#let us not seek out forgiveness but forgetfulness

[miraonpluto]

thinking about augustine-mercymorn and gideon-harrow parallels on this fine evening

[dovesdreaming]

Breaking point

Summary: Mattheo gets into too many fights and reader has enough and calls off their relationship. However she is still the only person that can get through to him.

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The tension in the Slytherin common room had been growing for weeks. Whispers about Mattheo Riddle’s temper and the fights he kept getting into were spreading through Hogwarts like wildfire. You had always been the one to pull him back from the edge, the calming voice that stopped him mid-fight with just a touch or a few soft words. But lately, Mattheo had been slipping further and further away from you, consumed by anger he couldn’t control, and no matter what you did, it was as if your voice no longer reached him.

It was a late Friday evening when you found yourself yet again pulling Mattheo away from a confrontation with some Gryffindor seventh year. You could see the rage in his eyes, his fists clenched, ready to throw a punch that would surely land him another detention or worse. “Mattheo, please” you said, stepping between him and the other boy. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “He’s not worth it. Just let it go”. Mattheo’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might listen. But then, with a harsh shove, he pushed past you, shouting insults as he launched himself at his opponent. The scene that followed was a blur of yells, fists, and teachers trying to pull them apart.

As you watched him get dragged away by Professor Snape, something inside you snapped. You had been his anchor for so long, always there to soothe his stormy temper, but he wouldn’t even listen to you anymore. You couldn’t keep doing this, being the only one holding on when he was so intent on self-destruction.

That night in the doorway of your dorm room you let it all out. He had come back after whatever had happened seeking your forgiveness like usual but you couldn’t let him back in this time. He was not only destroying himself, he was taking you with him. It had taken a toll on you and you couldn’t carry on like this.

“I can’t do this anymore, Mattheo!” you whisper yelled, your voice breaking as tears threatened to spill. Mattheo’s face fell, his bravado crumbling. “Y/N, don’t-“ “No, Mattheo! I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to calm you down, to be there for you, but you don’t even care. You don’t care about me, about us!” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. “I love you, but I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself. I can’t keep being the only one trying”.

The whole building seemed to go painfully quiet. Mattheo looked at you with wide, desperate eyes, his anger replaced with a deep, crushing sorrow. “Y/N, please-“ But you couldn’t bear it anymore. Shaking your head, you turned and closed your door, leaving him standing there alone.

The days that followed were miserable. Mattheo barely left his room, and when he did, he was a shadow of the boy you knew, pale, quiet, and heartbreakingly empty. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy tried to get through to him, but Mattheo’s door remained locked, and his mood only worsened. You weren’t much better, you threw yourself into your studies, trying to forget the hurt in Mattheo’s eyes when you walked away. But every corner of Hogwarts seemed to hold a memory of him, his laughter echoing in the dungeons, the way he’d pull you close in the common room, whispering secrets only you were meant to hear.

“You have to talk to him” Pansy said one afternoon, catching you in the library. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle, eyes flickering with genuine concern. “He’s a mess without you. He’s not eating or taking care of himself” Pansy knew it was wrong to ask this of you but there was no one else that would be able to get through to Mattheo. You felt a pang in your chest, your anger giving way to concern. You hadn’t seen Mattheo in nearly a week, and the thought of him alone, suffering in silence, broke your heart. You hesitated, your pride battling against the concern gnawing at your heart. “Pansy, I-“. “He won’t listen to any of us. Not even Draco” she interrupted. “But he’ll listen to you. You’re the only one who can reach him”.

Taking a deep breath, you finally nodded, feeling the weight of what you were about to do. You made your way to the Slytherin boys’ dormitory, knocking softly on Mattheo’s door. There was no answer, just the faint sound of something shuffling inside. You tried again, louder this time. “Mattheo, it’s me”.

Silence stretched on, and just when you thought he wouldn’t respond and were about to turn to walk away, the door creaked open. He looked disheveled, his hair messier than usual, eyes red and swollen. He glanced at you, then away, shame and sadness evident in every line of his face. “What do you want?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. You forced yourself through the crack in the door and stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you. “I just… I wanted to see you. Make sure you’re okay”. You looked at the ground not really knowing how to go about this. He scoffed, but it lacked any real bite. “Do I look okay?”. You sighed, crossing the room to sit beside him on the edge of his bed. “Mattheo, I didn’t break up with you because I stopped caring. I broke up with you because you were hurting yourself. And it was hurting me, too”.

His gaze finally met yours, and the vulnerability there made your chest tighten. “I’m sorry” he mumbled, voice breaking. “I just, everything feels wrong without you. I know I messed up”. You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Matty. I just need you to try. I need you to promise me that you’ll stop fighting. You don’t have to be angry all the time. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone”. For a long moment, he said nothing, just held your hand like it was the only thing keeping him afloat. Finally, he nodded, squeezing your hand tighter. “I promise. No more fighting. I don’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. He buried his face in your shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting. “Thank you” he whispered, pulling back just enough to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “For not giving up on me”. You smiled, brushing a stray curl away from his face. “I’ll always be here, Mattheo. Just… no more fights, okay?”. He chuckled, the sound light and genuine, the first hint of the old Mattheo breaking through. “No more fights. I’ve got something better to fight for now”. You knew there was a lot of learning to do but you had faith that Mattheo could work on himself. And as he pulled you closer, you knew that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

-

Thank you for reading! Please send requests for him!! Also tempted to make a longer version of this with a lot more angst??

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 5

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The argument between Talia and Bruce is catastrophic from beginning to end, and while the whole truth is revealed, neither of them wants to let go of you. Strange was always a greater danger than he let on and was closer than he ever thought.

Warnings: Family discussion; meaningless kiss; aggression; blood; kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4.5k

Note: Talia has a slightly different relationship with Bruce in my story compared to the canon, being more tense than the impression I got when I watched scenes between the two of them.

I forget to mention that English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"Is it true?" Bruce asked quickly, barely giving Talia time to dare say anything before him. The woman rolled her eyes, still with her back to him, and prepared to maintain her confident pose.

She turned to face him and took a few moments to admire the vision, blatantly diverting her eyes to his lips and seeing how the messy shirt had given him a more fierce and attractive aura. Their relationship was complicated, that's a fact, but she could never stop finding the man in front of her charmingly handsome.

"You'll need to be more specific than that," Talia's voice dripped with a sweet and wicked tone as she walked toward him. Bruce violently stood up from the chair when he saw her hand reach towards him and imposed his height over hers to intimidate.

"Don't play the cynic." There was a suppressed fury in his tone, and she was sure he was using the last bit of self-control that still possessed.

"For heaven's sake, Bruce." Talia mocked, picking up the coat she had intended to grab from the beginning from the chair, having recognized it as yours. She grimaced as felt the damp fabric and dropped it in a corner of the room on the floor. The look she was receiving could burn her skin, and when she turned her face back to his, she realized how disturbed he was. "You look horrible. Strange really got into your head, didn't he?"

Talia saw him narrow his eyes with impatient indignation as he snorted. She found seeing him like this very peculiar and thought it would be fun to try and provoke.

The woman brought her face close to his, making her warm breath touch his chin provocatively while boldly wrapping her arms around the broad neck. She tested the waters, seeing how he remained still, and brushed her red lips along his jawline, then moved up until their mouths shared the same breath.

She was going to try to persuade, convince him that he was overthinking, and smiled inwardly when she saw Bruce become disconcerted for a second, completely unresponsive when she sealed their lips together. She managed to seduce him in that second to the point where, unconsciously, he moved his tongue with hers, but tasting her saliva brought him back to rationality.

He left her in complete shock when abruptly pushed her away and grabbed her face in an aggressive manner, squeezing the cheeks and making her squirm until eyes glazed over into his. “You repulse me.” Bruce spat and was glad to see her bold expression disappear. “Tell me once: she is mine?"

Talia tried to take his hand away with hers, but he seemed implacable, and didn't even move a finger out of place. He might be stronger, but she wasn't weak, and that was what made her let out an astonished sob.

"She is my daughter?!" He shouted, shaking her, no longer able to take the lack of response.

"Yes it is true." The confession made him let go of her finally, and she almost stumbled back with how sudden it was.

She massaged her face, seeking relief, and it didn't take long for her eyebrows to furrow in shock. Bruce felt no pity or regret, she deserved much more than he would ever have the courage to do.

