#amethyst heart cup

[bookwyrminspiration]

One of my favorite parts of writing AUs is taking characters that have X relationship in canon and giving them Y relationship in the AU, especially if that changes their character arc. I haven't read a lot of the wings AU, but I was wondering what you thought of this/general AU thoughts? - Amethyst

Well since I wrote the wings au, I happen to know a lot about it! And love to talk about it! And can tell you that I adore doing these sorts of things, the most notable being in the wings au where I altered the relationships between the characters.

I removed all romance between them and decided they were one big family that all loved each other, even if they annoyed each other at times, and it was delightful. I was able to explore the characters in a depth the romance drama wouldn't have allowed, which also led to scenes that either wouldn't have happened or would have a very different context in canon (like the sokeefitz cuddle scene in one particular chapter). It allowed some of them to be much more open with and supportive of each other, so I love it.

it's a wonderful exercise and method of self-expression, allowing you to truly tailor your story to be your own. Sure, I could've written the romantic drama, but then it wouldn't have been a story for me, I would've been following someone else's script. AUs are for creativity and messing around with the plot, that's the whole point! You're making new situations and interactions! Character dynamics are also part of that, though depending on how extreme you can lose people (like if I were to switch Tam and Keefe's personalities entirely).

General AU thoughts: I'm actually, surprisingly, typically uninterested in AUs. Not because they're bad or anything like that, AUs are wonderful creative ventures and I fully support everyone making them! I just happen to be someone who enjoys canon--you'll find a particular lack of headcanons and similar things on my blog, as it just doesn't interest me the way it does others. And AUs are often too divorced from the original story I enjoyed for it to hold much appeal to me.

Kinda ironic considering I wrote an AU, but if you read it you may notice that the way I did so, it's an entirely plausible (if absurdly unlikely) extension of keeper. It fits into canon. I may take it a step further, but everything works with canon.

So my general thoughts are: AUs are lovely! I love seeing what people can do with the characters and the stories they create! I love the creativity and thought and dedication. At the same time, with complete transparency despite the irony, they're not my particular cup of tea given the canon divergence. I fully believe that if I stumbled upon my own wings au on ao3 I would pass it by because it was an AU (I already rarely read fic, though).

That's not to say I won't enjoy or support anyone who makes an AU and wants to share it, as I'd be overjoyed to do so! I know at least one nonsie talked about working on one, and I hope theirs goes well and I'm curious about it!

[planetsage]

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪷 ANYTHING 𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── kento nanami 𝜗𝜚 .

<- SAVE ?

contains. sfw, angst ish but only bc ……. but overall fluff. creator note. this was a request from @ateohsixxxx. i listened to ‘vibe with me’ on repeat writing this and a few other songs. hopefully you like <33 sorry if i totally butchered what you had in mind this started off as smut then pure angst then .. this so! also tagging @lacyohlacyyy bc youre the biggest nanami luver ik!

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the foamy ocean waves gently lapped against the darkened shore, white crests illuminated by the final breaths of daylight. each wave woven by mother nature’s gentle hands carries with it a soft sizzle as it caresses the shore, leaving behind a glistening film that tenderly kisses each shell, each grain of sand with its elements. the soft hum of their rhythm blends beautifully, creating a lullaby—nature’s lullaby— that strokes at your sandy ear.

the other rests against nanami’s chest where his heart chimes in to sing a chorus against his ribs. your body curled into his. intertwined.

cool air that carries a salty tang fights the faint smell of your sunscreen for dominance over your senses, sweeping over you, blooming goosebumps, but nanami’s warm embrace soothes and chases them away. his arm draped over your frame, fingers delicately tracing patterns and shapes over the little hairs that stand on your back.

peaking over the flat line of the horizon, the sun sets and dips, leaving an afterglow that basks the sky in an array of ambers and roses and amethysts.

you had always known of nanami’s dream to travel to malaysia.

late at night, in the quiet intimacy, when your slowed breaths tricked him into thinking he’d lost you to sleep’s tender grasp, he’d kiss your head and whisper against your scalp how he wished you two could disappear to the little country. he’d build a quaint beach house that overlooks the sea, where you two could grow old and sit in creaky little rocking chairs— you clacking needles together, knitting some colorful scarf as your grandchildren’s light feet padded through the living room.

family.

for your 1 year anniversary, you brought part of his dream to fruition. a one-week getaway, a promise to the future. a gesture filled with love and hope. an attempt to capture the essence of his dream, if only for a short while.

the setting sun brushed its last few strokes of gold against the sky before letting the stars take over and peek through. nothing else existed outside of this moment. outside of him.

as if reading your thoughts, he shifted. pulling you closer … closer. his breath warm against your hair, “thank you”

until then, the silence had been filled by breaths that slowly fell in sync. by families that squealed, packing up, loading their cars with sandy feet and arms, and sleepy, sun-kissed children. noisy seagulls chased by eager dogs dragging grinning owners down the shore.

you smiled up at him, your eyes reflecting the twinkling stars that decorated the velvet sky. “you don’t have to thank me, ken.” your reply is soft. he makes you soft. “this is as much for me as it is for you. i wanted us to just … have a place where we could forget everything else, y’know? even if it’s just for a little while.”

“i know,” his voice barely rang above a whisper. as if speaking any louder would break the fragility of the tender moment.

“but it means more than you can imagine, my love. being here with you... it’s something i’ve always wanted, but never— never thought i’d have.”

there’s a faint crack in his voice. a fissure in the cadence you’ve only known to soothe, and love and reassure.

and an ache tugs your heart, a deep, deep throb mirroring his own. you gently reach up, cupping his warm cheek in your hand so softly, holding his actual beating heart, “we can have it. one day, we can make this our reality. we can have the little house by the sea, the— the family. everything.”

nanami’s gaze traces onto the shore, the brown in his eyes reflecting the way the waves dance and gather in solace.

the scene before him blurs.

“do you really believe that?”

“i do”

the night continued to wrap you both in a warm embrace and his face grew soft hearing your words, how reassured you sounded. how confident in him. in your dream for the both of you. deeply set wrinkles smooth and he nods, “mm. i want to believe in a future where we can have everything we’ve dreamed of, too”

“then let’s make it happen.”

with a faint smile, nanami leaned down, letting his lips purse and press against yours softly. tenderly.

“i love you,” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of all the emotions he can’t quiet put into words; there just aren’t any in the dictionary that could ever, ever, ever convey in purest form how much you mean to him, “more than anything in this world.”

“i love you too,”

the stars continued to shine their ancient light upon you and the ocean continued to whisper its eternal lullaby; you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“always.”

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

How are You Seen and How is Your Style Perceived?

Hey fellas!! This reading is a suggestion from @evaalison72020!!! Thank you so much for your request! The decks used today are The Tarot of the Divine, The Moonology Oracle, and Believe In Your Own Magic Oracle. Take what resonates and leave the rest but always be ready for new perspectives.

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Drop your reading suggestions in my inbox for future PAC. Thank you all in advance! Love you🤍

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PILE ONE

Astrology: Leo, Pisces, Virgo (maybe cancer)

Song: Her Diamonds by Rob Thomas

Vibes: Green, red, yellow, ohi'a tree blossoms, intense emotion, crabs, birch tree, Pele, bow staff, modeling, boho fashion, photography, 999, 4444, swords, lotus root, dragons, monkeys, selenite, howlite

Cards: Queen of Wands, King of Cups, Judgement, Supermoon, Garden

Hello, pile one! I am really digging y'all's energy. You have a very androgynous energy so people have a lot of variety in how they perceive you. I think first I will start with your style and ease into those who know you a bit deeper. So, your style is very earth-toned. How you dress tells people that you are reasonable and balanced. You hate wearing shoes so you don't wear them if you don't have to. You might have a touch of fantasy in your accessories. I see crystal bracelets or pendulum necklaces. You like to wear loose-fitting clothes that make you feel free. I'm specifically seeing a long red skirt. It's about knee length. If a skirt doesn't resonate it could also be a red jacket or sweater that you tie around your waist. People initially see a really free spirit with a whimsical side. People might be surprised by your free spirit but not usually put off by it. You have a very cheerful vibe to you that makes people feel at home. They view you as light on your feet and a positive influence on everything around you. However, occasionally you get excited by something and your eyes narrow in. You have a very intense stare. It can be pretty intimidating.

As for the androgyne tones I was feeling earlier I will now explain a little further. So, you sorta reflect gender at people. This is not to say you are gender fluid or nonbinary but that is a possibility. The vibe I am getting is whatever gender the person perceiving you is, is the gender they see you as. Which can drastically change how people see you, in my experience. Women see you as safe to be around. Men see you as capable and responsible. Nonbinary people see you as a comrade. This also brings in a lot of suiters that get confused by your presentation. I hear many people see you and think, "Woah, did you see them? They looked so cool." These people are always too shy to say anything to you though.

The people who are closest to you view you entirely differently. They know you well enough to see your truest emotion. Your emotions are as intense as the stare I talked about earlier. You have the heart of a dragon. It is difficult to express the deep feelings a dragon would feel through a humans body. It comes out as explosive bursts of immense sensational expression. You are the one laughing the hardest, crying the most, screaming the loudest, burning with fury and jumping all around when you get excited. The people closest to you see you as powerful because of this. They know you are harmless but if challenged you can be extremely dangerous. You are the king of sentiment though so the ones closest never get caught in the crossfire of your emotional depth.

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PILE TWO

Astrology: Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini

Song: Daddy AF by Slayyyer (spirit picked this one... not sure why)

Vibes: Purple, storm cloud blue, peach pink, cranes, wings, bindi, bangs/fringe, sake, green tea, circles, red lips, 222, 555, amethyst, rose quartz, Kali, Lilith, Hekate, Persephone

Cards: The High Priestess, Ace of Cups, Three of Swords, Mirror, Full Moon in Cancer

Welcome, pile two to your reading. You are scene as very mysterious. The public eye doesn't know what to make of you. Honestly, I can see the mystery in the cards but I am also struggling to tap into you. You are very guarded but very beautiful. If you have ever heard of the term kuudere, I think that would be pretty accurate to how to are perceived . If you are unfamiliar with the term it just means you seem very in control of you emotions. So much so that you might come off as cold to some people. You appear to be serene outwardly but on the inside I see you have many different emotions. The style you wear is similar to how your emotions are displayed. Serene and mysterious. I see you could wear spiritual clothing that is meant for spiritual protection. Overall, the public views as an extremely beautiful but private individual that is low-key spiritual.

You have a dark feminine energy to you. This can draw in those who are fascinated by mystery. You don't like to let people close to you though because of painful situations you have been in before. I see you have experienced many heartbreaks and have given many sacrifices to people who did not meet you with gratitude. You honestly didn't let this eat you up inside. You moved forward with confidence and led yourself towards loving yourself. You worked towards the relationship you had with yourself and you resolved a lot of pain that you carried with. Entirely because you were fed up with people breaking your heart. You decided you wanted the person closest to you to stop breaking it too. You.

Those who can even reach the idea of being close to you view you as much softer than the public. They still see you as pretty mysterious but they can see that you are very sweet and accommodating. They have seen you at your worst and watched you kick ass all the way through. They see you as the baddest bitch on the block. It is very rare for you to have people close to you but when there are you are very loyal. You like to invite them over for drinks and thats when you let your truest self shine. You are an absolute riot. You have the wittiest joke and the funniest comebacks even when you are intoxicated. You have allowed yourself to cry on a friends shoulder over drinks too. Alcohol really loosens that vice grip you have on your emotions. I see you really only let your best friend see these parts of you. This person views you as their favorite person on earth. They really truly believe you are an angel. They have supported you through a couple really hard break-ups. I think they will always be the closest one to your heart.

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PILE THREE

Astrology: Aquarius, Capricorn, Taurus

Song: Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac

Vibes: Grey-blue, gold, purple, white, stain glass windows, arctic foxes, wolves, yokai, beetles, sharks, snow, ice, winter, 111, 963, 100, red hair, feathers, black tourmaline, Ares, Hephaestus, Hestia

Cards: 6 of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles, New Moon, Shark

Hi, pile three! You have an entirely different impression you often give than how you actually are. Those who see you would not be able to guess how you actually are. You give a very scary vibe off to people. Strangers are intimidated by your appearance. Which is such a shame because your energy is so warm and inviting. :( You are very tall and have a broad figure with wide shoulders. You tower over most people. If you aren't physically tall people still get that energy of intimidation from your energy. People scurry out of your way as you walk past and avoid looking you in the eyes. You also have very strong eye brows which might give you real bad RBF. Those who aren't scared off by you, hold a lot of envy for how much you command attention. I also see you have really long beautiful legs that people comment on all the time. They mostly seem like complements but they probably don't really feel like it. They want to be like you but they just don't understand how much it actually bothers you to be as big as you are. I'm so sorry to you about all the door frames you run into and all the beds you have grown out of. It's tough be a big person.

Despite all your physical appearances, you have a lovely soft feminine energy. It is so nice to be in it feels like the biggest, softest, warmest bear hug to ever exist. You are a wonderful host. I can smell something really good so you might be an excellent cook or baker. I see you love to give back to your community through this skill. Which makes those a bit closer see you as this protective loving parental energy. I see you baking cookies for your neighbors and maybe your church. I can feel how happy you make people feel the closer they get to you. You have such a soft heart with a rough outer exterior. It does throw some of your neighbors kids for a loop at first.

Finally, those who are closest to you see you as extremely generous and kind. They know the world thinks you have sharp claws but they know that they are mistaking paws for claws. They love being around you and working together to help being a safer community. They know you give to charity and work in a place that helps those in needs. They see you as the sweetest, nicest person they have ever met in their lives. They wouldn't trade you for anyone. They trust you with their lives. If they are in any danger or in need they call you first. I think maybe at some point you had someone slander your good name because of your appearances. All your closest community friends and family came to your defense and saved your reputation. They truly, deeply care for you and I think you feel the exact same.

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PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aries, Libra, Sagittarius

Song: Cooler Than Me (Cover) by Ethan Fields

Vibes: Gold, black, teal, white flowers, maximalism, alternative fashion, lily pads, frogs, 333, 4646, leaves, vines, coral, mountains, low gravity, forests, fairies, pixies, unicorns, culture, tigers eye, Zues, Aphrodite, Eros

Cards: Queen of Cups, 3 of Cups, Ace of Pentacles, Full Moon, Expectations

Hey there, pile four. Welcome to your reading! People outside of your circle see you are drop dead gorgeous. You make everyone question their sexuality or fall to their knees. Even your friends flirt with you constantly. You obviously flirt back just for funsies but thaaat can get you into some romantic fiascos that you never had any intention in getting into. Oops, lmao! I see strangers see you in two different lights. There are people who are stunned by your handsomeness. They are the ones turning their heads to get a second look. ;) Theeeeen there are the people who think you are doing way too much just because you like looking good. Thats dumb. Those people are dumb. Their opinions do not matter. That's because you are one of a kind! No one can match your style and brilliance. No one has the confidence to do what you do and make it look THAT good. AND THE BEST PAAART is that everyone knows it. Even if they are acting nasty about it. I see you like to wear lots of jewelry. Chains on chains on jewels on chains. You aren't addicted to glitter. Glitter is addicted to YOU!!! You love to do stuff with your hair too. I see you might have many wigs that you love to trade out. People are always convinced it's your real hair. Everyday you get more and more admirers. The public can not get enough of you.

