#Search abandonment solutions

[granddetectivewerewolf]

10 Common eCommerce Mistakes and How to Fix Them

Launching and running a successful eCommerce store is no small feat, but by avoiding these common mistakes, you can set yourself up for success. Remember, the key to thriving in the competitive world of eCommerce is to stay informed, adapt to changes, and always prioritize your customers’ needs.

By optimizing for voice search, focusing on user experience, and implementing a solid marketing strategy, you’ll be well on your way to building a profitable and sustainable eCommerce business. If you’re looking for expert guidance, consider partnering with a digital marketing services in India provider like Bold SEO Services. They offer tailored solutions to help your business grow and succeed in the digital landscape.

So, take these lessons to heart, learn from the mistakes of others, and watch your online store flourish.

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: In this episode none!

In futures episodes: Violence, Strong language, female main character is considered heterosexual but she have feelings for a female (Cho Hyun-ju) and it is reciprocated, abuse for male characters.

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You were stupid, very stupid and naive, that was what you repeated to yourself every day since your ex-boyfriend scammed you and abandoned you in a country where you didn't know anyone, you couldn't even understand the language well and now you were locked up in a place full of strangers in a green uniform and with a headache you could barely bear.

Why were you doing such stupid things? You should have said no when that man approached you and offered you money, it was all for the damn money, otherwise how would you find another way to get home?

Barely a day had passed, you understood little of the first game where you saw one person after another die around you, what you had gotten yourself into, this wasn't a game, it was a massacre, as you sat cross-legged on the cold bed that had been assigned to you you could feel your hands shaking and you felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

Hey - a kind voice rumbled slowly but enough to wake you from your trance to look up and see a boy with long, slicked-back hair holding a small metal tray - I noticed you didn't come over for your food, I brought you some

His equally shaky hand moved a little closer to you, leaving the tray on the bed, staring at you, afraid you'd react

It's okay if you don't want to eat it, it's just that if we're going to keep playing you need strength for tomorrow - his kind but shy smile and his clear disinterest in leaving made you wipe your tears with the sleeves of your sweater, nodding taking a deep breath - Thanks - you told him, trying not to sound upset, because you really weren't and if you were it was only with yourself

My name is Dae-Ho, yours is… 144 - he looked at you curiously taking a bite of his food

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you sighed, hugging your legs uncomfortably and nervous

Hey, leave her alone - a loud and somewhat curious voice sounded behind Dae-Ho making the two look towards the sound - don't you see that you're making her uncomfortable? go away

I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that… - Dae-Ho looked at you embarrassed, walking away just a few steps

You don't have to give explanations, go away - the girl, a little taller than Dae-Ho, looked at him firmly, almost annoyed, following the man with her gaze as he walked away quickly and embarrassed, joining a group of men on the other shelf of beds

you can eat in peace - the girl looked at you kindly while you only responded with a slight nod and she walked away returning to her place two beds down on the shelf next to you

It was difficult for you not to go unnoticed and it was obvious that everyone wanted to get away from you, you weren't like them, you didn't share their nationality, their traditions, or their topics of conversation, you didn't even understand many of them what they were talking about, they all looked at you like a weirdo, like why a foreigner could come and want to steal their prize, it was unfair.

That's how you spent the first night, alone, trembling from the cold and fear, looking into the darkness while you cried silently and the gunshots echoed in your ears, it was a nightmare and that's how you were until sleep overcame you

The second day wasn't any better, you could barely carry yourself, you were tired, hungry and much more scared than yesterday, surrounded by hundreds of people in a courtyard with drawings of children and rainbows on the floor.

''Now, it's time to form teams of 5, you have 10 minutes'' the voice of the speaker sounded repeatedly before an alarm sounded and you saw how everyone ran looking for members for their team, but everyone seemed to avoid you like a plague.

They ran and pushed you but no one looked at you to join and if they looked at you it was to laugh and murmur

There she was again, standing in front of you with a sad look that barely met your eyes she looked at the floor and walked by your side.

Hey… - you murmured barely, only to her with fear and shame - if you still don't have a team… I can join you if you don't mind - she looked at you over her shoulder giving a sigh of relief nodding offering you her hand so she could walk by your side and not get lost in the crowd

Between your fingers you could notice the difference in size between your small and fragile hand and hers, it was big with a different strength and somewhat rough but still made you feel protected and confident

So you both walked almost in circles finding the fragile old woman and her son and then the little girl with bangs forming a team of 5

Again the games were confusing for you, you could identify some that resembled what you had once played in your country but fear consumed you making your hands tremble again

Calm down - her voice again fragile but somewhat thick made you look at her holding the air - everything will be fine, don't push yourself too much okay? Do you think you can take charge of throwing the rocks? It's just a matter of taking a rock, throwing it and making the second one fall, that's all you have to do - her voice was like a murmur trying not to interrupt the game of the first two teams that were participating

Should I just throw it? - you looked at her nervously, looking at her dark eyes behind her bangs

You just have to throw it, it's easy - she smiled at you giving you hope making you smile barely as you looked at the floor again nervously trying not to think about everything that was tormenting your head, in the background you could hear the screams and cheers that the other players made while the teams participated until a round of gunshots made you jump scared covering your ears and closing your eyes tightly - calm down, calm down nothing is happening - her arms surrounded you quickly, adjusting you against her chest, you could feel the strands of her hair on your face and a slight aroma of herbs coming from it - it's over, don't open your eyes until I tell you okay?

Your head barely nodded as you took a deep breath, the aroma of her hair made you remember the gardens where you walked when you first arrived in South Korea and her arms for some reason made you feel protected, nothing could happen to you

A couple of minutes (that seemed like an eternity) passed slowly, people were talking, some were crying and in the background you could hear the sound of the sirens of the forklifts that had come to pick up the bodies, one second after another it was a damn nightmare.

''Next team, you can take your position'' the voice from the speaker again

It's our turn - the old woman sighed getting up while you opened your eyes and stood up slowly with fear

The guards tied your ankles and after a shot the game for you began.

You walked counting the steps, being constant and fast in your tasks, first Ddjaki, the little girl with the bangs did well, then the flying rock, your trembling hands held it strong and letting out a deep sigh you threw it against the rock in the distance failing in the attempt

Girl concentrate, what's wrong with you! - the old woman shouted making your friend look at her annoyed and after her firm indication and walking as a team to pick it up the 5 of them returned to their position - don't fail, please girl!

We trust you… calm down, take a breath and throw it, you'll do well - Your new best friend looked at you smiling lightly giving you courage.

A sigh again, a fixed look at the rock and after throwing it it fell with a blow.

Everyone screamed, applauded and so on again until reaching the final task ''Team 2, you have completed your tasks'' you had never been so happy to hear that spooky voice on the speaker and once the guards untied your ankles they all ran screaming and laughing to the fence that separated you from the rest of the players, you could finally return to the dormitory and finally had survived another day.

Everyone was happy, so much so that all of you were jumping and screaming with excitement, your friend, the tall girl ran to you without wasting a second surrounding you with her strong arms making you spin in the air while both of you laughed

We did it, I told you, we did it right - she laughed jumping with you still in her arms making you scream when you felt the air on your face and your legs hanging in the air

Now, stop it, you're going to make her dizzy - the old woman laughed patting her back as a sign that it was enough until you heard gunshots in the distance again making the team erase their smile and remember the horrible place where they were

Come on let's sit down - her hand slowly and carefully took yours walking towards the bed shelves climbing up and sitting on the steps - are you okay?

Yes… I'm pretty well, thanks for helping me - you smiled rubbing your hands on your legs nervously

By the way, my name is Cho Hyun-Ju… are you? - she looked at you curiously

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you smiled shyly at her

You have a very pretty name - she smiled back shyly with her cheeks slightly tinted - thanks for letting me join you in the game you were the only person who approached me

You don't have to thank me, I think we are both rejected for certain reasons and that makes us unique in the crowd right? it's better to be united and be stronger than alone - your cheeks felt hot, the sign that they were red like cherries

You're right..

Part 2 ✨

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Thanks for reading, this is the first episode I've written about Squid Game and it was short since I have little time to update but I didn't want to go to sleep without writing the beginning of the story, I have ideas but I'd like to hear yours and write them down, just to reinforce the theme of this story the reader and Cho Hyun-ju will possibly have a romance so if these themes aren't to you please don't read it, I know you'll find something that suits your tastes. 🫶🏻

Again, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

BTW: Happy New Year everyone 🥂✨

[nina-ya]

Synopsis: Stuck in a snowstorm, you and Law have to resort to sharing body heat to stay warm. Who knew an act of survival could turn so sexual? Pairing: Law x AFAB reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, Hand job, cunnilingus, law is a piece of shit and ruins your clothes • ficmas masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

The snowstorm raged outside, the howling winds battering against the walls of the abandoned cabin as though the elements themselves sought to break through and terrorize you. Through the warped slats of the wooden walls, the cold spilled in. Snow piled against the single-paned windows, rendering any view into the outside world useless. 

Inside the cabin wasn't much better– empty and run down, save for a broken chair, an upturned table, and a rotting woodpile too damp to be of any use. You and Law were in what seemed to be the common area, breaths fogging the air, and the absence of any heat source made every second a test of endurance. Law sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, leaning back against the warped planks of the wall, and you were across from him, crouched with an air of grim determination as you furiously rubbed two sticks together in a vain attempt to coax a spark into existence. 

“You know,” Law drawled, his voice tinged with amusement despite his ever-growing coldness, “if sheer stubbornness could start a fire, you’d have the place burning down by now.”

You shot him a glare, blowing a strand of hair from your face as you worked the sticks together with renewed vigor. “Well, unless you have a better idea, Mr. Genius, let me work my magic.”

Law didn’t respond immediately, his gaze darting around the cabin as though searching for a solution to their predicament in the shadows of the corners. Then, without a word, he gestured for you to sit beside him with a tap to the space on the ground next to him. 

You hesitated, glancing back at the desolate room once more, but the persistent chill and his expression boring into you left you with no other choice. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and shuffled over, lowering yourself beside him and pressing your side against him. The warmth from him was a near-instant relief, though far from enough to chase away the cold.

“It’s freezing,” you murmured, tucking your hands under your arms for extra warmth. 

Law shrugged off his coat and draped it over both of your shoulders as he stated as practically as ever, “Body heat. It’s the most efficient way to conserve warmth.”

With that, he shifted closer, his side pressing right up against yours, his heat steadily seeping into your frozen skin. You couldn't stop the shivers that racked your body, the icy tendrils of winter coiling tighter around you. 

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and pressing against the warm skin of his abdomen. He jumped under your touch, immediately jerking away from your touch. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, his voice more a growl than a question. 

Your lips curled into a playful grin, the chill momentarily forgotten in the face of his reaction. “I already told you, it's freezing,” you started with a mock serious tone, fingers pressing against his warm skin again. “And you’re so warm.”

Each time he tried to evade you, you followed, your hands persistent as you darted around his attempts to push you back. He was rapidly shifting backward from you when something caught on an uneven floorboard, sending his feet flying in the air and his back hitting the ground with a thud. Before he could recover, you were on him, straddling his hips with a triumphant laugh. 

With a soft, playful laugh you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Got you.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, one of your hands snaked lower, sliding beneath the waistband of his pants, feeling the warmth of his pulse beneath your fingers. Law’s body tensed, his breath a sharp hiss as you closed your fingers around him slowly as if savoring the moment. His cock was already stiff and oh so impossibly warm against the cold air of the cabin. 

“See?” you said, voice low and teasing as you squeezed lightly. “So warn…”

Law’s breath hitched, his head tipping back against the wooden floorboards with a dull thud. He muttered a curse under his breath, his hands reflexively gripping your thighs in a futile attempt to ground himself. His body arched subtly into your touch, his jaw clenching as a soft groan spilled past his lips. 

“Fuck… So cold…” he muttered, voice strained. Your icy touch sent sharp, electric jolts through his nerves, intensifying the feelings your hand around his cock brung out. You stroked him slowly, drinking in the way his hips jerked involuntarily as you teased him. 

“I can find a way to keep you warm,” you murmured, your voice teasing and soft. You shifted, leaning down so your lips hovered over his, your breath ghosting against him. “Do you like it?” you whispered, your tone dripping with playful intent as you gave him another slow, deliberate squeeze. 

His response was immediate, his hands tightened on your thighs, nails digging lightly into your fleece-lined leggings. “You’re a menace,” he rasped, but the words lacked bite, his gaze locked onto yours with a mix of frustration and undeniable need. He couldn’t help but roll his hips into your hand to chase the friction, his inhale sharp and shaky. “You’re torturing me,” he breathes out, his tone less accusatory and more pleading, a desperate edge woven into each syllable. One of his hands left your thighs, opting to grab your wrist and guide you. “Don't stop…” 

And you didn’t. Your strokes quickened, the slick guide of your hand drawing him closer to the edge with every movement. His body tensed beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, as his breathing slipped into broken moans. The hand on your wrist tightened, guiding your movements more frantically as his need overtook him. 

“I’m–” the words barely left his lips before his release hit, a shuddering cry breaking free as his body arched into you. His cock pulsed in your grasp as ropes of cum spilled over your hand and up, some splattering against your cheek, sticky and warm. You froze for a moment before laughing softly as you looked down at him. 

“Messy,” you murmured, your tone dripping with amusement as you brought your hand to your mouth. Your tongue flicked out to clean your fingers, your eyes never leaving his. The sight of your tongue wrapping around each of your digits sucking and savoring his essence drew a groan from Law as the hand on your thigh flexed against you. 

His hands planted firmly on your hips, sliding you up across his abdomen with ease. You yelped at the sudden motion, and before you knew it, he was guiding you until you hovered right over his face. 

“Law--” your thoughts were cut off as he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your leggings, gripping until–rrrrrip. You gasped at both the cold air kissing your slick cunt and the sheer audacity of him to rip your clothes without an ounce of remorse or hesitation. 

You opened your mouth to yell at him, but your words dissolved into a whimper as his cold nose brushed against your slick core, turning you to jelly. “Relax,” he huffed out. His icy lips ghosted over your folds and your hips attempted to jerk away from his touch, but his hands kept you firmly in place. 

His tongue suddenly darted out, a hot, deft stroke that had you wailing out. His hands tightened on your hips, keeping you anchored to his face as he devoured you like a man starved. You squirmed against him as he drove you to the brink of madness with every stroke of his tongue. He groaned into you, the vibration sending your mind into a tizzy. 

“L-Law,” you stuttered, your voice shaky as you reached for something to ground yourself, fingers lacing through his dark hair. He only responded with a growl, his tongue flicking over your clit before sucking it. You cried out, your hips bucking into his face.

He teased and tormented, alternating between soft, teasing flicks, and firm, deliberate strokes that sent bolts of electricity slamming right into your core. The wet sounds of his mouth working against you filled the space, each sound a sinful melody.

Your thighs trembled, and you began to rock against his face, your juices smearing across his lips and chin. He hummed in approval, the vibrations pulling a shuddering moan from your chest. His hands guided your movements, helping you chase your pleasure with a feral sort of need as if he couldn’t bear for you to pull away for even a second. 

The pleasure was consuming you, your mind hazy and unfocused as you chased that blinding peak. But then, through that haze, a faint sound reached your ears. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Your eyes were met with one of Law’s hands wrapped tight around his leaking cock, stroking himself with a brutal intensity. His slicked hand moved in time with his eager might, the sight devastatingly obscene. 

A breathless laugh escaped you, though it was half swallowed by a moan. “You’re so–” you began, voice trembling, “needy.” 

Before you could say more, his tongue dragged a precise stroke over your clit, the pressure timed with a slow stroke of his hand. Your words dissolved into a broken cry as your body arched sharply, the tension inside you coiling impossibly tight.

He didn’t let up for even a moment, his mouth relentless as he alternated between consuming you whole with broad strokes and zeroing in on that sweet, sensitive spot that left you gasping for air. 

Your body shuddered violently as the black snake of pleasure coiled around you, threatening to end you with its venomous bite. Your hips rocked with desperation, grinding against his mouth, every motion perfectly in sync with the steady pull of his hand on his cock. “Oh, fuck. I’m gonna--” 

And then the snake finally sunk its teeth into you, its venom shooting right through your veins as an overwhelming pleasure ripped right through you. Your back arched as the waves of bliss crested and crashed through you, your vision blurring  as you clung to the world around you, your body trembling and shaking uncontrollably.

