#lavender for distrust

[citrusdownn]

whispers of freedom and love spoken to flowers

[greypetrel]

(resisting the urge to not say "i'm not calling you a liar" for Raina LOL)

Maybe "This is as good a place to fall as any" for anyone who fits for Radha, or anyone else who fits? c:

Hello Laya!

Thank you for asking and LOL that song for Raina would have been so funny. x°D

This got me thinking. As previously said, I’m all for Solavellan when it’s platonic, not much when it’s romantic. But, Bedroom Hymns was undeniably romantic, and I couldn’t find one way to decline it as platonic (I TRIED). Thinking and rethinking about how to make myself like Solas as a romance enough to write something convincing unlocked me, tho!  I tried, let me see how it went, it was out of my comfort zone, but I hope it’s convincing enough.

And for the record, this is the book I followed. Some names are adapted to Dragon Age of course (Arbor Vitae sounded so similar to Arbor Blessing that I just put that. And “Virginian Spiderwort”… I put the name of a random city in the Free Marches. Also, Tevinter Plum is Indian Plum, with a VERY rough assignation.)

Tis the prompt list

Floriography

[ “This is as good a place to fall as any” ]

This is his body This is his love Such selfish prayers And I can't get enough Bedroom Hymns - Florence + the Machine

Radha observed Josephine with the air of a person that firmly believed she was being made a fool out of.

“Oh, come on.” The ambassador laughed. “Don’t make that face, it’s just a coded language like any other Leliana taught you!”

“Except assigning meanings to flowers makes no sense. Why should a Pansy mean thought?”

“It means I think of you. And I don’t know, maybe because it’s such a pretty flower?”

Radha watched Josephine fix the bouquet in front of her with care, a smile she couldn’t contain on her lips and in her eyes. She looked happy, and even if Radha knew who sent those flowers and was burning to tell her that Blackwall was hiding something, and to watch out… Whatever made her smile like that couldn’t be all that bad, she considered. She could attach meaning to those flowers, if she wanted, it really hurt no one, as much as a nonsensical way of communicating that was.

“If you say so.” She shrugged in the end, not convinced.

“I think it’s sweet.” Josie kept on, and turned her smile to her  in a way Radha didn’t like. “Wouldn’t you like for Solas to gift you flowers as well, and know he meant something with each one he chose?”

The elf groaned in all answer, rolling her eyes to the ceiling of the office. It was far too silly for her, and as Josephine laughed at the display, she smiled back at the woman and wove a goodbye, turning back and leaving her to attach whatever set of words she wanted to the plants she received.

She crossed the Great Hall, headed to the library, and the thought still stuck, picking at her curiosity all the more because she couldn’t really understand the purpose of it.

She was there when Ydun filled the aravel she and Aisling shared with field flowers, once her sister complained the other never did anything spontaneous. She was there to help Aisling  and her girlfriend clean the damn flowers out of the cart, which took the three of them hours of work, and a big question on what to do with all those flowers.

It had been silly and uncomfortable, and even Aisling had agreed that maybe picking flowers wasn’t that nice. That they were nicer growing in fields, instead of dead just for a fleeting moment of beauty.

That had settled the flower matter, for Radha, and she told Solas right away that if he really wanted to court her, beside not entering her dreams uninvited ever again, not to gift her flowers. And he had listened on both things.

But now, working with Leliana on how to circle the Templar blockade in the Emprise du Lion, reviewing reports and trying to concoct a safe way around the main pathway that could lead an armed group into Sahrnia off track, without having them trapped in the snow… The thought kept bugging her most annoyingly.

So annoyingly than when they were finished for the day, after she checked that Aisling and Dorian weren’t planning on setting themselves on fire or make something else explode that afternoon, she started shuffling the bookshelves until she found… ah.

Floriography.

There was a whole book about it, and it was fairly thick. Surprisingly thick.

Shuffling through pages, she discovered it contained pages upon pages with pictures of every single flower and plant, with instructions on how to recognise the wanted variety precisely, curiosities and other uses. Beside a dictionary of associations, ordered one by flower, one by meaning.

Radha wondered why it wasn’t just a book of botany and nothing more.

But, curious as she always was when meeting something new to learn, she placed herself on her spot on the couch in the rotunda, and started to read. With a grudge, and fully intending to disprove that silly method and silly book.

“I thought you weren’t the type for flowers.”

A known, dear voice chuckles over her, coming to sit beside her some minutes after.

She huffed, settling better to get in contact with him, allowing Solas to hug her shoulders and peek on the page she had opened on her bent thighs, as she kept on reading.

“This language is stupid.”

“Is it? I think it’s a clever way to communicate in an environment where being open is socially frowned upon.”

“Bah.”

She scoffed, not convinced, and turned the page.

“A rose changes its meaning according to the colour. It makes no sense.”

“A letter can stand for two different sounds as well, making equally little sense.”

Radha huffed through the nose, shaking her head. Not convinced at all. Solas chuckled some more, and bent to press a kiss on the side of her head.

“Would you like to try?”

She turned to him, raising one eyebrow in a silent and very disappointed question that, apparently, just amused him more.

“Just to see if it makes sense in the end, or if it’s fun.”

“Crittography is fun and doesn’t require the death of a plant.”

“It’s far less beautiful, tho.” He countered. “The brief time a flower is allowed to bloom adds to its meaning. Even if its life is brief, it’s not less precious. All the more so for it. And the sentiment attached keeps on even if the petals wilts. I find it quite poetic.”

Radha shrugged, seeing the point of his words but not fully agreeing with it. She settled herself more comfortably against his side. If he was in a mood for explanations and reading and not for painting, it was fine with her. Aisling had rubbed off her too much for Radha to not have picked up that love was in touch.

 A slender arm clutched her closer, another kiss made her lips curve up in a smile, and she turned another page, deciding she may as well indulge him. If not just to prove it wrong. It didn’t work for Cullen and Aisling, she didn’t see why it should work for her. But if he wanted to try…

“As you wish.”

“I will think of something.”

She shrugged it off, and went on reading, trying to figure out if the whole thing had some sense upon it. But no matter how much she read, she just couldn’t figure out how one person could look at a bush of lavender and think of Distrust.

---

Radha found the first flower three days later, early in the morning when she walked out from her room.

On the ledge of the half wall, just in front of her door, he left her the Floriography book. In its pages he firmed the stalk of the first flower, shining white against the dark of the stone, tiny flowerets gently moving in the breeze that swept the Keep. She conceded herself half a smile, just for the care he took to leave her the guide as well. Shuffling through the pages, it was easy to find the flower she needed. It was a fairly common bloom and she of course knew its name well.