Your energy is interesting. It is feminine but it presents in such a masculine way. You have this go getter vibe to you but then everything seems to come your way before you can even step towards it. It's like for a long time you had to fight for what you wanted but now people just hand you things you want before you can even ask. When people get closer to you, they just seem to give you things randomly. They will hook you up with their connections. Literally people are doing your networking for you. The way people see you gives you many opportunities in life. Don't worry about getting the opportunities yourself, baby. The universe loves to spoil you through your admirers.

The people closest to you see that you are a go with the flow kind of person. The universe pushes you somewhere and you just let it push you along like a leaf in the wind. Some of your closest friends think you are nuts but they know it always seems to work out for you anyway. Even if you don't make sense to them. They see you are a surviver and they know how ruthless you can be, babe. They see these as extremely admirable traits. The people closest to you feel like they have been around you since you were young so they like to mess with you like siblings would. It is pretty easy to get close to you though so they might not all be that way. They view you as loyal, kind, fun and unique. They wouldn't have you any other way.

[kckt88]

Hidden In Plain Sight.

Summary:

The dance is done and Aemond has been crowned King, after being pressured by his council he followed through on his marriage to Floris Baratheon. However Aemond holds no love for the wife that he was forced to take and instead continues to seek the company of his true love, his niece Jacaera.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Langauage, Reference to Captivity, References to Smut, Infidelity, Character Death, Manipulation, Scheming.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8419

GREENS WIN - AEMOND IS KING!!

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

"Another one—have you no shame, Aemond? What of your wife?" fumed Alicent, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Aemond's eye remained fixed on the dark liquid in his cup, swirling it gently. He had no love for Floris Baratheon, the wife forced upon him by his mother and the council after the war.

Floris, with her Baratheon blood and boring demeanour, could never compare to his niece, his beloved sweet Jacaera.

Aemond's thoughts drifted to Jacaera, the warmth of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed and the way she would gasp and moan his name as he feasted on her delicious cunt like a man starved, or how she looked when she peaked around his cock.

Although he would never forget the look of hurt on her face when he told her that he would have to follow through on his promise and take Floris as his wife.

He explained that he held no care or love for Floris, that she would never have his heart he had begged for her mercy, for her understanding, and she eventually granted it. His dragoness was vicious with him that night, clawing at his body and sinking her teeth into his flesh as he fucked her hard.

Not too long after his wedding, Jacaera had given him the news that she was with child, and it pleased him immensely.

He had granted her rooms in one of the towers in the Red Keep, keeping her away from the eyes of his lady wife, who he held no interest for.

He would visit his niece often, admiring her belly swollen with his seed. He would spend hours curled up with her, his hands running over her soft flesh, feeling the babe within move.

He was truly blessed the day she birthed his babe, marvelling at the wonderous gift she had granted him, not one but two babes. His sons, his little dragons.

Oh, how perfect they were, their silver hair and amethyst eyes.

He cared not for the opinions of his council, his mother or even his wife who’s face quickly soured with jealousy when word of his sons reached her.

Admittedly she did try to be a good Queen and wife, but it was all for naught, for his heart, mind and soul belonged to Jacaera.

Every moment he was not attending to his duty as King he was with his sons, determined to be the father he never had, his sons would know of him, the would know of his love and they would know above all that they were wanted.

"-Aemond, are you even listening to me?" Alicent's voice brought him back to the present. Her green eyes were fierce, a storm brewing within them.

He looked up at his mother, his expression calm despite the turmoil around him. "I hear you, Mother," he replied, his voice steady. "But what is done is done”

Alicent's face contorted with frustration and sorrow. "Your actions have consequences, Aemond. You cannot simply disregard your responsibilities. Floris is your wife, and you have a duty to her."

"Duty," Aemond repeated, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "All I’ve done is my duty and where has that got me? Where has that got us? the war has taken its toll, on us and the realm. What about my duty to myself? To my own happiness?"

Alicent shook her head, her voice softening. "Happiness, Aemond, comes with sacrifice. Your rule as King is precarious, your Queen is not with child-the council ceaselessly whisper about your lack of heir”.

“The fault is not mine, as I seem to have no trouble siring children with Jacaera-“

“Perhaps if you lay with your wife more often than that bastard girl, then you would be blessed with trueborn children."

Aemond's grip tightened on the cup. "Floris does not rouse my-interest. You knew I never wanted her. Yet you and the rest of the dogs on the council forced her upon me, knowing where my heart truly lies."

Alicent's eyes narrowed. "Matters of the heart do not compare to the matters of the realm. Your known taste for strong bastards only serves to bring shame and embarrassment to your reign."

The veiled reference to his rumoured involvement with the witch Alys Rivers did not go unnoticed. Aemond's jaw clenched, but he refused to be swayed. "I will not set aside Jacaera."

Alicent paced the length of Aemond's chambers, her fury barely contained. The girl should have been executed the moment she was brought to the Red Keep, but Aemond's obsession for her had prevented such an act. He had pleaded with Aegon to let him keep her, and to her utter horror, Aegon had agreed.

Aemond would then spend hours sequestered away in his chambers with the bastard girl.

Sometimes, Alicent would receive reports of raised voices and the sounds of things being thrown, the maids witness to the destruction of their arguments.

But then there would be reports of noises of pleasure, unmistakable and shameless. Aemond's need for Jacaera was evident, and he showed no concern for discretion, not then and certainly not now.

Alicent's face twisted with disgust “You are shameless in your need for her."

Aemond's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "Jacaera is not the monster you paint her to be. She is—"

"A vicious seductress who has bewitched my favoured son!" Alicent cut him off, her voice rising. "She is nothing more than a remnant of Rhaenyra's treachery. You disgrace yourself and your reign by keeping her."

Aemond stood, his tall frame towering over his mother. "My reign, Mother. Not yours. And I will decide what brings disgrace and what does not-Jacaera is mine, and I will not set her aside."

Alicent's shoulders sagged slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of her. "You are blind, Aemond. Blind to the destruction this will bring."

Aemond turned away, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I am not blind, Mother. I see clearly. And what I see is Jacaera by my side."

Alicent's heart ached with a mother's anguish, knowing her words had fallen on deaf ears. She turned and left the chambers, the sound of the door closing echoing the finality of their argument.

Aemond strode down the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep towards the tower where Jacaera and their children lived.

His anticipation of seeing his beloved and their children was already spreading through his body, his eagerness to see them saw him taking the steps two at a time.

He passed the guards lined up again the walls of the corridor, bowing their heads respectfully as he passed by.

The guards standing outside the doors quickly moved aside, as he approached.

As soon as the doors opened and he entered the room, he was greeted with a loud chorus of "Daddy!"

Rhaegar and Aerys, his two-year-old sons, reached out for him with bright, eager eyes. Aemond's stern demeanour softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he lifted both of his sons into his arms.

Both boys nuzzled into him, their small hands clutching at his tunic. The warmth of their affection filling him with a rare sense of peace.

He looked over at Jacaera, who was sitting on one of the sofas, gods how beautiful she was, wavy dark hair and amethyst eyes with a hand was pressed against her slightly rounded stomach, a sign of the new life growing within her.

For all the turmoil and disapproval from his mother and the court, here in this room, with Jacaera and their sons, he found a sanctuary, a place where he wasn’t bound by duty, a place where he wasn’t the King, a place where he was just Aemond.

Jacaera looked towards him and smiled, beckoning him over with a flick of her wrist.

Aemond crossed the room, settling beside Jacaera while still holding the boys. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softened by concern.

"Better now that you're here," Jacaera replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smiled as he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but carrying a hint of reluctance.

"I need to go to Harrenhal for a couple of days," he began, his voice steady. "I'll ensure there are sufficient guards here. If you desire to take the boys into the gardens, you may do so."

Jacaera's expression shifted slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Will you be safe?"

"I will," he assured her, squeezing her hand gently. "But there is something else I need to tell you. My mother has been pressuring me about having children with Floris."

Jacaera visibly tensed, her discomfort clear. She glanced at their sons, then back at Aemond. "Can we have one of the nannies take the boys to their bedroom to play with their toys?"

Aemond nodded, calling for a nanny to escort Rhaegar and Aerys out. Once the boys were gone, Jacaera turned to Aemond, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

"I do not wish to hear about your wife. I don’t want to think of you laying with her."

Aemond’s heart clenched at the pain in her voice. He reached out, pulling her into his arms. "Jacaera, please," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "You know where my heart truly lies."

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It doesn’t make it any easier, Aemond. Knowing you have to be with her, even if you don't want to. It hurts."

Aemond held her tightly, stroking her hair. "I hate it too. But you are the one I love, the one I want to be with. This is not easy for me either."

Jacaera buried her face in his chest, her body trembling with silent sobs. "I just want you here with me and the boys. I want us to be a proper family."

Aemond kissed the top of her head, wishing he could give her that simple, peaceful life. "I promise, I will always come back to you, and I promise that it won’t be for much longer, I have a plan-"

Floris stood silently on the balcony overlooking the gardens, her heart heavy with bitterness. Below, Jacaera played with Rhaegar and Aerys, their laughter and playful voices drifting up to where she stood.

The sight of her husband’s bastard children with Jacaera only served to inflame her jealousy. Aemond was her husband, yet he showed no interest in her, he would only speak to her when necessary and on the rare occasion when he did bed her, he wouldn’t grant her any lingering kisses or soft touches he would simply unlace his breeches, take her from behind and leave as soon as he spilled his seed.

One night she dared to follow him to the sprawling tower where he kept Jacaera and his bastard sons, and she watched through a crack in the door as he bid goodnight to his silver haired sons and then took Jacaera to bed.

She watched aghast as he sunk to his knees and worshipped Jacaera, his head between her legs as he devoured her, his lips pressing kisses to every inch of her skin, his hands caressing her, and finally his cock sheathed deep inside her.

The sway of his long silver hair and the taut of his muscles as he fucked his strong bastard mistress, his unrestrained moans and loud grunts of pleasure as he took her in a multitude of positions, the way his eye rolled back into his head as he spilled his seed inside her.

Never had she seen her husband in such a manner, and it made her all the more envious of that dark haired bastard, the whore thief who had stolen her husband-

Suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a cane tapping against the stone floor. Larys Strong approached, his presence as unsettling as ever.

He inclined his head slightly in greeting. "My Queen," he said, his tone smooth. "I bring news. The King has departed for Harrenhal on the back of Vhagar. He will return in a few days."

At the mention of Harrenhal, Floris’s curiosity was piqued. "Harrenhal?" she repeated, her voice tinged with suspicion. "Isn’t that where Alys Rivers resides?"

Larys' eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "Harrenhal is now indeed ruled by a woman. Aemond gifted it to her in gratitude for her-services."

Floris’s stomach churned. "And Aemond’s relationship with Alys?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Larys shrugged, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Merely rumours, Your Grace. But there is said to be a silver-haired child running around the halls of Harrenhal."

Floris' heart sank further, despair settling in her chest. Larys, ever the observer, added with a touch of sarcasm, "The King does seem to have particular tastes when it comes to women."

Floris looked away, her mind reeling. Her husband’s heart and loyalty seemed scattered, entangled with other women, other children. She felt trapped in a marriage that was little more than a political arrangement, her desires and needs cast aside.

Watching Jacaera and her sons below, she couldn’t help but envy the love and attention they received from Aemond, a love she feared she would never know.

Larys leaned closer to Floris, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should not hold it against the King. Some men are weak to the wiles of women. My brother Harwin suffered a similar affliction when he became involved with Rhaenyra. It seems Jacaera has inherited her mother's ability to seduce men she shouldn't."

Floris' gaze remained fixed on Jacaera and the boys as they played in the garden below. Larys' words wrapped around her like a serpent's coil, feeding her resentment. "It is an insult for the King to sire children upon the undeserving," he continued, his tone methodical and cold. "To see him fawn over his bastard mistress while you, his rightful wife, are neglected."

Floris's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white with tension. "It would be easier if they weren't around," she murmured, almost to herself. "If Jacaera and her sons were gone, maybe Aemond would come to act as a husband should, and we could, in time, be happy."

Larys' smile was slow and calculating. "If that is truly your wish, Your Grace, then it shall be done."

Floris's heart pounded, a mix of fear and hope flooding her veins. She turned to look at Larys, a question in her eyes, but he simply nodded and hobbled away, the sound of his cane echoing through the air,

Aemond arrived at Harrenhal astride Vhagar, the colossal dragon's landing shaking the ground with tremendous force. Dust and debris swirled in the air as Vhagar's mighty wings beat one last time before folding. Aemond unhooked his riding chains and descended down the rope ladder with practiced ease.

A guard approached and bowed deeply. "Your Grace," he said respectfully. "How may I serve you?"

"I'm here to see the Lady Alys," Aemond replied curtly.

The guard nodded, understanding the gravity of the king's presence, and escorted him through the winding halls of Harrenhal to Alys’ covenstead.

The room was dimly lit, filled with shelves of jars containing unknown and mysterious ingredients. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke.

Alys was sitting cross-legged before the fireplace, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. She looked up as Aemond entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I knew you would come," she said, her voice soft and eerie. "I saw it in the flames."

Aemond stepped closer, his expression serious. "I need more of the potion you gave me."

Alys rose gracefully and retrieved an ornate glass bottle from a high shelf, its contents shimmering in the firelight. She handed it to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Like I said—I knew you would come."

“Hmmm”

As Aemond took the bottle, Alys' tone shifted, her gaze piercing. "Is your Storm Queen aware of what you are doing?" she asked pointedly.

Aemond's jaw tightened slightly. "Floris is aware of my involvement with Jacaera. I've never hidden it from her."

Alys shook her head slowly, a wry smile playing on her lips as she motioned towards the bottle in his hand—the potion much stronger than moontea that would temporarily render Floris unable to bear children. "That's not what I'm referring to," she said softly. "Does it truly turn your stomach to lay with your lady wife and have your seed take root?"

Aemond hesitated, his gaze flickering. "She is not the woman I wish for-nor one I desire" he admitted finally, his voice low.

Alys leaned forward, her expression intense. "There are ways to rid yourself of her without degrading yourself in such a manner," she murmured, her voice laced with suggestion. "Your uncle was no stranger to the need to rid himself of his bronze bitch-perhaps his method could be of use to you”.

“As much as I have no love for my wife-I will not stand above her with a rock in hand-her inability to provide me with children will serve as reason enough to annul our marriage-leaving me free to wed Jacaera, as I should have done in the first place” said Aemond as he pocketed the bottle, his gaze lingering on Alys as she moved back to the fireplace.

She began muttering nonsensically, her hands weaving through the flames.

"What do you see?" Aemond asked, a mix of curiosity and impatience in his voice.

Alys's eyes flickered with an otherworldly light. "An opportunity to rid yourself of the undesired Queen will soon present itself," she said cryptically. "The firefly will do its work."

Aemond frowned, trying to decipher her words. "The firefly?" he repeated.

Alys nodded, her gaze distant and mystical. "Yes, the firefly. It will lead you to what you desire. But beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone-"

Suddenly their discussion was interrupted by the creak of the door opening. A silver-haired child, small and curious, toddled in, calling out for his "mummy."