At that exact moment, Law grunted, his release hitting with equal force, the pulse of his cock in his hand matching the spasms of your cunt. His honey spilled over his fingers and dripped onto his stomach as he groaned deeply into your sensitive folds.

And as you both trembled from the aftermath, Law licked you clean, savoring every drop of your essence, tasting you and making you jerk and whine out from the sensitivity of your recent orgasm.  

When you finally managed to slide off him, the motion was slow, your body fatigued. And as you pulled away, a thin string of your shared fluids stretched between your bodies, fragile but stubborn, until it snapped with a soft pop. 

You collapsed beside him, breathless, your body flushed and spent. It was only until now that you were able to take a good look at him, the way his lips and chin glistened with your juices, the way his chest heaved with each breath, the way his hand was still resting on his softening cock, coated in the remnants of his own pleasure. 

Neither of you could speak, and neither of you wanted to. There was no need for words when the atmosphere around you was still sizzling with the raw intimacy of the moment. However, that bliss ended quickly as you remembered his earlier stunt of ripping your leggings. And as you perched yourself up on your elbows, face snapping to his with an expression that radiated irritation, he just sighed, knowing what was to come. Instead of thinking of excuses or remedies, he spent those few seconds of tensioned silence thinking of the quickest route to your thighs in order to keep your mind once again occupied with the thoughts of his mouth and fingers instead. 

[venjras]

CHEATING TROPE - GOJO SATORU.

not my usual cup of tea but here we are. sfw, mention of cheating,

his gaze was always on you. whenever you were in the same room, even from opposite sides, his attentive eyes did not miss even the smallest of your movements.

funny considering the fact that he had a girlfriend. you had met him when they were already a couple, you had heard from megumi that they weren’t going to last long. opposite characters, in the worst possible combination ever, the only great thing was sex and as an answer that was already enough. probably the pressure from the parents had something to do with it too, hers was a powerful family that would benefit their business immensely. since one day it would become his.

anyway, now you were at the fushiguro house, you were there for a group assignment, the house was empty except for you and that raven head immersed in books. a small snort escaped your lips, continuing to write down the results of the research you two had taken the last two hours. you were sure that your head would end up exploding keeping up like this.

“toruuuuu, i don’t want to stay here. let’s go home, my parents are waiting us for dinner.” fuck, no. that high-pitched voice was capable of piercing your eardrums like nothing. a roll of eyes and the kitchen door swinging open revealing their figures behind it. gojo and his bimbo girlfriend who was clinging to his arm, almost as if she were an extension of him and depended on it to survive. now the idea of ​​going back to your house was even more inviting. he went to ruffle his younger cousin’s hair, who muttered something inaudible in response. “you’re such a nerd, at this rate you’ll become a book yourself.” he added with a laugh, then pointed his gaze at you from under the thick sunglasses he always wore. time to realize it and the girl was already pulling him by the arm, muttering as if she were a child extremely in need of attention.

breathe, breathe, breathe.

“do you still keep the chemistry book in your room? we might need it for a more in-depth study of the last part.” you don’t even bother waiting for an answer, leaving the room, which had become too narrow by now, and heading upstairs. running away was your only chance, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten out alive. there was something that was digging under your skin every time you met them, you still had to figure out what, but when you thought you were getting the solution it was as if your mind refused to process it. now you were safe, in megumi’s room looking for a book that you remembered perfectly well that he had forgotten at school, the perfect excuse to waste more time looking for it.

“running away won’t get you anywhere, you know that right sweetheart?” the deep voice echoed in your ears, hitting straight to your head. straightening your back and continuing to search on the desk, moving various papers. “it will definitely take me away from the beautiful voice of your girlfriend who, in my personal opinion, isn’t particularly pleasant.” the answer was immediate, spontaneous, perhaps too much so. seeing out of the corner of your eyes that a sly smile was making its way onto his lips. “actually, if you allow me, I’d go down and save gumi before his eardrums shatter in a million pieces.”

you go to the door but his figure doesn’t move, taking up the entire frame and preventing you from passing. now you were face to face, the perfect moment to realize how he had abandoned his glasses and now his crystalline eyes were fixed on you only. bad, bad idea. you try to pass through the small gap on the right but he promptly covers it with his long torso, making your eyebrows gather. “may i?” you move closer but nothing, he doesn’t show any signs of moving back, on the contrary. he crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at you amused. “and what if i don’t want to?” he tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. you could do nothing but sigh, placing a hand on his chest, trying to move him but instead feeling only the mass of muscles stiffen. marble, that's what it could be compared to. this must have been the result of who knows how much training.

hold your thoughts, hold your thoughts.

“i want a kiss.” he said it so calmly that you almost had a fit, you must have heard wrong and your expression clearly betrayed your confusion. you saw him lower himself to your height, remaining just a few centimeters from your face, you felt his breath on your cheek. “i want a really nice kiss and after that i’ll move." this time the words reached your ears clearly, there was no possible misunderstanding.

and everything happened too quickly to even realize. his breathing getting closer and closer, the bodies that seemed to attract each other like magnets, he finally detached from the doorframe and obviously you saw an opportunity and took it. you took advantage and moved him enough to have a space to pass, exiting the room and with your foot on the first step. “you can do much better than that, toru.” you said that name purposely with the cadence of his girlfriend, shooting him a wink and rejoining the two in the living room.

the cheating trope had never been your favorite anyway.

maybe i’ll do a part two, i don’t know yet.

©️ venjras.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 33

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

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"Where's your phone?" you ask over the back of your couch, looking into the kitchen where Chan is searching through the contents of your fridge.

His head lifts to look at you, his finger pointing to the other side of the bench, where his phone is plugged into your charger. "Why?"

"Changbin says his life is in danger if you don't answer him."

Chan's eyes roll good-naturedly and reaches for his phone, unable to control the amusement that lights up his face. You watch the fridge door swing itself shut behind him, left abandoned, and then turn just in time to see his expression harden into a frown, his fingers hovering over the phone screen.

"What's wrong?" you ask, and he looks up just long enough for you to know that he is debating whether or not to lie to you. "You look like someone really did die."

"It's definitely not that bad," he huffs, blowing out an amused breath. "Just a little scary, that's all."

His words are enough to propel you off the couch, despite the nonchalance of his voice and the tension that drops from his shoulders as he convinces himself. "Just tell me what it is," you say, craning your neck to see the screen as you approach. 

He moves it out of your view before you can, eyeing you warily. "It's not as bad as it looks," he warns, and he waits for you to nod in agreement before he relaxes, reluctantly offering you the phone. "Remember how we were down by the river last night?"

"How could I forget?" you snort; and then you look at the photo he's showing you and you understand why he's asking so hesitantly. Two blurry figures stare back at you - or rather, they don't because they are too caught up in each other's arms, the black expanse of the river in the foreground and the snowy crest of the hill a stark contrast behind, like the whole thing is shot in black and white from some time long ago.

Except that it's not from long ago. It's from last night, and it's taken on someone's long-range lens from across the river, and it's splashed all across Dispatch's social media along with the name Bang Chan.

It takes you several breaths to be able to trust your voice again, your head swimming and your heart leaping into your throat. You don't know what to say first; we should have known better, or this is why we shouldn't be ourselves in public, or you never should have kissed me. The last one in particular sticks in your throat, and then drips back down into your lungs like poison. You can't say that to him, any more than you could blame him. He told you to be reckless, to stop thinking of the eyes and the cameras, sure, but you kissed him first. You're the one who didn't think, not once in the entire time you were stood on that riverbank.

You think now though, past the hangover and the drag of sleep from the late night and even later wake-up call. It's the least you can do to fix this, even if the way you shove the phone back at him is a little too vehement, the old frustration at the world stabbing at you. "How do they even know it's you?" you ask, instead of letting out one of the many angry words that boil in your chest. "We look like silhouettes."

"They don't," he answers, his eyes searching the details of the photo again. "I mean, the photographer might know, but everyone else is just guessing. No one recognised you at all."

You feel bad at the trickle of relief that runs smooth and cool into your veins, leaving him to deal with the rumours on his own. "The company can deal with it then, can't they?" you say. "If the photo doesn't show your face, then it's just a rumour."

"Exactly," he says with a firm nod, satisfaction clear in his face. "Changbin is the only one who knows that we went out last night - if anyone else asks, we just tell them it wasn't us. We were never there."

"You think that will work?"

Chan shrugs, turning away to continue his hunt for breakfast in your kitchen cupboards. "There's no reason for anyone to think it really is us. It doesn't show any of our faces."

From the bench, you pick up his phone again, studying the photo. Black and white, silhouettes in the snow illuminated just at the edge of the light of a street lamp. You can see the fall of your hair and the angle of the beanie stuffed down over your head as you look at him, the familiar outline of his nose and brow where his face turns away. It would almost be innocuous except for the proximity of your bodies and the hands laced together between you.

"It shows some of our faces," you say, because you don't really know what else to add other than one of the ten ugly fears rattling around inside of your head; but you are steadfastedly ignoring them, not giving them voice. "Why did they post this picture and not one of us kissing?"

"Maybe it's the best shot they got of our faces?" Chan suggests, glancing at you. The way his brow pinches suggests that he doesn't like what he sees. "They were shooting from across the river, and it was dark last night."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," you mumble to yourself, and put down the phone before you can start scrolling through the comments, your stomach churning at the thought of all the photos that could be out there.

Slowly, Chan turns to you, depositing the cereal he's just found on the bench beside him. "What are you thinking?" he questions, in just the same way as you'd imagined him asking last night.

You take your time before answering, setting your mind towards the root cause of the small panic that resides in your chest. It feels like it did yesterday, the winding up of tension that skyrockets the moment you lay eyes on something you do not want and cannot control - except there is no crowd bearing down on you this time, nor the adrenaline rush of a stage or the sleeplessness of the night before. "I'm sorry," you say, and you are surprised at how easily the words come out of your mouth, "that I kissed you out there. We should have gone back home first."

The look he gives you is incredulous, his lips parting in absolute shock. "Don't be sorry for that," he says. "If you hadn't done it, I was going to."

"I still should have known better," you insist, your head down. "I didn't even stop to think - I feel like I lost my mind last night. I know we were supposed to be irresponsible, but this is..."

"Sit down," he instructs, turning you towards the little table in the corner of the kitchen. You walk towards it on numb feet and settle in the first chair you encounter, watching him make cereal while your mind wanders somewhere far, far away, contemplating the night, and the morning that is unfolding. The things you have said, and the things you have done.

"Sorry," you blurt out again, picking at a chip in the wood with one finger. "I had fun last night. I know I'm ruining it, this is just..."

"Overwhelming?" he suggests when the word won't come to you, his attention on the milk he's pouring over his cereal.

"Yeah," you answer, muted, and watch as he lets out a shuddering breath. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He answers too quickly for it to be true. "I'm always fine."

"Are you?" you ask pointedly, and you meet his gaze when he glances at you, just the same as he had to you the day before. 

Slowly, he crosses the kitchen with bowl in hand, setting it down gently on the other side of the table. "Most of the time," he acquiesces, slumping into his seat. "Maybe not so much right now."

"It never happened," you repeat, your hand splaying flat upon the table as if that is all it will take to control yourself, the situation, the world. "We'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about that," Chan says, poking at his breakfast. "I'm just...disappointed. I was looking forward to what comes next - what would have, if they hadn't caught us."

His face reddens as he talks, his head ducking in an attempt to try to hide it just the same as he shovels food into his mouth to stop himself from talking. "What comes next?" you repeat, ignoring the wrench of your chest that doesn't know whether it is happy or tense, the black angst that ties your feet to the ground even as you swallow down your heart again. "You have a plan?"

"I mean, I was hoping for a date," he says, just peeking up at you from under his lashes. "And the conversation we're about to have, without the media."

"About the future?" you ask, and he nods; and for a moment, you see what he's talking about, the way things could have been without that photo online and the remorse that tries to creep in at the edges of your memory of last night now that you know what the repercussions will be. Would you feel that way without the photo there to bring you crashing back to reality? You think that maybe you would have just kept flying on that bold recklessness you'd embraced last night, kissing him out there in the snow with no mind for who could be watching or what it might ruin. Even now, your heart aches for it - the freedom you'd found in just a moment, the wild abandon that had rewarded you with-

Nothing. A moment of skin-deep happiness, and a cloud of impending doom in the light of the morning. And was it ever anything deep and lasting, or just a moment of weakness between you in the darkness? You'd walked out there thinking nothing of him, after all, right up until the moment he'd said I love you, and something in your chest had decided you liked the sound of that enough to-

"I hate this," you say, instead of forcing out any of the thoughts that are coalescing in your mind, the decisions you know you are going to have to share with him before long. "I just decided to change my entire life yesterday. Couldn't I have one thing for free?"

The smile that comes to his face is wry and humourless, biting at his cheeks instead of filling them. "My timing was bad," he admits freely. "I don't even know what I was thinking last night."

"I don't think we were thinking," you reply easily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand. 

When you open them again, he is looking at you with sympathy. "It doesn't have to be a big deal," he says. "Or mean anything. It isn't-"

"It wasn't a big deal," you say, cutting him off smoothly, even though the constriction of your throat and your shuddery chest say the opposite. "Just friends...hanging out. People do it all the time."

"Just friends?" he asks tentatively.

The way that he looks at you almost breaks you - and you know he doesn't mean it, but the tragedy of those eyes, the mask that he holds in place to stop himself from slipping, when he's promised himself that he will hold to any decision you make, regardless of any feelings he might have... "Just friends," you say over a breath you can't quite take, your stomach busy turning itself inside out over this decision. "For now. Until this dies down, and I figure out how-"

Your voice starts to stutter and fall away, the words too thick in your throat to spit out in any sensible order. "Okay," he says over the tail end of your sentence, his voice devoid of anything but acceptance. "That's okay. Whatever you want. We don't have to be anything but friends, ever."

It is your turn to not be able to look at him, humming in response even as you watch his cereal instead of his eyes, your hands folding themselves together on the table in front of you. "It's not that I don't-" you begin, and then stop again, indecision crippling in your voice. "If we weren't idols, I would go on a date with you. I would go on every date with you. But the people that we are, and the things that people already say that I know I can't deal with..."

A hand lands on top of yours, stopping the nervous wringing of your fingers. "I understand," his voice says, to all the things that yours doesn't. "And it's okay. Nothing has changed - and nothing has to change. And no one except us knows that it happened."

"Except Changbin," you add - and finally, when he huffs a laugh, you can look up at him and see the warm smile that says he really is accepting of this compromise; of you, making the decision that you have to make, without the loss of your friendship.

"He won't tell anyone," Chan promises, squeezing your fingers. "He'll never mention it again, if I tell him not to."

You look at him, looking at you with nothing but warmth in his eyes, a deep kind of fondness that makes you shiver in your own skin, and you are...speechless, for a moment, blown away by the luck you have found that you cannot come to believe that you deserve, in being in this moment. This night that has just passed, this life, which you thought had been leading you to nothing and has somehow given you everything instead, including him. "You're too good for me," you blurt out thoughtlessly, meaning it to be a joke - and missing the humour completely, your voice too breathless from that look in his eyes.

He smiles anyway; not at the joke, but kindly instead, at the sentiment of your words. "I think I'm exactly the right amount of good for you," he answers, and then his hand rescinds from yours to stir his breakfast instead, leaving you to sit, open-mouthed, and struggle to find any kind of words to say in response to such a thing.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[unknownati]

x. bonnet

a/n: lost my bonnet (rip to my braids) and it inspired me

*a lil sum from my drafts while i force this christmas fic into existence and slooowly chip away at these reqs 😪 and i have since found it if you are wondering

warnings/tags: black!gn!reader, bonnet can be switched out for a durag, silk scarf, etc i js didnt know how to type that lol, ekko's kinda sassy 🤔, bickering but not arguing, fluff...question mark, what is this kind of thing called, rochelle and julius from everybody hates chris kinda relationship, shitty ending idc wrote this at 1am with a t-shirt on my head,

_______________________________________________

a cabinet door slams shut a few rooms over from ekko's workbench, his body jolting at the suddenness of the sound.