Lily of the Valley: Return of Happiness.

She rolled her eyes to the sky, but kept smiling, as she gently smelled the flower.

Silly and sappy.

She needed to find just the right answer. She was early anyway, she could spend ten minutes finding for something on the damn book.

Facing Aisling and asking her if she could please summon a very specific flower she had but a picture of in a book was another story. She hated to ask, and she knew that of her siblings, the one truly skilled with Creation magic was, without a hint of a doubt, Pavyn. But, she didn’t really trust other mages on such a personal matter, their brother was miles and miles away, and Aisling would have had to do. Even if she smirked with a horribly knowing smile at her. Saying nothing, and at the same time saying everything.

Radha groaned at it, Aisling laughed, and she gave her the flower she had asked anyway, telling her to come anytime for the next. This looked like an important mission, and had the priority, surely.

The flower was left on his desk right after, during lunch.

Ostwick Spiderwort: Momentary Happiness.

Because she was playing the game, but she was playing to prove it silly.

They went on for days, leaving flowers to each other back and forth, in places each one knew the other would have found it and know whom it was from.

When they met, they never spoke about them, of course: the fun was in the secrecy of it, and talking about the flowers would have broken the game.

Solas left her a White Periwinkle: Pleasures of Memory.

Radha shook her head and oomphed, found just the right flower, and pushed Aisling to create it anyway even if she disagreed with her choice of proving a point.

“Can I at least tell him I disagree with-”

“No, Shrimp.”

“Oomph.”

Tevinter Plum, for Privation.

He didn’t say anything, but looked at her funny that evening, raising just one eyebrow as he saw her, in a silent question. She rose one of her own, challenging him to say something. He smiled under his breath and spoke of something else.

The next morning, there was a jonquil in a small glass jar on her spot at Leliana’s table. Leliana smirked knowingly, but all she had to say at the third time she looked at the plant – just to check the jar wasn’t staining the map it rested upon, of course- was:

“It means ‘I desire a return of affection’.”

Radha groaned and urged everyone -who was horribly giggling at her, to get back to work, they had no time to lose in silliness and flowers.

She wasn’t ready to give in so early, so her choice was, and at that Aisling giggled in mirth. Not that Radha minded.

A Lady’s slipper: Win me and wear me.

To which the answer was quick:

Saffron Crocus: Mirth.

Radha smiled at it, and mirth was what she felt. Before the cook saw her with that particular flower in her hand and yelped, asking her where did she found it and if there were others, if there were enough they could have saffron for free and-

Flowers were dangerous, Radha decided, running for her -and mostly for Solas’ life from an overeager cook that would have demanded the mage to grow her a field of crocuses daily, if she had caught her and coaxed a name out of her.

The next flower, she found it herself in the garden, growing spontaneously in the meadows. A fitting answer, she thought, returning to the rotunda just to slip it behind his ear, with a briskness that masked some shyness out of inexperience. He turned, and she was out of the opposite door with just a glance of pink cheeks.

Wild Daisy: I will think of it.

When she finished with her training, patting dust away from her trousers after the Iron Bull threw her to the ground the fifth times as she was distracted by parrying Krem’s sword, his answer was in the scabbard of one of her daggers. For all she blamed this stupid flower thing for being silly and pointless -and it was silly and pointless and a waste of magic- the small twig with red lantern-like fruits brought a smile to her face, and made her forget that her back was sore and she fell badly on her shoulder.

Gooseberry: Anticipation

The game continued in the next days, and keeping a straight face when they were together became more difficult.

Radha thought she had a good control over herself: she wasn’t emotional in the way Aisling was, bursting into tears and smiling wide so everyone could partake in her emotions as well. She felt hers, but always kept them private. This new thing, tho, the expectation of seeing the hint of a coloured petal or of a leaf every way she turned, made her silly.

Her lips curled up in a smile almost automatically when she caught a glimpse of Solas, in a way she found silly and blamed herself for it. It happened to others, it happened to Aisling and Pavyn and Vyrina: it didn’t happen to her. It never did, and she wasn’t interested in having it happen. She was happy as she was.

And yet, seeing him smile back, something melting in his face, posture relaxing ever so slightly, took some of the disappointment away from her.

She left him a sprig of mezereon: Desire to please.

He answered with a white mignonette: Your qualities surpass your charme.

She was happy that he left it in her room, so nobody could see her blush. He wasn’t scarce in compliments, but she wasn’t really good at receiving them. Less of all in replying it: it felt… Too much, too soon, and she didn’t know what she should do.

After hours and hours of mulling it over, thinking if she was ready to be more direct and give a compliment back -he knew she admired him, what more could he want? Courtship was stupid. She decided that maybe not. She also decided that asking Aisling would have been a terrible idea if she didn’t want her sister to arrange with Leliana and Josephine a way to close them both in the same room with candles and rose petals and a chocolate cake so big no couple of living beings could ever dream of eating on their own… she may as well just offer him some sincerity back.

That would have worked better than Aisling setting them up, surely.

Amaryllis: Timidity.

She stayed the whole morning on pins and needles, uneasiness settling in the depth of her stomach in a way that was familiar of every time someone had requested something physical or emotional from her, and she just… Hadn’t it in her, and was made to feel in defect because in the field of love she wasn’t interested… Or in this case, when she surprisingly found herself interested, she needed to proceed slow.

He didn’t make her wait, tho: his answer was waiting for her in the war room, where she was expected for a recollection of the official plan to gather an entrance in the Emprise and Leliana had requested her presence.

A ceramic glass, stained with paint on the border -one of those he used for water when he painted, she knew- with clean water and a sprig of Evergreen Thorn, heavy with firey red berries.

Solace in adversity.

A consolation, and an acceptance. Aisling and Josephine looked at her, seeing the twig. Josie was worried, knowing probably the meaning of it, and asked her if everything was all right.

“Yes.” She answered. “Yes, it is.”

And she was fully sincere in her words.

The answer was fairly easy to find: it was Aisling’s favourite after forget-me-not, and it felt like a witty remark.

A tiger-lily on the top of his scaffolding, in the same glass: For once may pride befriend me.

She was up in the first story of the library, in the corner beside Aisling and Dorian to see his reaction. He turned the flower in his long fingers, and he heard him chuckle, as she had intended him to. He turned towards the nook with a sly smile, caught her eyes.

She felt the shiver of magic and the smell of ozone, and the next thing was something velvety and delicate caressing her right cheek. She startled to the side, thinking of something evil, for to her right there was just stone wall.

