit this within her?

She had happily given him a wide, opened mouth smile. Those spots within her mouth and cheeks... inhuman. He felt guilt as she saw his expression and quickly pulled back.

What did this mean, though?

His mind ran through all the various gene-splicing he'd done when creating his sons. Was it his decision? What about Amar and Erda? No, he closely monitored the project.

This had to be his fault. Sanguinius had been worried. She wasn't growing and was turning a sickly pale shade. Weaker than usual. Duller.

She seemed interested enough in her hobbies, and he gladly indulged in it. He offered her a skull to carve into. He'd have been worried if this interest had Dorn not told him how they bonded over the shared aspect of each other's cultures.

Still, he questioned if this was the surface of something for more morbid.

She sat at the base of the throne steps.

"I usually use the tibia or humerus," she stated as she inspected the designs around the eye sockets.

"Not the femur?" He questioned, trying to keep the conversation going. He wouldn't ignore or dismiss her.

"No," she said. "It's too bulky for the types of designs and artistic vision I have. The really hard part is the small bones, though, like fingers. Lots of little details, and I am bigger than baselines. You have to be careful not to break them. It's considered bad luck and disrespectful to the dead."

He nodded slowly even though she couldn't see.

She continued, "Some say that I could just use astartes skeletons, but they don't offer their own for such purposes, and the ceramic infused bones are hard to carve into."

He raised a brow, "The bones are donated. An interesting aspect."

She looked up at him, "It's seen as a great honor to become a work of art and its also an honor to do it for someone. If you ever wanted I could carve your bones."

He stared a moment, and she laughed, "As if you'd ever die! No, but I think it's important to have that promise there."

He had seen the markings again but forced a smile through, "I am flattered at your offer. No doubt you would do well with my bones."

He was the master of mankind but right now, he had another important duty. Being a grandfather.

She stood and skipped up the steps. She kneeled at the throne, resting her elbows on his lap.

"Since it won't happen, I can show you what I'd do," she stated excitedly.

She pointed out each carving on the skull and what it meant. What she would do for him. How she would do things differently than this skull and others she'd carved into.

"I could use xenos or animal bones too and make you something," she offered. "I just need to find some really good ones."

Her glee was obvious.

He stroked her head, "Your father is very proud, I'm sure. I am as well. You take great care in your work. A worthy endeavor."

A smile crossed her face and she rested a head on his lap.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He got the distinct impression that she needed to hear that. He continued stroking her head and hair and noticed a low and soothing rumble coming from Lilith. Purring. Like so many of his sons could do.

This put himself at ease as well. She'd be alright. She was very much a child. Only caring for her interests and wanting to have validation. She bore no ill will, and he'd have time to figure out something if anything did happen.

He just hoped there wasnt any romantic traditions with this. Throne forbid the day she developed a crush.

[lorifragolina]

Crop top and change of heart

Hello everyone! My life is quickly crumbing and I wasn't really focused lately, but I'll try to stick to writing and post my things.

This is the second entry for my @harringrovewinterbingo card. I have almost all the stories ready so I'll try to post them regularly.

This is for B1 square "They just started dating and Steve invited Billy to Harrington's party".

PS: I wanted Billy wearing that t-shirt in front of Steve's parents for a long time, and also wanted they watching Dynasty when their partner feel miserable ;)

I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Crop top and change of heart

Square & Prompt: B1 "They just started dating and Steve invited Billy to Harrington's party"

Rating: Mature (mention of alcohol)

Word Count: 3229

Major Tags: Harrington's Family, Meeting the family

Additional Tags: embarassing moments, change of first impression

Summary: Billy Hargrove is not happy when Steve's parents invite him officially to their party. He remembers well when they surprised them skinny dipping in the pool, and he really doesn't know how to manage the invitation. But Steve's mother is not how he expects her, and among hair dye, whisky and TV show they develop a unexpected bond.

Read it in AO3

Snippet below:

It was late October, Billy had finally settled down in his trailer and things were more relaxed. He was working at Joe’s garage near the interstate and Neil had finally left the picture forever.

Steve’s parents were still on cruise on caribbean sea and it had been a warm week, not really autumnal, like a last ditch effort of the summer, and Steve had invited Billy to spend the weekend at his house, for a change, in exchange of all the time Billy had him at the trailer. They both had a busy summer and they spent their free moment messing around, but, with the end of the season, they discovered that they were falling for one another, so they timidly tried to officially date. In late October, the happy coincidence of free time and pleasant temperature has been an unexpected gift, and Steve wanted him at home, like it was more serious and official than in Billy’s trailer or the car.

Billy had packed a swimwear, just in case, but honestly he didn’t wear it really often; they hadn’t really worn clothes often, really, because they couldn't keep their hands off to one another, and the heated pool was pure glory. 

They had been so busy that they didn’t hear the gate opening or the car approaching, or Steve’s parents unloading their luggages or they opening the door, calling Steve because his car was at home, or they opening the glass doors on the garden or they coming to the side of the pool. 

They had heard Steve’s mother shriek, indeed, when she had caught them in the corner of the pool, luckily covered by the water, kissing and grinding like there was no tomorrow. 