Alys' smile was warm and loving as she picked up the child, her green eyes glinting with maternal affection. The boy's gaze turned to Aemond, his innocence a stark contrast to the weight of the world around them.

Aemond greeted the boy kindly. "Aeron, I have something for you-for your recent name day" he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small wooden carving of a dragon.

Aeron's eyes lit up with delight as he took the gift, thanking Aemond with a shy smile before toddling out of the room again.

Alys watched her son leave with a fond smile before turning back to Aemond. "That was kind of you," she remarked softly.

Aemond's expression softened. "Whilst he is blood of the dragon, unfortunately it's the closest he will ever come to having a dragon of his own."

Alys nodded thoughtfully, her mind drifting to deeper thoughts. "Imagine the calamity the would ensue if the King were to grant a dragonseed a dragon's egg," she pondered aloud.

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly. "There are enough rumours about the boy as it is," he replied evenly. "There doesn't need to be any more."

Alys laughed lightly, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Ahh the absurdity of such rumours," she said with a shake of her head. "That you, are Aeron's sire-imagine if the people of the realm knew the truth-that my son belongs to Daemon.”

Aemond nodded thoughtfully at Alys' words. "The people of the realm like to make up stories," he murmured, almost to himself. "They tell each other these tales over and over until they forget that it's a lie."

Alys nodded knowingly, her expression grave. "Indeed, there are many lies in the game of thrones," she replied. "Be careful to what you pay attention, Your Grace."

Aemond absorbed her cautionary words, understanding the depth of her advice. Before he could respond, Alys continued with a sense of finality, "It's time for you to return to the Red Keep. The firefly has sown the seeds of discord, and you should return to see them bare fruit, but beware of the wood on stone-"

He offered Alys a nod of gratitude for the potion she had provided, a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding.

As he turned to leave, his mind already drifting to the political machinations awaiting him in King's Landing, he didn't catch Alys' last quiet musing.

"You won't be needing it," she whispered, her voice lost to the crackle of the fire and the echoes of power that reverberated within the ancient walls of Harrenhal.

Aemond flew back to King's Landing atop Vhagar, the massive dragon's wings slicing through the sky with force. The journey was swift, driven by Aemond's urgency to return to Jacaera and his sons.

Upon landing, he dismounted Vhagar and made his way through the castle, his Kings guard following quietly behind him. He ascended the steps of the tower that led to Jacaera's chambers, noticing the unusual silence that enveloped the corridors. There were no guards on duty, an anomaly that sent a chill down his spine.

As he approached the door to Jacaera's room, he saw it was ajar. His instincts sharpened, and he unsheathed his sword, pushing the door open with caution. "Jacaera-Issa jorrāelagon?" he called out, his voice echoing in the unsettling quiet. "Rhaegar? Aerys? Byka zaldrīzoti " (My love, little dragons).

There was no answer, only a heavy, oppressive silence. He stepped into the room, his eye scanning the scene before him. Chaos reigned—chairs were overturned, glass lay shattered across the floor, and various belongings were strewn about.

But it was the sight of blood, dark and staining the floor, spilling in every direction, that froze Aemond in place.

"NO-" he cried out in horror, his heart breaking as he took in the carnage.

His Kings guard spread out, searching the room with grim efficiency, but there were no signs of Jacaera or the boys. The blood trail suggested a violent struggle, and Aemond's mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened.

"Your Grace" one of the guards said, his voice grave. "There's no sign of them here. We must search the entire keep."

Aemond nodded, his face a mask of fury and despair. "FIND THEM” he commanded. "Search every room, every corner. Do not rest until they are found."

The guards moved quickly, leaving Aemond alone in the ruined room. He stared at the blood on the floor, a sickening mix of rage and helplessness churning within him.

Then as his gaze fell upon a familiar object he fell to his knees. It was Rhaegar's favourite stuffed dragon, the soft fabric now sticky with blood.

The sight of it broke something inside him. He picked up the teddy, cradling it to his chest, and let out a heart-wrenching sob.

"Rhaegar-Aerys-Jacaera" he whispered, his voice cracking with despair. The room around him seemed to blur as tears filled his eye. He clutched the bloodstained teddy tighter, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Memories of his sons' laughter, their small hands reaching out for him, and Jacaera's smile flooded his mind. The thought of them suffering, of them being taken from him, was unbearable. His sobs turned into a guttural cry of rage and grief, echoing through the ruined chamber.

If his beloved Jacaera and his sweet sons were dead, then he would rip the world apart. He envisioned himself taking to the sky on Vhagar, raining fire and destruction upon the realm, leaving nothing but ash in his wake. No one would be spared his fury-no one.

Aemond was still on his knees, cradling the bloodstained teddy, when he heard the distinctive sound shuffling. He turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he saw Larys Strong standing in the doorway.

"They are safe, my King," Larys said, his voice calm and assured.

Aemond's reaction was immediate. He surged to his feet and seized Larys by the robes, his face a mask of fury and desperation. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "They are with your mother”

Without another word, Aemond released Larys and raced from the room, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted through the corridors, his mind solely focused on reaching his mother’s chambers. He all but crashed through the door, his eye wild with panic.

There, in the corner of the room, huddled together, were Jacaera, Rhaegar, and Aerys. The sight of them brought tears of relief to his eye. "Jacaera!" he cried, his voice breaking as he rushed across the room.

Jacaera looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Aemond," she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close and breathing in her familiar scent. The warmth of her body against his brought a sense of peace he hadn't felt since he discovered the bloodied room. He clung to her, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

After a few minutes, he pulled back slightly and placed his hands on her face, tilting her head to look at her. He noticed a cut on her cheek and that she looked a little dishevelled, but otherwise, she was unharmed. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Jacaera nodded, her eyes searching his face. "I'm fine. The boys are fine too."

Aemond turned his gaze to Rhaegar and Aerys, who were clutching each other tightly. He knelt down and pulled them into his arms, holding them close. "Daddy's here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Daddy's here."

The boys clung to him, their small bodies trembling. Aemond closed his eye, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. They were safe. His family was safe.

Jacaera placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her, his eye filled with gratitude and love. "Thank the gods," he murmured, standing and pulling her into another embrace. "I thought I'd lost you."

She held him tightly, her voice steady despite the ordeal. "We're here, Aemond. We're safe."

Aemond nodded, his resolve strengthening. Whoever had orchestrated this would pay. But for now, all that mattered was that his family was safe in his arms.

His mother watched silently as she watched her son openly weep for Jacaera and their children, she had never seen this side of Aemond before and it stirred a number of unfamiliar feelings in her chest.

Aemond never displayed this kind of vulnerability to anyone, and it was a harsh reminder of his obvious feelings and closeness to Jacaera, and for the briefest of moments Alicent realised that pushing Aemond to marry Floris had been a mistake, that she should have been a mother first and supported her last surviving child in securing his heart’s desire, but instead she had allowed herself to be swayed by the whims of the council and now Aemond was trapped in a marriage he did not truly wish for just as she had been and her heart broke.

That night, Aemond did not sleep a wink. He brought Jacaera and the boys back to his personal chambers, ensuring they were safe and secure.

As they slept in his bed, Aemond sat beside them, watching over them with a vigilant gaze. The events of the day replayed in his mind, fuelling a mixture of relief and simmering rage.

A soft knock at the door had him instantly on alert. Rising to his feet, his hand curled around the hilt of his dagger, he moved quietly to the door. Opening it a crack, he saw Larys Strong standing there, his expression serious.

Casting a final look at the sleeping Jacaera and his sons, Aemond stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. "Well?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "Your Grace, it would seem that Jacaera is no weakling woman. She defended her children with a mother's fury-”

In that moment Aemond thanked the gods that the time he had spent secretly training Jacaera with the sword had paid off, granted she wasn’t as proficient as he was but clearly it had been enough to save herself and their sons.

“-She managed to inflict grievous injuries on two of the intruders before they inevitably succumbed to the stranger in the secret passageways, and she managed to injure the third. The Kings guard have searched the streets of King's Landing and found the intruder. He's in the black cells, awaiting your judgement."

Aemond's eye narrowed, his grip tightening on the dagger. The thought of Jacaera and his sons in danger ignited a burning anger within him. He nodded; his jaw set with determination. "Thank you-" he said, his voice cold. "I will personally deal with the man who tried to take my love from me.”

Larys inclined his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Aemond turned back to his chambers, his resolve firm. He would ensure that those who threatened his family would face the full force of his wrath.

Tonight, as his beloved Jacaera and their sons slept peacefully, he would make sure their safety was secured. And come morning, justice would be served.

Returning to his post by the bed, Aemond watched over his family with renewed determination. The night was long, but he remained vigilant, his mind focused on the punishment he would mete out to those who dared to harm what was his.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Aemond's resolve only grew stronger. He would protect his family at any cost, and woe to those who stood in his way.

Aemond left Jacaera and the boys under heavy guard in his chambers, ensuring their safety before making his way down to the black cells. The air grew colder and damper as he descended, the stone walls closing in around him. Torches flickered, casting ominous shadows as he walked, his footsteps echoing through the narrow passageways.

He reached the cell where the man was held and pushed open the heavy iron door. Inside, a man was bound in chains, kneeling on the cold floor. The moment he saw Aemond, the man began to shake and beg for mercy.

"Please, Your Grace," the man whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "I have a family."

Aemond stepped closer, his eyes blazing with fury. He leaned down, getting in the man's face. "Yet you almost took mine from me," he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

The man continued to beg, his pleas growing more desperate. Aemond's patience wore thin, and he grabbed the man's collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "Mercy will only be granted if you reveal who was behind the assassination attempt," Aemond demanded, his grip tightening.

The man gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror. "I never saw their face," he choked out. "They gave me a pouch of coins and told me how to enter the Red Keep, where to find the King's mistress and bastard children."

Aemond's rage intensified. He wrapped his hands around the man's throat, squeezing tightly. "Tell me" he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The man struggled, his face turning red as he fought to breathe. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to mutter, "Ours is the Fury."

Aemond's eye widened with recognition. He released his grip, and the man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Aemond's mind raced, the words echoing in his head.

He knew that motto well.

Aemond barged into Floris' chambers, his fury barely contained. The maids, startled by his sudden entrance, were rudely dismissed with a sharp wave of his hand. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the room.

Floris stood, her eyes wide with surprise and fear. Before she could speak, Aemond advanced on her, his expression dark with anger. "I know it was you," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You arranged the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons."

Floris' eyes widened further, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Aemond roared, his voice echoing off the walls."

Floris' facade crumbled, and she took a step back, her hands trembling. "I may have... expressed a desire to get rid of Jacaera and the boys," she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. "But I never intended for it to be acted upon. It was Larys Strong. He's the one who took it upon himself-"

Aemond scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "The men spoke your family's motto. Why would Larys arrange for the murder of Jacaera and my sons, only to implicate you? It makes no sense."

Floris began to cry, the tears streaming down her face. "I don't know, Aemond, I swear. I never wanted this. I just-I wanted you to love me, to be a proper husband."

Aemond was unmoved by her tears, his face a mask of cold fury. "You could have cost me everything," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Jacaera, my sons, my future. How dare you?"

Floris sobbed, her shoulders shaking, but Aemond's rage did not abate.

Aemond’s face was a mask of cold resolve as he looked at Floris. “Our marriage is over, I'm done with this farce-” he declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “I will petition the High Septon for an annulment based on your failure to produce an heir. You are to return to Storm’s End immediately. I never want to see or hear from you again.”

Floris’ tears dried up in an instant, replaced by a fury that matched Aemond’s own. “YOU DARE?” she raged, her voice trembling with indignation. “-You continuously brought shame and embarrassment upon me by flaunting your mistress and her bastards! I grew desperate and heartbroken-even when we did lay together no child ever came, I saw the way the men on the council would look at me, like it was my fault my womb remained empty, whilst their precious King was readily siring his bastards upon his whore”.

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his expression turning even colder. “There was never going to be a child. When we did lay together-I made sure you drank a potion to ensure my seed would never take root,” he revealed, his tone merciless. “I never wanted to have children with you. It’s Jacaera, it always has been, and it always will be”.

Floris’ eyes widened with shock and hurt. “You-you’ve been poisoning me?” she stammered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.

Aemond didn’t flinch. “I took precautions. There is no room in my life for children I do not want, and I certainly did not want them with you.”

Floris’ rage bubbled over, and she challenged him, her voice rising. “What about Alys and the silver-haired boy at Harrenhal?”

Aemond sneered. “If you truly believe such baseless rumours, then you’re stupider than you look. The boy was sired by my uncle Daemon, not me.”

Floris tried to reason with him, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Aemond, please. Try to understand how I’ve felt, I am your wife, yet you continue to wrong me-”

“You? It’s all about you, isn’t it? what about Jacaera? She was my woman long before you and I exchanged vows-”

 “Please husband-We can find a way to make this work. You can keep seeing Jacaera, all I ask for in return is that you grant me one child-”

“Have you got cloth ears? I said I don’t want any children with you” snarled Aemond.

“Y-Your Grace-please”

“No,” Aemond cut her off, his tone final. “You are to leave the Red Keep immediately, or I will have you executed. Your presence here is no longer tolerated.”

Floris’ face twisted with a mix of despair and fury. “You will regret this, Aemond Targaryen,” she spat, her voice filled with venom.

Aemond’s expression remained unchanged, his resolve unshaken. “I doubt that very much. Guards!” he called, his voice echoing through the halls. The door opened, and two guards entered, their expressions stoic.

“Ensure that the lady gathers her things and is ready to leave for Storm’s End within the hour. If she resists, use force.” ordered Aemond, his voice icy.

The guards nodded, moving to flank Floris. She cast one last, venomous glance at Aemond before allowing herself to be led away.

Aemond descended once more into the black cells, his mind a storm of emotions. He found Larys Strong standing beside the still-unconscious intruder, observing him with an air of detached curiosity.

"Lord Strong," Aemond called, his voice echoing through the cold stone chamber.

Larys turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Aemond's demeanour. "Your Grace," he greeted with a slight bow. "I trust you have news?"

Aemond nodded curtly. "Floris admitted her guilt. She has been banished from the Red Keep and is to return to Storm's End. Our marriage will be annulled."

Larys raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "I must say, I am shocked that Lady Floris was capable of such a thing. To arrange for babes to be murdered in their beds is a terrible act, indeed. No doubt the actions of a woman who had grown desperate”.

Aemond’s expression hardened. "Mayhaps, but it was unforgivable nonetheless."

“Did the Lady happen to mention how she came into contact with the men she hired?” asked Larys, his voice soft and low.

Before he could respond Aemond’s attention was drawn to the sound of Larys tapping his cane against the floor and suddenly Alys’ words echoed around his mind ‘beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone’

Aemond then noticed the pin on Larys’ robes, hidden slightly in the folds of fabric, the slight gold hue glinting in the torchlight.

A firefly-Aemond remembered that Helaena once had a number of them as part of her bug collection.

He remembered how their mother had reacted when Helaena had declared that the fireflies were bored of their captivity and had promptly released them in the Red Keep.

The sound of his sweet sisters laughter as they flew free around the room, and their mother’s shrieking when she found one in her hair.

Firefly, Firefly, Firefly. The word kept playing on his mind.

Floris had named Larys as her co-conspirator, and whilst he had initially dismissed the notion as ridiculous, he couldn’t shake the feeling on uncertainty that was now swirling within him.