It was no demon what met her, but a single flower growing between two stones, and what velvety touched her was its leaf, spiky and sharp beneath delicate rosy and purple flowers.

“Can you go elsewhere before I puke with all this sappiness, please?” Dorian complained, groaning aloud.

“Hush, you!” Aisling giggled, swatting his arm aloud. “They’re cute, leave them be.”

“They’re getting sappier than you and Cullen, and I’m getting diabetes. Too much straight energy for me.” He groaned aloud, as if he was in pain, and let his bust fall heavily back, a wrist on his forehead for added dramatics. “I think I may die.”

Aisling hoomphed under his weight, collapsing back a little in surprise. A pile of books fell down under their combined weight, but they went on bickering about Radha one moment, their experiment the next. In the meanwhile, Radha had found which flower it was, and what did it mean. She snorted a laugh.

Oak leaved geranium: True friendship.

“See? Sappier by the minute, I swear!”

“Leave her be!”

It was, all in all, a nice afternoon full of laughter. And in all sincerity, all Radha could answer was but one flower.

Saffron Crocus: mirth.

It went on for some days more, and Radha slowly and carefully had to admit, if only to herself, that it was indeed amusing to go back and forth that way. No words, no grand declarations nor speech. Just colourful messages, well thought for their synthesis, to the point.

A bellflower in her glass, at breakfast: Gratitude.

Corn straw, deftly braided, between his quills: Agreement.

And then, after a day, when Radha was thinking he had stopped, they got through with it and had their fun but there was only so much they could tell each other through flowers -not thinking that she spent the day looking this way and that expecting a petal, a splash of colour in her field of vision… Another one that left her unsettled.

He had asked her if he could leave a couple of books he had meant to lend her directly in her room, instead of leaving them in the rookery where she was, and let her bring them back herself. She paid it little mind and told him yes, and in the evening, when she returned, there wasn’t just the four volumes of history on her desk. No.

There was a flower on her pillow, bright and colourful on the white of the sheets.

Ranunculus: You are radiant with charms.

Radha felt her breath grow short, the blow stronger this second time around, and she wondered if it was normal. She didn’t like this romance thing, she always felt like she was dancing without knowing the steps nor what he expected from her. This compliment thing… It left her uneasy and terribly, horribly seen.

Was it so bad, this insistence and being seen? Yes. But maybe… She didn’t mind being seen by Aisling, but Aisling had ways that were more delicate, and didn’t put a mirror in her face. This… A rational part in her calmly acknowledged that it was courtship, every animal did it. Birds flaunting coloured feathers to attract the female, hallas fighting for the same reason. Bonding gifts served the same purpose. Reproduction as the end goal. But this wasn’t that. She’s been clear that she wasn’t interested in that, she didn’t want children of her own, and she didn’t know if she would have ever been willing to try more intimacy than kisses. She never had the urge before, after all. He had been understanding and told her he didn’t mind it, he was happy with just whatever she had to give, and wouldn’t have asked for more.

It was the companionship, what she didn’t expect. It was the gratuitous appreciation of what she was, not what she could do, her qualities and skills. The way he listened to her and asked her opinion after long, long explanations, and seemed to value each and every of her words, remembered what she told and interpreted her ways for what they were, appreciated them. It was the smile he had just for her and the tender way his eyes would melt.

It was how her heart beat fast and how her mind could, if she tried, figure out the exact way he would have said “You are radiant with charms”, and how it made her horribly dizzy.

She prayed Aisling was in her room and was alone -she couldn’t face Cullen on this. Creators, asking one person was a lot.

Luckily, she was there and she was alone -made a weird face when Radha confessed she didn’t expect her to be, but was quick in changing the topic. In a way that told her that she didn’t want to talk about it, but still. They sat together on her bad, legs crossed, with all the curtains of the canopy drawn, it almost felt like an aravel: Radha spoke and Aisling listened with attention.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” She asked in the end, an understanding smile on her face as she cupped her face to look at her in the eyes.

“What?”

“Falling.”

Radha glomped down. Was that it? Was it? All the fuss, all the chasing and sighing, all the novels and poetry, for this? For feeling dizzy and unsure? She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all, but something clicked true in her.

She nodded, feeling herself blushing madly.

“Yeah, I know, it’s shitty. Truly horrible.” Aisling agreed, moving forward and dragging her bust down to hug her shoulder, collecting the rogue against her frame. “It’s ok, tho. You can cut the game any time, there’s no obligation to answer. You already told him that you were shy, it’s ok. He won’t insist if you don’t want him to.”

Radha hummed, knowing she was right. It wasn’t anything serious, this game of theirs, anyway. The experiment had proven its point, she could call it out whenever she wanted.

And yet, that ranunculus…

“And- What if I wanted to?” She squeezed her eyes shut and drowned her face in the crook of Aisling’s neck.

Fingers started to thread in her hair, caressing and soothing, a kiss pressed on her cheek.

“Well, then. If you wanted to… You can be sincere about why you don’t want to reply. What about it?” Aisling asked. “Is there another flower for shyness?”

There was, they discovered after running all the way down to Radha’s room and the book. And checking also what Dandelion meant now because Aisling decided she may as well try it too, and “Cullen is definitely a dandelion”. She was very disappointed when she discovered that Dandelions meant “Rustic oracle” (“What does that even mean?? It makes no sense!” and Radha couldn’t but agree). But they found one for her as well, and it was with a sigh to get some courage, that she left it on his desk, very early in the morning.

Peony: Bashfulness, shame.

As embarrassing as it was, that was what she felt.

Waiting for an answer, after all, was still better than dreading answering in the first place. She had work to distract herself with and… Was that Cullen with a crown of dandelions on his head the one Varric and Sera were whistling at?

She had work to distract herself with.

The answer came soon enough, thankfully, and it calmed her down considerably.

A twig with leaves of white poplar: Time.

She smiled at it, relieved in her anxieties. The perfect answer, really, and she felt silly, now, for doubting him so. He gave her time, and time was what she needed. With a fuller heart and a calmer mind, and more faith in the future, she gently pressed one of the leaves in her notebook, as a keepsake, and went on with her day.

Her answer was a columbine: Foolishness.

She felt a little foolish for worrying so, truth to be told, and if sincerity paid off… Why not keeping up? Maybe it would have brought something else of good, while she tried to unwind the ball of yarn her feelings and thoughts got wound up into.

She had time, yes.

The next one was another leaf. One she knew fairly well, and which spoke thankfully more of him than on her.