Mrs Harrington had immediately turned back and ran in the living room, while her husband was praying to be swallowed by earth.

Steve cursed on Billy’s lips and Billy prayed to join Mr. Harrington and be wiped out.

Steve’s father had the presence of mind to collect the two Speedos abandoned on the grass and threw them to his son, before reaching his wife and considering with her how to erase that memory from their brain forever. 

Steve and Billy had covered themselves, and Billy was beet red and probably had brain damage forever, because he grabbed his shirt absent mindedly and put it on for modesty while trying to be friendly and make amends with the shocked Steve’s parents. 

Steve went first to say hello to them like nothing happened.

“I didn’t expect you…” he said in a squirm.

“Yes, we noticed,” Mr. Harrigton answered. 

Billy blushed hearing that and nodded to them trying to find the voice to introduce himself.

He noticed that Steve’s mother was staring at him with eyes wide open, and when Steve turned to him to check, he became pale and cursed again in a low voice, nodding vaguely to his shirt.

Billy frowned and looked at himself too.

He was wearing his sluttier pink crop top, barely covering his lower pecs, with the writing “Sorry for having great tits and correct opinions” on it.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

Grass Stains

Zelink - The Minish Cap - Chapter 1 - ~4000 words - rated T - probably 3 chapters. Also on ao3.

@wolflinkpaws, tumblr ate the prompt you left in my inbox, but I'd screenshotted it when it was acting funny. So, here's chapter 1 of the story for your prompt, and thanks! (Also - a little of the context is sad, but the cute is there in abundance, too, I hope ❤️).

---~ ❀ ~-- Chapter 1: Close to the Ground --~ ❀ ~---

Daltus stood on the cusp of the little rise before the house. A merry wind brushed the leaves of a hearty old tree against the thatched roof, shooing its white chimney-smoke to dissipate in the brilliant blue sky of a truly extraordinary spring day. One would never know that mere days ago, this idyllic home hidden south of Hyrule Town proper had become two sizes too large for its inhabitants.

His daughter's delighted voice made it no easier to comprehend.

"Father, look! It's a Picori!"

His mouth tweaked despite himself. Every field mouse, bumble bee, and hopping finch had become a 'Picori' as of late. "Is that so?"

"Yes, yes, it's right there!"

His eyes followed her pointing finger (as well as possible considering its bouncing owner) to a fleeting glimpse of streaking stripes. A small laugh escaped him.

"You see, you see?!"

"I saw." He saw a chipmunk, but he wouldn't spoil it for her. He'd been four once, too. Besides—one of these days, she might be right, and who was he to say no? He no longer possessed a child's sight. "Now, Zelda…"

She gasped, her legs snapping together under her (already disheveled) skirt, her back straightening, her smile tempering, and the splendid bouquet she held centered and upright once more. If not for the wrinkled state of her clothing, he'd have thought her quite regal indeed. "You read my mind, my dear."

"One must show proper respect to all the citizens of Hyrule, especially upon first meeting them." Her smile crept wider across her face. "Right?"

"That's right… and what else?"

Her smile turned less comfortable, shrunk til only one side remained at all lifted, then became a grimace. "This time I have to stay- stay soll emm?"

"Solemn, that's right."

"Because your friend's son and daughter died."

"…Daughter-in law, but yes."

The bouquet shifted in her hands.

Daltus smiled at her and bent to place a kiss on the crown of her golden-haired head. "Let's go, my dear."

They scaled the earthen steps up the rise and past the fence. Zelda's hand sought his, and he took it. He doubted he'd have many more chances to. She was the sort of child who preferred to run free, even at this age, rather than shelter in his shadow. A tug on his hand slowed him, and he turned to see Zelda craning her neck at the bushes on their right.

"Zelda?"

"I'm sorry, father. I thought there might be another Picori."

A smile touched his lips at her hushed—and certainly more soll emm—tone. She fell in at his side as he took the final steps to the door and knocked before any more hesitation could clutch at his heart.

Boots scuffed, the handle turned, and there he was, and though his skin had wrinkled, his beard had grown, and his hair had turned nearly white (as had Daltus'), his friend's bloodshot eyes struck him more than any of the changes wrought by time alone. All the greetings he might have chosen seemed suddenly not only inadequate, but grossly insensitive. How could one have a 'good morning' this day?

He nodded with a smile he couldn't keep the second-hand-sadness from. "Smith."

"Sire. I-"

"Please... it's me. Daltus is just as fine as it was before."

Zelda's eyes followed his hand, outstretching to reach his friend's. Smith hesitated only briefly. Zelda would be too young to understand the bonds that youthful friendship bring, but he knew Smith saw it in his eyes, just as he did in his as they clasped forearms.

He wondered if Zelda could see those small movements in the set of his friend's jaw.

"I…" he tried to begin. "I'm here to offer my condolences, but more than that. It's been too long, my old friend. I…" his eyes flickered toward Zelda. "I became absorbed, and I allowed time to pass too carelessly. I am—truly—sorry for my neglect… and for what has happened."