"where is this bonnet!?" you shout, clad in your nighttime attire of a t-shirt and sweatpants. this isn't a question new to ekko, you have this problem once every couple of months.

to say you were tired was an understatement. but you'd be damned if you spent hours in that chair getting your hair done just to have it get messed up in one night just because you couldn't protect it. and you've been searching for this thing for 30 whole minutes.

your footsteps stomped around the place, items clattering as you toss them around in wild abandonment in search of this godforsaken bonnet.

"did you check the bathroom?" ekko calls, raising his glass of water to his lips as you pace by his room.

"yes! three times. and even then, i never leave it in there, i always leave it in the same—" a pillow gets thrown off of your bed. nothing. "—exact—" you toss the sheets up. nothing. "—place. i don't get it!"

"then i don't know, baby."

"well, i know i didn't just grow two legs and walk on up out of here!"

ekko scoffs, making a weak attempt at showing empathy. "you have so many bonnets, just wear a different one."

"i can't. that's the only one that doesn't fly off my head while i'm sleeping."

he's amazed at your ability to be so stubborn at the smallest situation. to him, this is nothing but a 'throw something else on your head and call it a day' type of solution.

"can you check your workroom?"

"do you sleep in my workroom?" words full of sarcasm that make your brows somehow furrow even deeper.

"ekko, don't get smart with me."

he sighs, making a half hearted peek around his area. nothing. a shrug. "nothing here."

you keep searching around, looking in the most nonsensical areas for this piece of fabric. under the kitchen sink, IN the kitchen sink, in the shower, in your shoes, ekko's laundry basket, nothing.

you're beginning to just accept defeat, sighing in frustration as you trudge your way back to bed. you pass by ekko's workroom, eyes peeking between the small crack in the door.

pink satin.

atop ekko's head.

"i know you fuckin' lying—"

you swing open the door, snatching it off of his head. white locs fall loose, framing his face. your hand clutches your hip as you wave the bonnet in his face. "ekko, what is this?" you interrogated, an obvious rhetorical question that he didn't have an answer to.

ekko bares his teeth, shoulders pulling into a shrug. he completely forgot that he just...threw it on his head a few hours ago before he started working since he couldn't find a hair tie. "...damn, how'd that get there?"

you close your eyes. two deep breaths. in, out. in out. the second one steadier than the first.

now, usually you were very patient. you understood; things happen. but this? this was your breaking point for the week.

your fingers find the shell of his ear. the sting shoots through the cartilage, skin at his temple pulled taut. he's wincing, sucking air in through his teeth.

"it's like you're trying to test me, huh?

"baby, i'm sorry—" he unintentionally tries giving you his signature puppy-dog eyes. you only tug harder.

"sorry does not cut it. i've been looking for this for 30 minutes, 30! i'm tired as hell, i'm tryna sleep, and here you are playing like shit is sweet!"

...ekko didn't touch that bonnet after that.

[sweetercalypso]

Texas Hold ‘Em || Joel Miller

Summary: when a heatwave interrupts your lake house vacation, you and dbf!Joel find another way to have some fun

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: minors dni; stripping, blowjob, unprotected p in v sex, pull-out method, reader on top, implied age gap, afab reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summer in Texas is hot.

Cracked asphalt sidewalks burn underfoot, paired with sharp, dry grass that pricks at your skin when you stray off the path in search of relief.

The sun is too bright, the air is unbearably warm, and the humidity is enough to take your breath away.

Days like this are best spent inside.

With an impending heat wave looming in the forecast, it seems like summer might pass by entirely before you have the chance to enjoy your break. Joel Miller – a drinking buddy your dad had picked up in recent years – had offered you a trip to his lakeside cabin with the promise that a cold drink and a dip in the water would be the perfect remedy for the high temperatures.

You’d arrived three days ago, and every afternoon since had brought a thick, sweltering heat that made it impossible to pull yourself away from the comfort of the living room. Even the calm, inviting waves lapping gently at the lake’s edge weren’t enough to tempt you back outdoors to fry under the brutal sun.

The only solution was to sulk inside, bitterly cherishing the tiny air conditioner working overtime to keep you cool. Joel didn’t seem outwardly bothered by the heat, but you could tell he preferred to stay indoors, too.

“S’posed to be in the high 90’s today,” he says, strolling into the living room with his attention turned to the vivid landscape beyond the patio doors. “But it’s so humid, it’ll feel like a hundred.”

You tip your head back and let out a dramatic groan, resenting the prospect of another day spent inside. You liked Joel, and his cabin was nice, but you wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin, to be submerged in the cool, twinkling lake like you’d been promised.

“Can’t we go sit by the water, just for a little while?”

His mouth turns down at the corners, frowning as he thinks. “That’s up to you, darlin’. Just don’t want you gettin’ burnt up out there.”

You know he’s right. Even from the comfort of the living room, you could tell that it was too hot to venture outside. The handful of other cabins scattered around the lake were all vacant for the season, driveways sitting empty and abandoned canoes rocking idly at the pier.

“How ‘bout we find something else to do? Don’t have to sit here bored just ‘cause we’re stuck inside.”

Joel’s cabin was barely furnished beyond the necessities – an outdated kitchen, a stiff living room set, and a couple beds tucked away in otherwise empty rooms. But you couldn’t complain.

No one comes to a lake house to admire the décor.

He perches himself on the other end of the couch and you move to sit up beside him. “What d’you want to do?”

“Well,” he drawls, stalling as he looks around for an answer. “There’s cold beer in the fridge. Got a deck of cars around here somewhere. That could be a good start.”

“Beer and poker? Sounds like quite the party.”

“Hey,” he laughs, hands raised in mock offense. “It’s the best I can do for now.”

Your head tilts as you consider his offer.

Joel was handsome, aged like fine wine with a glint in his eye that spoke of a hidden depth you’d like to explore. Maybe you could have some fun this summer after all.

“All right,” you decide, slipping off the couch with newfound interest. “You find the cards, I’ll get the beer.”

Five minutes later and you’re sitting across the cabin’s small, circular kitchen table, dealing cards from the worn-out deck that Joel had pulled from the junk drawer.  

“Poker, huh?” He grabs his drink by the neck of the bottle. “We don’t have any chips, though. How are we gonna know who wins?”

You place the rest of the deck to the side and pick up the two cards you’d been dealt, fingertips gliding over their frayed, softened corners. “I know another way we can play.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Instead of winning poker chips, whoever has the best hand picks something for the other person to take off. If you refuse, you lose.”

“So, strip poker?” he says with a dry laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Besides – as hot as it is, we don’t need clothes anyway.”

Joel shrugs and tips back his drink, thinking about the day you’d arrived at the cabin, still clinging to your hopes of having the perfect vacation.

Stubbornly glued to the beach towel you’d placed at the edge of the water, sweat glistening on your bare skin, donning a swimsuit that would’ve made a lesser man blush – he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.  

“Okay, fine.” He concedes and rests his forearms against the table, a wry grin pulling at his features. “But I’ll have you know, I’m very good at poker.”

Four rounds later, and Joel had yet to live up to his claim. Maybe it was just the luck of the cards, or maybe you’d spent enough time observing the man’s expressions to call his bluff, but you’d won every hand so far.

The first round was a close call – a full house versus three-of-a-kind. You’d chosen Joel’s watch to ease into the game, and he’d stared you down with a fire in his eyes as he placed it face-up on the table.

Next, you’d doubled down and won with an ace high, and Joel had been relieved of his shoes and his belt, which he’d dropped onto the floor with the promise of a comeback. The third hand played out the same way and you’d demanded his flannel, stealing glances at his toned arms as he handed over your reward.

By the fourth turn, you were reeling from the high of your winning streak and ready to make your move.

“I thought you said you were good at this, Mr. Miller.” You bat your lashes at him with an exaggerated simper as he deals out the next hand.

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. Just thought I’d let you have your fun.”

Throughout the round, your attention flickers back and forth between your cards and the man sitting across from you. Joel’s left with only his t-shirt and jeans to gamble away, and while you’re deciding which to relieve him of next, he slaps his cards down with a boisterous laugh.

“Well, would you look at that – a royal flush.”

A king and queen lay strewn out on the table, their stony, time-worn faces taunting you with their triumph. You’d been too distracted to notice that the community cards all shared a common suit, lining up perfectly with the cards Joel had been dealt.

He sucks in a slow breath and looks over you in careful consideration, debating what to take for his win. Finally, he gestures to your top and says, “take it off”.  

Still shocked by the unanticipated loss, you place your cards down with a huff and shrug the thin material over your head without complaint. The sunlight glaring through the windows warms your exposed skin as you reveal yourself to Joel’s unwavering stare.

You toss your shirt at his chest and he catches it with a raised brow, eyes tracing over the curve of your breasts before trailing gradually back to your face. He adds your top to the growing pile of clothes littering the floor around his chair. When he speaks, his voice is low in his throat, like he’d finally understood your plan.

“Just beautiful, darlin’,” he says under his breath. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a bit?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

His jaw tenses as he mulls over his options. “If I win, you come over here and use that pretty mouth for something other than trash talkin’. If you win, I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

You bite your lip to hold back the pleased grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Either way, you’re bound to have a good time.

“Sounds like a deal, cowboy.”

A palpable tension fills the air as Joel shuffles the deck with a renewed confidence. He lays out the sequence and flips the first three over, and it doesn’t seem like the cards are in your favor.

It’s an aimless, faceless group, and the next two aren’t much better. None of your cards pair together, and there’s nothing to do but accept your fate.

You muck your hand onto the pile with a mumbled profanity, waiting for Joel to flaunt his win. When he drops his own useless cards in the middle of the table, you look up to find him just as perplexed as you.

It’s a tie.

Neither of you have enough to make a decent hand, leaving the game in a dead heat. All this built-up tension relying on this pivotal round, and it’s a tie.

“Well,” Joel says, scratching absently at the salt and pepper stubble lining his cheeks. “I’d say it’s a draw.”

“So, who wins?”

He thinks for a moment before leaning back in his chair and not-so-subtly positioning his knees with room for you to sit in between them. “I think we both win.”

You take the glaringly obvious suggestion and pull yourself out of your seat, slinking around the table to situate yourself between Joel’s legs.

“Claim your prize, Mr. Miller.”

Your hands sweep over his thighs as he pops open the button of his jeans and drags his thickening cock from the confines of his boxers. Beaded precum drools from the tip as he languidly palms his shaft.   

The sight of his digits running over the length of his cock is hypnotizing – rough, calloused fingers against warm, flushed skin. A burning fire builds in your core as you imagine how his cock would feel inside of you.

“Open up for me, sugar.”

He cups your jaw with his free hand and guides you closer until his salty head rests against the plush of your bottom lip. When your tongue darts out to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, he groans and inches forward in his seat.

“Fuck- take it all.”

You eagerly bob over his length and Joel revels in your rapt attention, in the way you dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

“Such a nice mouth,” he pants, prodding the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek and admiring the protrusion it creates. Your fingers twist into the material of his jeans and you chastise yourself for not starting the game with a bolder approach.

Joel’s hips buck against your face as he dips his cock further into your mouth, lingering briefly on the back of your tongue before hesitantly pulling back with a hiss.

“As much as I’d like to keep you down there all day, we’d better stop now if you want your reward.”

You’d almost forgotten about the bet you’d made, too preoccupied with swallowing Joel’s length to remember how you’d gotten into this position in the first place.

He holds a hand out to help you up, and you lick the remnants of his presence from your lips.

“Where d’you want me?” He trails a hand over your arm, sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

“Here,” you say with impressive ambition. “Right here in this chair, just like I’ve pictured all evening.”

“Yeah? Gonna ride my cock right here in the kitchen?”

You nod with conviction and Joel grins as his hands move to the button of your jeans. He yanks the material down past your thighs, fingers hooked into the waist band of you underwear to leave you bare in one move.

“This too,” you mention with a tug to his t-shirt. You want to see everything while you have the chance – who knows how many times a simple game of poker will amount to this.

Your jeans pool at your feet and you step out of them while Joel throws his shirt somewhere off to the side, dark curls sticking up in odd directions from the fabric disrupting their shape.

He leans back against the chair and holds your waist while you position yourself in his lap, his cock twitching with interest as it brushes against your skin. You’re not sure who’s more eager for what’s to come – you or the man beneath you.  

Joel laments the lost opportunity of taking you apart on his fingers and his mouth, but there’s no delaying the zealous way you sink down onto his cock. That’s alright, he thinks with a choked noise, there’s always next time.

His thick length parts your walls with a delicious pressure, nudging against your sweet spot when you settle completely onto his lap. You’re still for a moment as you adjust to the strain, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright.

“Oh, fuck- you feel perfect.”

Joel’s hands travel up your sides until his warm palms find the swell of your tits. He leans in to sweep messy, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat, distracting himself with your heavy breath until you’re ready to move.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting in greedy impatience, you regain your strength enough to wrap your thighs around his waist, molding yourself to his frame as you lift up halfway before coming back down, smearing slick over his skin.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Take what you need.”

Your pace quickens each time you raise off his cock, coming back down and grinding against his pelvis in one fluid motion. His broad, freckled shoulders are warm under your hands, an anchor for the rhythmic cycle of your hips over his.

“M’not gonna last much longer.”

You pant as his hand abandons your breast to stroke circles against your puffy clit, carrying you to the precipice of your release.

When your movements falter and you crumple against his chest, Joel picks up where you left off. He thrusts up into you in search of his pleasure, grunting as your walls flex around him.

Just as he’s about to tip over the edge, he slides his length free and grips the base with a tight fist, rubbing the head of his cock against your balmy skin as he paints the evidence of his arousal over your naval.

The air is filled with a litany of lewd sounds, pants and sighs overlapping in your equal states of bliss. Joel’s softening cock rests against your thigh as you run your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and he flattens a hand against the arch of your back, both thinking about how fortunate it was that Joel suggested a card game to cure your mutual boredom.

[achaotichuman]

Acotar Rant

Whenever I see shit like ‘Tamlin is depressed and wants to die because Feyre left him’ ‘He’s so desperate for Feyre and that’s whats driven him to this point.’ All I can think is, do we just collectively think Tamlin is immune to trauma??

To even grasp this situation you have to go way back before the book even starts. Tamlin was preyed on by the pedophile that helped ruin his childhood who then cursed him because he told her no.

He then had to watch all his close friends die in vain for him while he desperately searched for decades for another solution. He brought in refugees fleeing from other Courts. He. Carried. His. Dead. Citizens. And. Hand. Buried. Them. And he had to do it all without ever being able to fall apart.

The Feyre came along, and he learned to care for her. He didnt want her to just be used to break the curse because he didnt want to just be using her. He fell in love with a person that saw past the mask (both figuratively and literally) and allowed him a safe space. One that had long ago been stripped from him.

Then she was sexually assaulted, tortured and killed in front of him. He watched the love of his life die for him and he was completely unable to do anything about it.

Then he was given another chance to protect her and he took it. Granted this is not to excuse his actions, but there has to be some nuance given to the fact that he watched her literally die and was by the grace of God given another chance.

Then this same girl that he loved and desperately wanted to protect from the same thing happening again, was kidnapped. This same woman then tricked him into believing she had once again been raped by the same monster who assaulted her under the mountain and killed his family.

The very same woman then mind raped his sentries, his friends, and then proceeded to destroy his Court which he had spent decades trying everything in his power to protect, from the inside out. Then allowed Hybern to rampage through, destroying a neighbouring Court in the process.

He had to watch his people die all over again, when Feyre lied to him, he saw her dying under the mountain all over again. And he still went to war! He was spying on Hybern and gave over vital information about them to the High lords!

Then he dragged Beron out by his neck to fight for Prythian.

And when all was said and done he helped bring back the monster that had destroyed him mentally all for the sake of the girl that had killed his people.

Then he left them all alone in the end. Spring was abandoned and him along with it. This man, who very clearly has abandonment issues from the fact he was rejected by his family and beat within an inch of his life to the point he ran from home to the War Camps, was left completely by himself.