Arbor Blessing: Unchanging friendship. Live for me.

Radha knew, turning the trail in her hand and rubbing the leaves between two fingers to release the balsamic perfume of them. Surely he meant just the first meaning of it. He was the first one to say she should pursue other interests and friendships that weren’t him. With a dedication she didn’t really understand.

That little slip tho… That little inattention, finding something with a meaning so contrary to whatever he ever told her.

Maybe he was equally bashful about this whole endeavour. Thinking of it, he always spoke of her and her qualities, what he saw in her. Never of what he himself was feeling more deeply than expressing friendship. Before this one. This one little slip that…

Maybe she was reading too much into it. But he was always so precise and careful, measuring his words with such attention, that Radha found hard to believe that he just read half the definition.

Weirdly enough, that little slip made her heart beat, but not with the anxiety of those days before. No. This time it was tenderness, and recognition.

If he was bashful too… Maybe she really had nothing to fear.

Maybe she already had fallen, and she didn’t realise she already landed.

Beside, her mother didn’t raise a quitter.

So, she marched to Aisling and asked her one last flower. This time, knowing perfectly well what she wanted.

The next morning, Solas found a thin vase on his desk, in a corner as if it had been always been there.

Inside, sprouting tall and proud, one single purple lily.

First emotion of love.

Radha, that evening, got back into her room to find not one flower, but a full bouquet. It was just one bloom, and it filled the room with a pleasant, sweet perfume.

Lily of the valley: Return of happiness.

She smiled wide, didn’t mind he entered her room without asking, and let her treacherous heart keep her awake for long, that evening.

Enjoying the sweet smell of lily of the valleys for the brief and precious moment while it lasted, and maybe understanding a little better why people gifted flowers.

Why Lavender meant Distrust, tho, she never understood.

[kazelnoot]

HELLO HELLOO!! Here's my piece for the @blossominglovezine !!! Absolutely wonderful project that i am honored to have worked on :)

[floralstorms]

lavender stroll

[novlr]

The symbolism of flowers

Flowers have a long history of symbolism that you can incorporate into your writing to give subtext.

Symbolism varies between cultures and customs, and these particular examples come from Victorian Era Britain. You'll find examples of this symbolism in many well-known novels of the era!

Amaryllis: Pride

Black-eyed Susan: Justice

Bluebell: Humility

Calla Lily: Beauty

Pink Camellia: Longing

Carnations: Female love

Yellow Carnation: Rejection

Clematis: Mental beauty

Columbine: Foolishness

Cyclamen: Resignation

Daffodil: Unrivalled love

Daisy: Innocence, loyalty

Forget-me-not: True love

Gardenia: Secret love

Geranium: Folly, stupidity

Gladiolus: Integrity, strength

Hibiscus: Delicate beauty

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love

Blue Hyacinth: Constancy

Hydrangea: Frigid, heartless

Iris: Faith, trust, wisdom

White Jasmine: Amiability

Lavender: Distrust

Lilac: Joy of youth

White Lily: Purity

Orange Lily: Hatred

Tiger Lily: Wealth, pride

Lily-of-the-valley: Sweetness, humility

Lotus: Enlightenment, rebirth

Magnolia: Nobility

Marigold: Grief, jealousy

Morning Glory: Affection

Nasturtium: Patriotism, conquest

Pansy: Thoughtfulness

Peony: Bashfulness, shame

Poppy: Consolation

Red Rose: Love

Yellow Rose: Jealously, infidelity

Snapdragon: Deception, grace

Sunflower: Adoration

Sweet Willian: Gallantry

Red Tulip: Passion

Violet: Watchfulness, modesty

Yarrow: Everlasting love

Zinnia: Absent, affection

[runby2]

flower language : lavender : distrust

[chiaraanatra]

Lavender Girl

Summary: JJ was never one to believe in fate but one chance encounter may have him changing his mind. (Or the one where JJ helps Kook!reader through a panic attack and neither one of them can get the other off their mind.)

Warnings: vague descriptions of a panic attack, reader is an anxious wreck, reader tends to bite the skin on her fingers when anxious (don't mind me and my self-inserts), swearing feelings of distrust on JJ's part, nick-/pet names (pretty girl, lavender girl). one use of Y/N.

WC: 2.1k

AN: I'm not sure what this is or where its going! If anyone has any ideas/would like a part two let me know! I hope you like!

Song: Loosely based on Lavender Girl by Caamp

《 m.list || ao3 》

JJ POV

Why do I do this to myself?

Are pity tips from old ladies worth it?

This stupid getup is bad enough, let alone having to wait hand & foot on these fucking Kooks.

Do these people have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning than sit around bitching and drinking mimosas?

JJ made my way back inside, empty tray under his arm. Thank god it was nice out. It meant that the main bar inside the club was completely empty, giving him a minute of peace away from out-of-touch members of 'high society'.

Or so he thought…

When he turned the corner, he was met with soft sobs and lavender fabric pooled delicately on the floor under the bar. "Um… You okay…?" He didn't want to be rude, but heavy emotions weren't exactly his specialty, and he didn't have much experience with girls crying on the floor. At least not like this...

“Oh God, I'm so sorry…" you mumbled.

You looked up at him with teary eyes and in that moment, JJ was sure he had never been met with a more beautiful sight. Even glossed with tears, JJ was positive he had never looked into eyes as clear as yours. He watched as you scrambled to wipe away the tears that were still spilling over and mask the sounds of sniffling.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." JJ set down the tray and crouched to be at eye level with you. "Wha's gotcha so upset? Far too pretty to be crying like that…" His last statement was barely above a whisper, brought into existence before JJ even knew he was saying it.

You glanced away, biting the skin of your thumb, "It’s all too much, it's just… I-I just couldn't…" You were trembling, shaking like a leaf. JJ knew if you kept this up you would probably pass out from lack of oxygen and/or gnaw straight through your finger.

"Hey, look at me." He reached out, gently taking your hand away from your mouth and bringing your attention to him. "Deep breaths." For a moment JJ thought he may be overstepping, but something in him had switched to autopilot, set on helping you, comforting you. "Breathe with me. In." He paused to take a deep breath, "And out." He slowly blew the air out of his lungs before repeating the process and the mantra. "In… and out…"

He watched as your trembling slowed and your body seemed to relax at his words. "There she is." He gave you a smile and you reciprocated with a small one of your own, "See? Knew you were far too pretty to be cryin’ like that," JJ helped you to stand. He thought you were about to say something before his name caught his attention.