Smith shook his head. "If you're guilty of that, Daltus, so am I." He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "It's easy to do when there's work and family and children."

Daltus tried to smile. "Speaking of children- this is my Zelda."

Smith turned a real smile on her, full of deep wrinkles beside his eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess."

Zelda made a deep, respectful curtsy. "The pleasure is mine, Sir Smith."

Daltus couldn't help the quiet laugh that shook his stomach.

Apparently, neither could Smith. "Ahh, I regret to inform you, Princess, that I am no knight."

She blinked. "Oh." She eyed Daltus suspiciously. "I thought you said men were sirs?"

"Ah. I may have confused you. It's polite to call men 'sir' if you aren't using their name regardless of whether they're knighted. But only knights are 'Sir' followed by their name."

"…Why?"

His mouth opened, but he had no answer. "…Perhaps that's a question for your history tutor."

She narrowed her eyes at him again, but gave a sudden jump, remembering herself and straightening once more. The child in her seeped out from her fledgling poise despite her determination—the way she side-eyed Smith with no subtlety whatsoever had him quietly chuckling again.

"Master Smith would be a perfectly appropriate way to refer to him."

She gave her most princessly nod. "Master Smith, I am pleased to meet you and very sorry for your loss." She raised the bouquet in offering, standing on her tip-toes, her expression sincere.

It could have been far worse.

Smith accepted the flowers, smiling kindly at her. "I thank you, Princess. Would you like to come in?"

"If our presence is welcome at this time, Smith, then yes. I've no wish to intrude."

Smith huffed. "I'd be glad of some company. And Link-" he paused halfway toward leading them to a rustic wooden table to crane his neck, peering through the front windowpanes. "He might be as well. Leastways, for some company that isn't his old grandfather."

Daltus followed his gaze to the patch of berry bushes outside the window. He could just make out a tuft of bright blond hair, nearly identical to his daughter's, peeking between the leaves.

"I told him to stay where I could see him, but I had to let him out at least. It's not good for him to be cooped up in here with me."

Daltus avoided asking why Smith himself hadn't gone out to enjoy the glorious day. He didn't truly need to, anyway. He could feel the answer in his chest.

He turned to see Zelda standing on tiptoe, trying to look, too. "There you have it, my dear. Your Picori is a Hylian child. Small, but not quite small enough to qualify."

"Can I go see him?"

Daltus met Smith's eyes and knew the answer. With the children out of earshot, they could truly speak. "Of course. Please remember, Zelda- he will be feeling unhappy."

"I will, father."

—

Zelda tiptoed toward the cluster of bushes, trying to keep an eye on the yellow peeking between the twigs, canes, leaves, and stems. She tried not to be excited by all the different kinds. She liked plants, and she liked that these were all different ones huddled together, parts of them bobbing happily in the wind, reaching out as though trying to escape the rest. Nothing in the castle gardens was like this—not even in the town. Everything together was all either the same kind or in neat rows like soldiers.

"Hello?" she called. She tried not to be loud. She didn't want to scare him.

"Hi?"

Zelda smiled a little. The boy's voice was kind of raspy. "Can I come in?"

"I guess."

Zelda dropped to hands and knees at once, shuffling along the patchy grass (she thought father would be glad she kept her hair out of the branches). She crawled beneath the boughs of a blueberry bush and one that seemed to have blackberries, but different from the ones in Hyrule Town (no thorns, with extra-tiny little round fruit-bubbles).

The boy was sitting cross-legged in a clearer space half-beneath the blueberry bush and a raspberry one (Zelda loved their white stems). His hair was almost as merry as those bobbing bush-branches, sticking out at odd angles and kind of curly but in a big, swoopy way. His eyebrows were a little funny. They looked too big for him.

She crawled until she was in a spot just like his, but could face him. He didn't look as sad as she thought he would, but he didn't seem happy at all. He was holding a few leaves like playing cards, except down in his lap where anyone could've seen them.

"Are you playing a game?" she asked.

He shrugged.

One side of her mouth twisted in. "You can play with me if you want to."

The boy's eyes blinked a little bigger. He looked down at his leaves, then back up at her. "What do you want to play?"

"We can play whatever you want!" She smiled at him, then remembered to be soll emm. She folded her hands in her lap.

"I don't know what to play," he said.

It suddenly seemed very silly that she hadn't brought anything for him to play with. That would have been nice. She was a princess, after all, and she was supposed to be kind to the people of Hyrule. She looked at the leaves in his hand. "Maybe we could play cards."

He balked.

She turned around to see if something else surprised him.

"We can't play cards."

"Why not?"

"That's how grownups lose all their money."

It was Zelda's turn to balk. "It is?!"

He nodded.

Zelda had no idea cards were so expensive. "We don't have to spend any money, though. I thought we could turn the leaves into cards."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Well." She snagged a not-quite-blackberry leaf from a thornless stem to her left. "The different leaves can be the different kinds. This one's pretty big. Maybe this should be the queen."

The boy blushed, and his shoulders drooped a little.

"Oh. It doesn't have to be, though. Do you want to pick the queen?"