"How?" By the way he looked, she knew there was no more room for lies or evasion. She had never seen him like this; Bruce had always been the most balanced man she had ever known in her entire life.

"She and Damian are twins," Talia responded immediately.

"Twins?" Bruce's voice sounded incredulous. He felt that even all the time in the universe wouldn't be enough to process that. It seemed simply unreal. "Why did you hide this? Why did you tell me about Damian and not about her?"

"Because you would have taken her from me!" She shouted, running her fingers over her face to check if her makeup had smeared. "I handed Damian over to you willingly, but if you had found out about him before, you would have brought him here just the same. And with her, it would be no different. You should be grateful to have had the boy."

"How dare you say such a thing?" Bruce threw the chair to the floor in a fit of rage, making a loud noise that echoed even outside the hallway. "And 'handed Damian over willingly'? You only did that because you felt pressured after your father died." He threw it in her face and suddenly remembered something: "You made that boy lie for you." He accused her.

Talia was silent for a brief moment, but her face showed nothing but contempt. "I did, yes." She admitted.

"What's the point of that? Was it just out of whim?" Bruce seemed fragile before her for the first time in so many years. For a moment, she glimpsed an old argument, from when they were still dating and didn't hide feelings from each other as they do today. "Do you hold that much resentment? You know very well why I dismissed the League of Assassins."

"Of course, Bruce. Your morals are too valuable, aren't they?" Talia replied with her chin up, not letting him affect her. "You think you're a good guy, a pure superhero like Superman. But I know you and I know how rotten you are inside. You are not as different from us as you think." She spewed the words in his face like venom.

"You wanted her to come here, didn't you? You and he planned all this?" Comprehension seemed to have hit Bruce, but that only left the woman confused.

"If it were up to me, you would never have discovered her existence. Why would I send her here?" The confession left him silent, not because he wasn't angry anymore, but because he was tired of hearing her voice; he simply couldn't believe anything Talia said. "She is my daughter. And I don't care what you're going to do now, but don't think you're going to drag her with you like you did with all those boys.”

"You think you can offer something better? You, the same person who left her in the hands of that sicko, consider yourself a better option?" Bruce insinuated this with a firmness that made it clear he had no doubt Talia was cooperating with Strange, making her eyes turn red. She could hear many insults from him, but insinuating that she had put you at risk was something entirely different. "You can be sure you won't lay another finger on her."

She knew Bruce was serious, and that he could actually prevent any future contact betwedn you and her. She wanted to kill him right now out of sheer hatred, but she was smart and knew that acting impulsively wouldn't solve anything. So, reluctantly, she tried to change the tone of the discussion to a neutral one. There was no way she could leave without giving him explanations, and if she tried, he would stop her.

"Maybe Strange had been threatening me for some time, possibly before deciding to appear publicly again and attack you." There was a slight irony of indignation in her words. Her gaze was firm and her green eyes shining with the intensity of someone defending their own honor. "Let it be clear: I didn't help anyone; I was as much a victim of this as you were."

"Victim?" Bruce retorted with disdain.

"This threat wasn't for you, Bruce, it was for me. Today you didn't lose anything, quite the opposite." She ignored the acidic tone and continued. "Maybe this contributed to some kind of psychological game Strange is playing against you, but it must be just a bonus."

"Why is he threatening you?" The question contained no compassion or empathy, but it didn't matter to her to receive that kind of consideration from him.

"What did he do to you?" Talia ignored the question, and as a form of childish revenge, he did the same. She sighed and tried a different approach: "If you tell me, I'll tell you too." She needed to know to try to understand the depth of Strange's current intentions or at least get some clue about the plan he was plotting because although she wouldn't say it to Bruce, she was also trying to catch him.

"A photo of my parents," he confessed, trying to sound indifferent before continuing, "Photos of the boys, of Alfred..." Bruce left the sentence hanging in the air and didn't proceed. He would never say more than he deemed necessary to her.

"Damian too?" She asked, worried about her son, and saw Bruce nod affirmatively. Bruce calmly unwrinkled a card while handing it to her.

"He asked her to deliver this to me today." His tone was serious, revealing a determination to deal with the situation pragmatically and directly.

Talia repeated those printed words several times, and every hair on her body stood on end all at once. "Did she…?"

"She didn't read it." He said curtly. "But what I don't understand is how all this seems so convenient and you claim to have nothing to do with it. He had this card perfectly prepared."

"Knowing him well, he must have been waiting for an opportunity for many days, or he induced this to happen somehow." She reflected, scratching the fine texture with her nails right where the text was printed to the point of making it illegible. "The letter that Damian said she picked up took longer to arrive than the others; it must have ended up with him at some point."

"How could he be so close, and you didn't notice?" His voice became aggressive again, the same beastly rage returning.

"I did notice! I just didn't imagine Strange interested in her; I thought it was about Damian. So, I didn't worry because he wasn't with me; he was with you." She raised her voice, trying to match his volume. "Strange has been sending me coded messages. Threats that had nothing to do with my daughter. I thought he didn't know she was yours and therefore wouldn't care about her." She finished, and Bruce clenched his jaw, observing how she increasingly emphasized the expression "my daughter," excluding him.

"Threats related to Damian?" He asked. His muscles were tense and sore, but he endured the discomfort if it meant clarifying everything once and for all. "And, of course, you never considered telling me."

"This started long before I left him with you, Bruce. They were still children." Talia said, growing increasingly frustrated with the conversation.

"What could Damian have done to him as a child?"

"Damian ended up leaving Strange with one less eye. He was already pursuing him because of you, but after losing an eye, all he wanted was revenge." She walked to the bed, leaning on the arms while crossing her legs. A very characteristic gesture of her behavior, which was highlighted when she wore her extravagant dresses, but the cold pants she wore made the movements relaxed. "He was a child; he didn't do it on purpose. He was just protecting his sister."

"How could Strange have known about Damian for so long and not about her? What you're saying doesn't make any sense, Talia." Bruce was frantic, and after a brief moment of melancholy, she sighed:

"I blame my father for this." Her voice almost wavered in front of him, but being the proud person she was, she quickly composed herself.

“What did Ra’s do?” He threw the question into the air, laden with apprehension.

The room plunged into a disturbing silence. Talia remained motionless, while the sound of Bruce's heavy breathing was the only thing breaking the void in the atmosphere. For a brief moment, her eyes met his and captured the storm of emotions brewing there: betrayal, despair, expectation.

She did not fear him, but rather how he might react to this. You were there, nearby, in the hallway, and the last thing she wanted was for the primal figure Bruce was becoming to explode and expel her, taking you to him. Moreover, she needed to remind herself that she was at a disadvantage there. It wasn't just Bruce she would face if things turned worse or physical, but everyone else in the house.

“What did he do, Talia?” Bruce growled, repeating the question with intensity.

She stared at the floor, fully aware that her next words would turn against her later, but at this point, he needed to know. Strange was out there, and he was still as much of a psychopath obsessed with Batman as before, meaning he wouldn’t rest until he managed to take Bruce’s place as a vigilante. So, with a low but icy voice, she moved her mouth to tell him the truth:

“Years ago, Strange sought out the League of Assassins. That lunatic was always smart and somehow discovered the rift between you and my father.” The mention of such an old event took Bruce by surprise. He slightly recoiled and his eyebrows raised, but he restrained himself from interrupting her. “He wanted the League to help him defeat you and vice versa. My father was suspicious, but he was so resentful that he agreed. Your betrayal was still fresh to us.”

“And of course it went wrong, didn’t it?” He asked with implicit sarcasm.

“Strange was so cunning that he managed to manipulate him to his advantage. He provided us with precise and important information about you, but after a while, he wanted to advise my father on how to act. That’s when I started to hate him, realizing how he was controlling.” She shook her head in denial, recalling the memory with bitterness, and continued:

“My father trusted him so much that he allowed Strange to infiltrate us more and more, until one day, by chance, he found damian in Nanda Parbat. Strange was nosy and curious; he tried to extract the information from me, but discovered on his own that you were his father.” Talia blew a strand of hair that fell on her face and decided to add the next part with acidity: “Strange was so fascinated by this that he made an absurd request. We denied it, and then he rebelled against us. Of course, that incompetent couldn’t accomplish anything, and then disappeared, as he always does when things go wrong.”

“Ra’s and Strange working together?” Bruce asked himself. He could never have imagined that two such distinct people could have had a relationship like that in the past. “And what did he ask for?”