Lucien does come to see him once every now and again, but I also don’t blame Tamlin for not wanting him too. Considering even though Lucien had extremely valid reasons for leaving when he did, he still left Spring for dead without an explanation.

In the end, it is not ‘Tamlin needs to get over himself and his ex’ its Tamlin needs an extreme amount of mental help. He is a survivor as much as the rest of them.

Not even Feyre was able to recover from her mental health without a ton of fucking help. No one was, everyone got their support groups in the end

Tamlin went through it all without ever taking himself into consideration and still made it. He deserves to be able to fall apart.

[aspenmissing]

Hello! Lately I've finished an really emotional book and since then I'm in the mood for another angsty story ~

Reader is Viktor's baby sister and the wife of Jayce. During Jinx's attack she was with them in the councilor hall. Viktor and Jayce are safe, but Reader got pretty bad injured. Viktor desperately tries to wake her up, while Jayce is in pure shock. The medical team rushes in the hall and take her with them.

A little bit later Viktor and Jayce get the message, that Reader barely made it and is now in coma. The chances of her to wake up are to small, to give them any kind of hope.

Viktor is in pure grief, but he also feels so much hate about hextech after hearing the news, that Jinx used a hextech weapon. Meanwhile Jayce desperately tries to find a way to keep his wife alive. He tries to convince Viktor that the hexcore might be the solution.

Viktor is in pure rage and both of them having a really big argument, full with emotions. Within the argument Viktor saying things like "I wish, that you have never met my sister" or "If she dies, I'm over with hextech and you". He only wants his baby sister back and Jayce don't know what to do anymore.

Shortly after that, Reader passed away.

Soooo it's really emotional and angsty, but...well...I can't help it :3

ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɴᴀʟ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʙʀᴏ!ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ) || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ? || 3666 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴇ…ɪ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ. ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡɪꜱʜ ꜱᴀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀɪᴅᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘʀɪɴᴋʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴘᴇ… ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ <3

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ/ᴘᴀʀᴀᴍᴇᴅɪᴄ

The world had turned red. Not just from the fire or the chaos left in Jinx’s wake, but from the blood pooling beneath Y/N’s still body. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal and flesh overwhelming Jayce’s senses. Flames flickered along the grand tapestries that once symbolized progress and unity, now reduced to charred remnants of shattered ideals.

Jayce could barely hear anything—his ears were ringing, drowning out the panicked voices around him. His breath was ragged, his chest tight, his heart hammering so violently he feared it might burst. His hands trembled as he reached for her, barely registering the sensation of warm, slick blood coating his fingers. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.

"Y/N!" Viktor's voice cracked, his hands shaking as he pressed against her wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. His golden eyes, usually so sharp with intelligence, were wild with fear. "Wake up, sestra, please!" (Sister)

Viktor was always the logical one, always the one to approach situations with a measured mind. But now? Now he was frantic, his own injuries forgotten as he clutched at his sister, his face twisted in anguish. His cane lay discarded beside him, abandoned in favor of cradling Y/N’s battered body.

Jayce's breath came in short, shallow bursts, his mind refusing to accept what was happening. His wife—his light—was unresponsive, her usually warm skin turning cold beneath his touch. A deep gash ran along her side, blood seeping into her torn clothing. Bruises were already blooming across her delicate features, and her chest barely moved with shallow, struggling breaths.

"She—she’s breathing," Jayce rasped, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it more true, more solid. But it was barely there, the rise and fall of her chest so faint it was almost imperceptible.

=

The medical team swarmed around them, their voices urgent but distant, as if they were speaking through water. A medic pressed two fingers against Y/N’s throat, searching for a pulse, their expression grim.

"She’s critical. We need to get her stabilized immediately!" another barked. "Move, now!"

Someone pulled Viktor back, forcing him away from his sister as she was lifted onto a stretcher. He fought against them, his limbs weak but fueled by desperation. "No, no, I need to stay with her!" he shouted, but the medics ignored his pleas, ushering him out of the way.

Jayce barely registered the movement, his entire body frozen as he stared at Y/N’s still form. Her hair was matted with blood, strands clinging to her pale skin. Her fingers, once so full of life, so warm whenever they entwined with his, now lay limp.

"We need to move her now!" one of the medics shouted. The urgency in their voice shattered through the fog in Jayce’s mind.

His legs refused to cooperate, as if they had turned to lead. He swayed slightly, dizziness clawing at the edges of his vision. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "She’ll be okay, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper, broken and weak, his question directed to no one in particular.

No one answered him.

They didn’t need to.

The silence was suffocating. The sterile walls, the distant beeping of machines—none of it felt real. Jayce stood beside Viktor, both of them barely holding themselves together as they listened to the doctor’s verdict.

"She’s in a coma. The damage was extensive... It’s a miracle she’s still alive, but the chances of her waking up are—" The doctor hesitated. "Slim. We will do everything we can, but..."

The rest of his words faded into nothingness.

Jayce felt like he was drowning. His entire body ached, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest, the way his heart threatened to shatter completely. Viktor hadn’t spoken in minutes, staring blankly at his sister’s unconscious form. His hands, usually steady despite his condition, were trembling violently.

"This is because of hextech," Viktor finally muttered, his voice hollow. "She was caught in an explosion from a hextech weapon."

Jayce swallowed the lump in his throat. "Viktor, I—"

"No!" Viktor snapped, whirling on him. "Don’t you see? We created something that led to this! We thought we were saving the world, and look what it has done! Look at her!" He gestured sharply at Y/N, his voice thick with rage and grief. "I hate it. I hate hextech!"

Jayce didn’t respond. His throat tightened, and any words he might have had withered before they could leave his lips. Instead, he just stood there, his body tense, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Viktor turned back to her, his fingers tightening around her limp hand as if he could anchor her back to life by sheer will alone. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb absently brushing over her knuckles. He was trying to hold onto her—trying to hold onto what little hope remained.

Jayce’s breath caught as he took in Y/N’s still form. She looked so peaceful—too peaceful. He had seen her asleep countless times, her lips slightly parted, her face serene, but this wasn’t sleep. This was something far worse, something unnatural, something slipping further from his grasp with every passing second.

His jaw clenched, his fists trembling at his sides. The despair was crushing, wrapping around his chest like a vice, suffocating him. But beneath the pain, beneath the helplessness, something else flickered to life—determination.

He couldn’t just stand here. He couldn’t do nothing.

His mind raced, clinging desperately to any shred of hope, any possibility that he could still save her. And then it struck him.

The hexcore.

Jayce sucked in a sharp breath, his decision solidifying as he squared his shoulders. He turned abruptly, his movements rigid with resolve, and strode out of the medical wing without another word.

Viktor barely registered his departure, too lost in his grief to notice. His focus remained on Y/N, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he whispered to her, voice barely above a broken murmur.

"Please... just come back to me."

=

Jayce moved quickly through the halls of the Council building, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. His mind was clouded with thoughts, with possibilities, with risks. He knew what the hexcore had done to Viktor—but it had also kept him alive, made him stronger. If there was even the slightest chance it could do the same for Y/N, he had to take it.

The lab door slams open as he stepped inside. The air was heavy with energy, the hexcore pulsing with a faint, eerie light. The room smelled of metal and ozone, the very presence of the device humming in his bones. Jayce hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He stared down at the device with a mixture of fear and hope, the soft glow of the hexcore reflecting in his desperate eyes.

His hands hovered over it, shaking. Could he really do this? Was this the right choice? Was this the only choice?

A sudden voice shattered the silence.

"Don’t."

Jayce turned sharply, his breath hitching in his throat. Viktor stood in the doorway, his expression twisted with rage and anguish, his eyes burning with unfiltered hatred and sorrow. His breaths were uneven, his body shaking from exhaustion, fury, and grief.

"You don’t know what you’re doing, Jayce," Viktor spat, stepping forward with unsteady but determined steps. "You think this will save her, but you have no idea what it could turn her into. You saw what it did to me."

Jayce’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "I can’t just let her die, Viktor. I won’t. I refuse to stand here and do nothing."

Viktor’s face contorted, raw grief flashing across his features. "And you think this is the answer?! The hexcore is not salvation, Jayce! It is corruption! It does not heal—it twists! It takes! It makes monsters!"

"You’re still alive!" Jayce shot back, his voice rising in desperation. "It kept you alive, Viktor! You were dying, and it saved you! What if it can do the same for her? What if this is the only chance we have?"

"And at what cost?!" Viktor’s voice cracked as he took another step forward, his entire body shaking with barely contained emotion. "You think I don’t wish to save her? You think I haven’t thought of this?! Every moment since she fell, I have been fighting the thought of bringing her back with that accursed thing! But I won’t! Because I know what it does! It does not save, Jayce—it steals! It took something from me, and I can never get it back! What will it take from her?"

Jayce faltered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "She wouldn’t want to die either," he said, his voice breaking. "I can’t sit here and do nothing, Viktor. I won’t."

Viktor let out a hollow, bitter laugh, one that carried no amusement—only pain, only loss. "You think you’re the only one suffering?" he sneered, his accent thick with anger. "She is my sister, Jayce! My blood! You think your love for her outweighs mine? You think I wouldn’t burn this entire city to the ground if it meant saving her?!"

Jayce’s breath caught, his resolve wavering. He had never seen Viktor like this—so raw, so furious, so close to the edge of complete collapse.

Viktor took another step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "I wish—I wish I had never introduced you to her!" His voice broke, but his gaze never wavered. "Maybe then she wouldn’t be in this bed, fighting for her life! Maybe then she wouldn’t be lying there, slipping further and further away!"

Jayce flinched like he had been struck, pain flashing across his face. "You don’t mean that."

"I do," Viktor growled, his grief turning venomous. "Because if she dies, I am done—with you, with hextech, with all of it!"

The words crushed Jayce like a hammer to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. His hands trembled at his sides as he took an unsteady step back, his heart racing, his entire world unravelling. He wanted to argue, to fight, to make Viktor understand—but the look in Viktor’s eyes made it clear. There was no reasoning with him. No argument would change the depth of his grief.

Viktor’s breath was ragged, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, the handle of his cane gripped like a lifeline. His entire body was shaking, but it wasn’t from anger anymore. It was grief, raw and unbearable, threatening to break him apart. His voice was hoarse, cracked, barely more than a whisper when he spoke. "I just want my baby sister back, Jayce. That’s all. I just want her back... but not if it means she becomes something we won’t even recognize. Not if it means losing her in another way."

Jayce’s throat closed up, his own grief clawing at him. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. He was a man of action, but what was he supposed to do when the one thing he could do was the one thing Viktor couldn’t accept? He swallowed, his hands balling into fists, his mind screaming for a solution—any solution—but coming up empty.

He turned back to the hexcore, its eerie glow casting long shadows across the lab, pulsing like a heartbeat, a cruel mockery of life. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, suffocating. He had always been able to fix things. He had built weapons, tools, machines capable of changing the world. But now, standing here, he realized with chilling clarity that there were some things he couldn’t fix.

Viktor let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his sorrow. He looked so tired, so lost. He adjusted his grip on his cane, his fingers trembling as he leaned on it heavily, his body betraying just how much this moment was draining him. "Please, Jayce... let’s just go back. She needs us."

Jayce hesitated, staring at the hexcore for a long, aching moment before exhaling a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged, the fight draining from him. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

Without another word, he turned away from the hexcore, following Viktor as they left the lab behind. The rhythmic sound of Viktor’s cane striking the floor echoed in the hallway, each step slow and unsteady but resolute. The door slid shut behind them, sealing away the temptation, the questions, the uncertainty. All that remained was their grief.

Back in Y/N’s room, the rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the silence, a cruel reminder that she was still here, but barely. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, suffocating in its emptiness. The weight of the moment pressed down on both men as they stood at her bedside, looking at the woman they both loved in their own ways.

They knew what had to be done.

Viktor turned to Jayce, his throat tightening as he forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes. The fight, the anger, the accusations—it all seemed so pointless now. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Jayce... there’s something I need to tell you."

Jayce swallowed hard, nodding.

Viktor’s lips trembled as he exhaled shakily. "I didn’t mean what I said before. About wishing I never introduced you to her." He looked down at Y/N’s face, the corners of his lips twitching in the faintest, most broken ghost of a smile. "She loved you. You made her happy. And despite everything, I am grateful for that. I am grateful for you."

Jayce’s breath hitched, emotion thick in his throat. "Viktor..."

Viktor shook his head. "No, let me finish. I am glad you were in her life. And I am glad to have a brother-in-law like you." His voice wavered, but his sincerity was unwavering. "She wouldn’t want us to part with anger."

Jayce felt his chest tighten, his vision blurred with tears. He reached forward, squeezing Viktor’s shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them.

Viktor gave a weak nod before stepping back. "I need a moment alone with her."

Jayce hesitated for a second before giving him space, stepping outside and leaving Viktor alone with his sister.

Viktor sank into the chair beside her bed, his trembling fingers brushing over her hand as he exhaled shakily. His grip was weak, but filled with a tenderness that spoke of years of love and protection.

"Sestra..." His voice cracked, the grief swelling in his chest until it was unbearable. "I am so sorry. I should have protected you. I should have done more. But I know you—" He let out a weak, breathless chuckle, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "You would tell me to stop blaming myself. That it wasn't my fault. That it was just the world being cruel. But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it."

He swallowed thickly, his thumb tracing slow circles over her cold skin. "You were always stronger than me. Smarter than me. Kinder than me. You had so much ahead of you, and it’s not fair that this is where your story ends. If there is any part of you left, if you can hear me, just know that I love you. I always have. And I always will."

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and for the first time in his life, Viktor felt truly powerless. His hand lingered for a moment longer before he slowly pulled away, his chest rising and falling with deep, shuddering breaths. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second, memorizing her warmth, before standing up. He wiped his face, steadied himself, and walked to the door, pausing for only a moment before nodding to Jayce.

Jayce inhaled deeply, composing himself before stepping inside as Viktor left.

Jayce hesitated, his hands shaking as he stepped forward. He looked down at her, his wife, his everything, and felt his heart shatter all over again. He had fought so hard, clung so desperately to hope, but now there was nothing left to hold onto.

He took her hand in his, pressing it against his forehead as he let out a choked sob. "God, Y/N... I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. We were supposed to have more time. We were supposed to have a family. We were supposed to grow old together. You were supposed to be with me, always."

His grip tightened, as if holding onto her a little harder would somehow make her stay. "I should have protected you. I should have done more. I failed you. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep going without you."

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to look at her face, to memorize every detail, every line, every feature that he loved so much. "You were the best part of me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again without you."

A tear slipped onto her hand as he kissed her knuckles, his lips trembling against her skin. "I love you. I love you more than anything. And I will carry you with me for the rest of my life."

The room was unbearably silent as he finally let go, his entire body shaking with grief. He stepped back, unable to look at her any longer, because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to leave.

Outside the room, Viktor was waiting. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. Instead, he simply reached out, placing a trembling hand on Jayce’s shoulder, grounding him in the only way he could.

Together, they stood there, two broken men saying goodbye to the woman who had been their heart.

It was time.

Days passed, and the world moved on, but for Viktor and Jayce, time felt frozen.

It was a warm, bright day when they laid Y/N to rest. The sun shone down on the gathered mourners, its light mocking the heaviness in their hearts. A soft breeze rustled the trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh flowers placed around her resting place. The sky was impossibly blue, unmarred by clouds, as if the universe itself refused to mourn her loss.

The service was small, intimate. Friends, family, and colleagues stood in solemn silence as words were spoken in her honour. Viktor stood at the front, his hands clasped tightly together as if holding himself upright was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were fixed on the casket, his mind racing through memories—ones filled with laughter, with childhood mischief, with the way she had always believed in him even when no one else did. Now, she was gone, and nothing could bring her back.

Jayce stood beside him, his shoulders squared, his expression a mask of grief and exhaustion. His hands trembled as he held a single white rose, staring at the casket as if willing it to open, as if refusing to accept that this was truly goodbye. He had built so much, created so much, but nothing he had ever made could undo this moment. Nothing he had ever built could bring her back.

When it came time, Viktor was the first to step forward. He looked down at the grave, his heart in his throat. "Sestra," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how to do this without you. But I will try. For you."