Alys had never steered him wrong before with any of her warnings and he had learned very quickly during the war to never ignore what she told him, even if it seemed like nonsensical ramblings.

“Interesting pin-” muttered Aemond, his hand curling around the pommel of his sword.

“A firefly-” said Larys firmly.

“I know-”

Without warning, Aemond unsheathed his sword in a swift, fluid motion. Larys had only a moment to register what was happening before the blade struck.

Aemond’s sword cut cleanly through Larys' neck, and his head fell to the ground with a dull thud, eyes still wide with shock.

Aemond stood over the beheaded corpse, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion. He felt a grim satisfaction in exacting his vengeance. Larys had played a dangerous game, manipulating events and people for his own ends. Now, he had paid the ultimate price.

Aemond wiped his sword clean on Larys' robes and sheathed it. He looked at the unconscious intruder, his lip curling in disdain. He would deal with him later. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Aemond stood before his council, his eyes scanning the room with a steely determination. The members of his Small Council sat around the table, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Alicent sat near the head of the table, her gaze fixed on her son with a mix of disbelief and concern.

"I have gathered you all here today to make an important announcement," Aemond began, his voice steady and commanding. "My marriage to Floris Baratheon will be annulled due to her inability to provide me with an heir and for her involvement in the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons, she has been banished back to Storm's End-and before anyone dares to mention it, I give no shit for Borros Baratheon, and if he wishes to express his disdain then he will do so before Vhagar-"

A ripple of shock ran through the council members, but no one dared to speak. Aemond continued, his tone growing colder. "Larys Strong, who was also involved, has been executed for his treachery."

Alicent’s eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly, but she remained silent, her face a mask of conflicting emotions.

Aemond took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. "As soon as the High Septon grants the annulment, I will wed Jacaera. Our children will be legitimized as Targaryen’s, and my oldest son, Rhaegar, will be named heir to the Iron Throne".

The council members lowered their gazes, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to challenge their clearly angry yet determined King. The weight of Aemond's decisions hung heavily in the room, an unspoken tension settling over the assembly.

Aemond looked at each of them in turn, his gaze unyielding. "My decision is not up for debate, I let you fools force me into a marriage with Floris and it was a mistake from the very beginning. Jacaera and our sons are my family, and I will protect them at all costs. Anyone who dares to threaten them will face the same fate as Larys Strong."

Alicent finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Aemond-are you certain this is the right path?"

Aemond met his mother's gaze, his expression softening slightly. "Mother, I understand your concerns, but my mind is made up. Jacaera and our children are my future."

Alicent sighed, her shoulders sagging in resignation. "Very well. I will not stand against you."

Aemond nodded, grateful for her reluctant support. He turned back to the council. "Prepare the necessary documents for the annulment and send word to the High Septon. This matter must be resolved swiftly-I do not wish to be married to that Baratheon bitch for any longer than what is necessary”.

The council members murmured their assent, hastily making notes and exchanging wary glances. Aemond knew that his decisions would be met with resistance, but he was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

His love for Jacaera and his commitment to their children gave him the strength to defy tradition and forge his own path as King.

As the council meeting adjourned, Aemond took a moment to approach his mother. "Thank you for not opposing me," he said quietly.

Alicent looked at him with a mixture of sadness and pride. "I express my regret in not advocating for you to wed Jacaera in the first place-mayhaps all this could have been avoided and you would have been glad for it-now my only hope that you find the happiness you seek, my son."

Aemond nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. "I will, Mother. I promise."

Jacaera sat gracefully by Aemond's side during the celebratory feast, her eyes sparkling with contentment. The grandeur of the Red Keep's throne room was a far cry from the gloom that had been present as she was first brought here as a captive.

Initially she had been defiant and intent on fighting against her captors at every given opportunity, but then she saw how Aemond had looked at her and how fierce he had been when he demanded that she be given to him.

Soon after an idea began to form in her mind, to make Aemond fall in love with her, initially she did think it would be quite difficult given his previous stance on duty and his loyalty to his family but his obsession with her proved to be his undoing.

The man was so completely starved of affection that all Jacaera had to do was love him, care for him and give herself to him in every way possible.

Aemond was as eager as a neglected puppy and the more she gave, he was only to happy to take.

In truth there were times where she felt sorry for him, deep down it wasn’t really his fault, he had obviously never received the love and nurture of a good mother and that neglect had caused him issues, it didn’t totally absolve him of his sins but it allowed for an understanding of why he was the way he was.

Sure, there were times when they argued, but eventually they would make up and Aemond would spend as much time as he could between her thighs. Despite his initial shyness, his appetite for sex was ravenous, and Jacaera was more than happy to indulge him.

The continuous loss of her family had been a deep wound, yet it also steeled her resolve to ensure her mother's legacy endured. As the greens self-destructed in their political machinations, Jacaera skilfully positioned herself at Aemond's side.

When he returned victorious from the battle above the gods eye and was crowned King, his council were quick to try and influence him and his reign. Pressing him to follow through on his promise to marry Floris Baratheon.

The night before his wedding, Aemond spent hours fucking her, he was like a man possessed, the way he devoured her cunt, making her peak on his tongue then sheathing his cock inside her and making her scream his name.

She knew he loved to hear her, that what he was doing to her felt good. He liked to hear his name upon her lips, hear her praise him and beg him for more.

She did think that it wouldn’t bother her if he laid with Floris, that she didn’t care about him in that way but knowing that he had consummated the marriage had hurt in a way that she didn’t expect.

He came to her after he’d been with Floris and the look of hurt that flashed across his face when he reached out for her, but she slapped his hands way was something she would always remember.

In truth it was the first time she realised that withholding what he wanted would also grant her things that she wanted, he was so addicted to what she did for him that he would do anything to please her.

But it also served to make her aware that despite trying to avoid it, she had developed feelings for him, she had grown to care for his well being and she found herself descending into epic fits of rage when learning he had been with Floris, granted it was rare, barely once in as many moons but it still happened, and she hated it.

If she belonged to him, then he belonged to her.

Aemond would watch as she threw things around her chambers, it was almost as if he enjoyed her jealousy, her anger raising to momentous proportions as she let him fuck her hard against the wall, the rough stones digging into her back as he thrust into her, sometimes she would bite him until he bled, the first time had been an accident but there were times where he demanded that she do it, and she was more than happy to oblige, to inflict pain where she could.

One day she expressed her desire to be a mother, and to her surprise Aemond stopped requesting moontea after their couplings and soon she bore him two sons who quickly became the centre of his world.

As time progressed Floris was nothing more than a thorn in her side, but Jacaera moved subtly, knowing of Aemond's distaste for the marriage he had been forced into.

Obviously, Alys and her expertise came in handy as Jacaera couldn’t have Floris birthing any of Aemond’s children, granted she didn’t know Alys personally, but Aemond would often talk about his time at Harrenhal and the witch who helped him, so Jacaera had subtly suggested asking for her help.

Alys was more than happy to help in exchange for the right to call Harrenhal her own, why anyone would want to live in that ruined husk of a castle Jacaera would never know but Alys was content with what she had been given and provided her expertise.

The assassination attempt had been drastic, but effective, the intruders were lumbering fools who drank more than they trained and two of them were easily dealt with, the training sessions she endured coming in handy, and the third ended up getting captured.

Larys Strong's involvement had been pivotal, for all he was clever, he was also a greedy man and all it took was the promise of convincing Aemond to give him a seat on the council, though he had to be dealt with once his usefulness ended, but given Aemonds fury over what had happened and Floris naming him, it was all but inevitable that Larys would find himself a head shorter.

Floris had been banished from Kings Landing and her marriage to Aemond had been annulled.

Now Jacaera was married, and she was the Queen, she had briefly entertained the idea of getting rid of Aemond as well, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came.

Despite what he had done, he did have some redeeming qualities about him. But more importantly, she had come to accept that she did love him.

As she gazed at Aemond and their sons, Jacaera's heart swelled with a mix of satisfaction and ambition. She leaned over and kissed Aemond's scarred cheek, she then took his hand and placed it on the huge swell of her stomach, any day now they would be blessed with their next child, and she hoped that it would be a girl, perhaps she could even convince Aemond to let her name the babe Rhaenyra.

Her thoughts drifting to her mother, she hoped that she would be proud of all that she had endured in order too see that her mother’s blood would continue on the Iron Throne.

Hidden and patient, she would remain, to see the true line of succession resorted at least in some form the day that Rhaegar would be crowned King.

The End.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry. 

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls. 

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?“

“No, it’s just—” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just… 

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know? 

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror. 

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows. 

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!” 

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks. 

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time. 

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

~~

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while. 

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now. 

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.) 

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.  

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then… 

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

~~

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: scaramouche/ wanderer :: venti :: kaveh :: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]

genshin impact masterlist || a million miles away- belle

the loneliest [pt. 2 - xiao, kazuha, aether, childe]

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

“Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake; come, ease this ache..."

Dull amethyst eyes watched in apathy as the golden flames swallowed the edge of the picture, slowly singeing away your smile, then the arm you had thrown around his shoulders and lastly his hand holding you close by the waist, until only small flakes of grey ashes remained and fluttered to your lover’s feet. 

The silence around him was too loud, pressing on his ears and threatening to crush his skull. Letting his gaze sweep through the space you’d once lived in together made his chest constrict like vines wrapping tighter around his ribcage the more details he took in. Every chair, every tea cup, every stray piece of paper brought back memories of you, together with the bitterness of knowing he’d never get to hold you in his arms again.

It was then that he realised, getting rid of all your possessions, every picture you’d taken and every gift you’d given him wouldn’t be enough. Your presence had long since invaded every corner, nook and cranny of this house, the space irreversibly intertwined with you. And now that your physical form had faded, your soul had come back to haunt his every waking moment and to even follow him into the depths of his dreams. 

Perhaps this was his divine punishment, the atonement for all the sins he had committed clinging to his newly taken form. Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all, only his mind mocking him for not living any and every moment with you to the fullest, not giving you all of him when he had the chance to.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have to cut all ties with this place in order to rid himself of the shackles he found himself bound by. Even if it meant reducing the centre of your shared happiness to cinders.

As he laid the fire, meticulously making sure no room of the house was spared, he wondered. How would a real human feel in a moment like this? Would they also feel nothing? Or was it just him, an artificial puppet, who’d only feel numbness at the death of his loved one? Were any of his feelings real in the first place? You’d have deserved someone who actually loved you and cherished your memories, not someone who destroyed the very place you’d called a home.

The flames singed the ends of his clothes the same colour as your photo as he stepped out into the evening breeze, which now carried smoke and the smell of burning wood with it. Even as he watched the roof cave in and the support of the house break away, he felt no sadness, yet the vines seemed to creep only deeper between his ribs, snaring around the place where a heart should beat.

Your lover looked around the area where your home once stood. And it felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

There, between two trees, grew the flower you had loved so much. And was that your favourite dish he could smell? A flock of birds flew overhead, probably to escape the fire, reminding him of the ones you’d fed over winter, the ones he reprimanded you not to spoil.

To his horror, the more frantically he searched for something which wouldn’t bring back thoughts of you, the more images flooded his brain. The force of his realisation brought him to his knees as he stared at the damage he’d done with his mind clear for the first time in days. There was a pressure building behind his eyes and his throat tightened uncomfortably, constricting airways he didn’t need. Was this what happened when humans cried?

“I’m sorry.” It was barely there and completely broken at the same time. The weakness he’d so despised in others overwhelmed him as embers swirled high in the sky. 

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool, to think he could ever get rid of you, of his feelings for you. It had never been the house you were bound to. From the very start, your soul had been intricately intertwined with his, and it would continue to be, until he too faded from this world in the distant future. Hopefully, then, you would be reunited and you could forgive him.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

"...I'm standing over here, reaching for you  A million miles away, come back and stay..."

Venti had no idea how much time had passed since that day. Not that he as an archon was very good at keeping track of time spans as short as days or weeks in the first place. It wasn’t like he avoided thinking about you, no. He did. A lot, actually.

Before his mind’s eye, the shine of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes as your joyful laughter rang through the air was as clear as day. The days spent lazing around in the grass with cider and apple tarts while Venti hummed a lazy tune filled him with more warmth than the sun. Yet, his smile at the memories didn’t quite reach his eyes, just how his brain never reached the point where he’d seen you last. And he never strained himself to remember it either.

All his actions felt heavy, like an invisible weight was holding him down. Venti was sure if he were to use a wind glider, he’d fall out of the sky like a stone. Thinking was akin to walking through mud, every step hardly leaving the ground and every fibre of his body screaming at him to stop and just lie down.

After your funeral was held, most of Mondstadt’s citizens reckonned they’d find the usually playful bard at the tavern even more often from now on. At first, that was true. Venti sat down at his usual table and ordered what he’d always ordered but the other patrons quickly caught on that he wasn’t doing okay at all. Normally the centre of attention and excitedly talking to anyone who’d listen, it was shocking to see the bard stare down on the contents of his glass in silence. 

So it came as quite the shock when after a few days, Venti didn’t show up to the Angel’s Share anymore. In fact, he was hardly spotted around the city at all. It was mostly the guards from the morning and night shift who saw him come and go. When he left, there were only two locations where one could find him. Either on the windy peak of Starsnatch Cliff or in the arms of the tree at Windrise. Both would do, as long as he was away from the pitiful glances people would throw him.

On that particular day, Venti was mindlessly strumming his lyre to the sound of the rustling leaves as he overlooked the planes of Mondstadt, not actually taking in any of the sights. His mind was here and there, not lingering on any one thought very long. Before coming here, he’d overheard people in town wonder about the wind which had recently picked up, how it tasted a lot saltier, as if coming from the sea, how unusually cold it was for this time of year and how it bit at the skin more. He supposed that was true.

In the beginning he’d brought a basket of apples when he came out here but they all tasted as if he’d taken a bite out of a handful of flour, so he stopped. All the cider tasted bitter and wine only added to the constant pressure building behind his temple. So Venti eventually gave up on trying to find something he could stomach. It wasn’t important to an archon anyway.

The melody his hands subconsciously called into existence snapped him back into the present. It was a song he had started writing with you as his muse, a song he’d not yet shown you, wanting to wait until it was finished, no matter how much you begged for him to show you already. 

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded foreign. As the patron god of Mondstadt’s bards, he’d always prided himself on his smooth and serene voice. But now it was nothing but a hoarse whisper, cracking as he tried to voice the words he’d engrained in his mind. His vocal cords felt raw and burnt after hardly talking to anyone longer than he had to. In the corner of his eyes, the statue depicting his image seemed to mock him; a bard who couldn’t sing, a god who couldn’t even protect a single person.

When he reached the part of the song where he left off faster than he’d like, his hands were trembling and he slumped against the tree bark in exhaustion. Yet, with your memory in mind, he willed himself to continue, to capture your spirit in his art at least, if he couldn’t hold onto you any other way. 

Despite his best effort, what started out as a lovestruck ballad quickly turned into a lament, no matter how he filled the lines with affection and joy. He tried and tried, with more vigour than he’d shown in the last weeks altogether, to right the verses, to do your image justice, but it was all in vain. Every version was more sorrowful than the last. When the moon peeked through the twigs, he resigned himself to his fate and cast his gaze to the far heavens above.