“He was obsessed with surpassing you, but it wasn’t just that, he wanted to be you and have everything that was yours. He asked to raise Damian as if he were his own son, can you believe it? Luckily, Y/n never set foot in Nanda Parbat, so he didn’t discover her in that time.” She paused for a moment, reliving the events. “He wanted to prove that he could raise him and make a better Robin. Strange has known your identities much longer than you think; he knew the real Robin was your adopted son.”

Bruce’s face contorted in an expression of disbelief. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth opened as if about to say something, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. He blinked a few times, needing to assimilate what he had heard. “If he never saw her before, how did all this happen?”

“A few years later, when my father hadn’t been dead for long, I returned to live in Gotham City with Y/n, and Strange found out Damian was here too and broke into the apartment where we were. He intended to kidnap Damian, but he used to share a room with his sister, and by mistake, Strange went to her bed.” She spoke with a heavy voice, the last sentence sending chills down her spine, but she persisted:

“I woke up to her frightened scream and a loud noise. I ran and when I saw it was him, I had no mercy. He is intelligent, but sometimes he is blinded by his own obsession and do stupid things. He was already bleeding, with a pencil piercing one of his eyes, thanks to Damian, then fled through the living room. I didn’t initially chase after him because I wanted to make sure Damian was okay; the problem was I hadn’t realized that Y/n wasn’t in the room. Damian had distracted Strange to let his sister escape, and because of my delay, he took her.”

Talia seemed to be in a trance. Each word weighed on her chest like lead, yet she threw them out as if they were disposable. Her usually confident and determined eyes didn’t know where to look. Sitting rigidly on the bed, her imposing posture didn’t waver, as her pride didn’t allow her to show weakness.

“What did he do?” Bruce throat tightened, as if the air was rarefied, as he waited for the answer. Talia might think otherwise, but he could see through her facade. And despite it being selfish to say this, he couldn’t feel a shred of concern for her, especially when someone more important to him was now involved.

After standing for so long, Bruce sat on the bed next to her. He reflected on the sad incident, deeply disturbed. He blamed her. He blamed her for her character, for lying so much, and for hiding from him that his children were in danger. He was grateful that she had fallen silent for a few seconds, as he was mentally preparing himself for a grim scenario, one he wasn’t yet ready to face.

“What happened to her?” He asked, seeing that she wasn’t showing signs of speaking, trying to prompt her to continue.

"Strange carried her through the city, desperately fleeing from me until he ended up in an alley. He encountered a group of drunks who surrounded and wanted to rob him. He's not a good fighter, you already know that, and like a damn coward, he threw her into their midst as a distraction while he escaped again.”

“Unbelievable…” Bruce massaged his eyebrows with his eyes closed, visibly upset. He pressed his temples hard, as if trying to dispel the accumulated frustration. After a deep breath, he suddenly exploded in a shout of frustration and anger, just like at the beginning. “You should have contacted me!"

“Are you trying to blame me?!” She asked indignantly.

"She didn't seem to recognize him when she spoke to me just now. It sounded like she was talking about a random stranger." Bruce was confused.

"I don't know if she would recognize him again, she never wanted to talk to me about that day. And I never mentioned Hugo Strange either, everything she knows about him she sees on the news."

“You and your father are the worst kind of people I could have gotten involved with,” Bruce said, his voice dangerously low this time. “If it weren't for Ra's, Strange would never have gotten close to them. If it weren't for your stupid lie, nothing you just said would have happened. And I don't even want to imagine what the hell happened after that!”

"You would have made sure nothing like that happened, wouldn't you, Bruce? You talk about it with such certainty, but weren't you the one who let the Joker do something similar to that kid… Is Jason his name?" Her mention of something like that made Bruce's ears go deaf. He could clearly hear the sound of his heart beating inside his chest, until her disgusting voice sounded again: "You would have put her in the same disgrace!"

Bruce lost the control he tried so hard to maintain from the beginning. He threw the lamp next to him into the headboard on the wall. The movement was so violent that the wire connecting the object to the socket broke in a strange way and the entire glass part broke into several pieces. The noise was thunderous, and even when he stood up with a piercing look at her, Talia continued with her laughing face, enjoying watching him go crazy.

“Don't try to compare the two things. You didn’t tell me about Strange before because you were embarrassed. It's too hard for you to admit that you can fail. Besides, you always liked having someone to control, to manipulate at your pleasure. You did this to her, didn't you? And even then, you’re not satisfied. You continued to torment Damian, using him.” Bruce took a deep breath.“I thought you cared about him.”

Talia got up too and lifted her chin, her eyes shining with defiance. “You understand nothing, Bruce,” she responded with a firm and cutting voice. “Everything I did was to protect them both. I explained my reasons to you. Do you think hiding them was just my decision? My father would never have allowed it, and I won't deny that I wasn’t against him, but it didn’t depend solely on me. You, with your inflexible morality and your rules, would never understand.”

“Don’t give me that,” Bruce growled, his gaze fixed and penetrating. “You branded the girl with your initials like she was cattle. It was never about protection; it’s possessiveness.”

Like him, Talia stood up. “I may be a woman of whims, as you like to say, but I didn’t hide anything because I was embarrassed”

Talia paused, her voice softening but not positively. “And as for tormenting him… I trained him, prepared him for the cruel world we live in. Do you think you could keep him safe with your mild methods? He needs to be strong, needs to be able to survive, and in those years I taught him to protect her because no one else would. My father didn’t care about a granddaughter; he finally had the male heir he wanted. I had to meet his demands to make Damian perfect, and that allowed me the freedom to raise her away from all that. What I could do, I did. And what I wanted to do, I also did. And I’d do it all again.”

“You always think you did everything right, but everything you’ve said only proves how misguided you are. I remember I gave you a choice, Talia. I told you that you could abandon the League of Assassins and come with me. I told you that your father didn't need to control your life forever,” Bruce said, his voice laden with disdain. “You will never come near her again. You’ll have to go over my dead body first.”

Talia narrowed her eyes in contempt. “Do you really think you can stop me?” Her voice was low and controlled, but each word carried significant weight. “You always saw the world in black and white. Do you really think it was so simple to abandon my entire life and devotion for you, a mere fleeting romance? If you think it’s that easy to give up everything, I challenge you to abandon Batman right now. After all, it’s because of this secret identity of yours that all this started, isn’t it? Isn’t it as easy as that, Bruce?”

She took a step forward, facing him without wavering. “I can repeat it as many times as you want: I am a criminal, I am selfish, and whatever else you want me to say, but the only hypocrite in this room is you.” Her eyes shone with determination, while his wavered before her.

Bruce hardened his expression, sadness hitting him. He wanted to accuse her of being a low person, but deep in his conscience, he feared it was true. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be deceived; she was still the wrong one here. She was the one who completely distorted the situation, making herself the victim and trying to justify everything she did, turning him into the villain of the story.

“Talia, I never wanted you to be any of these things,” he began, his voice laden with anguish. He felt bitterness looking at her face now, as it painfully reminded him of the time when he had been deeply in love with this same woman. “I wanted to believe you could change, that you would be different from your father. But every choice you made, every lie you told… Our relationship was unsustainable, and now the only thing I feel for you is remorse.”

He closed the last distance between them, imposing himself with a somber aura. “Your actions, your alliances… they put her at risk. My duty as a father is to protect her, and I can’t ignore the danger you represent. I never wanted it to come to this, Talia. But if keeping her safe means keeping her away from you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Talia clenched her fists, her expression hardening even more. “Do you think I didn’t want to protect her too?” Her voice became silky. There was a dark delight in how the words dragged, a subtle poison hidden in each intonation. “You talk about protecting her, but she needs more than simple physical protection. She needs a mother, someone who understands the complexity of her feelings.”

“Look at yourself for a moment, Bruce,” said Talia, her voice icy and full of disdain. “You’re losing your composure. Do you really think she’ll like finding out that her father is this weak and ridiculous man you’ve become?”

The woman took a step forward, fixing her eyes on his with a challenging gleam. “The only thing she’ll feel for you is shame.”

"Do you really think you can tell me who I've become?" He paused, swallowing hard. "I didn't want it to come to this, Talia, but if you don't leave voluntarily, I'll be forced to tell that girl everything you've done. And then we'll let her decide."