"JJ, what the fuck are you doing man?" JJ looked behind him to see Ben peek his head out from the hallway. "If Mr. Burton sees you fucking around again, he’s gonna cut your ass."

"Shit…" his attention was brought back to you. "Sorry pretty girl, I gotta go." he grabbed his tray before giving you one last glance. "It’ll be okay. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise. That includes yourself!"

And with that he was gone, leaving you with puffy eyes and a soft smile. JJ didn't know that he also left you wondering why anyone would be so sweet to you and that soon you would be clamoring to know more about the dirty blonde that went by JJ.

After his shift, JJ went straight to the Chateau, where he now found himself hanging off one of the chairs on the porch and regretting just about every word he had said in the last 15 minutes. He didn’t know how you got brought up and he certainly as hell didn’t know why, considering the two of you had barely a 10-minute interaction and you only said 5 words to him.

Regardless of circumstances, he was now getting berated with questions from two of his best friends, fearing it would only get worse when Kie and Sarah made their way back out onto the porch.

"Shit man you should have at least asked for her name!" John B exclaimed almost tipping over the beer bottle that was haphazardly perched on the arm of his chair.

JJ rolled his eyes, "I wasn't exactly thinking about that!"

"Yeah, I can only imagine what you were thinking about." Pope chuckled to himself. "Speaking of, what did she look like?"

JJ didn't want to tell his friends that you were the most gorgeous human he had ever seen "I don't know man, she looked like every other Kook princess running around." JJ could only shake his head at how unconvincing his voice sounded.

"Bullshit!" John B laughed at his best friend's failed attempts to mask his budding feelings.

"What are you halfwits arguing about?" The three boys looked up to find Kie and Sarah stepping out of the Chateau. Sarah made herself comfortable on John B's lap while Kie sat on the couch next to Pope.

"JJ's in love."

"Wha- fuck you, Pope!"

"With a mystery Kook," John B added.

"Oooo! Tell me more!" Sarah loved gossip and loved the idea of JJ showing interest in a girl that went beyond the realm of a one-night stand.

JJ stood from his seat, "I'm just gonna go walk into the ocean while y'all have fun."

"Oh, sit down," John B waved his hand and JJ returned to his seat. "We're just fucking around, JJ."

"So how did we meet this mysterious Kook Princess?" Kie leaned in, her elbows on her knees.

"Don't matter. For all I know, she's some rich bitch Touron and I'll never see her again."

With that, the conversation fell to other topics, but JJ's thoughts were still on you. Your soft smile. Your puffy eyes. Your lavender dress. He would never admit it, but he was hoping that he was wrong and that he would be lucky enough to see you again.

It had been a week since JJ’s interaction with you and with no signs of you at the club, he feared that he was right. You were gone and he was left with only the memory of your lavender dress and beautiful eyes.

Or so he thought…

Little did he know that you had been looking for him whenever you entered the country club. You just so happened to miss each other, just barely, every time.

He was walking back from the kitchen when he heard his name being called from down the hallway. “JJ?” The voice sounded small and apprehensive but familiar.

When he turned around, he was greeted by the same beauty from the week before, only you had shed your fancy lavender dress for something a bit more casual, shorts and a flowy white shirt.

When he didn’t respond she continued, "That's your name, right? JJ?"

"Uh yeah. That's me. Um, how can I help you?" A look of confusion danced across his face. He half expected you not to remember him and was waiting for you to ask him for a drink or complain about the hors d'oeuvres.

"I wanted to thank you for the other day…" When his confused look didn’t cease, you couldn't help but continue, "I was the girl in the dress, crying her eyes out on the floor under the bar…" Your hair twirled around your finger in what JJ’s eyes looked to be nervousness.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly and shake his head. Of course, he remembered you; how could he forget, you plagued almost every thought he had had in the last week. He was more taken aback by your kindness.

"I get like that sometimes…" you continued. "Sorta like a tidal wave, once it starts it's hard to stop… but you helped me calm down and you didn't even know me… don’t even know me. So, I-I just wanted to thank you…" your voice faded out as you looked down at your pristine, white Converse.

"No problem." JJ watched as you turned to walk away. Wishing he could bring himself to say something, anything that would make you stay for just a second longer. But JJ knew a girl like you would never go for a guy like him.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, not noticing that you had turned to face him once more, "Would you like to hang out, sometime?"

Disbelief flashed over his features, "You wanna hang out with me?" This had to be some kind of trick, at any moment some Kook fucks would jump him for thinking he could so much as look at you.

"If not that's fine! It's probably super weird that I asked that! You don't even know me…"

JJ heard the increased anxiousness in your voice and noticed you starting to gnaw nervously at your fingers once again. "Hey, calm down." He made his way closer to you and gently pulled your hand away once more. "Deep breath for me." He watched as you did what you were told. He released your hand before speaking again, "You really want to hang out with me? You realize I'm not like your kook friends, right? I don't have a pretty Benz to drive you around in and I barely have 20 bucks to my name."

"I just moved here, and I don't really have any friends." A look of embarrassment washed over your face, "not that we have to be friends!" You paused, taking another deep breath. JJ could see you trying to fight off the waves of anxiety as they hit you, "It's just- you seem genuinely nice and that seems a bit hard to come by around here…"

JJ's tongue pressed against his cheek as he smiled. "Got your phone?"

You nodded, pulling the device out from the back pocket of your shorts. You unlocked it and handed it to the blonde where he proceeded to put his number in. You looked at the new contact name when he handed your phone back.

JJ Maybank 🌊

You couldn’t help but smile.

"I’m off all day tomorrow, maybe I could show you around the island or something?”

You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. “That would be great! Um, I should get going, but I’ll text you?”

“Sounds like a plan, lavender girl.” He gave you a parting smile and a wink before returning to work.

"No need to ask. He's a smooth operator!" Pope’s voice rang out as the three boys made their way down the dock to the HMS Pogue.

John B was quick to join the other man in song, as the three jumped on board, "Smooth operator!"

JJ made his way to the bow looking like he was about to jump into the murky water below, “That's it! I'm never telling you guys shit ever again!"

“Relax, J!” John B pulled his friend off the edge, “Like you didn't give me this much shit with Sarah."

"If not more," Pope laughed as he started the boat.

While that was definitely true the blonde rolled his eyes.

"So, what's the plan?" Pope continued as he lowered the anchor. "This doesn't feel like your usual catch-and-release."

“Man, I don’t know, she’s a fuckin’ Kook. I told her I could show her around the island since she just moved here but I’m not sure she’s gunnin’ to see how the other half lives.”