"I don't know how to play."

"It's okay. I can teach you."

The right half of his mouth pulled into a funny little shape that wasn't a smile, but at least looked a little better than no shape at all. "I know there are numbers."

"Yes, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. And there's the jack, the queen, and the king. And the ace."

"That's a lot."

"There should be four of each, too." Zelda looked around at all the different bushes. "I don't know if we can do it with just the berry bushes. We might need other leaves to have enough different cards."

"We can use the mulberry bush. It has all different kinds of leaves."

"Really?!"

"Yeah. Come see." He stacked his now-useful leaves and tucked them carefully into a small pocket in his green tunic, then crawled through the next pair of bushes. Zelda followed him. She took extra care to stay low, avoiding the thorny white raspberry and regular blackberry canes.

The boy flopped onto one haunch in front of a very wild, broad bush with long, thornless branches. To her delight, Zelda saw what he meant immediately. Every row of leaves on each long limb was a different shape. "Oh my goodness!"

The boy breathed a little laugh.

"What?"

"That's what Anju's mom says when the cuccos get out."

"Oh."

They spent a few minutes choosing a branch that wasn't getting much sunlight anyway to pilfer leaves from.

"Sorry, bush. You have lots more, though."

Zelda thought it was funny that some of the leaves looked like mittens.

She realized the first flaw in her plan when the draw pile nearly disappeared in a gust of wind.

"Oh no!" she squeaked, but the boy 's hands had already slapped the pile down. Zelda's squeak turned to a squeal of delight. "You saved it! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he said, with something suspiciously like a smile on his face.

Zelda realized the second flaw in her plan when they drew their first hand of cards. She began to fan them out in her hands like he had earlier. Each intentionally-different leaf jutted out from the next, easily recognizable.

"Oops," she said.

"What?"

"We're not supposed to know what kind of cards the other one has."

"Oh. That's okay, we can just close our eyes."

Zelda smiled brightly. "Of course!"

The ensuing game of 'Go Fish' (which Zelda thought best for a beginner) was by far the most fun she'd ever played. She had to figure out what cards she had by feel (and a little peeking, but only at her own cards at first—she couldn't resist more peeks once she realized how funny the boy's scrunched up, closed-eyed face looked, especially with his eyebrows practically plastered together in the middle, but she refused to peek while drawing her cards or at the boy's hand). A few times, Link got confused and fished for a card when she was supposed to be the one fishing.

"Heeey, shoo!"

He laughed.

He handed her the wrong leaves a few times, too, and she had to hand them back. "Oops."

"Oof."

"I dropped one."

"Where'd it go?"

The giggling as they patted the ground (and each other's hands) blindly in search for rogue leaves floated into the house. Conversation there paused, and when it resumed, it lifted a bit.

One of these leaf-hunts ended with a gasp from Zelda.

"What is it?!" said the boy.

He sounded scared. Zelda opened her eyes to see his also open, searching for whatever had startled her. "It's okay!" she said. "I felt something. I thought it might be a Picori."

His eyes grew a size wider. "A Picori? Really?"

She nodded sagely. Then she leaned in, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "I keep seeing them lately."

"Wow," he breathed.

"I know."

He scoured the ground where her hand had been. "I don't see anything now. Should we look around?"

"Yes, let's! Oh…" she looked around, wondering where to put her leaves.

"Here." He held out his hand.

She gave him her leaves and he stacked them as carefully as his little hands could, slipping them in his pocket along with his own, then the draw pile. His pocket bulged.

Zelda giggled. "It's like you have a large lump."

He looked down at himself and laughed. "Lumpy Link."

Zelda suddenly clasped her hands together. "I didn't tell you my name!"

"What is it?"

"Zelda."

"Oh, you have the same name as the Princess!"

"I am the Princess!"

"…Oh!"

Link looked truly astonished, but he wasn't looking at her at all. Again, she turned to find his eyes on nothing in particular. Maybe a still-green-berry. When she turned back toward him, he had leaned conspiratorially toward her.

"Maybe that's why you keep seeing Picori!"

"I thought all children could see them."

"But maybe they're trying to tell you something important, because you're the Princess! They could be following you!"

"I didn't think of that!" she breathed. "I'd better be very careful."

"Why?"

"They're teeny tiny. Only this big." She held up one of the smallest three-pronged mulberry leaves. "At their very largest! I don't want to squish them if they're trying to talk to me."

"You wouldn't want to squish them anyway though, right?" Link asked.

Something in his eyes suddenly made her feel sorry. She wasn't sure for what. "Of course not." She took one of his hands in hers and patted the back of it. "Please don't worry. But I thought they were trying to get away from me, not get close! What if one of them tries to climb right up my leg?"

"Do you think they'd do that?"

"I don't know. I've never talked to one of them before."

"If we see one, let's ask!"

"Yes, let's!"

Zelda led the way this time, returning to her hands and knees, flattening herself as close to the ground as she could and still move. Link mimicked her. Side by side, they wiggled their way out from the little hideaway toward the tufts of wildflowers outside the nearest window.

("What do you suppose they're up to?")