“My darling dove, can you hear me?” He whispered into the still night air. Only the distant call of an owl answered him. “I hope this song reaches you all the way up there. I really wanted to play it for you.”

Leaning his head back, Venti was suddenly overcome with a tiredness he hadn’t experienced for a very, very long time. Now was as good a time for a slumber as any, he supposed. Perhaps by the time he opened his eyes again, things would be different and his chest would feel light as air once again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"...No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you're all that I see..."

It was his fault.

The reason he’d never get to throw himself into your arms ever again was him, and him alone.

If he hadn’t answered your question whether he’d like you to get the materials he needed for his newest project from the Akademiya with a 'That’d be a big a help, my rose' he could still call you that nickname now and in the future. If he’d just gone and gotten them himself, you’d never been caught up in that horrible accident, an experiment gone astray, as the mahamatra had explained to him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, you’d still be alive.

Deep down, a reasonable part of him knew he wasn’t to blame. His friends had emphasised that as well, nobody could have expected something so gruesome to happen. Still, Kaveh couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel right to excuse himself like that. You died because you wanted to help him, he deserved to carry this blame, this pain, this guilt. 

Despite Tighnari and Cyno showing up to console him, Kaveh turned them away without much hesitation. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of wine, the architect disappeared into his room, sparing his roommate not so much as a glance. This behaviour didn’t change much over the next few days, except for the fact that wine was swapped with coffee, thanks to Al-Haitham.

Speaking of the Grand Scribe, he’d normally be happy to have some peace and quiet, yet, seeing the normally talkative blond isolate himself for days on end made him genuinely worry for his old friend. Neither of them acknowledged the way plates of food would appear in Kaveh's room or how he would wake up with a blanket draped over him which hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. 

There was a single instance in which Kaveh spoke and it was only a single word. When Al-Haitham had been cleaning up around the house, he’d picked up a vase holding sumeru roses that had wilted beyond recognition. Just as he was about to discard the flowers, there was a low, muttered ‘Don’t’ that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t so much the word in itself as it was the way Kaveh said it. The roughness in his voice was so foreign from its usual melodic lilt, no emotion swinging in it at all.

Al-Haitham faintly remembered how you had brought the roses over one day when you two had gone on a date and wordlessly put them back on the table. 

In general, not many of Kaveh’s -and by extension your- possessions moved at all, collecting dust as they lay just like on the day of your passing. The only thing that changed was the growing pile of scrolls and papers littering the architect’s room. In order to get his mind off everything, Kaveh had buried himself in work. Yet, none of his sketches turned out to his liking and he grew more frustrated and irritable the more crumpled or ripped papers covered the floor. Never before had he broken this many pencils as a consequence of jabbing the coal onto his designs and pressing down harder than necessary.

Until he found himself staring down on a completely blank sheet with no idea whatsoever. All utensils were strewn about the space, discarded and never picked up as dreary and washed-out crimson eyes drooped without the mercy of sleep overcoming him. Every time he tried to rest, your face and voice would startle him awake again and he’d choke on the breath he tried to take.

With his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes, the “Light of Kshahrewar” was merely a shadow of his former self as he hunched over his messy desk. The first sobs tearing through him broke the dam on all the feelings he’d bottled up inside, burning his throat like acid as they tore free. The previously untouched scroll served as a canvas for all his regrets spilling over in the form of falling tears, drawing a portrait of his tumultuous state of mind.

Still, the sinking weight in his chest prevailed, the guilt a constant reminder of the loneliness he couldn’t shake.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

"...Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

Zhongli had been setting the table for when you came home from work, two tea cups already waiting to be used as a kettle of water boiled on the stove. Soon the pleasant aroma of tea leaves and the cheery sound of your voice would fill your shared home, Zhongli plating two bowls of bamboo shoot soup as he waited for you to come home.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door and he quickly made his way over, elated to finally be in your presence again. A genuine smile graced his lips as he opened the door, a smile that fell abruptly when he came face to face with two millelith, their faces decidedly neutral. Still, the air felt ominously sombre. 

“Mr. Zhongli?” One of them confirmed before bowing his head as continued. “We are sorry to inform you that there has been an armed robbery. The person who is registered to live here with you has unfortunately not survived the violent encounter. Our deepest condolences.”

After handing him the bag you always carried with you, the soldiers departed, leaving the consultant alone with his thoughts. As in trance, he sat down and carefully opened the bag, almost as if a sudden movement could make it crumble in between his fingers.

Considering his incredibly long lifespan, this was hardly the first time Zhongli had lost someone he cared for deeply. That, however, didn’t mean it was any easier. Parting ways with loved ones was something any sentient being couldn’t get used to, especially if it happened so suddenly.

While his mind had already processed the information, it seemed his heart had a hard time keeping up with what was happening, his mind in a strange limbo between reality and thought as he unpacked your belongings. While turning each one over between his gloved fingers, Zhongli tried sorting out his emotions. Even the sweetness of shared moments replaying in his mind couldn’t sugarcoat the bitter sting of grief taking root in his very being.

The shrill screeching from the tea kettle drew his attention away from the items on the table occupying the space where you’d usually link your hands as you traded stories of what happened in your respective days.

For a few seconds that felt like aeons, Zhongli held the tea kettle in his hand before ultimately deciding to brew tea after all. Perhaps it would help him retain a sense of normality. Before he realised, he’d already filled your cup, an action he was so used to it apparently became routine at one point. With a sigh, he did the same on his site before taking a seat again and watching the ripples of water move across his cup.

When he awoke the next day, Zhongli couldn’t tell how long he had sat like that or when he’d gone to sleep, his motions automatic as if pulled by strings. Making breakfast, getting dressed, staring out of the window into the busy harbour… He was aware he was doing all of these things, yet he didn’t feel fully present, merely looking onto the scene.

Being with you had shown him so much of what mortal life had to offer, your perspective refreshingly different from his own, he couldn’t help but smile melancholically at the memory. In light of your brilliance, perhaps the old god had no chance but to fall in love. Enveloped in your affection, Zhongli had finally felt like he found his place among the people of Liyue but once more this connection had been severed. 

In the late afternoon, a knock sounded through the humble abode yet again. This time, however, it was not the millelith.

“Director Hu, what an honour,” Zhongli politely bowed. “Is there a matter in which you need my expertise?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the young woman said, her crimson eyes seemingly looking straight into him. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Your concern flatters me, Director. Please do come in.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider to allow Hu Tao entry.

Gliding right into his living room, she took a seat at his table, gaze sweeping through the room. It was then Zhongli noticed how there were still two cups sitting there, one empty and one untouched. 

“Ah, please pardon me. I was not expecting guests on this day.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she gave him an understanding smile. Naturally, in their line of work, both of them had seen many people suffering through the loss of a loved one and it was an understatement to say grief showed many different faces. “I won’t be taking much of your time anyway. 

“First of all, I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. An incredible person like them will be deeply missed.” Despite the simplicity, her words were fully genuine. “Take as much time off work as you need, your healing is the most important thing right now. And while I hate to bring business into a personal situation like this, you should think about what kind of ceremony you’ll want to hold. When you have an answer, just tell me and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thank you, that is very generous of you, Director.”

When the house was empty once again, Zhongli gently picked up both cups and poured out the cold tea inside. With the sinking sun dipping Liyue in liquid gold, its former archon commenced his evening ritual. Turning the cup that was supposed to be yours between his fingers, he chose two new ones and set them up with his usual care for details.

As the tea brewed, Zhongli went to retrieve a journal you had gifted him once but which he hadn’t found any use for yet. Taking his place at the now empty table, he dipped a quill in ink as he contemplated what to write.

In the end, he settled for describing his day, just how he would when you’d sit across from him, listening to his stories attentively. He could vividly picture your expression of awe before him, bringing a fond smile to his face. As more time passed, dried flowers or notes you had left him eventually found their way between the pages as well.

Naturally, your loss cut deeper than Zhongli ever could hope to understand. At times it made him feel empty, like the sun would never smile upon him again. And while mourning was an important part of coming to terms with devastating loss, he had learnt over time that wallowing in sorrow and getting swallowed by pain would not honour the life you had lived.

Instead, his priority lay on treasuring every moment where your paths intersected, to preserve a part of you which would remain untouched by corrosion, so you could continue to shine forever like gold in his memory.

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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[thetarotwitch111]

What makes you truly unique? - Pick a card flower reading

Each flower carries a different message, revealing a strength that’s uniquely yours. Trust your instincts, pick the one that calls to you the most, and let’s discover what makes you stand out in your own incredible way.

✨I hope this reading brings you some clarity and guidance. If it resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it!

✨ And if you’re looking for something more personal, I also do individual readings—just DM me anytime.

Take a deep breath, ask your guides and the Universe to take you to the message you need to read right now.

———————————————

🩷Pile 1: Rose


If you were drawn to the Rose, you are someone who carries both tenderness and strength in perfect harmony. You’re the type of person who can offer a comforting embrace when someone is down, but also stand firm when the situation demands it. Your love for others is genuine and deep, and people often come to you because they know you’ll listen with an open heart. You have a natural gift for making others feel valued and understood, and your kindness is something that people cherish about you.

But there’s more to you than just your caring nature. You’ve faced your own battles and come out stronger on the other side. This has given you a quiet confidence that others admire. You don’t just survive difficult times; you thrive! You’ve learned how to protect your heart without closing it off, which is a rare and powerful skill. This balance between being open and guarded is what makes you special.

Message from your Higher Self: Your higher self wants you to know that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes. Your capacity to love is one of your greatest strengths, but don’t forget that you deserve that same love and care. By taking time for yourself, you’ll be able to continue offering your incredible support to others.

Mantra for the Moment: I am strong in my love and gentle with myself.

Advice from the witch: Keep nurturing your heart, but remember to take care of yourself too. You can carry a piece of rose quartz to help you stay balanced in your relationships. A bath with rose petals also can be a simple way to recharge your emotional energy. And if you enjoy fire magic, light a pink or a white candle and take a moment to appreciate the love you give and receive, recognizing it as a source of your strength.

💜Pile 2: Lavender


If you were drawn to Lavender, you have a natural ability to bring calm and peace wherever you go, even though you don’t realize it everytime. People find your presence soothing; just being around you makes them feel more at ease. You’re the person others turn to when they need to talk things through or find clarity in a confusing situation. You listen carefully and offer advice that’s wise and thoughtful, often helping others see things from a new perspective.

Your gift isn’t just about what you say, but also about how you make others feel. You have a deep connection to your own inner peace and inner self, and this allows you to stay grounded even when things around you get chaotic. You’ve likely spent time developing your spiritual side, whether through meditation, journaling, or just in a quiet reflection. This connection to your inner world is what gives you such a calm and balanced outlook on life.

Message from your Higher Self: Your higher self wants you to embrace your gift of bringing peace, but also to remember to protect your own energy. It’s okay to say no when you need to recharge. Your calm presence is a gift to the world, and by taking care of yourself, you ensure that you can continue to offer it.

Mantra for the Moment: I bring peace to others by nurturing my own calm.

Advice from the witch: Continue to cultivate your peaceful energy by bringing lavender into your daily life. Whether it’s a sachet under your pillow, a few drops of lavender oil in a bath, or simply enjoying a cup of tea, this herb can help you maintain your inner calm. You can also carry amethyst to keep your energy clear and protect your peace and conect yourself witg your intuition. Light a lilac or a white candle and take a moment to center yourself, acknowledging the calm you bring to others.

💛Pile 3: Sunflower


If you were drawn to the Sunflower, you are someone who radiates positivity and warmth. You have a bright, optimistic spirit that naturally uplifts those around you. People love being in your presence because you make them feel good about themselves and the world. You’re the kind of person who always sees the glass as half full, and your ability to find the silver lining in any situation is truly special.

But your optimism isn’t just about seeing the good in things; it’s also about believing in people. You have a unique gift for recognizing the potential in others, even when they don’t see it in themselves. You encourage people to pursue their dreams and to embrace their uniqueness. Your energy is bright, and your belief in others often helps them believe in themselves.

Message from your Higher Self: Your higher self wants you to know that your positivity is a powerful force, but it’s okay to take a break when you need it. You don’t always have to be the one lifting others up—it’s important to allow yourself to rest and be supported too. By taking time for self-care, you’ll be able to continue sharing your light with the world.

Mantra for the Moment: I shine bright and inspire others, but I also take time to recharge.

Advice from the witch: Keep spreading your light, but also remember to recharge your own energy. Carry a piece of citrine to enhance your natural positivity and attract even more joy into your life. A bath with sunflower petals or a citrus-scented bath bomb can help you refresh your spirit. Light a yellow candle and reflect on how your positive energy inspires others, and how you can keep that energy flowing by taking care of yourself.

———————————————————

[mumms-the-word]

he is enough

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got. ao3 link

———

He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.

An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.

All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.

And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.

Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.

fingers grazing along your back  the kiss at the corner of your mouth his heartbeat under your palm calm, steady, quiet

You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.

his lines around his eyes between his brows the curve of his lips the length of his nose the sweep of his hair silver-threaded a hint of divinity among the mundane just like him 

Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.

his self-conscious smile halfway between arrogance and doubt arrogance of his knowledge doubt in your interest the way he looks off toward the horizon when his thoughts take him to planes you can scarcely comprehend  the way his eyes find their way back to you the instant he hears your voice or feels your touch you, like the Dog Star, guiding him home again

He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet. 

But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.

your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit

He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.

But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.

the steam that curls into the air

over the worn mug that holds his tea the one missing its handle the way his hand cradles the cup and turns it just so that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim he's done this a hundred times before and yet you watch mesmerized

"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.

Just as he is.

You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.

a man mortal and aching but kind and sweet open-handed brimming with love just a man a good man whose heart and soul calls to your own just a man who doesn't need to do anything or be anyone more than who he already is because he is enough

You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.

But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.

He is already enough.

He will always be enough.

[nanaminokanojo]

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 30

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 30 next>>

A/N: Contains prose with panels in between. 6th panel is a video.

“I can do it, you know,” you insisted again

“Not having it. I should make sure you’re getting the best care.”

You arched a brow at him, sitting stiffly beside him, not really seeing how it was easier when he said, “Prop your legs up on my lap.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t explain any further and instead stood up, carrying you bridal style and propping you on the couch so your back was against the armrest while he gently placed your legs across his lap. “That wasn’t so hard, was it.”

“N-no, but –”

“No buts.”

As he moved around you, you couldn't help but stare at him. His usually intimidating demeanor softened as he meticulously put the ointment on the abrasions on your leg with a cotton swab. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers deft and precise, eyes intense as he focused on his task. The room was silent except for your steady breathing. At that moment, Sukuna's care and attention just took center stage.

“You do this often?” you teased. “With other girls, I mean.”

He shook his head. “Consider yourself special.”

“I’m only special ‘cause you nearly killed me.” You laughed at your own joke, not meaning anything by it, about to swing your legs off of him when he held onto them, his hand quickly but very gently settling on the shin of your right leg. “I…I’m sorry. That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

Sukuna leaned towards you, placing his free hand on the backrest. You met his gaze, not liking the turmoil that seemed to swirl in his dark eyes which, you noticed, were flecked with dark garnets and amethysts with the way the sun was shining on him.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he told you softly. He closed his eyes in agitation before flashing you an apologetic smile. “Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Stop saying it that way.”