He knelt, placing a small mechanical piece beside her headstone—something they had built together in their childhood. A part of their bond, a part of her legacy. His fingers lingered over the cool metal, tracing the edges of it as if committing it to memory. He closed his eyes, willing himself to hear her voice one last time, to feel her presence just once more. The wind carried the faintest whisper, and for a fleeting moment, he swore he could feel her warmth.

Jayce took a deep breath before stepping forward, his fingers tightening around the rose in his grasp. He knelt beside Viktor, placing the flower gently atop the casket. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Always."

And then, as if summoned by their sorrow, a single white butterfly fluttered into view, dancing on the breeze. It drifted between them, its delicate wings catching the sunlight, glowing like something ethereal, something impossibly beautiful. Viktor and Jayce both froze, their eyes locked on the fragile creature as it hovered near Y/N’s resting place.

Neither of them spoke, but in their silence, they understood. It was her. It had to be. A final goodbye, a last reassurance that she was at peace.

The butterfly lingered for a moment longer before it floated away, disappearing into the sky, its journey endless, unbound. Viktor inhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists as he fought against the weight pressing on his chest. Jayce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his gaze following the butterfly until it was gone.

As they stood, the wind carried their grief into the sky, the sun watching over them as they said their final goodbye. They weren’t sure if they would ever truly heal, if the ache in their chests would ever fade, but they knew one thing—Y/N was still with them. Not in body, but in the memories she had left behind, in the love she had given them, in the small moments that would remind them of her forever.

It was time to let go, but neither of them knew how.

Yet, as they walked away, side by side, they carried her with them, always.

[mannequinreligi0n]

Sins - Chapter 3: Penance

wake up priest!vergil nation, let’s get to fuckin’

pairing: priest!vergil/nun!reader

wc: 3.5k

warnings: nsfw! - penetration, body worship, implied self-mutilation/harm

author’s note: thank you for being so patient with me !! sorry for the delay :’) will maybe write another freak nasty chapter bc i have a few unused idea. enjoy !!

links: chapter one , chapter two , ao3

The word ‘late’ rang in your head like a gong. Father Vergil had a strong distaste for tardiness, almost as much as he disliked the lazy and the ignorant. You bowed your head in forgiveness, silently cursing yourself for letting your nerves cause time-blindness.

“Forgive me, Father. Punctuality was never a strength of mine,” you mumble out, preparing for a deserved scolding. Instead, you hear Vergil’s steps stop in front of you, the faintest sigh leaving him.

“It’s alright, y/n. Please.”

He takes a step toward you, lifting your chin with single finger to beckon your eyes to him. The wide nature of your eyes gives away your surprise from the use of your name so casually, the absence of professionalism and humility. Vergil drops his hand from you and offers a tight smile in exchange, his own inhibitions raging war in the back of his mind. He stands there awkwardly under your confused gaze, shifting his weight from left to right and back left before clearing his throat.

“I- uh.”

Christ, Vergil, pull it together. He exhales hard, his clammy hands twitching at his sides.

“…….I fear I have not been honest with you, and with God. Your confession has…rattled me deeply, and I cannot, for the life of me, find a solution that would appease both the trouble in my soul and the will of God. Frankly, I’m…I’m at a loss.”

Your heart falls to your stomach at his words, knowing that your confession was only going to create problems. Your hands fiddle with the rosary around your neck, praying that maybe God could grant you one last word of wisdom in this time of need - you are only greeted with the roar of your heartbeat in your ears. Vergil’s hand returns to his mouth, biting at the frayed skin of his nails, and starts to pace again anxiously. The silence between you two is all-consuming and seems to last an eternity before your shoulders slump, ripping the veil from your head and holding it out to him.

“I shall pack my things and be gone by noon tomorrow. I do not wish to bring any more shame to you or the coven. Plea-“

“What?! N-No! That’s not-!”

Vergil panics and interrupts you immediately, rushing to you and clasping his hands around your veil to push it back towards you. There’s a spark between the two of you at the touch of skin, a small grace in the daunting moment. He loses his train of thought at the sight of your hair pillowing down to complete the picture of your face, his breathing shallow and frantic.

“No,” he stammers out again, blinking hard and squeezing your hand. “You misunderstood me. My issue doesn’t lie with you - it is with myself.”

You blink dumbly at him, brow scrunched with returning confusion. “I…I don’t understand,” you shake your head at him, words barely a whisper.

“Neither do I, my child,” Vergil sighs, his clammy fingers still curled around yours. “I have prayed, and prayed, and prayed to The Lord for answers, and yet he has abandoned me in the dark. I fear that this is a test of my faith, that you are a test of my faith - and I am failing miserably.”

Vergil’s eyes lack their usual hardness, a man frayed to his wits end as he searches your face for the answers he longs for. A single hand lets go of yours and moves to the cross around your neck, his thumb running over the pointed ends of the pendant.

“I have stood before our congregation and preached time and time again of love and purposeful fulfillment,” He murmurs, eyes falling to the crucifix. “I can’t help but wonder when it will be my turn to be blessed with such gifts….But then, when I look at you-“

He pauses, stormy blues tracing the line of your neck up to meet your eyes - eyes that he swore held the light of the morning sun and the grace of the midnight moon all at once.

“-I swear I can see my purpose for living, for breathing, in your face alone.”

You can feel the intensity of his words prick at your heart like thorned rose. It was taking every nerve in your body not to panic and ramble out confused nonsense, uncertain if you’re hearing him correctly. You were almost convinced you were dreaming, but the tight grasp of his hand on yours was keeping you present, if the look in his eye wasn’t convincing enough.

Without a thought in your head, you close the sea of space and press a chaste kiss to his lips, pulling away just as soon. Vergil audibly makes a sound between a gasp and yelp, eyes popping out of his head. There’s a symphony of heavy breathing between you, both staring at each other with fear and desire. You immediately prepare an apology mentally, opening your mouth to verbalize it, but it doesn’t get the chance to come out.

Vergil nearly knocks you off your feet when he dives down to kiss you once more, large hands desperately gripping the side of your head and threading in your hair. Your veil falls to the ground as you scramble to grasp at his garb for stability, lips trying to keep up with the sinful motions of Vergil’s. It’s all-consuming and starving, teeth clinking together and tongues lapping with inexperience. It was everything you had imagined and more, the taste of him alone worth the shame and punishment that was sure to come from such an act.

You’re the first to pull away, gasping for air with swollen lips. Vergil heaves against you, not daring to let go of you for even a second. No words were necessary to convey the lust or longing you shared with him, and with a few passing blinks, Vergil’s hands drop from your face and pry yours from his chasuble. He entwines his fingers in one hand and whips you along behind him, his long legs striding through the courtyard and back into the church. You nearly trip behind him, being pulled like a rag-doll. Words get trapped in your throat as you attempt to ask him where you’re going, but your question is answered as he all but shoves you into one of the small sacristies. The moment the door closes, your lips magnetize to his, his hands guiding you to a shoddy wooden table against the wall. You don’t even have time to process before he’s lifting you onto the table, pushing up your tunic to your hips to stand in between your legs.

It was a mockery to preform such a crude act where they stored the ‘blood and body’ of Christ, the decanter of fortified wine jostling on the table as you clawed at each other’s clothes. The chasuble and tunic fall to the ground, your hands unfastening the buttons of his dress shirt as he trails his mouth along your shoulder with reverent kisses, teeth clamping around the strap of your underdress and sliding it off your shoulder. Freeing his torso from the shirt, your eyes immediately gravitate to the strip of red creeping up his back and over his shoulder.

“Vergil.”

His name pulls him out of his daze and he lifts his head from your shoulder with hooded, hazy eyes. He’s about to question you when your fingers graze over the somewhat fresh scar, making his nose scrunch in a faint wince. Averting his eyes from you, he stares down at your lap, breathing deeply.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing… Turn around.”

You rest your hand on his arm, beckoning him to turn and he fights against it for a moment, a deep scowl on his face. He finally obeys and slowly 180s to reveal uneven, healing marks scattered on his porcelain skin. Worry morphs your features, hearing Vergil sigh at the wall in front of him.

“Penance, for my depravity…for my thoughts of you,” Vergil whispers, an underlying shame in his tone.

It should’ve clicked sooner that these were the makings of a discipline. Self-flagellation was a dying practice, but of course someone as rigid as Vergil would partake. You’re almost too stunned to move, taken aback by the brushstrokes of red.

‘This is my fault,’ you think to yourself.

Leaning forward, you gently hold his waist and let your mouth brush against the scars, feather-light kisses gracing them. Vergil hisses at first, the raw skin bristling at the contact, but it soon gives way to breathy sighs, relishing in being adorned by your forgiving kisses.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” you murmur into his skin, nose inhaling his sweat and scent.

“Christ would come down and dispute that, if he could.”

He turns back around, looking down over his nose at you with a pensive expression. A calloused thumb traces the shape of your bottom lip, his hand tilting your chin back to let the worn-out bulb in the storage room hit your face better. It’s hard not to notice the tremble of his fingers, the slight shake drumming against your skin.

“This…this is wrong,” Vergil’s eyes are fixated on your mouth, transfixed by the soft, plump skin under his digit. “I am undeserving of you, of your flesh,…your soul.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” you rebuttal, trying to focus on his words and not his thumb pressed against you lip, the muted smell of cologne radiating off of him, the heat of body between your legs. “If anyone is deserving, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You lean your head forward and take his thumb into your mouth, tongue lassoing around it. Vergil’s own mouth parts with a throaty moan, reigning back the intrusive thought to shove his whole damn hand in your mouth just to have it touched by you. He slides his thumb out and replaces it with his mouth, desperate to quell the thirst in his lonely heart. You reciprocate immediately, scooting slightly off the table to be closer to him. Hands moving to his belt, Vergil groans into your mouth and shoves his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Your own hand pulls off the other measly strap on your under-gown, letting it pool at your hips and exposing your chest to the dry air. Breaking the kiss, Vergil shifts back and ogles the new skin with hunger and awe, a single finger leaving a wake of goosebumps as he trails it down to a breast.

“‘You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you’.”

The verse falls from Vergil so softly that your brain almost doesn’t register it, hyper-fixated on his hand now cupping your chest, thumb flicking over your nipple.

“Song of Solomon, 4:7,” you manage to get out, swallowing thickly.

“Correct, dove.”

The smile of pride that appears on his face from your answer makes you melt in his touch, heart soaring. Your own fingers linger on his chest before slowly sliding down to the still-fastened clasp of his slack, glancing between the painful tent in them and his face. Vergil gives you a faint nod and you make work of it, undoing the hardware as he crowds over you, mouth returning to your shoulder to kiss up to your neck. His moan that rings in your ear when you finally free his length makes everything worth it alone, the sound making your heat twitch with unbridled need. Vergil’s hands fall to your hips and pull you closer to him, sweaty fingers clinging to the silk of your fallen gown. Cock pressed against your soaked underwear, his hips buck into them. Your head wobbles back from the smallest sensation, your strained whine making Vergil bite back his own groan. He gives a few more tentative rocks of his pelvis, nose pressed into your neck as he savors the newfound stimulation.

“May I…?”

You feel a hand let go of your hip and slip between your legs, tracing the border of your underwear. You nod embarrassingly fast against him, forehead coming forward to rest on his shoulder. Vergil pushes the fabric to the side and then guides his length to rub against the slick folds, his breathing labored on your skin. That alone probably would’ve made him come if he didn’t have years of self-control to hold him back - the warm and delicate skin of your sex making it hard to form coherent thoughts. He backs away from your neck to look down at you, his other hand meeting your face and caressing your cheek. All he can think about is how blessed he is in this moment, to be so close to the most divine creature he’s ever laid eyes upon. It almost brought tears to his eyes. Almost.

He shifts his hips closer to you and you subconsciously wrap your legs around his hips, ankles locking together behind him. His hand on your cheek moves to card through your hair, pushing back strands that dare to obstruct his view of you.

“Do you recall the Act of Contrition?”

You nod softly at him, eyes fluttering with every twitch of his cock against your nerves or brush of fingers in your hair. “I remember,” you murmur back.

“Good,” his hand between you two positions his head at your dripping slit, not yet pushing it in. “Recite it for me, for us. Can you do that, little bird?”

You forget to answer initially, sparks of pleasure firing in every nerve at just the feeling of him being one push away from entering you. You swallow back the pool of saliva in your mouth and nod again, eyes trying to remain locked on his.

There’s that smile again - that proud, adoring smile of his you’d see in your dreams for the rest of your days. He nods in return and looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to begin.

“My god, I am sorry for my sins with all my hea-, heart, oh my-“

Vergil pushes an inch of himself into you and the fullness makes you shudder. Your hands fly to hold his arms, brow knit together as a croaked moan disrupts your prayer. When you stop speaking, he halts his movement, despite his own desperation screaming in his body to sheath himself.

“Keep…keep going,” he breaths out, face flushing a faint red as your walls squeeze around him.

“-w-with all my heart…in choosing to do wrong and failing t-to do good..”

The descent continues, another inch separating your walls to accept him in. Vergil’s hand in your hair cradles the back of your head, holding it steady and preventing it from lolling away from him. His chest heaves above you as the prayer echoes in the sacristy, mingling with the buzz of the light above.

“I have sinned against you, whom I should love above all things. I firmly in-intend, with your help-“

You pause again, eyes rolling back as he finally hits the hilt. It was unlike anything you’ve felt before, so intimate and fulfilling, like the last puzzle piece of your body was finally put into place. Two souls no longer forming but one soul. Vergil, himself, was having a difficult time staying focused, the hug of your body around him sending signals throughout his limbs. He pulled back out, stopping just short of emptying you.

“-to do penance, to sin no more, to a-a-ahh!”

Vergil shoves himself all the way back in, a growl rumbling his chest. Your vision blurs for a second, the full feeling almost too much. He doesn’t wait for you to keep going, starting a steady, uninhibited pace as he frees himself from the shackles of guilt. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways - he has felt you, smelled you, tasted you. It was all he needed anymore. The table rocks against the wall, glasses clinking together with the motion. A hand in your hair and a hand on your hip, he ruts over and over and over into your hole, face flushed a sunset red as he moans and gasps for air.

He asked you to recite the prayer, and damn it all, you were gonna comply, regardless of how much you only wanted to praise his name instead. Your nails dig into the skin of his arms, staccato whimpers leaving you as you try to regain your train of thought.

“…to avoid…whatever leads m-me to sin. Our savior, Jesus Christ….Christ-…s-s-suffered and died….for us..”

It was too much. There was only one line left of the prayer and you couldn’t even get it out, reduced to a moaning, heated mess as he clambered into you. Vergil was dripping sweat from his hairline, the beads falling to your face as you stared up at him. He looked like an angel - a faint halo of light around his head from the backlighting of the lamp. Your core tightens at the sight, an unfamiliar buzz forming in your heat from the sight and his ministrations. It felt like your whole body was plugged into a live socket, heart about to beat out of your chest.

“In his name,” Vergil mumbles out, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to finish the prayer and not himself. “Oh, my God…my God, have mercy.”

You mewl under him, hands shifting to hold his back. Your nails dig into the skin and Vergil lets out a mix between a growl and a moan, your fingers attacking the already raw marks on his back from the whip. He doesn’t stop, though, slamming into you repeatedly as he chases that glorious high. With a handful of more thrusts, you’re putty on the table, body taut and snapping as your orgasms ripples through you. It feels like the gates of heaven have opened, trumpets blaring and white light invading your vision. Vergil can’t hold himself back once he sees you give out, the sight of you coming around him making up for every godawful, lonely night of his life. He spills his load deep inside you, shuddering with a guttural groan. Pressed as deep as he can into you, his hips jolt uncoordinatedly as he gives you every last drop, forehead falling to press against yours. His hand on your hip leaves to join the other on your head, cupping your face to his, scared he’ll open his eyes and it’ll be a cruel dream. How could you be real? How could that sinful release he just felt be reality? It must’ve been-

“Vergil.”