("Hah. Knowing my Zelda? Picori-spotting.")

("Ahhh.")

"Do you see any?" Link whispered.

"Not yet. Sometimes it's easier to see them if I'm not trying."

"Oh. How do you not try if you're already looking?"

"We can just stay here a minute and not look too hard."

"Okay."

Zelda found it difficult not to look, though. She started rolling a few blades of grass between her fingerpads. Green grass-juice stained them.

After as much of that as Zelda could stand, she tried to sneak a look everywhere around her without giving away that she was looking. When she turned toward Link, she found his eyes on her.

"Did you see any?" Zelda asked.

He shook his head.

"Did you look?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I thought if they're trying to talk to you, maybe I'd see one if I watched you."

Zelda's face lit up. "Oh, that's so smart!"

A bashful smile dimpled his cheeks.

They spent a good deal of the late morning laying flat on their stomachs, Zelda watching various blades of grass at the tip of her nose, and Link watching Zelda. They were oh-so-quiet, so as not to scare the Picori—except, of course, when they had to ask each other if they'd seen anything, and when they had to decide where to crawl next, and when Link had to warn Zelda about the thistle that had bopped its way into her hair from the wind, and when he had to untangle it for her because she couldn't see, and then when he had to try and pick out all the little sharp pieces still stuck in her hair after he pulled it out, and then when he had little pieces of thistle stuck under his skin on his fingers, and Zelda pulled those out.

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt that much."

"No hurting is better than not that much."

The sun had definitely crossed its midday spot in the sky more than an hour ago when Link's stomach gave a plaintive squeal.

"Oh, you're hungry."

An odd little wrinkle appeared and disappeared between his silly eyebrows. "I'm okay."

His stomach made more and more noise until Zelda twisted to lean on one elbow, taking her most studious look at him.

He looked kind of like when she first saw him: not at all happy.

Zelda wasn't supposed to pout. Pouts were selfish, and she wasn't supposed to be selfish. A princess was supposed to think about the people living in her kingdom, not make faces at them when she felt sullen. This pout was different, though. She didn't understand it exactly, but it wasn't for her. "Why don't you eat? You'll feel better."

He shook his head.

"There were some ripe berries," she pointed out.

He shrugged.

She then remembered he wasn't eating them when she arrived, either. "They're all okay to eat, right?"

"Uh huh but you have to wait for the mulberries, they'll be bad if you pick them now."

"Oh." She sat up, fidgeting with her skirt. He wasn't looking at her anymore. "I can pick some of the others for you."

He shrugged again. "I didn't bring anything to pick them into."

Zelda pushed herself up, scurried to the front door, and knocked. Smith opened it before she'd finished.

"Hello! Pardon me for asking, but could we have something to put berries into?"

"You can, but I was about to call you in for some lunch, Princess."

"Oh."

"If you like, you can pick us a few berries and bring them in with you."

"Yes please, and thank you Master Smith."

When she returned with the wooden bowl, she found Link lying face-down on his forearms. She could only see a bit of his cheeks and ears.

Zelda set the bowl aside and knee-walked right up to Link. "Are you okay?"

He nodded with a sniff.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We don't have to pick any if you don't want to."

He sniffed again. "I don't want to go in."

"Why not?"

"The table'll be too empty."

Zelda fought that pout again. She reached out, her hand moving jerkily toward his back. Her father sometimes rubbed her back when she cried. It helped her feel better. Maybe it would help Link, too.

He sniffed a few more times.

"Maybe we could sit under the table?" she said. "Like we're still in the bushes!"

His reddened eyes found hers, blinking and surprised, and he started nodding.

Zelda smiled at him. "Okay."

"Maybe we'll see a Picori."

"Maybe!"

They picked a few of the ripest-looking raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries, and even a few tiny strawberries from bushes low to the ground. When they crawled out, Link stood, gave a funny little twitch like something had startled him, and turned toward her, offering his hand. Zelda looked at it, then at him.

"You're supposed to help Princesses up, right? It's called shiv-something."

She grinned. "Chiv-al-ry! But you don't have to." He just kept inching his hand closer, though, so she took it. She meant to give him her politest, most princessely thank-you, but she yelped instead as he pulled her far harder than she expected. "Wow. You're strong!"

He picked up the bowl with that dimply smile again and opened the door for her, too.

The children giggled their way through a simple lunch of hearty goat-buttered bread, cheese, berries, and a few fresh greens, unaware they'd captured both men's undivided attention the moment they'd scrabbled their way through the seatlegs rather than joining them above the table. Link was astonished to find the King of the Realm willing and happy to pass them cup after cup of orange-ade, which they both quite liked.

"Zelda, my dear," Daltus said, leaning to peer beneath the table. The children's smiles brought quite a wide one to his own face. "I'm afraid we must take our leave."

Zelda made a tiny 'aw' sound. Link's smile disappeared in silence.

"Ah… Young ones. Have no fear. We'll be back, and I dare say we'll be seeing more of you and your grandfather in Hyrule town from now on."