He intensified the confrontation, provoking her: "Are you sure she would still choose you after so many lies? After everything you've hidden from her?" His eyes darkened, pupils dilated by the dim light in the room. "Value the good image she still has of you."

Talia was momentarily silent, her eyes meeting Bruce's with a genuine expression of concern. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice a bit more dangerous than before. "Would you really do that? Tell her everything?"

Bruce replied firmly, maintaining his serious gaze on hers. "It's what I must do, regardless of everything. Continuing to hide things isn't right. But if the only way for you to leave more easily is under this condition, then go now."

Talia took a few steps back, her serious expression showing shock and worry. Her thoughts repeated Bruce's ultimatum continuously, knowing you would not react well to it.

You were a smart girl, but emotionally very fragile. Your bonds of trust were limited to her and your brother, and you two had been apart for so long that having your relationship with your mother destroyed in this way would leave a huge scar on your heart. This would be the best choice, both for her and for you if Talia didn't want everything to fall apart.

She turned towards the bedroom hallway, as if seeking a moment to ponder the consequences. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Bruce, her shoulders slightly lower. "You are not going to involve her in your vigilante life." It wasn't a request, it was a warning, and Bruce didn't contest it to avoid further conflict. Understanding that she had decided to leave was enough to reassure him.

"I didn't mean to." He walked past her, picking up your coat she had thrown on the floor earlier, checking carefully that it hadn't been damaged by the broken lampshade, and lifting the chair to let the piece dry once more.

"You know where the exit is; don't take too long." Without bothering to be polite, he quickly opened the door, leaving her standing there. He knew she would really leave after seeing how she reacted. She wouldn't risk irritating him by taking longer than necessary.

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@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius @rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs @idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden @spideybv28 @faimmm @cherry-peach-flavored @godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable @masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage @homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21 @kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink @lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark @notahappystan @nebuluma @thetiredtoad0-0 @tmt-alexis @anuttellaa @strawberrymangoes @lorastone-000 @starryhiraeth @worldussysblog @urminebutidontwantyou @herondale-lightworm @nyra-42 @ohnoivefallen @an-introverted-nishinoyasimp @ellie-x0xo @blkmystery @formula-space @sparks0918 @cosmicqueenieb @rukia-uchiha-98 @leeleecats @camilo-uwu @phoenixgurl030 @rosegardenpatsu @nickey-diano

[vveirdvvitch]

Look! I wrote a dirty little piece of fanfiction featuring Edward Nashton!

Edward Nashton X Fem!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut, fluff, porn with very little plot

Summary: Eddie does you a favor

Heaven Tonight

Edward trudges up the stairs to his apartment. It had been another torturous day at the office and he was looking forward to getting back to his real work. Cleansing the city would finally give him the satisfaction he had been seeking. Nothing would keep him from obtaining his goal to purge the rotten decay at the heart of Gotham.

He rounded the landing and began the climb up the last flight when a curious sight made him forget briefly about his plans for the evening. There you sat on the filthy hallway flooring in front of your apartment door which was across the hall from his own. He pauses at his door and watches as you tap away on your phone.

And then it happens. It had happened before and each time was a special gift Edward treasured. You lift your head up and smile at him.

The first time had been approximately 8 and a half months ago when you first moved in. He had been coming home from work and nearly ran into you when you headed down for more boxes.

“Whoops! Hey sorry neighbor!”, and that 1000 watt smile had him forgiving you instantly.

He didn’t mind accidentally receiving your mail. Now he knew your name. Now you would greet him with a warm smile and say, “Thanks Ed! I don’t know why the dang mailman keeps doing this.”

“Hey Edward!” Why you were always so friendly was beyond him. He turned it over and over in his mind. Was it a trick? Were you stupid? Were you perhaps the only genuinely kind person in all of Gotham?

Ed gave you a timid tight-lipped smile, “hey, what are you doing down there?”

“Oh you know, trying to get a hold of my sister who is far too busy with her new girlfriend to care about what I’m doing, as well as our good for nothing landlord.” You paused and gave him a quizzical look, “Well, I don’t know our landlord's dating status just that he can’t be bothered to answer.”

It was Edward’s turn now to look puzzled. You pointed behind yourself towards the door, “Key broke off. I can’t get in.”

He nodded and gently huffed, “Ah!”

“So I’m down here until someone either responds or I get desperate enough to call some weirdo who decided to become a locksmith.”

The wheels of his mind clicked into motion. He could probably solve this for you with his pliers and his lock picks, but he couldn’t be sure if you would react negatively or positively. Who has a set of lock picks at the ready? Definitely a creep.

He didn’t want to freak you out and he couldn’t let you sit here in the hallway by yourself. There was no telling what kind of degenerates occupied this building. He looked to his door, key in hand.

“Um,” Edward swallowed thickly, “you could wait inside with me.”

The lock clicked and the knob turned. The wheels spun up again. Dread fell upon his shoulders like a sodden cloak. He couldn’t let you inside! One step and you would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was, in fact, a creep. A psycho. Ed-weird. His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat threatened to cover his whole body in a clammy sheen as every conceivable bad ending raced through his mind. You screaming in horror as you ran from him; You slapping him hard across the face in revulsion; You shrieking at him with unbridled rage, “let me out of here you psychopath!”

No, surely you would politely decline with another of your sweet candy smiles. Then he could suggest waiting at the diner on the corner while he took the time to vet locksmiths.

Just as he was pulling the door back towards himself you were up on your feet and pushing past him with a cheerful grin.

“Thanks Ed! I think my butt was falling…” you trail off as you truly begin to take in your surroundings. Newspaper clippings covered in large, red letters and threatening phrases paper most of the walls. Piles of ledgers, various tools, and unrecognizable contraptions litter every available surface. It all feels so surreal as you turn slowly looking for anything to give you an answer. This must be a dream. And if it is a dream, then you can do whatever you want to do.

Your gaze lands back on Edward. Still standing in the doorway looking like he might vomit or pass out. From his sudden pallor you guessed both. Your eyes make contact with each other. His big, murky green eyes full of panic pull at your heartstrings. A dream you tell yourself again.

Without too much thought, you let the words tumble out of your mouth. “Can you do me a favor Eddie?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion but he nods.

“If you’re gonna kill me, could you at least fuck me first?”

Panic bubbles in his chest as he chokes out a strangled, “What?”

“Well,” you glance about the room again, “this is kind of a textbook serial killer apartment,” your eyes connect once again with his, “And I am the kind of dumb girl who will follow a cute guy anywhere.”

Edward’s heart stops. The wheels of his mind screech to a halt. Cute. You think he’s cute. This was not a scenario he had considered.

His face softens as he finally closes the door behind him. You find the both of you slowly crossing the room towards each other. As if your feet have no intention. They follow some magnetic drum. Prisoners of their destination.

Until the two of you stand mere inches apart. Head tilted back to look him in the eye. Heart pounding your gaze darts between his eyes and lips. The pink tip of his tongue protrudes ever so slightly to wet those lips. Before you can think too much about it you push yourself up on your toes and smash your mouth inelegantly against his. The force pushes a small squeak from your throat.

The sound snaps Edward from his tether. His arms crush you to his chest, hands pawing at your back. His form is soft yet solid against you and his fervor elicits a soft moan from your now parted lips. He takes this as your sign to deepen the kiss and his tongue begins a passionate exploration of your mouth. His hunger and inexperience make his kisses feral.

Teeth click together. Tongues clash and lick. Saliva runs freely. Drool accumulates at the corners of your mouths. Edward walks forward pushing you back towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. His apartment is small like yours and it isn’t long before you feel the mattress hit the backs of your calves. You fall backwards onto the mattress and stare up at him.

Edward allows himself a moment to take it all in. He feels compelled to burn the image into his memory. You splayed on his bed, eyes glassy, lips parted and panting. The spitting image of delicious prey.

Carefully, as though he is trying not to spook you, he climbs onto the bed and crawls up your body. His breath is warm on your face as he leans down once again to capture your lips with his own; However the new angle causes his glasses to slide down his nose and hit you in the face.

Any tension you may have had dissolves at his soft giggles. “Sorry,” He says as he folds his glasses carefully and places them on the nightstand.

His reach pulls up the fabric of his shirt just enough to reveal the smallest sliver of his tummy. You take the opportunity to snake your hand through the gap to feel the softness for yourself.