“Hey, you never know. She might surprise you,” John B had a look in his eyes that told the world that he was thinking about Sarah in that moment.

“Sounds like she has so far,” Pope couldn't help but take a couple more jabs at his friend's expense, never having seen the blonde like this before.

With that, JJ’s mind ran through all the possible things the two of you could do tomorrow. Only to be interrupted by the ping of his phone.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Hey it’s Y/N.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Lavender girl…

JJ felt his heart skip a beat. Part of him didn’t think you would actually contact him.

*PING*

Unknown Number – Are you still free tomorrow?

Contacting him was one thing but actually wanting to hang out with him? He quickly saved your contact in his phone, the nickname he gave you seemed appropriate. He ignored the small flips in his stomach brought on by the thought of you.

*PING*

Lavender Girl - If you still want to hang out, that is.

JJ couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at your nervousness, not noticing Pope glancing at the digital exchange.

“She uses commas when she texts? Girl after my own heart.”

JJ pushed the other boy, “Fuck off, Pope!”

Do we like? Do we want a part 2? If the answer is yes, do we have suggestions/ideas for part 2? If the answer is also yes please share!

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @daisydark @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @jjsfavgirl

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[okaydiscount]

Faces of a Lover

i recommend listening to "I Only Have Eyes for You" by The Flamingoes cuz thats what i drew this too :)

ref image i used for this is on pinterest

also the plants have meaning!!!! on purpose!!!

Lavender: Love/devotion/loyalty/distrust/confession

Adonis' flower: painful recollection/sorrowful remembrances

Adder's Tongue: deceit Love-in-a-mist: you puzzle me/perplexity

Also while drawing this I realized young spy kiiinda looks like he would be an actor, and that just made me think of headcanons for that. picture: a young french actor goes to boston for a movie and meets the most beautiful woman hes ever seen while on a break in town and immediately goes to swoon her. she doesnt go for his advances, they play cat and mouse for a while, and then its revealed shes part of the ☆mafia☆ or smth like that. a while later she breaks out and gets married to spy, mafia doesnt like so they go into hiding and spy starts being a spy to keep them safe and hidden. (leading to absent father stuff yknow the drill) ect ect and spy ends up at mann co. :) idk its kinda silly and cheesy but i thought it was cute

[sailorgoon13]

Ominis Gaunt

Character Information

Name: Ominis Ignatius Gaunt

Nickname: Omi (mainly used by Anne and Mc)

Birth Date: 9 July, 1873

House: Slytherin

Year: Seventh

Blood Status: Pure-blood

Physical Appearance

Height: 5'6" (168cm)

Body Type: Slender and lean. Understated muscle tone

Hair Color and Style: Dark blonde, neatly kept and styled.

Eye Color: Blue, often appears clouded due to blindness.

Skin Tone: Pale

Distinguishing Features: Blindness, guided by sentient wand

Style: Loves fabrics like wool, velvet, or silk. Traditional robes, layered and practical. Minimalist jewelry. Dark, muted colors like deep green and charcoal.

Magical Details

Wand: Hawthorn, Phoenix feather, 11", Supple

Patronus: Doe

Boggart: A dark version of himself

Amortentia Scents: Dark chocolate, freshly brewed tea, rain, and lavender.

Polyjuice: Emerald velvet appearance. Would be a think, syrup like consistency. Smell of damp stone and dust, with a hint of jasmine or honey. At first, the taste would be bitter and metallic, would change into something more like cinnamon and clove. The lingering taste would be of something sweet.

Skills and Abilities: Exceptional at non-verbal spells, strong resistance against dark magic influences, heightened other senses due to blindness

Personality

General Personality: Pessimistic, distrusting, and sarcastic, yet has a playful side with those he does trust

Strengths: Moral integrity, strong-willed, intelligent, loyal to friends

Weaknesses: Pessimistic outlook, difficulty trusting others, haunted by his past

Hobbies and Interests: Playing Gobstones, exploring magical artifacts, reading about magical history

Hogwarts Life

Favorite Class: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Least Favorite Class: Potions 

Favorite Professor: Hecat

Least Favorite Professor: Sharp

Extracurricular Activities: Exploring Hogwarts with friends, spending time in the Undercroft

Friend Group: Sebastian and Anne Sallow. MC

Rivalries: Duncan Hobhouse

Family

Father: Julius Gaunt

Mother: Kallistra Gaunt

Siblings: Lysander (Eldest brother), Marvolo (Second oldest), Nerissa (Older sister)

Family Background: Descendant of Salazar Slytherin, born into the dark wizarding family of the Gaunts

Home Life: Traumatic, abusive family who practiced dark magic

Significant Life Events: Refused to perform the Cruciatus Curse as a child, resulting in being cursed by his own family. Formed a close bond with the Sallow family, finding home away from home

Career Aspirations: Work in museums with ancient magical artifacts

Additional Information

Likes: Quiet places, trusted friends

Dislikes: Dark magic, his own family's legacy, dishonesty

Miscellaneous: Despite his blindness, he navigates the world with a magical proficiency and keen awareness that surpasses many sighted wizards. He is haunted by the loss of his favorite aunt, Noctua Gaunt, who died trying to uncover Slytherin's secrets.

*All pictures used in collage were found on Pinterest, including the picture of Ominis I just can't find the account who posted it. If I come back across it I will post

[py6oto]

flos (mind the warnings!)

this is very experimental. random color palettes ,, very dirty lines,, blur ,, don't expect a lot from it

i like hlvrai and i like flowers and i like this song. so i impulsively combined all three. in like one hour. help

flower meanings below!

rhododendron - caution/danger

allium - unity/teamwork

sunflower - optimism/positivity

lavender - distrust

black dahlia - betrayal/deception

freesia - trust/friendship

lotus - resilience/strenght

spider lily - death

[knightforflowers]

lend me your ears, the real me is right here

(flower symbolism explanations beneath the cut for anyone curious!)

First Image - Parish

Flowers in Devo’s arms and framing the corners - Adonis’ Flower (painful recollection, sorrowful remembrances)

Flowers on the left - Aloe (grief, affliction, religious superstition)

Flowers on the right - Lavender (devotion, distrust)

Second Image - Start of the season

Purple flowers - Parish’s Nightshade (silence, falsehood, dark thoughts, skepticism)

White flowers - Almond (hope, indiscretion, thoughtlessness)

Third Image - End of season (post Cambria’s Call)

Semi transparent flowers - Diphylleia (‘I will show my true self to you’, clarity, honesty)

Sharp petaled flower - Rainflower (rebirth, new beginnings, great expectations)

Flowers in the foreground and background - Purple Iris (hope, strength, courage)

[floralstorms]

Drew a Moomins OC from last year. They’re a little lost

[ineed-to-sleep]

Tagged by @seldaryne <3

I'm tagging @alongtidesoflight , @peachshroom , @boghermit to share some BG3 oc info if you'd like! ^^

And anyone who wants to do this, pls consider yourself tagged and feel free to tag me so I can see your oc!