Zelda made a delighted gasp, clasping her hands just beneath her chin. Link's smile returned as a ghost of its former self. Daltus sighed and stood. "Well, my friend. Let me know what you decide about the school. And are you sure you don't want any of that brown ale I told you about?"

Zelda promptly returned her attention to Link. His face deflated her. "I'm sorry I have to go," she said.

"I'm sorry you do, too. But thanks for playing with me."

"Want to play again soon?"

"Yeah!"

Zelda fell asleep quite early that night.

(Her nursemaid spent quite a while attempting to remove the grass stains from her dress. It proved fruitless).

—

Two weeks later, Link entered a long, low building with a large, fenced-in yard in Hyrule Town, his little hands gripping the straps of his knapsack.

"Oh, hello!" said a young woman with her hair done in a high, fancy bun. "You must be Link."

He nodded.

"Welcome to the Funday School! I'm Miss Tina. I'm one of the teachers here."

"Hi, Miss Tina."

"There's someone very eager to see you," she said, a bit of a twinkle in her eye.

As she guided Link into a room full of child-sized desks on their right, a little girl with bright blonde hair twisted in her seat—and beamed at the sight of him. "Link!!" she cried.

"Zelda!" he said, completely oblivious of the teachers' gasps as his friend hopped up and rushed headlong into him, her arms squeezing his shoulders tight. He squeezed her right back.

----~ ❀ ~----

[Chapter 2 coming soon!]

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Hey again, for the dad!fred request, no I don’t have any specific ideas! :)

I figured something out, hope you like it!

SOMETHING WRONG

Pairings: Dad!Fred Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: Fred as a dad of a son that doesn't seem to like tricks and pranks Warnings: nothing

Fred had tried countless times to get his son, Hugo to laugh at his tricks and try to get him to be interested in them, but Hugo never satisfied Fred in that department

Fred would put on a firework show every now and then but Hugo would focus on a stuffed toy he had in his hands, and when Fred took the toy off him the next time he did it, Hugo just played in the grass, sparing no mind to the explosions of bright colours.

it annoyed Fred that he couldn't bond with his son over pranks and tricks. and it wasn't that Hugo was too small, he was 5 years old, which Fred found is the perfect age to start.

Fred always told you that he would go out to have fun with Hugo but when they got home he never said anything about how it went

you just assumed it was good and that they had so much fun that Fred was too tired to tell you. and you loved that they had that bond

you often found yourself wanting to go with them to see their fun and spend time with them but you knew it was their time together, you had him all day most days while he ran the shop so when he went out with Fred you didn't really want to intrude on their time alone

"I'm taking Hugo out to play, we'll be back before dinner" Fred informed you, his trick suitcase in his hand as he held Hugo's hand

you smiled at him, letting him kiss you on the cheek

"take a jacket, please, it's cold out there" you said before they walked away.

Fred put down the suitcase and let go of his hand before going to your room

you leaned down and ushered Hugo closer to you

"give mummy a hug" you opened your arms, smiling when he ran to you, giving you a hug, leaning up to kiss your cheek

Fred came out holding his sweater and Hugo's coat, passing it to you

you helped Hugo put it on and kissed his head, letting them go

"have fun you two!" you called as they left

"I love you" you heard Fred yell out to you

you sighed happily as you let yourself relax before you started dinner.

-

you heard the door open and panicked as you heard them walk in, you checked the clock and noticed that they had only been out for 20 minutes and that dinner is 2 hours away

they would usually be out for hours doing things and come home just before dinner, so you suspected something might've happened

"is everything ok?" you asked as they walked into your line of sight, Hugo ran to his room crying as Fred rubbed his face

"what happened? is he ok?" you stood up

"something's wrong with him" Fred huffed, seeming annoyed

"what?! what's wrong, Fred?" you rushed, worried something bad

"he doesn't like anything I do, he doesn't smile at fireworks, he doesn't laugh at the stupid tricks and he doesn't even bat his eye at any product, are you sure he's my kid?" he questioned

you stared at him, not knowing if he was joking at the last question or not

"are you kidding?" you frowned

"he's not interested in anything I do with him, what type of father am I if I can't bond with me son over anything?" he threw his hands in the air

you sighed and went past to him and walked to Hugo's room.

you opened the door and shut it behind you, seeing him on his bed, underneath his blanket

you sat down on the edge and slowly pulled it off him

"Hugo? honey what's wrong?" you whispered, stroking his hair

"does daddy hate me?" he sobbed

"what? no, of course not, he loves you more than anything in the world, what makes you say that?" you helped him sit up, watching as he wrapped his arm around you.

"he started yelling, and took my toy off me" he cried

you closed your eyes and shook your head

"stay here, let me go talk to him, ok?" you kissed his head, getting up, leaving him on his bed

you walked out and heard Fred in your room, you went in and saw him packing his things up, a frown on his face

"you yelled at him?" you raised your eyebrows, he looked at you confused

"no, I didn't-" he huffed out

he shook his head and walked out, going to Hugo's room

-

all Fred wanted was a little him, a little him that would cause mischief with him, to play pranks with and have fun with.