Edward tenses, almost pulling away. Your free hand goes to the back of his head. Threading your fingers through his soft downy hair, you guide him back down for another kiss. This time his lips are hesitant. The hand still under his shirt glides over his side to his back. You dance your fingertips over the smooth skin and knobs of his spine.

His eyes flutter closed. A slow whine pushes out of his nose as his body and lips melt back against yours. It isn’t long before you feel his fingers pull at the hem of your top, so you adjust yourself enough to pull the garment up and over your head, tossed to the side. Goosebumps form on your arms and chest as Edward gapes open-mouthed at you in your modest cotton bra.

“Your turn,” you almost whisper.

Edward takes a deep breath, steeling himself against his self-consciousness. He unbuttons his shirt just enough that he can pull it and the t-shirt underneath up and over his head. While he is distracted with his task you reach behind yourself, easily unclasping your undergarment. You add it to the growing heap of discarded clothes at the same time as Edward’s shirts. A sound like the combination of a groan and a whine squeezes from his throat. The cool air causes your sensitive peaks to tighten.

The sight sends Edward into a ravenous frenzy once again. His nose crashes into the flat of your sternum and his hands crawl up to the fleshy mounds now on either side of his head. His hands knead the soft tissue and fingertips dance around your ever hardening nipples as his tongue slides across your skin.

Wanton moans pour out of your mouth at the sudden cascade of attention to your breasts. More fuel for Edward’s fire. You writhe and sigh when his wet persistent tongue travels up the side of your breast and he takes the nipple into his mouth.

Equally perverse sounds bubble their way out of Edward, his mind peacefully blank as he suckles. Your legs are tangled together and he absent mindedly humps your thigh. His hardness easily felt through the thin fabric of his cheap slacks.

Your right hand returns to his dark blonde locks, fingers tightening and pulling him off of you with a soft pop when your nipple is pulled free of his lips. You gaze on his love drunk face with its wet puppy eyes and slackened jaw. Gently you guide him to the other breast. Edward resumes his devotions to your pleasure while you reach your free hand down towards his pants.

Your fingers pull clumsily at the latch on his belt. A frustrated grunt at your failure breaks Edward from his ministrations. He looks down to where your fingertips struggle and notices the small wet dot on the crotch of his pants. You’re going to think he’s a pervert. Panic grips him yet again, until he hears your voice husky with arousal.

“Take them off.” You lick your lips before adding, “please?”

His heart leaps into his throat and he finds himself wrenching his belt loose and scrambling out of his khakis faster than he thought possible. There is a moment's hesitation before he pulls down his boxer briefs. But then he sees you are squirming out of your own pants and panties all at once. And so his underwear joins its brethren on the floor.

Edward doesn’t have time to worry about the size of his cock or what it looks like bobbing up and down, leaking precum. He would worry but the distance between your knees keeps increasing. He feels like he is watching a time-lapse of an orchid blooming, the petals unfolding to reveal the true beauty within.

As you lean back on your elbows, legs bent at the knee and falling to either side, Edward stares hungrily; a starving man crawling across the desert on hands and knees. Your sweet cunt an overly ripe peach on the verge of decay, splitting at the seams with musky juices. The promise of satiety.

Edward has never committed this particular act before but the sirens’ song of your wet, pink pussy is simply too much to resist. His arms crawl beneath your legs and wrap around your thighs. Fingers gripping lest you change your mind, close your legs, and deny him what he now considers his singular goal.

You would never, of course. In this moment, your only desire is to give in to him. You’ll do anything if it means he will continue. You’ve never felt desired like this before. Like you are a benevolent goddess offering sustenance to your most loyal servant.

His gaze flits up to yours. With a small smile and nod you award him approval. Tentatively he presses his lips to your right thigh. First a chaste kiss. Then a light flick of tongue. A gentle nibble. Briefly his breath hits your sensitive throbbing sex but your torture is prolonged when you realize he is simply moving to do the same to your other thigh.

Desire coils within your pelvis. The ache overwhelms you, your need too great.

Your whines and moans fill Edward with a confidence he was unaware he could achieve without his mask. His breath is cool and sharp on your wetness as he comes to feast on you at last.

First, a chaste kiss. You throw your head back and shudder, amazed at how such a simple action could feel so electric. Then a light flick of tongue. Your elbows give way, landing you flat on the mattress. A gentle nibble. Your thighs clamp together to hold him hostage against you at the same time your hand flies to the back of his head.

“Ahhhhh! Eddie!!! Ahhhh!” You moan his name.

A beautiful woman is moaning his name.

The wheels in Edward’s mind begin to turn yet again. He cannot lose this. He needs to know how to recreate this result. He will master this puzzle. Unleashing his tongue to explore your folds, he begins to catalog every twitch and sound you make.

The flat of his tongue licking you like an ice cream cone draws a low moan. The pointed tip drawing circles around your clit cause you to buck and hiss. He kisses, sucks, and licks. You pant, shake, and writhe. He pulls your labia into his mouth. You growl and arch your back off the bed. He pushes his slick muscle into your aching hole. Your eyes go crossed as you whine and shiver.

It is impossible to tell how much time has passed. Every touch from Edward is electric pleasure. What started as sloppy-yet-eager has become a determined assault on your pulsing cunt. Your head lolls to the side and you can see him buried between your thighs, nose pressed to your clit. Sensation and image combine to launch you into ecstasy.

Your hips buck. Moans blur into growls blur into a purr. You feel your insides tighten and relax. Tighten and relax. A gush of fluid rushes into Edward’s mouth which he drinks gratefully.

Panting, he pulls back to look back up at you. His eyes glassy with lust and triumph. Face glistening with your release. Never have you seen something so erotic.

Your hands dart out and clutch his shoulders, “Eddie please, I need you. I need you in me.”

Edward pushes a sharp breath out of his nose. This is it. Jaw clenched, he reaches for his bedside table and pulls a condom from the top drawer. Not that he had many lovers, just that sometimes economy of cleanup during certain solo activities was tantamount.

With shaking fingers he rips the package open and tosses the wrapper away. He tries to steady his breathing and roll the condom on his turgid member. Lips pursed in concentration, eyes closed, Edward takes a deep grounding breath.

His absence is too much. You wiggle yourself closer to him and whisper seductively, “Please Edward.”

His eyes snap back open. His face set in determination he leans himself towards you. Propping himself on up his elbows over you. You simply can’t take it any longer. Before he can make another move you snake your hand between your legs and grasp him firmly eliciting a growling moan from the usually stoic man.

He is thick and firm in your palm. Twitching with excitement. You guide him towards your entrance, rolling your hips up to take in the tip. Seemingly of their own volition, Edward’s hips come crashing into yours, sheathing himself in one fluid motion. If you weren’t so aroused it may have been painful but all you can feel is a delicious fullness. Sparks ignite behind your wide eyes.

Edward takes a deep shuddering breath and pulls back slowly, looking down to see where you connect. He nearly pulls all the way out before sliding back in. The pace he sets is tortuously slow. Dragging his full length in and out. Your eyes roll back in your head, legs shaking. Edward has the sudden desire to never cum. To simply slide in and out for eternity. Perhaps that would be heaven.

Warmth and desire pools in your belly. Your legs come up to wrap around his hips. Your arms wrap around his torso. Still he continues to go much slower and gentler than what you crave.

“Please Eddie faster, please” you sob into his shoulder.

Unable to do anything but give in to your request, his pace quickens. He screws his eyes shut tight and wills himself to hold out. To remain here inside of you for as long as possible.

Edward nearly loses his control when your nails dig into his back and you wail, “Harder!”

A high pitched whine builds deep within him as he pistons himself into you. This is what you had been craving. Him rutting like a crazed buck in heat.

You pitch your hips up in time with his. Wet slapping sounds echo around the room peppered with guttural moans and hisses of pleasure.

Jaw clenched, Edward uses every ounce of willpower he has to maintain his pace, holding back just enough to avoid falling over the edge. No small feat as you thrash beneath him. Gasping. Clawing at his back. Digging your heels into his ass.

“Ohmygod, Eddie! Mm gonna cum!” Your body engulfs in fire, every nerve alight with ecstasy. You become weightless, out of time and space as your orgasm crashes through you.

Edward feels the rush of warm liquid. Your soft, slick walls clamp down on him like a vice. The muscles contract in waves to produce a milking sensation. He does not slow, fucking you through your orgasm and quickly catching up to his own.