His name in your mouth opens his eyes for him, making him take in the sight of you flushed and disheveled from his doing. His half-hard length twitches inside you from the image and you wince a little at the overstimulation, ushering a small laugh from him, from disbelief at what just happened and how delightful you look right now. He gingerly unsheathes himself, the wet sound mingling with the heavy breathing. Vergil can’t stop himself from looking down at where you were once connected, watching his seed muddle with your release as it gushes out of your hole. His mouth waters at the sight, the heady scent taunting him. God, he would lick you clean, if there was time, if you two weren’t shoved in a closet for anyone to walk into.

“Apologies…for…defiling you. I couldn’t ah, pull out in time,” he mumbles out, eyes following the trail of come leaking from you.

“None needed.”

You chuckle, sitting up to pull the straps of your silk gown back over yourself, taking the debauched sight from Vergil’s view. He holds still for a moment before following suit, pulling his pants back up and collecting his shirt off the ground silently. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to bear to you, but he didn’t know where to begin. He averted his eyes from you as you hopped off the table, scooping up your tunic and pulling it over your head.

“I’d like to see you again,” you start, breaking the silence with a reserved whisper. “Possibly…tonight, if you’ll have me.”

Vergil’s eyes flit back to yours at the proposal. ‘If you’ll have me’? Lord, you must have no idea what you do to him. He has to refrain from falling to your feet, kissing your hand and begging you to come to his quarters, wanting to show you just how much he worships the ground you walk on. He resigns to a curt nod, buttoning up his shirt, “Tonight, it is.”

“9’o clock?”

“Sharp. No excuses.”

[kaeyacollection]

Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

[kckt88]

Imzadi III

Summary:

Lucaera offers a solution to the King, only to be abandoned in the aftermath.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Marriage, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Multiple Positions, Knotting, Revelations, Abandonment.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA DYNAMIC

Word Count: 7246

A.N - 'Imzadi - Beloved'

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

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

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @zenka69 @aemondsbabygirl @aphroditesblunt @iamtoriasworld

The silence in the throne room was thick, suffocating.

Then:

"NO!"

The shout came from Lucaera, her voice echoing off the stone walls, ringing with defiance. The entire court turned to her in shock.

Viserys, who had been on the verge of finalizing his decree, stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression a mixture of disbelief and warning. “Lucaera, the king has made his decision.”

But Lucaera was not finished. She took a step forward, her hands trembling with fury as she reached for the collar of her riding leathers.

Before anyone could react, she wrenched it open, exposing the curve of her neck. The mark there was unmistakable—deep, dark, and still fresh from where Aemond had sunk his teeth into her flesh earlier that day.

The throne room erupted again.

Gasps of shock rippled through the gathered nobles. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in horror before they narrowed with fury, her face contorting with rage.

“You bit my daughter?!” she snarled, whirling on Aemond. “You claimed her?”

Aemond remained silent, his single violet eye locked onto Lucaera. He could feel the weight of every stare in the room, but only one mattered.

Aegon, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter. “Oh, gods—so that’s who you were fucking earlier!” He wheezed, shaking his head in amusement.

Alicent let out a quiet, pained sound and buried her face in her hands. Helaena simply stared at Lucaera, unblinking, her lips parting as though she were about to speak but ultimately saying nothing.

Otto, ever the schemer, said nothing. His expression was carefully blank, but his mind was already racing.

If Aemond had claimed the only Omega in Targaryen history since Queen Rhaenys, then their bond was absolute. There was no breaking it. And that meant—

Aemond exhaled slowly and reached up, his fingers brushing against his collar. In one smooth motion, he pulled it down, exposing his own mating mark, the mirror image of Lucaera’s.

The uproar only grew louder.

Lucaera turned back to Viserys, her voice softer now but no less urgent. “Please, Grandsire—you cannot ask this of him.”

Viserys, still shaken by her outburst, could only stare at her.

“His life will be forfeit if he gives up his claim.” Lucaera’s voice trembled now, but her words were clear. “Do you truly believe that those who support my mother will let him live? That they will simply accept him as my mate and ignore the fact that his claim to the throne is stronger than hers? Then there’s Aegon. His children. Any child Aemond sires upon me. Every single one of them will be a contender for the Iron Throne.”

“L-Lucaera” muttered Viserys as he glanced at Rhaenyra.

Her breath hitched as she took another step forward. “The dragons will dance, and we will all die.”

The weight of her words settled over the court like a thick fog. No one dared to speak.

Viserys, frail and tired, exhaled heavily. “What would you have me do?”

Lucaera’s heart pounded, but she stood firm. “Summon every lord from the Seven Kingdoms. Let them cast their vote, it is the only way that’s fair”

Viserys studied her for a long moment, his old, withered eye searching her face. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke.

“My granddaughter speaks the truth.” His voice, though weak, was absolute. “A Great Council will be summoned. The lords of the realm will cast their vote for who shall rule the Seven Kingdoms after me, it will be held here in the Red Keep in a month’s time-”

The throne room exploded into chaos.

Lucaera felt her breath hitch as she descended the steps, her eyes searching desperately for her family.

But when she found them, the warmth she had always known was gone, replaced by something cold, and sharp.

Rhaenyra stood rigid, her expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. The betrayal in her eyes cut deeper than any blade.

Beside her, Daemon was livid. His jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitching, his violet eyes burning with barely restrained fury. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

Jace and Luke stood slightly behind them, their expressions a mirror of one another—stunned, hurt, and burning with anger.

Jace's hands curled into fists at his sides, while Luke simply looked like he had been punched in the gut.

Lucaera swallowed hard and took a hesitant step toward them.

“Please—”

But the moment she moved, Jace and Luke stepped back.

A sharp, deliberate movement. A rejection.

Then, without another word, they turned their backs on her.

Lucaera’s chest tightened painfully.

She looked to her mother again, hoping—praying—for something, anything. But Rhaenyra only shook her head, disappointment darkening her features.

Lucaera wanted to explain. She wanted to tell them that she had done this to protect them all, to stop the bloodshed before it even began. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because she knew—deep down—that they wouldn’t understand.

Then, suddenly, she felt the warmth of a familiar hand grasping hers.

The scent of leather and ash surrounded her, grounding her.

Aemond didn’t speak. He simply held her hand, his grip firm, unwavering.

Then, without a word, he led her out of the throne room, away from the chaos,

Lucaera sat on the edge of Aemond’s bed, her body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest like a vice.

The sadness was overwhelming, sinking into her bones, and suffocating. She barely registered Aemond kneeling before her until the warmth of his hands cupped her face, his touch steady, grounding.

His forehead rested against hers, and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. His scent—leather, , and ash something uniquely him—wrapped around her like a protective shield, soothing the raw ache inside her.

For a long moment, there was only silence between them. The world outside could rage and crumble, but in this moment, in this space, it was just them.

Then, finally, Lucaera whispered, “Did I do the right thing?”

Aemond exhaled slowly, his thumb stroking her cheek in a slow, reassuring motion. His voice, when he spoke, was steady, firm. “The King did what he always does, and he chose Rhaenyra. What you did was fair.”

Lucaera took a shuddering breath. Her fingers gripping  her riding leathers as she whispered, “Would you have chosen it?”

Aemond shifted, moving to sit beside her. His fingers brushed through a strand of her dark hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. His touch lingered, a silent comfort.

“I've always tried to be a good son,” he said, his voice softer now, but filled with an old bitterness. “I studied, I trained with the sword, I learned all there was to learn, but Viserys never noticed me. Not once. Even when I lost my eye, he never defended me. He was too concerned over an insult”

Lucaera swallowed hard, listening intently as he spoke words he had likely never voiced before.

Aemond let out a sharp breath, his fingers clenching briefly before relaxing. “I’ve tried so hard to be noticed, but it’s never enough. Not for him. Even when I presented as an Alpha Prime—the first since the Conqueror—it still wasn’t enough for him to bother.”

His eye met hers, filled with something raw, something vulnerable. “But with you, I feel seen. I feel- worthy.”

Lucaera’s breath caught, her heart tightening at the sheer honesty in his words.

“I know that our bond is new,” Aemond continued, reaching for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “But I can feel it with every fibre of my being. You defended me that night on Driftmark, and you did it again today.”

He lifted her hand, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. His voice dropped to a whisper, but there was no hesitation in his words. “As much as I desire to be King, it means nothing without you. So no, I would not have chosen it.”

Aemond lifted her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. His eye locked onto hers, fierce, unwavering.

“There is no me, without you.”

Lucaera’s lips trembled, her heart pounding as she leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and lingering, filled with silent promises.

Aemond’s hand moved to cradle the back of her head, his touch reverent, as if he was afraid she might disappear. Lucaera melted into him, her fingers curling into his jerkin, anchoring herself to him.

Then—A knock at the door.

They both startled slightly, the moment broken.

“Apologies, my Prince,” a maid’s voice called through the door. “But the Hand of the King has summoned both you and the Princess.”

Lucaera stood in the Tower of the Hand, her fingers twitching at her sides, the weight of the room pressing down on her.

Aemond stood at her side, his presence steady and unyielding. Otto lingered by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the flames dance, deep in thought.

Alicent sat nearby, picking at her fingernails with a tense expression, while Helaena stared out of the window, lost in her own world.

Aegon, as usual, was slouched at the table, swirling wine in his cup before taking another lazy sip.

Finally, Otto turned to face them, his expression calm, composed. “The ravens are being prepared as we speak. Every lord in the Seven Kingdoms will be summoned for this Great Council. I have every faith they will vote in your favour, Aemond.”

Lucaera was the one to answer, her voice cool, unreadable. “You sound so sure, Lord Hand.”

Otto smiled, a calculated thing. “Of course. With the only Omega to present since Queen Rhaenys by his side, there is no doubt that Aemond will be our next King.”

Lucaera lifted her chin. “Nothing is certain. Do you forget that Lady Arryn now rules the Vale? She is my mother’s kin—she will not turn against her. And then there is Stark, who pledged to support my mother as heir. With Stark, the rest of the North will follow.”

Otto gave a small nod, acknowledging her point. “Yet it was you who convinced the King to hold this Great Council.”

Lucaera’s jaw tightened. “To ensure both Aemond and my mother have a fair chance.”

Otto studied her carefully. “Do you think your mother—or even Daemon—will respect the realm’s decision if they vote in favour of Aemond?”

Lucaera wanted to say yes, but doubt clawed at her. Her mother perhaps, in time. But Daemon? She wasn’t sure. Instead, she answered carefully, “That is not for me to give voice to, Lord Hand.”

Aemond, sensing her unease through the bond, stepped forward. His voice was firm. “You summoned us for a reason.”

Alicent stood then, smoothing out her skirts. “The letters are being written, the ravens prepared. In a month, the Red Keep will be filled with the lords of the Seven Kingdoms. I would see the two of you married before that.”

Lucaera gasped, her eyes widening. “But, Your Grace, the King—”

Alicent cut her off, her voice gentle but firm. “The King has given his permission for the two of you to wed. The Hand convinced him of its importance. We cannot have a potential heir to the Iron Throne unmarried to the Omega he took to mate—nor can we have a scandal should you find yourself with child.”

Lucaera felt Aemond take her hand, his fingers warm, his touch reassuring.

Helaena turned from the window then, her violet gaze settling on Lucaera. Her voice was distant, almost dreamlike. “A King bathed in silver as another is shrouded in gold.”

Aegon snorted, draining his cup before standing. “May I say congratulations, brother? It’s about time you got it wet—maybe now you’ll stop being such an uptight twat.”

Alicent snapped, “Aegon, that is enough.”

Aegon frowned, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, come now, Mother. It’s just a bit of fun. Tell me, brother, is it different with an Omega? I mean, not that you have a wealth of experience, but still—”

Aemond growled, stepping forward protectively. “That’s enough. You will not speak of such things in the presence of my mate.”

Aegon only laughed, taking another gulp of wine, his gaze flickering over Lucaera appraisingly.

Aemond growled again, louder this time, his body tense.

Alicent intervened swiftly. “The two of you will be wed in the sept—in a week’s time. A simple ceremony with a small number of guests.”

Lucaera swallowed, her heart hammering. “My mother?”

Alicent hesitated before taking Lucaera’s hand, her expression shifting to something softer, almost sympathetic. “Your mother has already left.”

Lucaera’s breath caught. “W-what?”

Otto nodded. “Your mother, Daemon, and your brothers left immediately after the King’s decision.”

Lucaera yanked her hand back, a hollow feeling spreading through her chest. “T-they just left?”

Alicent sighed. “I’m afraid so. With the assurance that they would return within the month for the Great Council’s decision.”

An overwhelming wave of sadness crashed over Lucaera, her throat tightening, her vision blurring with unshed tears. They had left her. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

Otto opened his mouth to say something, but Aemond cut him off sharply. “Not now-”

He could feel her sadness through the bond, and it was breaking his heart.

Alicent noticed the way Lucaera’s eyes shone with tears and, despite everything, she took her hand again, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry-”

Aemond led Lucaera back to his chambers in silence. She had not spoken a word since leaving the Tower of the Hand, her sadness so heavy it felt as though it was crushing the bond between them. He could feel it—the ache, the hollowness that had settled deep inside her.

It hurt worse than any wound he had ever suffered.

When they entered his room, she moved like a ghost, drifting toward the armchair by the fire and sinking into it without a sound. The warm glow of the flames flickered across her face, catching on the single tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aemond crossed the room and knelt before her, resting his head in her lap. He did not speak, did not press her for words she could not yet give.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, finally, her hand lifted, and she began stroking his hair softly.

Aemond closed his eye, breathing in her scent, letting it soothe the turmoil inside him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Lucaera’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet but firm. “It’s not your fault.”

Aemond lifted his head to look at her, his fingers reaching up to brush away the tear on her cheek. “I never wanted this to happen.”

Lucaera nodded, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “I know.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, with quiet determination, he said, “To spare you this pain, I will give up my claim. I will go to the King and—”

“You will do no such thing.”

Her words cut through the room like a blade.

Lucaera’s eyes were sharp, unwavering. “The Great Council is the fairest way to choose between you and my mother. The decision is no longer ours, but in the hands of the realm.”

Aemond searched her face, but there was no doubt there—only certainty.

“What if they choose me over her?” he asked.

Lucaera did not hesitate. “Then they choose you.”

Aemond’s fingers curled around hers. “Do you think Viserys will honour the choice, or find another way to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim?”

Lucaera shook her head. “Once the decision is made, not even the King has the power to see it undone.”

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, only the crackling of the fire between them.

Then, Lucaera’s stomach growled.

Aemond blinked before letting out a small, unexpected laugh. “I shall request food be brought to us—I cannot have my Omega going hungry.”

Lucaera gave him the faintest of nods, watching as he rose from the floor and moved to summon a maid.

Left alone with her thoughts, she exhaled slowly. She understood why her mother was angry—why Daemon and her brothers had turned away from her.

But in time, she hoped they would come to accept what she had done.

It had not been to be cruel. It had not been to elevate herself. It had been to prevent a war.

A few days later, despite not being particularly fond of Alicent, Lucaera found herself dining with her soon-to-be good-mother.

She reasoned that it was wise to make an effort to be at least somewhat cordial to Aemond’s mother, even if the woman had spent years opposing her own.

They discussed the wedding, and Alicent suggested a small celebration afterward. Lucaera, who had no desire for anything extravagant, readily agreed.

Not that grandeur had ever been an option, given the limited time they had to plan.

She had written to her mother, apologizing and explaining why she had done what she did. But no response had come.

She had also written to her brothers, asking them to attend her wedding. Again—silence.

The lack of reply gave her pause.

Aemond had offered so readily to give up his claim, yet her mother remained steadfast in her desire for the throne.

Was it truly about her birthright, or was it something deeper? Did Rhaenyra not know who she was without the Iron Throne?

Lucaera realized she might never fully understand the answer to that question.

Her thoughts were pulled back to the present as Alicent prattled on about the importance of being a faithful wife—of not seeking pleasures elsewhere.

Without thinking, Lucaera confidently assured the Queen, “Aemond pleases me well enough that I have no need to seek another.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized what she had said—and to whom.

A deep flush spread across her cheeks. “I—I mean—my apologies, your Grace.”

Alicent furrowed her brow, lips pressing into a thin line before she eventually inclined her head in acceptance.

Later that evening, when Lucaera recounted the moment to Aemond, he feigned scandal.

“You said that to my mother?”