“Hmm. What way?”

“Like you’re considering the possibility that you would.” You mustered all the courage you had, reached out and cupped his face, making him look at you. “You’ve taken care of me better than anyone so far. I am grateful for that. Don’t ever forget it.”

He placed his hands over yours. “How are you this gracious? It’s unsettling.”

At that, you felt your heart stutter. It’s happening again. “Is that bad?”

Sukuna laughed. “How is that even bad? I swear to god, you worry about the weirdest things. It’s good. It’s just that…”

“Just what?” You withdrew your hands, looking away. That overwhelming feeling akin to being submerged in cold water made its way from your toes to your chest, making it hard to breathe. “People hate me, you know? They hate me because they think I’m just pretending. I acted out once because I was too tired to deal with anyone, and they all started leaving, telling me I’m a –”

He didn’t like what he was hearing. “That’s ridiculous.”

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. “But I admire you, Sukuna. You show everyone the real you, and they like you for it.

Unlike me, you thought, concealing the thought with a smile, but that was short-lived when he said his next words.

“I like you.”

TAG LIST: @catobsessedlady @kyo-kyo1 @junehasnotbeenfound @lavender-hvze @guacam011y @eyered @hellomeow12 @its-princessmara @light-yagami-l @domainofmarie @mythoscalliope @noble-17 @pheonix-eclipses @weebbuscuit @sukunasbudussy @lu-c1na @vinnieswife @the-haitani-baton @iaminyourfloors @needtoloveoutloud @r-ryuko09 @somestardeww @swirlingcurses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @bronze-metal @iluv-ace @kidd3ath

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240526]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[starryficsfinishwen]

paradise — xiangli yao x reader

Imagine kissing XIANGLI YAO.

A clumsy grip on his robotic shoulder, his hesitant hands on your waist. You’ve never felt more at home than the way you were in his lap, comfortably nestled in his arms. Warm, soft lips on yours, the slight tremble in his breath when he tilts sideways, deepening the kiss.

You don’t remember how or what happened. All you can think about is how warm he is—careless hands lightly trailing from his broad shoulder, your thumb along his clavicle. You find the bob of his Adam’s apple, every rumble and vibration felt like thunder, an echo underneath your fingertips straight to your own thundering heart. You gasp for air in between your kiss, but never quite pulling away, the tremble of his lips still present on yours.

“Rover,” Xiangli Yao speaks, voice husky that it rumbles in your ear, “[Y/N],”

He says your name with reverence you mistake it for a prayer—it takes your breath away.

“Mm, yes,” you lull, high and heavy in the small space he encloses you in, “‘m sorry, is it…is it too much?”

Xiangli Yao holds you closer, your legs now wrapped around his torso, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, bodies touching too intimately. To prove his point, he dips you lower, making you open your eyes. One hand holds the small of your back, the other reaching out to touch your cheeks, his fingertips purposely grazing your skin.

“No, no,” He breathes a plea in between your lips, begging, “Never. You are never too much.”

You’ve long believed first kisses are the flutter of butterflies on flowers, the shy kiss of the autumn air on your cheeks. But your kiss with Xiangli Yao is more than that: the loud crash of the waves on the shore, the confident sunshine dancing on your skin in the summer—Xiangli Yao kisses you, although his first time, fervently, passionately, devotedly on your lips, an exploration that he is unafraid to take.

He leans forward to capture your lips once more. Unlike the sweet taste of innocence from the first time you’ve kissed, it is hungrier, it is raw—evident in the way the hand on your back dangerously treading uncharted waters that slips lower, and the other one cautiously cupping the nape of your neck.

“Xiangli Yao,” you pull away slightly, unable to go from the warmth of his lips, “Breathe, I need to–”

“Warm, you are overflowing with warmth, [Y/N].” He says, “I can never get enough.”

You open your eyes to find shimmering amethyst irises with orange-hued tints looking back at you. His lips curve into a small smile, urging you to act on your mind.

What were once trembling hands found confidence in the way you held onto his shoulder blades, caressing every skin you could touch, tenderly cupping his cheeks. Xiangli Yao leans to the heat of your hands, his lips leaving butterfly kisses on your palm.

Every action leaves thunder in your hammering heart, every pulse a reverberation that mirrors both of you. In the heat of the blind room with the sunshine your only light, you mutter words only meant for Xiangli Yao, only those that represent your affections for him.

“I adore you,” you say back, “Xiangli Yao, I adore you.”

With your confession, Xiangli Yao smiles. Amidst his lust-shaded eyes, they reflect the same feeling as yours.

“I adore you, too, [Y/N].” He nuzzles closer to you, leaving light kisses on your jaw, “I adore you, far more than you could imagine.”

Imagine kissing XIANGLI YAO, who captivates your heart, on one summer afternoon.

I am down bad for him (hes nearly fully built)

— starry

[aquagirl1978]

Reunion

A/N: My third entry for An Invitation to Crown hosted by @judejazza - this is Part Two to my earlier fic, Cigarettes After Sex. Pairing: Jude Jazza x f!Reader Prompt: body worship Word Count: 1748 Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; reader is female; reader is called 'princess'; oral sex (suitor receiving); come swallowing; piv; explicit language used.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone turned and looked at you - well, everyone that is but Jude. And Ellis. They weren’t there in the castle when Victor called everyone for this meeting.

“Are you sure about that?” Victor asked, his eyes searching yours for even a hint of hesitation.

“I’m sure,” you replied. You needed something – anything – to get your mind off of Jude and this mission presented the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Victor announced with a wide smile and a clap of his hands. “Will, Liam and Alfons will go with you to –”

“She’s not goin’ anywhere. Too dangerous.”

The sound of silence rang loudly through the room as all eyes focused on Jude standing in the doorway. You looked at Jude, whose eyes were focused elsewhere, wondering why he was there. Not daring to hope he was there because maybe, just maybe, he still cared for you.

“She asked to go,” Will stated, his head tilted as he stared back at Jude. 

“She’s not goin’,” he repeated slowly, glaring at Will. “I won’t let her see what you're capable of,” he added under his breath, his gaze shifting briefly to you. 

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Jude. You missed him, far more than you cared to admit. Even momentarily, you could see the storm clouding his amethyst eyes, a storm you wished so desperately to be swept up into.

“To fulfill her job as Fairytale Writer, she needs to see with her own eyes what we do.” Will turned his gaze to you, his smile both mischievous and alluring.

Stop looking at me like that; your smile has no effect on me.

“It’s your choice. You don’t have to listen to him,” Will continued, resting his chin in his hand, blood red nails gently tapping the table.

“You’re not Ellis, you can do what you want.” 

A flicker of frustration flashed across Jude’s face as his body visibly tensed. “Go to yer room.” He didn’t speak your name or look your way, but all in the room knew his words were for you.

“What you choose to do next is up to you,” William said.

Your eyes flicked between the two men; really, it was an easy choice for you to make.

*****

“What’s going on, Jude?” you asked, spinning in your spot to face him. Safe in your room and away from watchful eyes, you were finally able to give him a piece of your mind. “You broke it off. You left me. You ignored me for days on end.” You spit each word out, hurling the truth at him, hoping one would strike him and hurt him as much as he hurt you. “Why now do you care what I do?”

“It's dangerous,” was all he said.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

Jude looked away, his gaze unable to meet yours and huffed a small breath. “Didn't want ya to get hurt,” he said softly.

“Jude…”

Your heart ached as you spoke his name; you were right, he still cared. 

“”Don’t go gettin’ yer hopes up. I’m still a bad man.”

“You're not a bad man, Jude. You’re a good man, who happens to do some bad things.”

Jude just stared at you, curious to hear what words would next come from your mouth.

“And I accept that. I want to –”

“No more yappin’,” he said, cutting you off. Before you could get another word out, he stepped in front of you. With his face mere inches away from yours, you braced yourself, expecting a barrage of reasons why this wouldn’t work, while staring straight into his eyes. 

And then you saw a flicker; it was subtle, but it was there. A softening in his expression as he stared back at you.

You weren’t expecting him to bring his hands to your face and cup your cheeks gently; he surprised you when he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. 

“Jude…” you said softly, pulling away from the kiss in a moment of shock.

“Shuddup,” he whispered, pulling you back in for another kiss. Wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, his fingers reached for the laces of your blouse, your body tingling from his touch. 

For the first time in days, you felt alive, his kiss breathing life back into you.  Jude was back. And you were in his arms where you belonged. 

He pressed his body against yours, his heat radiating as you felt a familiar firmness that stoked a fire in your belly. You pulled away from his kiss, his disappointment expressed in a strangled moan; overcome with desire, you flashed him a grin before you began to unbutton his shirt. 

Taking your time undoing his buttons, you let out a small laugh as you swatted his hands away from helping you. There was only one way to make up for lost time together and show him how much you loved him, and that was to drag this out as long as possible. 

Fingertips danced across his chest, tracing the lines of even the faintest scars, lingering when you noticed how his breath hitched and his body tensed the further you explored.

With a few quick tugs, you pulled the hem of his shirt free from his waistband to get to the last few buttons. Your grin grew wicked as you sank to your knees to finish your job. 

His gaze still upon you, he took your hand in his, and gently, so very gently, placed your hand on the bulge between his legs. Slowly, you traced the outline in his pants, enjoying the sweet, pleasurable sounds he made. 

Your gaze lingered on the prominent bulge in his pants. Sighing softly, you brought your hands to his waistband and unbuckled his belt. As your fingers wandered by his waistband, you tilted your chin up and looked into his eyes, waiting for his nod before continuing your exploration. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with desire, as he gazed back at you seductively. 

“Princess…”

To hear him finally call you that, his special name for you, was enough to send warm tingles all throughout your body. Wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your eyes shifted to the cock in your hand.

Words could never describe how much you loved his cock. How much you loved holding his cock in your hand. How much you loved sliding his cock inside your mouth. 

Unable to tear your eyes away from your hand on his cock, you began to stroke his shaft, so softly at first it was almost torture. Your thumb teased his tip – it was soft as velvet, a drop of pre-cum appeared; you could not wait to slide your tongue over it and lick that drop. You stroked your lover, enjoying the weight of his balls cupped in your hand. 

He brought his hand to your face, tangling his fingers in your hair. You glanced up at him adoringly, one last time before he guided your head towards his hips. With a smile on your lips, you teased his tip once more, another drop appearing; your tongue darted out, licking it, enjoying its sweetness on your lips. Pumping his cock a few more times, you opened your mouth wide while sliding his length inside. 

Dragging your lips up and down his hard shaft, he groaned as he pulled your head closer to his body. Flicking your eyes up to meet his, you loved seeing his face filled with such pleasure. Popping his cock out of your mouth, you wrapped your fingers around him as you placed a trail of kisses along his shaft. You then placed gentle kisses on his balls, taking each one into your mouth. 

Wrapping your hair in his hands, he guided your mouth back to his throbbing cock. Sliding it into your mouth, you sucked on him until his length hit the back of your throat. He held your head there firmly as he began to thrust into your mouth roughly. Heat flooded your body as your mouth was filled with his cock. 

“Ah, fuck…”

Once he began to tremble, you kept your eyes on his, never wavering, as he shot his load down your throat. Lapping up all his juices, you licked his cock clean as he moaned blissfully, his hand finally letting go of your hair. 

He offered his hand to you, helping you stand. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eager to see where the night led you.

With the moon shining bright through the windows in your room, Jude guided you towards the bed, shedding the last of your layers on the way there. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you gently fell onto the plush covers. Jude climbed onto the bed, his body straddling yours, a hunger in his eyes that you missed so much. 

His mouth fastened to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a trail of biting kisses, his long fingers traveling up your thigh searching for your sweet spot. You let out a lewd sound when he slid a finger inside you, his thumb teasing your clit. 

His touch filled you with so much pleasure that when he finally slid his cock inside you, you felt like you might come instantaneously. 

Later you could take your time with him, but right now, you just wanted to feel every inch of him inside you as you squeezed his length on each thrust. Dragging your nails down his back, you left light scratches, marking him, claiming him as yours. Enraptured, he claimed you, his mouth sucking sweet marks across your chest.

When your pleasure peaked, it exploded. A warmth filled your body like you never felt before as Jude joined you in a state of rapturous bliss. He collapsed on you, your bodies still joined, your euphoria ephemeral.

He lifted his head and stared at you; the room was silent, so silent you could hear your heart pounding in your chest. He brought his hand to your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

Jude finally smiled at you, a smile so warm it made you melt.

“I really can’t get rid of ya, now can I?”

“Nope.”

“Even though I’m a bad man who does bad things?”

“Whatever,” you said with a huff of laughter.

He couldn't hide his smile as he pressed a kiss on your lips before resting his head on your chest.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza

@xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777

@silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Hey everyone. I am back for a little bit to let yall know im working on making a divination discord server. I have some other things i need to set up before i open it up to the public but im very excited to see yall there! Remember to take what resonates and leave the rest behind but always be open to new experiences. 🩵

-ghost

PILE 1

Crystal: Amethyst

Astrology: ♈️♌️♐️♒️

Vibes: 💛📝🔑💰🚧🎷🏆⚜️🔆🍻🍯🧀🍋🌦️🌻🐝🐣🐱🤲🫨🥱🍰🎾🎗️🏵️🚜🏜️🎁☢️☣️⚠️🚸🔱

Hi there, pile one! So this one is pretty dang straight forward. I see you embracing motherhood. This could be literal motherhood and you could be participating in raising a child but I also see it could be a pet. It definitely looks like it is a little bit of a surprise to everyone involved. I do need to warn you. I can see someone who says they’re on your corner trying to sabotage the situation. It could be purposeful but it also could be accidental. They could just be scared of such a big commitment. Make sure you are equally spreading out the work and everyone is carrying some of the weight of this commitment. There will be chaos if things are not equally distributed. Have everyone research how to help and read up on important information so everyone is on the same page. A village is needed to raise a child but if the village isn’t in harmony. All must be in tandem when raising a little one. If someone isn’t following along with everyone else make sure you are strict about how things are meant to be done. Do not let your village stray from the path. Keep nasty people away from this baby.

PILE 2

Crystal: Black Tourmaline

Astrology: ♉️♏️♓️♊️

Vibes: 🏳️‍🌈🌺🌈🦄💐🥗🍭🛼🎡🚦🎉🎊❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🛍️🌄🏩🏕️🎭🍎🍊🍋🍏🫐🍆🍇🍡🍬

Hellooo, pile 2! Your new journey is a self help adventure. You have been gaslit a lot in your life and I see you learning how to use discernment and seeing right through people's lies and straight to the truth. Your presence is becoming a truth serum for all that surrounds you. Your way more powerful than others have coerced you into believing. You have been polishing your skills in private and now you get to shine like the diamond in the rough you are. This journey might not even be something you notice as it comes and goes. You have proved yourself enough already. Allow yourself to stop filling the cups of others and take time to fill your own. If you do not you will eventually dull that shine and become just like those who coerced you. You have the choice to choose a different fate than the one they chose.