A sweet languid smile graces your flushed face as you come back down from your peak. You are so beautiful, so angelic in his eyes.

A dark possessiveness overcomes him. His thrusts come even faster. More wild than before. He buries his face into your neck and growls, “Mine.”

The word unlocks something within you. Your arms and legs curl around him tighter as you gasp your reply, “Yours.”

His teeth sink into your neck. You feel his growls reverberate in your whole body as he repeats it over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The tension in his abdomen becomes too much to bear. He feels his scrotum tighten in anticipation of release. Edward seats himself inside your warmth as deeply as he possibly can. A strangled cry rips from his lungs as he cums inside of you.

As the spots fade from his vision and his ragged breath evens out, the full realization of what has transpired comes over Edward. The pretty girl from next door was beneath him. Naked. The woman he had pined over since the very first time she had smiled at him was flushed and breathing unsteadily.

Cold spiney fingers of panic start clawing at his chest. The questions don’t just run at lightning speed through his mind, they tumble speedily from his lips.

“Um A-are you okay? Uh did you uh c-cum? Was was I good?”

Edward’s face burns with embarrassment at his clumsy pillow talk.

Until your face once again brightens with a smile, “Yes, oh yes and oh my god yes!!”

You punctuate each affirmation with a kiss, gazing back at him adoringly.

His heart swells beating back the icy grip of panic. He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and gently untangles himself from you.

Edward carefully slides the condom off his now softened member and ties off the end. He places it gently on the nightstand. Cringing at the sickening squish sound it makes.

He picks up his glasses, places them on his face, and turns back to you. “Um do you need anything? What should I do now?”

Your face splits into a warm smile, “Just cuddle me, silly.”

You open your arms up to him and he slides down to lay beside you. Arms wrap around each other and legs entangle together. Edward grabs the blanket and pulls it over you both at an awkward angle. You idly play with his hair and a contented sigh escapes you.

“Hmm I guess this means you’re not gonna kill me huh? “ you say with a tired laugh.

“No,” you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, “but I might chain you to the radiator.” A high pitched almost manic giggle bursts from him.

You join him with your own laughter crazed from the whirlwind of emotion. You didn’t know if he was kidding or not. Or if you even cared.

End

[midnightcrows]

She said in a low voice, "He was right. There can be no forgiveness."

"Then let us not seek out forgiveness, but forgetfulness," he said. "Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave, Joy. We knew that was the only hope we ever had—that we would live to see it through...and pray for our own cessation. Oh, we'll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop...but my bones will rest easy next to your bones."

Finally did the scene like i said i would

Edit: I made so many mistakes I had to do a better version, original is below the cut 👍

[damn-stark]

Chapter 13 Me & My husband

Chapter 13 of Moonlight

A/N- Do you think there’s anything that can make us support the Greens? Hmm?? 🤔

Warning- Swearing, NFSW, talks of pregnancy thoughts of abortion, Aegon, ANGST, fluff, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x03

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

The streets are quiet, abandoned, and ravaged. The only life pulsating is in taverns scattered about the streets you pass, but as some drink for fun, others most likely drink to forget that the food in this city is diminishing with the blockade still not penetrated by their King.

The sky is polluted by white clouds, dimming the bright lights of the stars and the moon, and the sweet taste of autumn has begun to turn bitter with colder nights, bringing a chilly breeze that nips at your cheeks, and makes your fingers hold on tighter to the warmth Aemond’s hand gives yours.

What could you say about yourself? That your anger has not dulled even if you know now as you walk down the cobble streets that when Aemond is close you never feel alone. Is that hopeless?

Is it hopeless that someone who hurt you is also the one who never makes you feel solace? Even when you’re mad and seething, hoping he will leave you alone, all you seek is his presence because your heart is so tangled with his that he’s the very thing you need to feel complete.

How can you make it stop?

Do you really want to know what a world without him will be like? You should, your heart needs to stop dancing over the fact that he’s trying hard to win you back to his side. You shouldn’t be eager to know where he’s taking you. You shouldn’t know that if he had brought you out into the city weeks before this war started, or even when ravens were all that was being sent, that you would have devoted your heart and soul to him. And who wouldn’t?

He’s trying hard to get in your good graces by stepping out of his own comfort zone to do something he knows you like. He’s trying to prove his love, and his remorse for hurting you, and deep inside where you’re guarding your heart, a hole is starting to puncture through the wall.

You should be rageful! Anger is all you should know! And you do, you still feel it seething within you. You feel spiteful because he’s making the effort to make you look past the unforgettable act he did. Visiting brothels is something you can learn to forgive, after all, you have sinned too, but…killing Lucerys should bring you nothing but hatred.

You shouldn’t steal glances at him when you think he’s too busy paying attention to where you’re going, but you do, you can’t help it, you want to look into his mind to know what he has planned. And…you can’t help yourself from studying his face like one studies a tapestry that you can’t help but get lost in.

You are proud to say that you haven’t spoken a word since you left the castle, that’s the one thing you have kept up, but that begins to teeter because you need to know where he’s taking you! He keeps walking further and further away from the Red Keep!

You need to ask him, you should ask because what if he’s trying to take you somewhere dangerous, or someplace you actually don’t like? Plus this anticipation is something you can’t handle.

Thus you part your lips, and his eyes drift to you as if he was waiting for you to fill the silence, but thankfully you come across a woman with a babe against her chest and an older child on the ground beside her, so you direct their attention at their poor conditions.

Aemond tries to pull you back, but you slip your hand away from his grasp and approach the woman and her children.

The child does immediately scoot back when he sees that you’re approaching them, but the woman looks at you with hope in her eyes as she recognizes your white hair and sees your expensive clothes.

“Here,” you speak softly and pull five gold coins from the pouch in your cloak's pocket to offer them to the woman. “For you and your children.”

The woman glances at Aemond past you, and she seems to falter.

You see right through her and reassure her. “It’s okay, he may look scary, but he’s not. He won’t hurt you. The money is from me and him.”

The woman spares one more frightful glance at Aemond before she sticks her hand out so you can hand her the golden coins.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she says in return and bows her head. “May the gods bless you and the prince.”

“And you,” you redirect sweetly. “Good night.” You offer her a smile and then give the child a wider one before you turn away and return to Aemond to continue down your path in a short silence.

“Where are we going?” You finally let yourself ask.

“I thought you would not ask,” he says and drops his eye on you.

You shrug. “I was not, but you may as well be leading me to my death.”

Aemond rolls his eye. “Why would you say that?”

You avert your gaze and huff. “Well, I do not think the King’s counsel would be so keen on welcoming back. At least not as freely as I am.”

“No they are not keen about your return, they think you come to spy for your mother,” he shares, making you keep your eyes focused on anything else so Aemond won’t see that they hit the target.

“Well,” you sigh and feign annoyance. “If I would have come to do anything for my mother, they should all know I wouldn’t have gone to one knee for his Grace,” you throw that last bit out mockingly. “I mean…” you trail off to not say anything offensive around houses filled with people who wouldn’t hesitate spreading what you said like wildfire. Aemond you don’t worry about, it’s the people who might be listening.

“Yeah I know that,” he mutters, making you both meet each other's gaze and share a small teasing smile over the thought of Aegon being king.

“<He doesn’t even speak Valyrian,” you complain in High Valyrian. “Our child knows more than him, and he’s almost 5 months old.>”

Aemond huffs and you skip forward to fall at his side and muse about Aerion. “<I am being honest, earlier, I told him in Valyrian, if he was happy to be home with you, and he talked back.>”

“<Talked?>” Aemond questions with a happy smile he can’t hide.

You nod excitedly. <Cooed, but it’s the attempt that counts, and the smile he gave when I mentioned you.>”

Aemond hums and smiles at the ground at the mention of Aerion being happy to see him again.

“<He really missed you,” you tell him. “He was sad to be away from home for so long.>”

Aemond lifts his head and looks at you with a soft look. “<I missed him too. And you most of all.>”

He says that on purpose, he knows that sweet words like that make you swoon. It almost works if you’re being honest, but you hold yourself back and look away to retort. “Yeah, you missed me when you went to the Street of Silk.”

Aemond groans and you huff, finding the exact excuse you need to lead into silence. It’s now more tense than before, but it doesn’t leave an attempt for him to sweet talk you, or for you to find a way to talk like you would before.