Lucaera groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, and I wanted to sink into the floor the moment I did.”

Aemond smirked. “Perhaps I should be offended—speaking so boldly of our affairs to my own mother”

But through their bond, she could sense his amusement.

Lucaera huffed, shoving at his chest playfully. “You’re awful.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.”

For a moment, they laughed together, their bond warming with shared mirth.

Then a knock at the door.

A maid entered, bowing briefly before announcing, “Princess, your belongings from Dragonstone have arrived in port.”

The laughter faded instantly and Lucaera’s heart twisted painfully.

She had known, of course, that she would likely not be returning to Dragonstone, but to have her belongings packed and shipped out with such haste—it stung.

When the trunks were delivered to Aemond’s chambers, Lucaera wasted no time going through them, searching for a letter or a note—some sign that her mother or brothers had thought of her beyond simply packing her things and sending them away.

But she found nothing.

Aemond, who had been standing beside her, felt it all—the sharp cut of her despair, and the ache of abandonment.

Silently, he reached for her, pulling her close, tucking her against his chest. His scent filling her senses.

But still, the pain lingered.

Aemond stood tall beside the High Septon, his figure composed and unwavering. He was dressed simply—black tunic, his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders.

His long silver hair was tied back in its usual half-up, half-down style, the candlelight from the Sept casting an ethereal glow upon him.

The horns sounded, signalling the beginning of the ceremony.

Lucaera took a deep breath, preparing herself to walk alone.

But just as she stepped forward, a familiar voice murmured at her side.

“You shouldn’t walk alone.”

She turned, startled, to find Aegon standing beside her, offering his arm.

Lucaera’s lips parted in surprise, but after a beat, she smiled and took his offered arm. “Thank you.”

Aegon gave a brief nod, his usual smirk softened into something kind.

The great doors swung open, and Lucaera instinctively turned toward them, her heart hammering with hope.

Perhaps her mother had come after all. Perhaps her brothers had changed their minds.

They would come in and they would sit and watch as she married her mate- they would smile and join in the celebrations, they would-

-But the doorway remained empty.

Lucaera swallowed hard, pushing down the sharp pang of disappointment, and turned back to Aegon. He gazed at her knowingly, his expression surprisingly gentle.

“It’s their loss,” he said simply.

She nodded, composing herself. And together, they began the slow walk toward Aemond and the waiting Septon.

“Thank you for escorting the bride, my prince,” the Septon said as they reached the altar. “If you would be so kind as to wait while the Princess removes her maiden cloak.”

Lucaera’s fingers found the ties of her maiden cloak, undoing them carefully before slipping the garment from her shoulders. She handed it to Aegon, who accepted it with an unexpected reverence.

With a final nod, he turned and took his seat beside Alicent, Helaena, and Otto.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Aemond stepped forward, his face unreadable, but his eye was impossibly soft as he gazed at Lucaera.

He removed his heavy Targaryen cloak, its black and red fabric rich with the sigil of their house, and carefully draped it around her shoulders.

Then, he took her hand in his.

The Septon tied their hands together with a crimson ribbon, the silk warm against Lucaera’s skin.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Now, you may look upon one another and speak your vows.”

Lucaera inhaled shakily, her lip wobbling slightly as she whispered, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

Aemond’s voice was clear, steady, and unwavering as he declared, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

“The vows have been spoken.” The Septon raised his hands in blessing. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Aemond didn’t hesitate.

He leaned forward, his lips meeting Lucaera’s in a soft, lingering kiss—one filled with the weight of everything unspoken, of the moment that had led them here.

As he pulled away, his fingers brushed over her cheek, and in a voice only she could hear, he murmured,

“Ñuhon.” (Mine).

The dining hall was lit with the warm glow of candlelight, casting flickering shadows across the table where the small gathering was held in celebration of Aemond and Lucaera’s wedding.

The feast was modest compared to the extravagant affairs usually held in the Red Keep, but it was intimate—just their family, or at least, those who had deigned to attend.

Viserys sat at the head of the table, looking more ghost than king, his skin pale, his breathing laboured.

Alicent sat beside him, ever the devoted wife, though her sharp gaze often flickered toward Lucaera with something akin to sympathy and Otto, composed as always, observed in silence.

Aegon was already into his cups and Helaena picked absently at the food on her plate, her mind seemingly lost elsewhere.

And Daeron, the youngest, was polite but somewhat reserved, offering quiet congratulations and speaking only when spoken to.

Lucaera sat beside Aemond, quiet, pushing her food around her plate rather than eating it.

Aemond, feeling her sorrow as keenly as his own through their bond, silently cursed Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, and Lucerys.

Despite his hatred for his half-sister and her Strong bastards, they could have at least shown their faces. They could have tried to make amends.

Instead, their absence only served as another wound inflicted upon his wife and mate.

He slid his hand beneath the table, resting it gently on Lucaera’s thigh. His grip was firm but comforting, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles.

Lucaera glanced at him, offering a small, appreciative smile, but the sadness lingered in her eyes.

Aegon, ever the one to disrupt, leaned forward and grinned.

“Well, I guess it falls to me to ensure my new good-sister enjoys her wedding night.”

Aemond growled low in his throat, but Aegon ignored him completely and extended his hand toward Lucaera.

“Dance with me, Princess.”

Lucaera hesitated, glancing at Aemond, who looked ready to lunge across the table and rip Aegon’s throat out.

But then she saw the mischief in Aegon’s eyes. So she took his hand.

Aegon smirked and pulled her to her feet, leading her toward the open space where the soft notes of a harp and viol filled the hall. With surprising grace, he twirled her in time with the music, guiding her effortlessly through the steps.

Aemond, watching from his seat, clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening into a fist. But then he noticed something—Lucaera was smiling.

The sorrow in her scent had lightened, giving way to something softer, something lighter.

With a surprising burst of movement, Helaena rose from her chair and stepped onto the floor, reaching for Lucaera’s hands.

Aegon let go without protest, returning to the table and pouring himself another goblet of wine as his sister and Lucaera twirled together, giggling as they spun in soft circles.

Aemond watched, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax.

As they moved, Helaena suddenly leaned in and murmured, “A King bathed in silver as another is shrouded in gold.”

Lucaera frowned. “You’ve said that before.”

Helaena smiled softly. “People think I’m strange.”

Lucaera squeezed her hands. “I don’t think you’re strange.”

Helaena’s smile brightened. “We shall be firm friends, you and I.”

They danced a little while longer, their laughter quiet but genuine—until a familiar, rasping voice interrupted.

Aemond’s breath was warm against Lucaera’s ear as he murmured, “Time for the bedding, my wife.”

Lucaera laughed. “You had me this morning before we were wed.”

Aemond leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing her ear. “And I shall have you again.”

A shiver ran down Lucaera’s spine as she felt his desire through their bond, as potent and intoxicating as dragon fire.

Aemond smirked at the effect he had on her and took her hand, excusing them both as he practically dragged her from the hall.

Aegon, watching them leave, chuckled into his wine. “Well, at least one of us is getting laid tonight”

Once they were inside their chambers, Aemond didn’t hesitate. His lips found hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

With a soft growl, Aemond moved her away from the wall and began pulling at the ties of her dress.

“Don’t rip it-” urged Lucaera as she took a step back and pulled open the silken material and let it fall to the floor.

Aemond smirked as he gazed her naked body before he eagerly pulled off his own clothes, leaving them both bare.

Aemond circled Lucaera slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, his eye tracing every curve of her body like a predator hungrily stalking its prey.

There was an intensity in the way he moved, his gaze devouring her from every angle as if he were committing every inch of her to memory.

With a commanding presence, he stepped back from Lucaera, his voice low and authoritative as he spoke.

"Kneel" he ordered, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

Without hesitation, Lucaera obeyed. She sank gracefully to her knees, her eyes never leaving Aemond's as she positioned herself in front of him, her posture submissive yet confident, entirely at his mercy.

Slowly, Aemond reached down and caressed Lucaera’s cheek, his touch gentle and reverent despite the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb brushed over her soft skin, tracing the line of her jaw before he brought it to her plump lower lip, pressing against it with a possessive tenderness.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone commanding yet intimate.

Lucaera, eager to please him, parted her lips without hesitation, her breath warm against his thumb as she obeyed his command.

Aemond smirked and then spat into her mouth.

“Swallow” he ordered.

Lucaera closed her mouth and smiled as she swallowed.

“Sȳz riña” muttered Aemond (Good girl).

“Ivestragī nyke kostilus ao ñuha zaldrīzes” whispered Lucaera (Let me please you my dragon).

“Skorkydoso?” asked Aemond curiously (How?)

Lucaera smiled and rose higher on her knees she placed her hands on Aemond, slowly moving them up his lean body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

She felt the tremble in his body as her nails scraped lightly across his skin, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, raw with desire.

Her touch held him captive, and as her hands continued their slow, torturous path, she whispered to him, her voice soft but commanding.

“Take off your eyepatch, I wish to gaze upon your beauty in its entirety”

Aemond hesitated for only a moment, his lips parting in a quiet whimper, the sound so rare for him, so vulnerable.

She knew what her words, her praise, did to him—how they disarmed him in ways no one else could.

His heart raced in his chest, and the possessiveness in him faltered for just a second, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Without a word, Aemond reached up and pulled the eyepatch from his face, the black leather slipping from his fingers to fall carelessly to the floor.

Lucaera gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips as her eyes traced over his face.

The sapphire, so stark and striking, only added to the beauty that was uniquely his.

“Ñuha gevie zaldrīzes”  whispered Lucaera, her voice laced with adoration (My beautiful dragon).

Aemond’s breath hitched at her words, his body responding to the warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her voice. She saw all of him—the scars, the vulnerabilities—and still, she called him beautiful.

It was a power she wielded over him that no one else could ever claim.

Lucaera leaned forward and pressed a series of tender kisses to his bare stomach, her lips brushing against his pale skin.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a low groan as he felt her teeth grazing against him.

His hand instinctively moved to her hair, his fingers weaving through the dark strands as he tilted his head back, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

His voice, deep and rough with need, cut through the silence like a blade.

“Kostilus” he rasped, his voice a low growl, urging her on (Please).

As Lucaera continued her trail of kisses, Aemond’s grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eye was half-lidded, his focus entirely on the woman kneeling before him.

She grinned as she looked up at Aemond before taking one of his stones into her mouth, her tongue teasing the soft delicate flesh.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does ñuha dārys like that?” asked Lucaera (My King).

“Oh. Gods. Yes” whimpered Aemond.

“What was that?” asked Lucaera as she moved to the other and caressed it with her tongue.

“Kostilus” begged Aemond (Please).

“Ao līs umbagon ñuha zaldrīzes” replied Lucaera (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down Lucaera, his mouth hanging open as her warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Lucaera” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Lucaera ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him. Her hand moving over the hard length of him.

“You’re taking me so well-” moaned Aemond as Lucaera took his cock in her mouth, the base already thickening with the beginnings of his knot.

Lucaera slid her other hand around Aemond’s body and grasped the flesh of his arse, digging her nails into his skin.

“That’s it-FUCK-yes-don’t stop” groaned Aemond, his hips thrusting faster.

Lucaera responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing his cock, her head moving back and forth, stopping just before his knot.

“Shit-Lucaera I’m going to spill. Oh, fuck, I’m going to-” shouted Aemond his head tipped back as he exploded.

Lucaera took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean. When Aemond recovered, he saw her self-satisfied smile.

Aemond as he watched his softened cock slip from Lucaera’s mouth and leave a trail of seed dribbling down her chin.

“Such a messy Prince-” muttered Lucaera as she put a finger to her chin and wiped away the seed only to put the finger into her mouth.

“Fuck” muttered Aemond, his cock twitching.

“What is it you desire now?” asked Lucaera.

Aemond offered her his hand and pulled her from the floor, he shuddered when the warmth of her body pressed against his, her hand released his and trailed up his arm, her nails scraping against his skin.

“I want-” whispered Aemond as Lucaera coiled her fingers in his long hair and gently tugged at the silver strands.

“-What do you want?”

“I want you to ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond

“Are you sure” asked Lucaera.

“Sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond as he moved away from her and laid on the bed.

Lucaera climbed onto the bed and  hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny-" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Lucaera’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Lucaera her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ñuha dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Lucaera.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Lucaera.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Lucaera, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Lucaera "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Lucaera; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond as he pulled Lucaera closer.

“N-No A-Aemond you’ll suffocate” exclaimed Lucaera.

“When I said sit on my fucking face, I didn’t mean hover. I want your entire cunt on my face. Now do as you are told-” ordered Aemond as he wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her further onto his face, his nose rubbing on her pearl.

Lucaera was now giving off a slew of whispered swear words, moans, and pleas as she moved her hips.

“Yes-yes, don’t stop” moaned Lucaera.

 Aemond then rolled her onto the bed, her back colliding with the soft mattress with a dull thud.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Lucaera at the sudden movement.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs, his fingers curling inside her.

Finally, he felt Lucaera’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Lucaera’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Lucaera.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring her delicious taste.

Aemond moved up Lucaera’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Lucaera, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“-Issa ābrazȳrys, glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My wife-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Lucaera’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Lucaera desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of her squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Lucaera.

"Patience, ñuha dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up her neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Lucaera.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Lucaera dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

The fire between them was unmistakable, an unrestrained passion that filled the room with heat and tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

 “Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what Lucaera was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from her luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the stone wall.

Aemond lifted Lucaera’s legs onto his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Lucaera.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to spill his seed. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Lucaera’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Lucaera.

“Hmmm”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Lucaera once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaera.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Harder-more-please ñuha raqiarzy” wailed Lucaera (My beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, as he moved faster (My dirty girl).

“Aemond-”

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he dug his fingers into Lucaera’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Lucaera took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Lucaera’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Lucaera’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Lucaera was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Lucaera took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it-” moaned Aemond.

He released Lucaera’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the tousled strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held her tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Lucaera her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Lucaera, his knot forming.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid across the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Lucaera breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Yes-” gasped Lucaera as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at Lucaera as she rode him.

Lucaera dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaera as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaera her vision going white as she came around his cock.

He pulled her closer and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

Aemond’s grip on Lucaera tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful, his knot catching on her until he gave one last deep thrust, forcing his knot inside her, locking them together as he exploded.

Aemond’s body tensed against Lucaera’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

Then, as his pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto her, his chest heaving as he relaxed against her.

Lucaera’s body shifted slightly beneath him, her own breath coming in soft, satisfied sighs as she remained still, embracing the weight of him.

She looked up at Aemond with a tender, gaze, her hands caressing his back as he rested against her, his breathing gradually slowing.

TBC

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 2

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

Hours passed, one after another as groups of 5 people entered after passing the tests, time was exhausting, hearing gunshots in the distance and watching as the greedy people got upset every time the door opened again and again

I had already gone back and forth from my mattress to the steps, I sat down and lay down bored looking around feeling the irritation on my ankle more and more, the guard had tied it so tight that a red irritation had started to appear on my skin

Ouch - I said barely touching my ankle feeling the burning that was irritated even more by the friction of the fabric

Are you okay let me see - Hyun-Ju approached slowly sitting down a couple of steps below taking my foot carefully - did you twist your foot?

No, I'm fine - I looked at her embarrassed, trying to avoid her gaze, but her firm and large hand held my foot, looking at me - it's just a scratch, I think

Let me see - her touch went from firm to soft and delicate, slowly lifting the fabric of my pants, showing the red and irritated mark on my skin - I see, your skin is very sensitive, are you weak after all?

Hey, I'm not weak - her laugh made me laugh with her, pushing her a little while my leg rested on her knee - Hyun-Ju… can I ask you something?

Sure - her smile was still kind as she carefully folded my pants up, making sure the fabric didn't touch the irritated area again

Why are you here? Do you need the money for something? - Her face seemed to turn even paler than it already was, her smile blurred and her eyes looked at the floor in shame, as if she had asked the most embarrassing thing on the planet - If you don't want to tell me, I'll understand, excuse my intrusion

No… it's not that - she sighed slowly swallowing saliva and then looked at me with a look of embarrassment - my… my goal is to get to Thailand

Thailand? Do you need to go on vacation or something? - I smiled at her naively excited, thousands of times I had heard about that country but I still had not had the fortune to know it

No..- she smiled mocking a little at my foreign innocence - I…I need to go finish my transition you know..