PILE 3

Crystal: Rainbow Moonstone

Astrology: ♎️♊️♏️♉️

Vibes: 💜💖🏳️‍⚧️🎀🫐🔮❄️🍆💠🍧🌸🐬🌷🪻🩵☂️🐙👙🚺👛💎🫦🦋😈💦☯️🩻💞🧷

Hi, pile 3! Your new adventure is a gender expression journey. You will be exploring femininity to its core. Femininity might not be something you are very familiar with but you are learning about using your charm and charisma to get what you desire. You are realizing how much your appearance means to you and how to use it in manifestation. It might be kind of scary to you due to some kind of trauma. I see you could be trans-feminine but i also see you being a cis woman and just afraid of what might happen if you use your appearance like that. The patriarchy is definitely terrifying so I understand the apprehension. Use your appearance for justice. Use your feminine charm for your desires. Do not fear because you are protected by spirit. I see Gaia looking after you while you explore your Empress energy.

PILE 4

Crystal: Flower Agate

Astrology: ♋️♓️♑️♒️

Vibes: 🖤❤️💯🕹️🎸♟️🎳🍉🎮🎹🍒🍓🔌🍎🚬🔥🪨👹🔪🥵🥊🛞🕷️🕸️🐞🦊👠♦️🧣🕶️💋💄♣️

Heyooo, pile 4! Oh my goodness this is exciting. Your new adventure is steeped in love. Romantic, platonic and familial love surround your lonely heart. You were a very lonely kid but now love is filling your life. Suitors are at every turn and you get to hand pick who gets to love you. Make sure you are using good discernment when choosing. Look into the future at what heart longs for and aim for it using that criteria. Your values should align with those you love and they should respect you. Don’t go for those who don't make you feel sparks. Don’t bet on boring or mean people because you deserve to be adored.

PILE 5

Crystal: Dragons Blood Jasper

Astrology: ♏️♍️♋️♌️

Vibes: 🖤🩵❤️🤍✒️⚗️📌🎹🎼💎🧲🎲🎱🧊🍷🫖🦨❄️🔥☁️🐧🦋🎒👟🕶️🪢🥼🫀🥶♠️

Pile 5, welcome to your reading. You are opening doors that you can not close. You are beginning a spiritual journey. It also looks like you are nearing the end of another journey. This journey is meant to take a lot of self reflection. You must stare into your shadow until you love it as much as you love your light. You must look at the part of you that disgust you with love and acceptance. Which believe me I am aware that is much easier said than done but you are ready! You can do this! Seek out a spiritual teacher or a therapist to show you the ropes of shadow work. Facing this alone is scary and it is much easier when you have someone to help guide you through the dark. The universe loves you and wants you to love you as much as it does.

[okkotsuus]

breathe me in (bllk pt.1) !

features: yoichi i. nagi s. reo m. hyoma c. meguru b.   

content: fluff. suggestive. kissing head canons. making out. mentions of biting. established relationship. 1.3k words

pt.2

yoichi kisses you as if it is the first time, no matter how many times it has been. for him, it has never truly sunk in that he really has you wrapped around his finger.

yoichi had just gotten home from one of his championship games.

you couldn't help the joy surging through your chest as you ran to him, cupping his cheeks. his hands hovered just above your waist as your lips leaned forwards to chase his, his head tilting to bring you even closer.

a shallow whine was pulled from your chest as he finally grasped your waist, pressing you flush against him. feather-light circles were drawn as he snaked his hands under your shirt to feel the bare skin of your stomach.

his tongue dragged over your bottom lip, pulling it back between his teeth before separating from you with a pop.

your dazed eyes looked at him and you couldn’t help the rapid beat of your heart. his breath fanned over your face as his hand reached up to rest on your nape.

the look in his eyes was the exact same one he got when he played soccer.

“we’re just getting to the good part, aren't we, sunshine?”

nagi kisses you with a lazy fervor. his lips slot against your so slowly but the hurried movements of his hands and his breath shatters his laid-back illusion.

nagi laid between your legs, head resting on your stomach with your hands gently twisting his snowy tresses. he scooted up further to rest his chin just below your collarbone as his softened eyes met yours.

all it took was him placing his hands on either side of you as he hovered above you, pressuring a gentle peck to your lips. he came right back and slotted his open lips to yours, gently biting at your bottom lip.

you reached your arms up to wrap them loosely around his neck, spurring him on further. his hand ran up and down your side, unintentionally pushing that side of your shirt from your soft waist. he was propped up by his other elbow and the knee that rested between yours.

his pace was slow; with the drag of his tongue against yours, but you could feel the rapid fans of his breath across your face. you rest your hands on either side of his neck, cupping just below his jaw. you could feel the rapid beats of his pulse against your palms.

nagi pulled away, panting as his eyes looked down at you: gazed with something other than just sleep.

“this feeling… need more, more ‘f you, hun.”

reo kisses you with a sort-of smugness to it, but there’s an underlying hunger to prove himself to you. to prove that he’s not just some heir, but a man.

you had just placed a tin of muffins into the oven, your boyfriend leaning onto the counter across from you. you smiled at him, hopping to sit on the counter opposite from him and playing idly on your phone.

you felt a warmth on either side of your hips and looked down to see hands on them. you looked at reo, a brow quirked as you set your phone off to the side.

he didn’t say any words as he lurched further, trapping you against the counter. the heat that rose to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed as he pressed kisses to your cheeks, trailing down your neck.

your hands tangled in his amethyst hair as he came back up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, chuckling darkly as you whined at how close he was to what you had desired. he gave you a cocky smirk and a roll of his violet eyes as he leaned forward, finally capturing your lips against his.

his hands squeezed bruisingly against your hips as he pressed closer and closer into you, enveloping you into his being. you couldn’t think with the haze reo puts over your mind, all you knew was the drag of his lips against yours and the groans that you managed to drag out of his throat.

when he had finally let you go for air, you heard the singing of the oven. reo turned it off and returned to you, clearly no intention of stopping.

“don’t wan’ muffins, need yer pretty lips, darlin’. ”

chigiri kisses you with a slow salvation, contrasting beautifully to the speed he exhibits on the field, as if he must treat you with caution.

hyoma had you sat on his lap as you idly babble on about what you saw while he was gone, but he wasn’t really listening.

he heard you but the words went out the other year as he watched your lips while you talked. every now and then you would poke your pink tongue out to coat your plush lips in a glittering sheen of spit and he would lose all cognitive ability.

so when you did it again, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you to him, pressing his lips against yours. the startled gasp that you pulled in allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth as he dragged it against the roof.

your hands reached up to tangle in his hair as you reciprocated. the whimpers that he pulled from you with his painstakingly drawled pace made his lips curl upwards against you.

the soft nips on your lips had you like putty in his grasp and a rumbling chuckle from his throat had you going limp against him, hands now grasping onto his shirt to ground yourself. he showed mercy and pulled away, lips now in a sheen too.

as his eyes scanned you, you couldn’t help but avoid his piercing gaze, embarrassed at how easily you had folded for him. his hand wrapped around your jaw as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, meeting your gaze.

“what were you sayin’, pretty?”

bachira kisses you with a yearning, scared that if he doesn’t it may turn out that you were never there; just another monster in him.

bachira was an eccentric, everyone knew this as a fact. he lived and breathed soccer. so when he came home from winning his game to you hugging him while in his spare jersey, he couldn’t help the fire that burned in his body.

he just stared for a while, eyes wide and hollow, pupils blown. the monster spoke, and told him to do it. so he surged forwards to slam his lips to yours, halting the words about to escape from between them.

his hands reached to pull you into him, holding you up by your thighs. his lips clashed against yours desperately, the drumming of his heartbeat and the sounds that escaped you was all he could hear.

his tongue slithered into your mouth as he dragged it against yours, breathing you in completely in all you were. seeing a pretty thing like you wearing his number and name drove him a special kind of crazy. the kind that had him holding you up in the entryway, door barely shut and his skin still sticky with sweat.

when he pulled away with desperate pants, lulling forwards to reconnect, before being stopped by your hands against his heated cheeks. he looked up to meet your gaze, eyes filled with a hunger, the hunger of a striker.

“can’t help it when i see you wearing my name and number, my sweet thing.”

okkotsuus 23

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Enchanting Cocktail (Galileo)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

I tilted the glass and shook the surface of the lemon-colored water.

The cocktail I chose at the bar we went to was ‘Between the Sheets.’

After enjoying the drink together, Galileo, with slightly flushed cheeks, invited me out of the bar to stroll along the tree-lined path.

Mitsuki: “The night breeze feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Galileo: “Yeah.”

As I was captivated by his seductive gesture of tucking his hair behind his ear, our gazes suddenly met.

Galileo: “You've been staring at me for a while now. Is something wrong?”

Mitsuki: “Sorry.”

I apologized instinctively, but he softly narrowed his eyes and gently pulled me closer by my shoulder.

Galileo: “I enjoyed tonight. Drinking outside once in a while isn't so bad.”

Mitsuki: “Yeah, it was refreshing and fun for me, too.”

(Seeing him differently like this was a new experience.)

His flushed cheeks, his breathy voice—everything about him made my heart flutter.

Still staring at him, his amethyst eyes suddenly inched closer, causing my heart to race.

Galileo: “Are you okay?”

Mitsuki: “Huh?”

Galileo: “I’m asking if you’re drunk.”

(That surprised me. I thought he was going to kiss me for a second there.)

As I was about to say that I was fine, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.

(I seem to be tipsy, and I may not even remember tonight.)

In response to his seductive aura, a bold feeling started to grow within me.

Mitsuki: "I think I might be a little drunk."

After confirming that there was no one around, I leaned in for a brief, fleeting kiss.

Galileo: "..........."

Galileo: "I see. You do seem to be a bit intoxicated."

With a slight warmth in his eyes, Galileo slid his hand from my chin to cup my cheek.

(----!)

Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he pressed his lips against mine in a devouring kiss.

Caught off guard, I found myself enveloped in repeated kisses that grew increasingly passionate.

Galileo: "Your body feels warm."

Mitsuki: "Nn..."

Overwhelmed by our intermingling breaths, I pushed against his chest to catch my breath, and his eyes, filled with desire, met mine.

Galileo: "Let's go back while I still have some reason left. But be prepared when we get to my room."

His words, whispered with fervor, sent shivers of anticipation through my body.

Trying to conceal the throbbing desire within me, I simply nodded in response.

✦ Story Events Masterlist

[ficsbyuzi]

i fOuNd YoU

Part - 1

Characters: Aegon, Aemond and Alyna Martell (Dornish OFC) in Modern Westeros (Modern AU)

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: +18, drinking, swearing, some groping and touching, Aegon being Aegon, Aemond is all 🙄 here.

My darling Zae @ladystarksneedle beta read this when I first posted this on my previous account. I miss you Zae :(

A/N -

can't believe I wrote this in October last year. I hope I find enough motivation and time to continue writing this series until the end

I imagine Katrina Kaif as Alyna Martell in my head

The leaves of the deciduous trees flanking an urban avenue whirled sporadically, in the eddies of a pleasant zephyr. A soothing, mellow petrichor celebrated the inaugural shower of the season by infusing the atmosphere with a sweet freshness. Dense clouds masked the dusk sun, ushering in the darkness earlier than its usual hour.

 A few pedestrians strolled past a row of posh apartments in one such affluent neighborhood in the heart of the King's Landing city, savoring the serenity of the agreeable evening. They startled upon hearing an enraged female voice that pierced through the damp air; its shrillness, a stark contrast to the large sophisticated French window it was coming from.

Their gazes were momentarily drawn to the source of the commotion, and as they continued walking along their path, they spotted a man beside that window, shutting its panes.

"You forgot our anniversary dinner, Aegon! I had invited my parents and you didn't even show up!"

Her raised voice remained within the walls this time, the words reaching Aegon's ears with full momentum and though he could hear his girlfriend's tirade, his dissociated mind was barely registering it.

Responding to her always seemed futile to him, his words ruined whatever he wished to convey, anyway. Why bother?

He sank on the nearest couch, wishing her to shut up and let him sit and silently revel in his solitude, in the shadows, resembling the ones that lurked beneath his eyes, telling the tales of all the sleepless nights he spent.

Drowning himself and his poignant thoughts in his cups was the only respite he sought; escaping situations came easier to him than facing them.

 Why socialize, am I not trying hard already? To be a good boyfriend? 

Over time, he had become rather comfortable in keeping his burdens unspoken and unshared, staying unaffected by the strain of despondence they cast on his countenance.

Fine lines  marred his pallid face displaying an accelerated aging, as if he were experiencing life at a pace twice as fast as everyone around him.

His eyes, twin iridescent violet orbs, rivaled the regality of precious amethysts. Yet those very eyes, devoid of color that a fulfilling life imbues, exuded impoverishment.

She loved his hair, an amalgamation of gold and silver, the conspicuous emblem of his royal Targaryen heritage, but hated how he usually left it unkempt and greasy - resembling that of a destitute person, truly unbefitting a descendant of a powerful, ancient bloodline.

"I was sitting there and dying of embarrassment!" Cassey shouted. 

Embarrassment. The word broke into his brain.

 I am Embarrassment in flesh and blood, a living and breathing Embarrassment. 

“I changed for you, made every effort to be with you..I even fought with my family to live with you, but you are hell-bent on spending your life like a wastrel.”

Wastrel. A faint, lopsided smile graced his face.

"Are you even listening to me?" 

Has she spoken to Aemond recently?

His eyes narrowed instinctively, eyebrows knitting together as he imagined a scenario in his mind, amusing yet almost impossible- Aemond speaking to Cassey, addressing him as a ‘wastrel.’

He pursed his lips before the faint smile ghosting his lips turned into a full blown smirk. However the slight glint to his eyes gave him away, their amethyst now hued with twilight. 

"AEGON!"

He shifted his weary attention from the street to the living room and saw Cassey storming towards the bedroom.

Her enraged gait stirred his awareness, and he instantly knew that her fury was going to find a sorry target, entirely unrelated to the reason of their quarrel.

 "No, no, not the TV! Please, Cassey! Cassandra! Nooooo!!" 

A loud, shattering thud followed his pleading scream, as his large LED TV screen plummeted to the floor. His beloved PS5 console hung precariously by its cords, mirroring the fragile bond they both shared, on the brink of snapping completely.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, this was on instalments!" 

Aegon could have afforded thousands of such televisions, even better ones, but he had grown accustomed to that particular one, its easy availability being its primary boon. His attachment to it mirrored his relationship with Cassandra Baratheon - a convenient choice, yet not one his heart truly desired.

He was a man accustomed to indulgence and boundless options available to him at his beck and call, but when he met Cassey, he believed, albeit half-heartedly, that he could finally find contentment.

However, just like his spoken words, his convictions ultimately betrayed him too. 

Words like 'commitment', 'promise' never really found their way into becoming a part of his mental lexicon.

"The instalments I pay, Aegon Targaryen, unwilling heir to the Iron Throne industries!" The mocking cadence of her voice masked every bit of frustration within her.

Her ridiculing statement touched his Achilles' heel. His features hardened, shoulders tensed; his gaze shifted from her to the wrecked television set and his PS5 console. He wanted to save it from crashing to the floor, but was skeptical of getting an electric shock or being pierced by the broken pieces of the flat screen.

“Get out! Get out of my house and my life! I don't fucking need you. It's over!" She yelled and flopped down onto the bed, burying her head in her palms.

It's over. 

Over.

Why did the word not have the desired effect on him?

It should have evoked at least something in him - anguish, frustration, disappointment, regret.

Any emotion.