You don’t talk at all actually, which works to strengthen that wall around your heart, and keeps your anger from sizzling out. You don’t hold hands anymore either which leaves your naked hands feeling quite abandoned while you’re following him through the dangerous city, past taverns and places to eat, past places where people sing and entertain, and overall past anywhere that can be fun.

You start to believe he’s taking you out of the city, but then much to your surprise, you reach the Dragonpit.

“Why are we here?” You ask and he looks at you but doesn’t actually attempt to answer, he points his eye to the side of the Dragonpit before he grabs your hand and pulls you with him toward an entrance you didn't even know about.

“What—”

He shushes you by pressing his finger against your lips and holding your gaze for a short moment that actually starts to filter in flickers of heat in your tension.

“It’s not far,” he whispers before he opens the door and ushers you inside.

Do you hesitate to do as he says?

No, you grow intensely more curious and quite excited.

“If Astraea senses I’m here she will weep,” you whisper as you roll your head over your shoulder to watch him close the door. “It was hard enough bringing her in here.”

Aemond lights a torch before he responds as he walks past, but not before taking your hand first. “We’re not here for the dragons.”

You can’t help your excitement from running your mouth for you. “I would ask how you know about this entrance, but I also know you so, I think I have my answer.”

With a crooked smile, Aemond looks at you and picks on that. “Really?”

You nod and push the tip of your nose up to tease him. “Your nose was always in a book.”

“It made me smarter,” he rebuttals, making you scoff in amusement. It’s not a laugh, but it’s close enough so he takes that as a win.

“It’s not much further,” he answers your burning question that you were about to ask.

You would ask the other questions you have lined up, but you also want to be surprised, so you swallow back your questions and eagerly follow him.

Honestly, it feels like you should close your eyes to not spoil anything, but this tunnel is new to you, so you stay vigilant. And once Aemond brings you to a sudden halt you’re glad you were cautious.

“Watch,” he suggests as he keeps the torch behind him.

“Okay,” you follow up slowly but hold his gaze with a sense of excitement, making him shake his head.

“Not at me,” he says as he doesn’t try to actually look away. “Over there.”

You breathe out some of your nerves before you slide your eyes to the dark room ahead of you. Aemond makes sure you’re paying attention first before he starts to walk away from you, making you get cast in the pitch darkness that comes from the hall behind you.

“Aemond,” you call out with slight fear.

Said man offers you his attention for a second before he walks further inside the dark cast room.

You don’t like the idea of getting consumed by the darkness so you take a step after him, but quickly come to a stop as the room begins to glimmer like a thousand exquisite diamonds as the fire on Aemond’s torch bounces off the walls.

“Wh—” you don’t even get to finish saying because your breath is stolen by all the spots of transparent lights that drown the room, making it seem like you’re actually within a hundred stars. Not just under them, but actually with them, where you can touch them.

“The dragons are above us,” Aemond fills the silence. “And the walls in this room are made of sand, so slowly with the fire from the dragons, glass is being made.”

You look at him completely mesmerized, but at that moment as your eyes take him in across the room, you’re struck with awe as you catch how the shimmering light doesn’t only reflect on the walls and ceiling, but on him too.

Hundreds of lights bask his face and bounce off the sapphire in his eye socket, making him look completely divine, ethereal, beautiful.

Can he see your awe? Can he see it in your soft dilated eyes? In your soft formed smile? Or in your stillness, as you can’t make yourself move with the way you’re completely blown away by the room and him?

“Come,” he invites you further in as he focuses just on you. The glimmering lights don’t manage to steal his attention with you there. You’re all he focuses on, you’re the keeper of his attention, more so when you slowly make yourself to him and the light bounces off the golden shimmer on your gown, making you look like the sun itself. Only brighter. And unlike the sun, you’re ethereal, and instead of burning his eye like the sun does, you make his eye soften and fill with admiration and awe.

“You know I can’t ask how you know about this room,” you finally manage to speak when you meet him in the middle. “Because I know you. You would sneak to the Dragonpit to try and steal our dragons.” You giggle.

He smiles as he turns his head away. “I was desperate,” he rebuttals to your comment.

You hum and lean towards him to add a memory. “Yeah, I caught you singing to a dragon egg once, in…”

“Hopes it would hatch,” Aemond and you finish in sync.

You beam at him and nod slowly. “Yes,” you say thoughtfully and watch him for a lingering moment as you realize that all the tension ceased to exist the moment this room began to shine.

“Wow,” you whisper and slowly spin around to keep admiring the room. “How come you never brought me here before?” You can’t help but ask.

Aemond follows after you as you just wander the room. “I had forgotten about it until recently,” he admits. “And before you left I just did not want to put you in danger by sneaking out here.”

You glance at him with an amused smile before you approach a wall and capture a beam of light in your palm.

“Do you like it?” He asks for validation, making you drop your hand to look at him with a tender look before you nod.

“I love it. You brought the stars down to me,” you muse, and can’t look away from him, you can’t stay from him either. Your heart takes you to him. And without remembering your anger, or the fight you just had not long ago, you slowly press your hands on his chest to be even closer.

Aemond takes his free hand and grabs one of your elbows to be even more connected to each other, finding that you can’t stand being just a hair's breadth away from each other, you need to be closer as if you were one.

You need to be one. Share one beating heart. So you both lean in as you’re driven by a burning desire, but just as the warmth of his lips wash over you, you suddenly come to a halt because of a memory your mind conjured up of him killing Lucerys.

Yet you don’t lead the moment to resentment, you stay close as your anger returns and murmur against his lips. “I would have loved you without a dragon, you know that?”

A short silence follows where all he does is stare at your lips before he speaks up. “I would have not felt complete without one.”

You shake your head and counter his statement. “Not true, I would have completed you. Like I do now.”

Aemond’s lips part and yours follow to do the same but neither of you take the first leap. Him because he’s so taken back by what you said; and you because your anger stops you until you remember why you’re here.

Yet once your lips crash on his, you completely melt, your heart bursts with joy, and your burning desire engulfs your entire body, pushing you to slide your hands around his neck, and leading you to take control of the kiss and move in sync with each other with a sense of longing and hot passion that you can’t deny, that makes his hand find your cheek to bring your closer.

However, just as you want to deepen the kiss Aemond pulls away to seek what will assure him. “Do you love me now?”

You part your lips, but a single breath unfurls over his lips. You want to say yes, but your anger, and maybe a little bit of your hatred stops you and guides you to redirect. “Can I be honest?” You ask, making him blink repeatedly but not respond, so you go on. “My heart swoons for you, my desire burns for you, but a part of me weeps.”

Aemond’s hand slowly falls from your cheek, and his eyes bat frantically as he tries to beat away the tear that comes, but he can’t push it away, it glosses his eye.

“But Aemond,” you quickly interject and tilt your head down to meet his face.

He looks away but you find his gaze right away.

“Aemond. My Aemond,” you call again just as softly, and his eye goes soft at the utter of those last words. “It does not mean I have given up on you,” you lie, or so you tell yourself. “I am yours. I still desire you just as much. I just…need time.”

Aemond looks at you for a lingering moment before you lean in and press a kiss on his lips. He’s still at first as he’s still in disbelief over the answer he didn’t expect. He should have seen it coming, but he didn’t expect it because he was hopeful out of his own selfish desire.

Now that he’s heard you he should give up. He wants all of you or none of you. Yet he also can’t let you go, he doesn't let you go because he is selfish and doesn’t want to see anyone else with you, but also because you are his light at the end of the tunnel. That Red Priestess was right, he’s in the dark without your love, and without you. That’s why he keeps trying to gain your love, because if he gives up who else will love him like you do? Who will complete him like you do?

Only you have given him the love he seeks and he cannot let that go.

Thus he kisses you back as if he wants to devour you, hoping that’s a step in the right direction.

You grab his face and pull him closer, making him stumble you both toward the wall where he drops the torch on the ground to hold you against him.

However, just as you both start to get lost in your needy desire a voice booms. “Who’s there?”

You rip away from each other and watch the corridor with your breaths held in wait, hoping that the voice doesn’t come your way.

Albeit moments later footsteps approach and even if you would not get in trouble if you were caught, you still grab his hand and pull him away with you with no light to guide the way. You remember the path and run out with him.

“Why—”

“Just go!” You exclaim excitedly with your heart pounding in your ears, and never once looking back. You run and run with him still attached to you.