Name: Nawen Farlong

Nickname(s): No specific nicknames, though she does get "darling" from Astarion and "soldier" from Karlach. She's generally more often the one that gives people nicknames instead of receiving them skdhakd Astarion gets "angel" and "kitten" a lot, Shadowheart gets "my heart" and "my love" and Karlach usually gets "general"(a lot of the nicknames she gives were initially meant with sarcasm, but after a while became actual terms of endearment).

Pronouns: She/her

Star sign: Whatever the in-universe equivalent of a scorpio is

Height: 5'3" with the attitude of 6'4"

Orientation: Everyone is game. If she were a romance option, rest assured you could probably romance her, as long as you're being a cunt ♡

Race: Half-drow

Romancing: Astarion, but it's kinda hard to tell unless you spend a long time with them. Astarion isn't 100% comfortable with touching and she's not fond of PDA(she gets all light headed and giggly with physical affection and she hates being seen like that by most people. it breaks the bad bitch fantasy). You could see them occasionally flirting or teasing each other but they're also just Like That with most people, so it's hard to tell if they're really an item. They mostly look like coworkers. Partners in crime if you will.

Favorite fruit: She doesn't really have a particular favorite. She likes melon pies and cranberry wine, so by association she might feel more inclined to like those fruits, but nothing she's too crazy about.

Favorite season: She generally likes fall and spring, when it's not too hot out but not too cold either. Wearing too many layers of clothing makes her feel trapped and constrained, and as much as she likes showing skin, warmer temperatures make wearing armor extra uncomfortable, so middle of the road is her favorite.

Favorite flower: It's a tie between lavender and jasmine- lavender providing one of her favorite scents and jasmine one of her favorite teas. She's also fond of water lilies, graceful reminders of the wetlands she grew up in.

Favorite scent: She's never been one for dedicated worship but loves the smell of incense you usually find in temples. She rarely gets inside temples, but when she does she usually comes out with at least a couple "borrowed" incense sticks. Her favorite varieties are lavender and rosemary scents. Other than that, she likes very subtle perfumes that you can only really smell if you get your nose right up on her neck.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Tea. Coffee tends to make her shaky and more anxious, and hot chocolate tends to be a bit too sweet for her tastes. Tea usually helps calm her nerves, so she feels encouraged to drink it quite often.

Average sleep hours: This woman is paranoid and right after popping out of the nautiloid she gets maybe a total of 2-4 hrs of sleep a night. She knows she needs to sleep to function like a human being the next day, but because of a constant fear of attack and distrust for her companions, her sleep time is sectioned and she wakes up several times during the night because there was a weird noise or her internal clock said "ok you've had enough, get up and do the rounds for the 100th time". She always gets up earlier than everyone else. She gets a bit more comfortable as she starts to trust the people around her, but bad habits die hard and it'll be years before she can get an actual full night of rest.

Dogs or cats: She likes animals in general, and her favorites are little mice(quick, can get in and out of places really easily, make for great messengers and easy-to-hide-in-your-pocket pets), but if she had to choose between cats and dogs, cats would probably win, just because they're usually quieter companions and she feels she has more in common with them than with dogs.

Dream trip: She's been to most major cities along the sword coast and is honestly a little bit sick of the place by now. She also has a bit of an aversion to the underdark due to having her differences with some of the locals. Overall, she would love to visit other places in Faerun, maybe farther up north. She's also always been curious about Candlekeep, not because of the endless book collection, but because of rumors of hidden magic and strange creatures living beneath its halls.

Amount of blankets: None at all, if she can help it. Blankets can get in the way if you need to get up quickly in the middle of the night or struggle with an attacker- not that it's happened to her before, noo, nothing embarrassing like that. But she'd rather prevent any mishaps.

Random fact(s):

She gets new piercings on her ears by the beginning of act 3, courtesy of Shadowheart, and helps her change her hair in return.

She and Karlach have the most unexpected friendship and she would probably die for Karlach while Karlach really believes she could fix her.

She's a magic nerd and can often keep up with Gale when discussing the arcane(usually alienating everyone else in the party from the conversation).

She fights with double rapiers instead of double daggers or swords because she understood, from a very early age, how to serve cunt.

[flowers-of-april]

april showers bring may flowers: prompt list

I wanted to make a flower-based April writing prompt challenge, so I did. Flower meanings are sourced from this book on flower meanings

PROMPT LIST 1: Daisy: Innocence 2: Lilac: First Love/Reminiscence 3: Violet: Modesty 4: Anemone: Forsaken Love 5: Oleander: Caution 6: Honeysuckle: Devotion 7: Poppy: Eternal Sleep 8: Laurel: Glory/Victory/Success 9: Orchid: Elegance/Beauty 10: Petunia: Anger/Resentment 11: Iris: Valour 12: Heather: Luck/Protection 13: Fern: Magic/Secrecy 14: Oak: Bravery 15: Tulip: Love Declaration 16: Magnolia: Dignity 17: Pansy: You Occupy My Thoughts 18: Lavender: Distrust 19: Mistletoe: Surmounting Difficulties 20: Queen Anne's Lace: Sanctuary 21: Protea: Transformation 22: Myrtle: Love 23: Hyacinth: Please Forgive Me 24: Nettle: Cruelty 25: Hemlock: Death 26: Dandelion: Divination/Fortune-Telling 27: Mint: Consolation 28: Jasmine: Amiability/Cheerfulness 29: Rue: Regret 30: Lily of the Valley: Return of Happiness

ALTERNATIVE PROMPTS Bouquet 1: Apology Hyacinth: Forgiveness Bluebell: Humility Peony: Bashfulness Olive Branch: Asking for Peace Bouquet 2: Courting Blush Roses: Blossoming Romance Cornflower: Hope in Love Sweet William: Gallantry Honeysuckle: Devoted Affection Bouquet 3: Marriage Roses: True Love Ivy: Fidelity Myrtle: Hope/Love Dahlia: Commitment/Eternal Love Bouquet 4: Bitter Ends Datura: Deceitful Charms Tansy: Hostility Thistle: Misanthropy Wormwood: Bitterness Bouquet 5: Regret & Sorrow Asphodel: Regrets to the Grave Azalea: Fragility Snowdrop: Consolation/Hope Rue: Regret Willow: Mourning

The only 'rule' is to please have fun. You may tag "flowersofapril2024," if you'd like, and I'll reblog anything I see. If you feel like filling these prompts on AO3 then "Flowers of April" or "Flowers of April 2024" would be a suitable tag. You may also submit to the FlowersofApril2024 collection on AO3

[emiplayzmc]

Uhhhh simplified art style YIPPEEE (Other images are close-ups)

Also did a few small changes to Target's design, now including cheeks and a couple other accessories! :D

Y'know that one post where it's like 'Give characters slit pupils not to make them monstrous, but to make them dilate when excited like a cat'? Yeah that's part of my Addi designs now, they have slit pupils that expand and contract. Technically, they're camera lenses that shrink or expand to take more or less light in!