Transition?..oh..I..understand Hyun-Ju sorry I shouldn't have asked you something so personal

Don't worry - she smiled a little moving her fingers nervously playing with the green fabric - it's just that…nobody is ever interested in my story and it's a little difficult for me to tell it

I understand…well..- I looked at her going down a couple of steps until I was sitting next to her looking at her attentively - if you want you can tell me, I would like to meet Hyun-Ju - She laughed with her eyes a little wet looking to the other side trying to hold her breath - do you work?

I worked… - she sighed again, this time deeper, dropping her shoulders - I was fired from my job when… well… I decided to tell everyone what I really am, they were ashamed of me and, they fired me

They are bastards, that is not right or even legal, what does your identity have to do with your ability, they are ignorant - I snorted angrily clenching my jaw - it must have been a dumb job after all, right? You must not have missed much

I was a soldier… - she looked at me, moving her legs nervously - a sergeant to be more exact, after they fired me my mother cried a lot and my father was ashamed, they don't talk to me anymore, my friends stopped talking to me and… - her voice broke off as her lips trembled - and everything became difficult and lonely

I understand, the people you trusted turned their backs on you - I looked at her feeling stupid, I shouldn't have forcing her to open her feelings like that, now I felt guilty for making her cry because of my silly curiosity - but… Hyun-Ju - I smiled a little taking her hand (which I could barely hold a couple of fingers of her big hand) I can be your friend, I would have loved to meet you somewhere else and be able to help you feel better about yourself, after all you haven't done anything wrong, being yourself makes you very brave

That's why I want to go to Thailand, I've heard that in that country there are the best doctors and the prettiest girls, I would love to be able to complete my transition and finally be what I want to be - her eyes showed a sparkle when she talked about it, her illusion overflowed through her pores

You don't have to go to Thailand to feel like that, for me you are already beautiful - my arms surrounded her as soon as the sobs began to come out of her chest and her hands covered her face saddened by crying, she was so fragile, my arms could barely surround her shoulders while her head rested on my shoulder sobbing and shaking - if you want to cry do it, people have been very cruel to you, but never cry out of shame, you have nothing to feel disappointed in yourself about.

This time, the shots didn't seem so dangerous and time passed without feeling it so slowly, she was a magical being that made me lose track of time

You are also very pretty, since I met you, I felt your bravery but also your heart, not everyone shows what they have inside and makes it look so valuable - her hands slowly wiped her tears taking care not to ruin her eyeliner and her diva bangs

It's not time to get sentimental - I laughed pushing her slowly while I got up adjusting my blouse going down a couple of steps - I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime

Do you want me to accompany you?

No, I'll be fine, wait for me here don't go anywhere - I laughed walking across the large space in the center of the beds feeling everyone's gazes.

They followed me and whispered, some laughed and others even said uncomfortable things waiting for me to react upset, they made the path very difficult to the door which was empty and as it was supposed, almost all the guards were in the yard even while the game continued.

The bathroom was big, with lots of cubicles and mirrors, almost uncomfortable to look at, like those endless and gloomy backgrounds, I could barely walk without tripping over to one of the toilets, sitting down uncomfortably listening to the door open once again, this time the footsteps of several people echoed in the almost empty place and a couple of laughs broke the silence and then a loud bang on my door made me jump scared, quickly pulling up my clothes

-I know you're in there, naughty girl, get out of there - the boys' laughter echoed off the walls, how could I have gotten into the wrong bathroom - get out you damn bitch - A loud bang again made me jump scared, unlocking the door with fear and opening it slowly

What did I tell you, the foreigner was here - the purple-haired boy laughed leaning on the bathroom door almost joining his face to mine - what are you doing here, cutie?

Nothing, I'm done - I looked at him, barely trying to get through quickly, scared, feeling a clumsy and strong hand pulling my hair

Come here bitch, I'm not done with you - this time his strength made me slam against one of the bathroom doors, making my back hurt - we know why whores like you come to our country, they come for sex and attention from us, don't they?

That's right, my friend - the long-haired man laughed, pressing his sweaty face against my cheek - she smells good, tell us, darling, what is such a pretty and sexy girl doing with that damn homosexual monster, huh?

She's not a monster, she's my friend - I looked at him, annoyed, tired of continuing to deal with men like him, but despite trying to get out of his hands, I couldn't - her name is Hyun-Ju, that's what they should call her

Oh, how cute, so you're a fucking weirdo like that effeminate? You like faggots, huh? - He laughed, hitting my cheek, making me scream in pain- You know my friend Nam-Gyu liked you as soon as he saw you, don't you like my friend? He's a real man

Leave me alone - I could barely speak when I felt his hand on my neck, pressing me against the door

Leave you? Honey, we're just getting started - the rapper laughed with his friend - do whatever you want to her Nam-Gyu, show her what it's like to be with a real man

My screams could barely be heard a couple of centimeters away, his firm hand on my neck and my crying didn't help much, feeling his disgusting hands running over my body, under my shirt and on the elastic of my pants made me feel even more of an idiot, this was all my fault

Shut your fucking mouth, you're distracting me - another blow again, this time on my lip leaving me stunned - hold her tight, she won't stop moving

I could feel the cold air on my thighs as they pulled down my pants and laughed talking disgusting and meaningless things, everything seemed to get even more dizzy, everything looked blurry until my body fell to the cold floor and again I could react, my tears wouldn't stop running down my face but I could notice the rapper and his friend lying on the floor, the latter Nam-Gyu wiping his bleeding nose

This will be the last time you approach her, is that clear? - Hyun-Ju hit him once more, slamming his head on the floor, leaving him unconscious - If you touch her again, I'll kill you, you fucking idiot, I'll kill you!

The purple haired boy ran hysterically almost tripping over his shoulder, not caring that his friend was on the floor, and I felt so humiliated, lying in a corner of the bathroom crying with a bleeding lip. If only I had listened to my parents from the beginning, I would have never come to this country and this wouldn't be happening. It was all my fault.

Calm down, sweetie, here I am - Hyun-Ju was much taller than those two men, her body was still strong and thick, but her presence was so calm and gave me so much peace that I couldn't feel intimidated by her.

Her hands, careful as always, held my pants, slowly lifting them up until they were in place, then they went to my face, checking my bruises and moving my hair out of my eyes so she could see every inch of my skin.

Sorry… - I looked at her embarrassed, feeling my tears running non-stop, I felt so humiliated and dirty that I couldn't think of anything else but that everything was my fault

You don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong, no one will do anything bad to you anymore, I promise - her arms held me, she never asked me to stop crying or forced me to calm down, she just let me take it all out in her arms, rocking me slowly - let's go outside

But… - I looked at her with fear, shaking her head

Nothing bad will happen, I promise, as long as we're together I'll take care of you, okay? - I could feel my hair being brushed by her fingers slowly and carefully

Ok… - I sighed wiping my eyes with my sweater getting up slowly holding on to her arm so I wouldn't fall, luckily when we left the lights were almost off and most of the people who were already in their beds were getting ready to sleep, thank god without paying attention to us as we crossed the large space in the center

Let's go to bed, tomorrow will be a new day and we must be focused - her hands held my back slowly, making me go up the stairs carefully taking care not to trip - do you want me to help you with your shoes?

No.. - I looked at her embarrassed sitting on my bed taking off my sweater carefully while she stood rubbing her hands nervously

Okay, if you need anything, I'll be in my bed, just call me okay? -She smiled lightly at me, almost invisible because of the darkness of the place, but I could feel it, she made me feel those nice things

Hyun-Ju…-I held her hand quickly while she stopped almost tripping- can you… stay, I'm afraid to sleep alone

Do you want me to stay here? I can watch you if it makes you feel safer -she went back up a few steps sitting down carefully

You can sleep with me, we'll both rest and take care of each other- I could feel my cheeks erupting again while I held the blanket so she could come in with me

Are you sure? I don't want to bother you…

I'm sure, come - I smiled at her, barely feeling a pain in my lip, she just lay down carefully, her body almost taking up more than half of the bed but her presence was so calm that it made me feel like everything was perfect again

I didn't understand why I felt that way, safe and loved, with honesty and without being hurt

Thank you Hyun-Ju…thanks for saving me

Thanks to you, sweetheart, you saved me in a different way,

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon! Tag List!

Part 3

@kuureii @sann1e @sunflowers-are-heaven @bridellashiper

[discoonthegrass]

So a while back I made a list of insanely Spirk-y moments in The Search for Spock and The Final Frontier, but I can’t believe I missed arguably the most Spirky of all: The Motion Picture. That’s right, the strangely-long, odd-uniformed first installment of the TOS movies is a romance in disguise:

Spock spends years trying to purge all emotions, only to completely abandon his quest once he hears V’ger’s consciousness call out to him from across the galaxy, knowing the Enterprise crew will need him

He basically tried to give up his emotions because he was overwhelmed by them—especially those relating to Kirk—only to seek his answers with Kirk

Kirk recommending a Vulcan science officer because he reminds him of Spock, and when that guy dies, wanting another Vulcan officer despite there being none

“Why it’s Mr, Mr” “-Spock!” *Kirk gives heart eyes like he’s just seen salvation*

Really just the entire sequence where Kirk gazes at Spock with complete adoration, as Spock completely ignores his attempts of friendship (he’s slaying in that outfit tho)

Kirk admits that he, personally, needs Spock, meanwhile Spock shows utterly no reaction, causing Kirk to feel very hurt/lost

Bones (and later Decker) question Spock’s loyalty, but Kirk steadfastly believes that Spock could never betray the ship for his own gain even though he really doesn’t know that anymore

Jim risking himself to go into space and catch Spock from unconsciousness, when as the captain he probably should’ve sent someone else

Spock seeing the answers to his questions (all the knowledge and logic in the galaxy) and realizing that there is no beauty in it without emotion

Jim leaning over Spock’s unconscious body, caressing his shoulders & arms even as Bones tries to stop him, and concernedly asking Spock what he should’ve known

Spock smiling, telling Jim (and he uses Jim, not Captain) that he should’ve known “this simple feeling is beyond V’ger’s comprehension”

He grabs Jim’s hand and stares up at him with such love in this moment, and Jim caresses his other hand as he gazes down at him with mutual adoration

Spock says there is “no meaning, Jim. No answers.” without emotions/love/this simple feeling

Spock admits that “logic and knowledge are not enough” as he weeps for V’ger, knowing that before emotions he was incomplete

He has found the solution to his lifelong grapple between his logic and emotions which is to find a balance

He admits that V’ger is a child searching for answers who doesn’t know what it needs, staring directly at Jim when he says it (since Jim is who he needs) - he’s crying because he realizes how horrific being lonely is

When V’ger is evolving, Spock brushes Kirk’s arm to get him to follow him - instead of actually talking he basically is just doing anything to have more physical touch

Scotty suggests they can go back to Vulcan, but Spock directly looks at Kirk and declares that he’s perfectly fine here on the Enterprise

Anyway I firmly believe that immediately after this movie they had Scotty (the highest ranking crew member NOT involved in the actual coupling) marry them during the Enterprise’s shakedown cruise. Bones of course was the best man. I bet he cried but then denied it after lmao

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗳𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Jay – "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

Jay is shocked, but he pulls himself together fast. He might not have planned for this, but once he hears the news, he’s already thinking of solutions. There’s no hesitation—he’ll take responsibility, no matter what it means for your relationship. You’re trembling, barely able to meet his gaze. "Jay… I’m pregnant." He freezes, staring at you in disbelief. But after a moment, he exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he says, voice steady. "I mean—this is huge. But I’m not running away from it. We’ll handle this together." His eyes search yours, waiting for your reaction. If you’re scared, he’ll be there—no matter what happens between you both, he won’t abandon you.

Jake – "It’s my baby, too. I won’t let you go through this alone."

Jake’s first reaction is pure shock, but once reality sets in? He steps up. He might be terrified, but the thought of you doing this alone is worse. If you’re unsure about what to do, he’s ready to support whatever decision you make. "You’re… pregnant?" Jake repeats, blinking rapidly. You nod, looking away. You expect panic, maybe even rejection—but instead, he reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. "I know we weren’t planning this," he says softly, "but I don’t care. If you want to keep it, I’m all in." His voice is firm—because the last thing he’ll ever do is walk away from you.

Heeseung – "…Guess I’m gonna be a dad, huh?"

Heeseung is silent at first, just staring at you like his brain short-circuited. He’s scared, but not because he doesn’t want this—he just doesn’t know if you do. Once he gets over the initial shock, he sighs, rubbing his face before finally looking at you. "Are you serious?" he asks, voice tight. You nod, gripping your sleeves. Heeseung exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again—this time, his expression softer. "Alright," he finally says. "Tell me what you need from me. Whatever it is, I got you." Heeseung might not have seen this coming, but he’s not the type to walk away.

Sunghoon – "Shit… What do you want to do?"

Sunghoon panics. He’s not mad—just overwhelmed. He’s the type to need time to process things before giving you an answer, but the moment he sees how nervous you are, he forces himself to man up. He’s pacing, running a hand through his hair as he mutters curses under his breath. "This wasn’t supposed to happen," he says, voice shaking slightly. You feel your heart sink, but before you can respond, he stops pacing, turning to face you. "But… it did," he sighs. "And I need to stop being a coward about it. What do you want? I’ll do whatever it takes." It’s clear he’s scared, but he refuses to make you go through this alone.

Jungwon – "…I need a second."

Jungwon is young, and this kind of responsibility terrifies him. He’s responsible, sure, but this is big. He needs time to process it before giving you an answer—but one thing is clear: he won’t abandon you. "Jungwon, I’m pregnant." Silence. His eyes widen slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, rubbing his temples. "I just… need a second," he mutters, his voice strained. It takes a while for him to fully process, but when he finally speaks, his voice is softer. "I don’t know what happens next, but I’m not leaving you. I just… need to figure this out." It won’t be easy, but he’ll try.

Sunoo – "You’re… joking, right?"

Sunoo freaks out. Not because he’s a bad person, but because this is so much to take in. He’s the type to laugh nervously, not knowing how to react, before reality slams into him like a truck. "No way," he blurts out, staring at you in disbelief. "This isn’t real, right?" When you don’t respond, his breath catches. "Oh my God," he whispers, sinking onto the couch. His face is buried in his hands, and for a moment, he’s completely silent. It takes a while for him to come to terms with it, but in the end, he sighs, looking at you with serious eyes. "I don’t know what I’m doing," he admits. "But I swear, I won’t let you deal with this alone." He may be scared, but he cares—and that’s enough for him to start trying.

Ni-ki – "…No way. This isn’t happening."

Ni-ki completely shuts down. He’s young, reckless, and the last thing he expected was to deal with something this serious. His first reaction? Denial. His second reaction? Panic. He doesn’t know how to handle it, and it terrifies him. "I’m pregnant." Ni-ki stares at you, his body stiff. Then, he laughs—a nervous, disbelieving chuckle. "No. You’re messing with me, right?" he says, voice tight. "This can’t be real." When he sees your serious expression, his stomach drops. He doesn’t run, but he does shut down emotionally for a while. It takes time before he’s able to talk about it seriously, and even longer before he figures out what to do. But in the end? He won’t leave. He just needs time.

[loveyourlovelysoul]

It may be that if you grew up in an unpredictable and unsafe environment, you have learnt to predict and read everyone's mood and smooth any tension in order to save yourself. This habit may still be part of how you act in your relationships; the moment you don't know how to read someone's feelings, it may give you deep anxiety because you unconsciously may feel like you're in an unsafe situation, where you cannot prevent any possible outburst of anger or any other sudden reaction about you.

To continuosly monitoring people in search of possible threats and finding solutions for those, it's very draining for you, and keeps you away from yourself and your emotions by making you focus on others' ones solely. To keep looking on the outside and abandoning yourself in order to preemptively try to save yourself from danger has surely worked well in your childhood, but now it's no more what's going to save you. You're not responsible for anyone's emotion nor you have to make it better all the times and asap. Not everything is your fault nor it's your duty to solve everyone's problems: people often needs to solve their stuff by themselves.