Fred just seemed upset that his own son, his little miracle wasn't like him, that he didn't seem to care about what Fred did for a living.

Fred believed that it meant that Hugo wasn't proud of his father, that he wished he was something better and it made him feel ashamed of himself, wishing he did something better with his life

he never said anything to you about it cause he thought you would think it's stupid, that you would remind him that Hugo is only five years old and doesn't know what's going on

he walked in to Hugo's room and felt like crying when he saw Hugo's red face and puffy eyes.

he made his son cry

Fred gulped as he walked to him, he kneeled down in front of him and watched as he moved back.

did he scare him too?

"I didn't yell you" he started

never in his life did he think he would have to apologise to his child, but here he was, and it slightly broke his heart

"I don't want you to think that I did, because I didn't, ok? I wasn't mad I just got a little frustrated s'all" Fred sighed

"at me?" Hugo wiped his nose

"no, not at you, I could never be mad at you, Hughie" Fred cleared his throat, getting up to sit on his bed, bringing Hugo onto his lap

"then why'd you take my toy?" he sobbed in Fred's arms

"I just wanted you to focus on the trick, I'm sorry" Fred apologised, kissing his head

"but I wanted you to play with my truck with me"

it was only then when Fred realised that Hugo always asked Fred to look at his toy when they were out.

while Fred was setting off all of the pranks and sparks every time, Hugo was sat down, playing with his toy, asking for Fred to look at what he was doing

Hugo wanted as much attention from Fred as Fred wanted from him, but they wanted different things

he realised that Hugo's idea of fun is playing with toys with his dad and it made Fred mad at himself, knowing that Hugo would be sad every time he would turn him down, making him watch what he was doing instead

all he wanted was for Hugo to have fun with him, not understanding that Hugo only wanted to have fun with him

Fred felt more ashamed in himself, not only was what he did for a living not good enough for Hugo, but he turned him down when he wanted to spend time with him in his own way

"I'm sorry Buddy, we'll play with your truck next time" Fred wiped Hugo's tears

"promise?" Hugo spoke softly, holding out his small pinky

"promise" Fred laughed, trying to interlock pinkies with him

-

as the years went on, Hugo began more curious in what Fred does for a living, he begged him to show him more and they went out every weekend to set fireworks and play pranks of random people they came across

Fred didn't know where the sudden interest in it came from but he enjoyed every second of it, his son was proud of what he does

he smiles at the fireworks, he laughs at the stupid tricks and he even stares at all the products, suggesting things that Fred could make, causing Fred to chuckle and say he'd think of it, knowing that the product wouldn't work.

------------------------------------

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Warning: Smut, swearing

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen × reader

1.02

You take in the sea air while watching as your dragon, the cannibal, devours a few sheep nearby. Your dragon only briefly stops eating to raise its head and hiss as someone walks up behind you. Cannibal observes for a few moments, making sure you are safe, before returning his attention back to his prayer.

“Your dragon must be the most terrifying in the world,” Jacaerys says, sitting down beside you on the damp grass outside.

“The she-dragon bonded with your uncle is still alive from Aegon’s conquest, and my father's is pretty war-hardened.”

“I’d much rather face Vhagar and Caraxes than the cannibal.”

“I hear dragons grow while staying in Dragonstone; perhaps he will become bigger,” you grin.

Jacaerys stares at you blankly for a moment before laughing. He makes polite small talk with you, but you knew he had an alternative motive for coming out and joining you in the murky weather. Eventually, you grow tired of waiting for him to say whatever is on his mind. You place your hand atop his and ask, “Jace, what is it you want to ask me?”

He looks down at the grass and says, “I’ve noticed you haven’t spent much time with the ladies, Baela and Rhaena.”

Snarkily, you ask, “Did my father or your mother send you out here?”

“Neither. I’m bringing it up because you don’t seem happy.”

You desperately wanted to get to know your sisters but always felt like an outsider from the moment your father remarried shortly after your mother's death, so you returned to Runestone. When Lady Laena died, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to reunite with your family, but on the same day as his late wife’s funeral, you saw your father and Rhaenyra redressing on the beach. Even though you were a child, you knew what had just transpired between them. Solidify your opinion of them. Any visits since that day have been political and fleeting.

You were only two years older than Jace, but much more free-natured than him. He always found it shocking that you just did whatever you wanted without consulting Daemon, whereas he did nothing without his mother's approval, something that you actually respected him for. He took his duties as son of the heir very seriously.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re more my brother than they are my sisters.”

Jace wraps his arm around your shoulder. He was the only one who truly knew how hurt you were on the inside. Jacaerys was the sibling and friend you needed; he understood you like nobody else. You had stayed in touch over the years, sending each other ravens and gifts; he was your only connection to your family on Dragonstone. He was the only one who informed you of important things, such as Rhaenyra being with a child again or that your sisters were to marry the eldest Velaryon boys.

“You should dine with us tonight,” Jace says softly. “I know Luke and Joff would enjoy your company.”

He had a point: in the two weeks you’d be on the island, you hadn’t once dined with them. You look up at the sky and smile, seeing that the sun is about to disappear. “Perhaps in the morning, I have somewhere to be right now.”