The meaning of 'religious' in this context is of worshipping the Angel, which is part of the world building I have set up for the rough Dark World ^-^

(Also, fun fact: Addison serial numbers are their assigned name + their hex code in my AU. Target is TF3AA4RDG1ET.)

Text:

"Target Tourmaline (Hex Code: f3a4d1)

-6'1" (73 inches)

-Jeweller, shoe salesman, tea shop owner

-47 years old (middle child)

-Snarky, but caring. Great listener.

-Control freak

-Closest with Banner

-Religious

-Most hurt by Spamton leaving

-████████████ ████ ████████ ████████ ████████ ████████████████ ♡"

"Lavender symbolizes serenity and devotion / acknowledgement of love, but may also symbolize distrust."

[chibsandchill]

A good man

Pairing: Daemon T. x GN!reader

Warnings: None, some profanity (if you squint)

In Daemon needs some reassurance.

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

His hair fell through your parted fingers like water, each strand softer than silk and as pale as the stars. They smelled of the lavender you placed under his pillows and between his tunics, while his skin smelt of the roses you plucked from the gardens. Smoke lingered in the red-speckled riding leathers he donned like armor. Each night he would sit on his balcony with the stars as his only witness as he tended to them with the devotion of a silent sister, tracing the worn edges and the fading crimson threads of his family emblem.

“Am I a good man?” He whispered. 

The family curse weighed heavy on his mind. He heard the whispers of the court, the not-so-silent speculations and declarations of his evil nature. A second Maegor, they liked to call him, for surely the sour prince is destined to be as cruel as he. 

“I don’t know.” You answered. 

Daemon’s coin had yet to fall. Would he be a good man? A bad one? A brilliant one, or a cruel one? A good man who did bad things, or a bad man who did good ones? Perhaps he wouldn’t be a man at all, perhaps he was destined to be the black sheep of a family of ravenous dragons, destined to burn and burn in the name of family and heritage until all that remained of the once prideful boy were memories tainted by centuries-old bitterness. 

“Am I a bad man?” 

The embers in the hearth crackled, sparks of fire licking at the slips of paper thrown on the threadbare carpet in front of it. Letters sent from his brother no doubt, the majority unopened and discarded, but some carried the bent edges of a letter well-read. You wondered if he read them under the stars as well, if his melancholy stare as he conditioned his leather were accompanied by his longing for family; for belonging. 

You let his words linger in the silence. 

“I don’t know.” You answered again. 

He could be kind, so kind that your heart skipped a beat when he presented you with luxurious gifts from his travels to faraway lands, but he could also be cruel as he scoffed and sneered at the vulnerability you showed him. He thrived in chaos and fire and blood, cursed to be as restless as his Blood Wyrm by even crueler Gods. Often he would stagger into his quarters beaming, lilac eyes as light as you had ever seen them, whilst covered in the blood of his once enemies. His hair wasn’t the color of stars then.

He hummed. 

“Would you like me to braid your hair now, my Prince?” 

Daemon nodded. 

With nimble fingers you parted his hair, making sure to scratch his scalp in the spots you knew he liked. Often when he returned in a foul mood you would offer to braid his hair and he would throw a snarky remark or otherwise barbed jab that you would ignore, before he fell into the armchair and allowed himself to be cared for in a way so unfamiliar that it scared him. He melted under your touch, heavy lids fluttering shut, freeing you from the intensity of his gaze. 

Was he a good man? No, the indifference with which he treated the ones around him spoke against it and his often uncaring words and actions towards those he deemed lesser than him, but he loved his family in a different way. A hidden way, one where their inevitable rejection couldn’t hurt him, their distrustful gazes and honey-coated lies never reaching the shriveled heart hiding behind stone walls. 

He could cut a man from cock to head without even a thought of hesitation, but he would burn the Seven kingdoms to protect his loved ones. His loyalty was highly sought after, each simpering maiden of King’s landing lusting after him even after he used and discarded them after they lost their appeal, though they knew not that his loyalty was as fickle as a candle’s flame, the ways and means with which he cared was unconventional at best and monstrous at worst. 

Daemon Targaryen was not a good man, or a bad one. He was something in between, something forged in the flames of sin and carnage, emerging screaming and angry from a cursed womb. A man of darkness shaped by a loving hand. 

You could braid his hair in your sleep. He never wanted anything more grand than the singular one that kept his hair out of his face. Still, you kept your hands in his hair, hiding your affection under the touch of a dutiful servant. 

“Are you a good man?” You asked him. 

The reply was instant.

 “No.”

“I think you could be.” Your fingers brush against his face. 

He glances at the letters. His eyes lingered on the letter at the top of the pile, one with Aemma’s unbroken seal. He confided in you once that he dared not open them for the sorrow with which his good-sister wrote to him with was enough to break his heart. “Perhaps once, if things had been different and the gods kinder I could have been. "

Emboldened by the way he allowed your touch to linger on his cheek, you say, “I thought Targaryens were above the gods.”

The reward for your bravery was the ghost of a smile. “You’re growing bold. But it matters not. Every story needs a villain, and who am I to deny the gods entertainment. I will play the part I was given.”

“Are you a bad man then, Daemon Targaryen?”

His eyes searched yours, and in an act even bolder than your words, he placed his hand over yours, long and narrow fingers slotting between yours like he was always meant to hold them. 

“Would you leave if I was?”

You shook your head. “No.”

His smile grew strained as if pained. “Then I hope I do not live long enough to see myself become one” 

Daemon pressed a kiss that lingered on the top of your hand before pulling it down to rest over his heart, allowing you to, for the first time, feel how his heart beat for you.