He tried tapping inwards, nudging his brain, but the answer didn’t even flicker.

A tumbleweed rolled off on the desolate, barren landscape of his consciousness. 

And that's when he realized it was truly over. 

As he was on his way out, his PS5 console fell onto the floor with a resounding thud. A fleeting sadness seeped into the impenetrable vacuum inside him, surprising him. 

He finally felt something.

-

The break-up gave him the final shove, toppling him over the fence he stood on for months, as he landed right on to the side where his past awaited him.

The past that he had been trying so hard to snap out of, yet failing miserably. 

Thus began his series of trips to the strip clubs, with all the relentless bar hopping, and reckless one night stands with random women.

-

"Yeah I would like that," an attractive woman in a skimpy, crimson dress murmured, giggling and facing him as he whispered something dirty in her ear to which she readily agreed. Chuckling at  her response, he grabbed the swell of her bottom. Spanking her lightly, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a kiss.

The summer warmth was adding to the exuberance of the bustling Street of Silk, the part of the city that never slept- perpetually aglow with a kaleidoscope of neon signs and strobe lights slicing through the dark. They stood inebriated, on a pavement outside one of the nightclubs, waiting for a cab, lips locked and arms snaking each other. The low, thumping sound of electronic dance music playing inside got louder momentarily, when a group of people came out of the door, chattering and howling.

"I can't believe a Targaryen doesn't have a car!" the woman stuttered, pulling away and noticing some of her Ruby woo now smeared on his lips.

"Of course I have a car!" he slurred in his low, husky voice, rolling his eyes playfully. Emphasizing on the last word, he reiterated its plural form,"cars-" he grinned- "but I like to roam around freely, you know..don't like to drive or bother my driver at three in the morning when I can pay for an Uber." He shrugged and pulled her closer again by her waist, burying his face in her blonde hair.

That was partly true; he did dislike driving; neither did he want to get caught drunk-driving, but his main concern was their family drivers reporting his whereabouts to his mother or worse- tipping her off about his late night shenanigans. The GPS monitors of the cabs driven by unknown faces were far safer.

The things he intended to do with her at her apartment, began right in the cab itself. They were trying to mask their sultry escapade and hushed moans with intermittent, non-erotic chatter, all while his hand glided over her body, playing and squeezing wherever he desired. In the heat of the moment, as his lips fanned the skin of her neck, he groaned her name in response to one of her needy moans.

Her body tensed instantaneously.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Her voice snapped like a whip as she pushed him away.

"What happened?' Aegon asked her, utterly confused. This was an uncharted territory for him; he had always assumed women appreciated hearing their names when touched.

"My name is Dyana!" 

His eyebrows knitted together; he was not certain of the name that slipped out of his lips in the throes of the fervent moment.

“Yeah, that's what I said.."

"No, you called me Lia!"

He chuckled sheepishly in a futile attempt to distract her, trying to downplay his drunken blunder. "Well both of them end with the same letter," he said as he leaned in to kiss her, not noticing her eyes narrowing in exasperation.

Irritated, she backed away from him and shoved him forcefully.

"Stop the car," she told the driver firmly.

"wha..why?" Aegon asked, all muddled and exasperated.

She stormed out of the cab, while Aegon pleaded and called out after her from the partially rolled down window, "Lia!, I mean Cassey!" he flinched and swore, "Dyana, hey! please don't leave, come back baby!" 

Dyana’s hand flew in the air in an obscene hand gesture, as she kept walking away from the car. 

He dropped back on the seat, blowing out a deep breath. A headache had begun to encroach on his senses, augmenting the dizziness caused by all the booze in his system.

His fingers combed through his hair and trailed down to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried to stave off the pulsating headache and the discomfort of having been blown off. He tutted in helplessness at his inability to alleviate the throbbing sensation below, in his jeans. 

Realising that the destination was set to Dyana's place and not his,an exasperated mumble left him, "What's in a fucking name?"

"That's the most beautiful sound to a human being."

A sweet female voice laced with confidence, answered him straight from the driver's seat.

"Uh..I am sorry?" The voice completely caught him by surprise.

“That, you should have said to Dyana,” The driver said, turning in her seat and smiling at him.

“You are a girl? Driving an Uber? This late?” 

“I am a person-” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his surprise, “- a four-limbed creature isn't driving this cab in case you are wondering.” Turning her focus back to the road, she asked, “Where do you want to go, now that you are not invited at Dyana’s anymore? Or do you want to end the ride, Targaryen?” 

“Do I know you?” He asked, growing increasingly bewildered with each passing moment.

She tittered, shaking her head subtly and said, “You Valyrians come into this world having won a genetic lottery and then expect people not to recognise you-” she gestured at her own head and went on- “hair.”

It wasn't just that; the way she said “Targaryen'' sounded oddly familiar to him.

Her face, though not fully discernible in the low illumination, held a glimmer of recognition.

A part of him believed that he knew her, but he also didn't not wish to believe his stupid, befuddled mind which had misidentified a woman just moments ago.

“The gas is on,” she reminded him, her tone now tinged with impatience.

Aegon shut his eyes, sighing and dropping his head back on the seat.

He weighed his options and contemplated going home but didn't wish to be roused early on a Sunday by his mother, for their weekly visit to the Sept. The alternative was equally uninviting, but he could at least sleep in late there.

“Where are we right now?” He asked, blinking hard to clear the visual daze, peering out of the car window and trying to recognise the spot.

“Rose road.” 

“Take a U-turn and head to Southern Street, near Blackwater Bay.”

-

This painting needs to be realigned.

"And then Ellyn suggested that I should check out the Dior store once before giving up my search.." a thin, excited voice coming from the phone told Aemond and he hummed in response.

It isn't in symmetry with the lamp lights above. 

"..and she was right! I found the pair of shoes I needed to match my dress, the colour is the exact nude pink I was looking for, Pantone rose cloud..although they are sling backs and I wanted pumps.."

I should take Helaena to that insectarium she has been asking me to visit with her.

It was one of the rare occasions, in fact, the only time when Aemond's typically unwavering attention dared to wander off - the time when his girlfriend Floris Baratheon called.

The only instance, when his razor-sharp focus and attention to detail- remarkably astute for one functional eye, would surrender to an intense bout of distraction

Of late, he had been seeking ways to elude her calls during the day, by staying engrossed in his work as he juggled writing his PhD thesis and a travel guidebook, all while maintaining his late father’s cherished travel and tour company- Valyrian Voyages.

Floris was aware that he usually woke up before the sun, prompting her to call, which forced him to begin his day with the conversations he was utterly disinterested in.

They had been dating for almost six months; they were introduced to each other by her elder sister, Cassey, at a family dinner.

Even though Cassey and Aegon had split up a couple of weeks ago, Aemond and Floris remained together; they purposefully avoided discussions about their breakup, unwilling to address the elephant in the room. Aemond often contemplated if Cassey bore any behavioral similarities with Floris, and if she did, then Aegon deserved commendation for sustaining the relationship for a year.

"..I will miss you Aemond, I wish I could come along..”

His attention snapped back to the yearning in her voice when he heard his name.

"It's only a matter of two weeks, Floris. It's more of an excursion than a business trip, you will get bored." 

Floris Bartheon, a recent graduate from a top business school in Westeros, was a decent, comely woman of twenty-three, hailing from a family that matched the status of his own.

 But what had initially drawn him to her was now driving him up the wall. They were poles apart, and the gap between them seemed to widen with each passing day.

Lately, he had begun to wonder whether time truly mattered when it came to forging genuine, heartfelt connections with a person.

-

The cab came to a stop in front of a two-storeyed, effortlessly luxurious house on Southern Street that eventually wound its way down to the riviera of the city. The rosy hues of the early dawn were beginning to break through the lingering grays of the night. The distant squawking of seagulls reached Aegon's ears as he was roused from his sloshed stupor.

“Rise and shine,” the driver announced, “Your fare comes to fifteen westerbills and twenty cents. I prefer cash."

“Huh? Oh yeah..sure..” Aegon mumbled, struggling to open his eyes wide and shake off the last vestiges of the nap, “Umm, I don't carry cash, could you wait, I will go and get some from my brother.”

She peered outside her window, a smile dancing on her lips as she realised where she parked her cab

“This your brother’s place?” She inquired, as her eyes dreamily trailed from the balcony adorned with swaying ferns, to the sleek oakwood entrance.

“Yeah.”

Suits him. She thought, admiring the sophisticated design of the flat-roofed, box-shaped building, painted in the shades of earthy grays. The house perfectly matched Aemond's placid yet debonair personality.

“Just give me a minute and I will be right back,” Aegon said, undoing his seat belts and unlocking the car door.

“That’s ok, the ride's on the house,” she responded and shrugged, “You are my last passenger, I am quitting this job.” 

“Last passenger? No, no, I will pay you, you have been working late, you deserve your payment.” Aegon protested, yawning and rubbing his eyes, “Please wait.” He stepped out of the car and began walking towards the front door. 

“That’s ok Targaryen,” She called after him when he reached the front door and rang the doorbell.

“Really, I mean it, the ride's on me.” She was unable to contain her smiles that now seeped into the tone of her voice.

Targaryen

Her accent tugged at his memories again - her drawl, the lilt in her voice, the distinctive roll of her 'Rs.'

He pivoted at his spot to see her; earlier in the dim light and now with the distance between them, he still couldn't see her clearly. Trying to piece together his disintegrated memory, he waited for his brother. 

He definitely knew her.

-

Aemond glanced at his wristband - 4:45 am, and mentally thanked his milkman for coming half an hour earlier today.

“I will call you later Floris, there is someone at the door.” He disconnected the call hastily. 

Good riddance

Aemond was more surprised to see Aegon awake that early, than his unexpected arrival at his doorstep; it took him seconds to connect the dots and he sighed, rolling his eye at Aegon.

“Best brother in the whole world! I knew you would be awake.” Aegon grinned as Aemond scowled at him.

“Did you jump into a barrel of booze? Weren’t the glasses enough?” Aemond turned to go back inside, leaving the door open.

Ignoring his brother's usual taunts, he said, "I need some cash, gotta pay the driver.” 

Aemond paused and noticed the cab parked in front of the porch on Aegon’s mention.

His gaze shifted to the woman sitting inside - a Cheshire cat grin on her face, arm resting on the driver’s seat window, chin cradling in her hand as she observed both of them.

His good eye widened in astonishment, and an amused, subtle smile crept across his lips. He arched an eyebrow, acknowledging her with a slight, knowing nod.

“That’s the cab you came in?” He asked Aegon, jerking his chin to point at the car, as he saw her shift to face the steering wheel.

She turned the keys and the cranking sound of the engine firing to ignition reverberated through the tranquil atmosphere of the street.

“Yeah, she asked me not to pay but..hey, wait!” Aegon shouted after her as she drove away, “Take your money!” He yelled, but it was too late.

“Weird girl.” Aegon tutted, facing Aemond whose gaze stayed on the car until it disappeared with the first turn of the road, lips quirked up in a subdued, nostalgic smile and mind flipping through the pages of the past.

"How in the seven hells did you end up in an Uber with Alyna Martell at the wheel?" 

-x-

Part 2

[fieldofdaisiies]

elain x lucien | warnings: talks about the past | masterlist | ao3

Curiosity and disbelief adorn Elain’s face, the corners of her lips tilted upwards when two days later, Lucien stands in the doorframe of her room, his hand extended and tightly clasped in it there are flowers. An odd feeling of comfort settles in his chest at the thought of being here and not mad at her.

“What are your hidden powers, Lord Lucien, that you can find flowers in winter?” Elain muses.

Lucien looks at his small bouquet with pride and then back at Elain‘s twinkling eyes. “You, my lady, should know exactly how I was able to find these plants. Aren’t you well acquainted with the knowledge about all sorts of flowers?” He casually leans his shoulder against the doorframe, smirking ever so slightly when he can hear Elain huff, and yet the smile doesn’t fade from her lips.

“Snowdrops and the Glory of the Snow. Flowers that can also flourish in winter.” Elain crosses her arms over her chest and Lucien, despite not wanting to, lets his gaze, only for a mere second, drop to her cleavage. He decides he hates the dress she is wearing, the amethyst satin reveals way too much pale and soft skin. 

“See, I knew you would know.” Lucien is still smirking, his blood steadily warming. He can’t allow himself to fall deeply, but why does being with her feel so good? Especially now that they finally seem to get along.

“Well as you said, my lord, I am well acquainted with flowers.” She smiles a little. “But how do I deserve them?” She takes the flowers from his hand, carefully and then smells them — marvelling at the freshness their smell provides. She inhales deeply a few times and then smiles, waiting for an answer but only finds Lucien looking at her, his eyes bright. Glinting.

“I thought you would like them.”

“I love them,” she hums. “Let me find a vase.” Elain doesn’t want to keep Lucien waiting for too long and so, hurtling into the adjacent bathroom  the only make-shift vase she can find is a glass cup which she uses when brushing her teeth. But it has to do.

She places the flowers on the dresser when she returns, thanking him again, loving how much such little things can already change a room. Then she turns her attention fully back to Lucien.

“Are you going woodchopping again today?” she asks, assessing his thick winter coat, the boots and his hat. Or did he put all of it on just to bring her flowers? Fully on its own accord, Elain‘s heart beats a little faster, thrumming against her ribcage in the same rhythm as Lucien’s does. 

She can’t believe he brought her flowers! Especially after last night . Elain has no idea what had gotten into her. The sudden closeness and his scent and then there were his lips- all soft and kissable - they were all she could focus on. Lucien always smells good, but the previous evening his scent for the first time hit her with full force, and she knew she could get drunk on it.

Maybe it was wrong joining him on this trip. But maybe also the right decision. Saying goodbye and finding closure were two of her main reasons, but spending time with Lucien was equally important. She finally wanted to get to know him. Get to know him alone. Without her sisters watching like a hawk. 

“No, my lady, we are going for a walk.”

“We?”

“You clearly didn’t want to return to the Mortal Lands to only stay inside this room. Get ready. Don your coat, something warm beneath it, because I doubt this nightgown… will do.” 

Lucien’s throat bobs and Elain can feel his eyes cascade down her body. Surprisingly she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It feels good. He doesn’t look at her in a hungry, savaging way. More in a stunned, mesmerised way. His eyes are bright, and clear when they slowly move from her shoulder over which her hair flows in loose, unbound waves to the swell of her breasts. And then lower. Elain’s own breath catches, she knows her nipples are hard beneath the thin fabric, probably from the cold creeping in through the half-open window behind her, his eyes don’t linger though, they move lower to the dip of her waist, her belly and her hips. Then back to her eyes.

Her cheeks are red. Not rosy, but red, when he looks back at her face, though her eyes are  bright and clear. No man has ever looked at her like that. She feels naked in his presence, like he undresses her with his beautiful eyes, but at the same time, she feels like she is wearing the most beautiful gown in the entire world. She feels beautiful. And not in the way everyone always tells her she is, but in a way where she doesn‘t have to try. In her most natural and pure way.

“Alright,” Elain stutters, voice breathy. “I will put on my coat and meet you downstairs in a few minutes.”

“And a sweater.” Lucien smiles, and if she didn’t know better she would say a faint blush also stains his tanned cheeks.

“Yes, a sweater.” She closes the door and holds her breath. And then, a small, and silly grin appears on her lips.

continue on ao3

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