You slap Jace on the thigh playfully before getting to your feet and walking towards your dragon.

“Where do you go every night?” He calls out.

You doubted the young prince would approve of your secret friends with a benefit arrangement with his auntie. Laughing, you say, “I could tell you, but then I’d need to feed you to my dragon afterwards.”

“I look forward to seeing you while we break fast in the morning.” Jace shakes his head, but the corner of his lips still pulls into a smile despite him pretending to disapprove of your actions.

—

You grin hearing Helaena moan as you greedily suck her clit into your mouth; her back arches as you do. She looked so beautiful as she approached her second orgasm of the night, and your only goal was to make sure she reached her peak many more times before the sun rose again.

Helaena made the sweetest noises as she rutted against your face. She cums hard, her legs shivering around your head as she rides out her orgasm. Pulling back, you admire the slick glistening down her folds and swipe your finger along it, then teasing her clit with your thumb.

Helaena giggles, “Come here, sweetling.”

“That sounds like an order from my princess,” you say, kissing up her leg.

“Mayhaps.”

When you reach her collarbone, the pretty princess tilts your head up and captures your lips with her own soft ones. She smiles into the kiss. “I have an idea, something I’d like to try... if that’s okay?”

A smirk plays on your lip. “Anything you want, dārilaros, I shall do.”

Her pale cheeks redden. “I saw it in a brothel once—two women pleasuring each other at the same time.”

“Anything you want,” you say, kissing the tips of her fingers.

Helaena pecks you on the lips before gently pushing you until you are lying on your back. She moved up the bed until her knees rested on either side of your head. She lowered herself until her cunt was right above your mouth. You take the opportunity and dive your tongue into her. Helaena was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. She lets out a soft moan before leaning down, so press a soft kiss to your clit before swiping her tongue through your folds.

You groan loudly when she adds a finger, “fuck!”

You two stay in that position, licking, sucking, and fingering each other's tight holes until you both cum.

The rest of the night you and Helaena spent tangled in the sheets of the tavern together, like you had every night for the last two weeks. You didn’t always have sex; some nights you just talked or, in the dead of night, would go dragon riding together. Seeing daylight starting to creep through the window, you knew it was time to go.

“Sorry, princess, but I believe our time is up.” You give her one last passionate kiss before standing to get dressed.

While you dressed in the clothes you wore over, including a dark black cloak to hide your face, you noticed Helaena holding a book. She looked slightly nervous before handing it to you. “I was in the library searching for a book to read to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and found this; I thought you might like it.”

You feel slightly stunned as she places it in your hand.

“It’s a book on wild dragons,” she says, standing to redress. “He was the largest and oldest of the three wild dragons dwelling on Dragonstone; the Cannibal was black as coal, with menacing green eyes.”

“Does it actually say that about my dragon?” You ask while flipping the book open to see for yourself.

“Yes, the book is mainly about the cannibal, Sheepstealer, and Grey Ghost.”

“This is... thank you, it's a wonderful gift.”

A warm sensation you weren’t familiar with filled your belly—a fuzzy, warm feeling. It meant a lot to you that the princess not only remembered the part about your own dragon but also the fact she saw it and thought of you—it suddenly occurred to you that you may be starting to develop feelings beyond just a friendship with Helaena.

—

All eyes are on you as you sit down beside Jacaerys to break fast. Chatter resumes once again until your father loudly and sarcastically says, “How kind of you to finally join us, daughter.”

Amused by his reaction, you reach for an apple that was on the table, smiling, before taking a bite out of it. Rhaenyra lets out a deep sigh and calmly says, “Everyone out.”

When you go to stand, your father says, “Not you, y/n.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit back down and take another bite from the apple in your hand. Jace pats you on the shoulder on his way out, then gives you a look that silently says ‘drop the attitude’ which causes you to chuckle. You tried to list off what your father could possibly discuss with you in private: Why are you wearing the same clothes as last night? Why aren’t you spending more time with your sisters? Why are you avoiding me? Why do you hate my wife so much?

You notice Rhaenyra biting at her nails nervously. You wondered briefly if she found it as painful to be around you as you did. You break the silence and say, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They share a look, and your father rubs at his forehead. “I would have told you sooner if you had actually spoken to me, to us.”

You shrug. “What difference does it make? You don’t seem to care when I’m not here.”

“That’s because you make it impossible. You refuse all invitations, ignore my ravens, and last time I tried to visit you, your dragon almost ate me.”

“He’s protective of me.”

“I’m your father,” your father snaps, slamming his hands against the table.

The atmosphere suddenly becomes a lot more tense; even Rhaenyra seems taken aback by her husband's outburst. She steps back as her hand rests on her invisible bump protectively. You hadn’t meant to rile your father up so much that he scared her.

Quietly, you say, “You’re a stranger to me.”

Rhaenyra gives you a sympathetic look as she hands you the scroll. “Yesterday, a raven arrived for Daemon from the keep. Queen Alicent would like to betroth a marriage between you and her son, Prince Aemond.”

Dārilaros - Princess