Once you’re out under the natural light of the sky and not threatened with getting caught, you can’t help but burst out laughing. Aemond watches you as he catches his breath, and can’t help but smile as he sees how the joy perks your eyes up. He then chuckles softly as your own laugh is contagious.

“One more,” you pause and catch your breath before you continue. “One more stop.”

Aemond’s laugh dies with yours and his smile fades as he’s confused considering the confession you gave him just now.

“I want to show you a better time than your whore did,” you answer his confusion, causing him to drop his head and shake it.

“I told you it was not like that,” he mutters.

You fiddle with the buckles on his vest and shrug him off. “Well, I still want to show you a good time at your brothel. I want to show you that only I can give you what you like, hm?”

Aemond bats his eye up and a smirk perks the corner of his lips up, giving you the answer without needing to say it.

Albeit before you take his hand to go to your next stop you offer him an out. “Unless you are not comfortable. We can go back home and go to a different room.”

Aemond glances past you and seems to remember that there’s one small person stopping you from going to the comforts of your own chambers. “No, we can go.” He says as he looks at you, letting you take his hand now.

However, Aemond ends up leading the way because you in fact have never been to any brothel. You have passed through the Street of Silk, but that’s the extent of that.

And unlike the streets you took to reach the Dragonpit, the moment you start to approach the Street of Silk, signs of life begin to show with firelight lighting a path, people drunkenly stumbling down streets, and chatter, laughter, singing, music, and lewd noises getting louder and more frequent.

It all mostly works to discourage you, you find yourself preferring going to taverns where you can drink, dance, and sing from occasion to occasion. Yet, you don’t take back your offer, you push forward, and just think about how much this could please Aemond and garner more of his trust so you can move around the castle more freely, and maybe get Astraea out of her chains. You don’t feel safe without her roaming the skies.

“Here,” Aemond finally brings you to a brothel a bit smaller than others you have passed, but still elegant inside and very much busy, or so it seems when you step inside.

If only the smell was just as elegant. It smells like sweat, sex, and a bad attempt at mixing sweet-smelling incense. The women who seem to work here are all beautiful though; in their thin silk and sheer gowns that leave little for the imagination, while some wear nothing at all but their jewelry to catch the wandering eye—they all honestly make you feel overdressed.

“My Prince,” a soothing voice greets your husband as they approach you.

“We just need a room,” Aemond brushes off the older woman with long brown hair that’s partially picked up in an intricate bun, while the rest is resting in a long braid. “Can we get one or not?” He follows up by asking hurryingly.

The woman does not attempt to meet his rush, her sharp eyes find you and take you in, making you raise your head higher to exude confidence and charm when really you're intimidated by her and this place in general.

Not like she can see through you, she does immediately know who you are and sees the very picture of royalty and sophistication; not only in the expensive gown and the luxurious jewelry clung onto you, but in the way you carry yourself, the way your nose is raised in the air, showing that you know that no one in the world can compare to you or touch you in any way.

“Yes,” the woman finally gives Aemond his answer and looks at him for a lingering second, making you follow her line of gaze and see that he’s averting his gaze and that she's the woman he came to see. There’s no need for an explanation, you can see it in her small smug smile, and his lack of focus.

But why her? You can’t help but wonder as you discreetly study her. Is it her experience? Her age? Does he fancy older women? Or is it her beauty? She’s a very refined beauty. She looks poised too. Is that what brought Aemond to her arms?

“Come with me,” the woman finally releases you from your spots and guides you down the room, letting you see what more the fine establishment has to offer, and what more it hides behind closed curtains.

You can’t say she went far, the house is not big, but you do linger behind when a tall slender woman bending like she was made of dough catches your eye.

She’s so impressive! It’s amazing how her legs can go so far back with no sign that it hurts her in any way. You would be envious but you’re just awestruck. You could watch her forever.

Nevertheless, not too long after you departed, Aemond calls out for you, so you steal one last glance at the woman before you find yourself in an empty room occupied by a round bed, and hundreds of candles.

“Thank you,” you tell the woman over your shoulder, proving to not be the snobby princess she thought you were.

“Of course.” She nods and offers you a much kinder smile. “If you need anything ring the bell,” she lets you know, making you smile at her before she leaves Aemond and you in the candle-lit room that smells like vanilla.

“Was it her?” You ask right away as you wander behind the bed to hover your palm over the fire burning away the wax of the candles.

“Does it matter?” Aemond tries to avoid the question, but you look at him and press him.

“Just a little,” you lie and he sees that with the way the fire catches the gloss over the affliction in your eyes as if your life depends on his answer.

“It…” he hesitates and you assume the answer, but you still wait desperately in hopes you’re wrong.

“It was, but I told you, we just shared a bed and she listened to my sorrows.”

You let out a shaky breath and your affliction is resolved to self-torment as you’re filled with self-doubt about yourself for the first time.

Never in your life have you ever been self-conscious, you were always proud of your looks, you took pride in your beauty and never shied away to try and prove otherwise. But now…you can’t help it from taking root within you.

You shouldn’t, you know that. You shouldn’t feel jealous or hurt by his choices. You try so hard to be unaffected by this ordeal, but you can’t fight it off. You’re wounded, and shine a little less, as if you're a shining star in the sky that he dims.

“I told you,” Aemond keeps saying as you have your back turned to him. “She doesn’t compare to you. No one does.”

You stay quiet and keep your back turned as you try to fight off your tears, and really try to fight off the stupid jealousy.

But it really is a bewitching thing.

“We can leave,” Aemond offers, and for a second you’re about to take that chance, but you then remember what brought you here and you know you have to see it through no matter what.

Thus you let out a deep breath and swallow back what torments you. You don’t face him right away, you let him walk up behind you and grab your chin to tilt your cheek to his lips.

“You are mine,” he whispers, making a breath of yours unwantedly draw in. “And I am yours.”

His lips brush against your jaw and burn a line down to the corner of your lips as he keeps tiling your face at his will.

“You are the very breath I need, yet you are the very thing that steals my breath every moment I lay my eye on you,” he whispers against your lips, making you part your lips as if you need his breath. “You are the very definition of beauty and divinity. Every beautiful thing that this damn world has to offer never measures up to your beauty, your grace, the design of your lips, the color of your eyes, and every perimeter that makes you. You plague my every thought, you know that? I would burn the whole world for you. You need only say the word.”

And just like that all your doubt melts away, your reason becomes null, and all your senses turn to a single feeling of needy desire that sets you aflame. You are his, but your heart was not open to him, it was still guarded and he knew that.

“Aemond,” you let out a breathless moan as he presses his needy member against your back and trails his lips along your jaw, making you desperate.

“My love,” he whispers back and presses a kiss on your cheek, causing a pleased groan to escape your lips while you stand there paralyzed unable to think of anything else but what you start to desire.

“I thought,” you pause at the wet feeling of his lips pressing against your neck. “I thought I was here to show you a good time.” You try to laugh, but a trembling breath is all that comes out as he starts to leave a hot and wet trail of kisses back up to your lips as if he's making his mouth try and memorize every inch of that part of your face.

“You are,” he assures you. “You're here. That's all I need to have a good time.”

Your lips tug to a smile and you finally find the strength to peel away far enough to turn and face him.

“No,” you argue and step back as you slip your cloak off before you grab the edge of your sleeves and start to slip the gown off agonizingly slowly, causing his own desire to grow more intensely to the point even his breeches start to feel uncomfortable to have on.

He almost wants to close the space left between you to rip the gown off you, but when he steps forward you flash him a smirk and step back to peel the gown off and let it fall around your feet, leaving yourself only in thin panties that protect your most intimate part.

It would leave little to the imagination, but he knows you inside and out. He knows what you hide and he still salivates.

“Better than your woman out there?” You taunt him in a seductive voice, and he rolls his eye and shakes his head.

“Stop,” he quips. “Don't torment yourself with her. She’s nothing. No one.”

It won’t bring any peace to mind, but you leave it for now and move your hips as you strut to him to press your hands on his chest and then slide them down to unbuckle the buckles that keep his vest closed.

Aemond tries to help you, but you quickly take his hand away and press a kiss on his knuckles before you leave his hand on your breast, causing his breath to catch and his eye to be consumed with even more darkness. Once you've finally done the tedious job of pulling at every buckle you pull his vest and he helps you shrug it off, leaving him in a thin long-sleeved cotton shirt.

“Gods you are more dressed than me,” you laugh. “And here I thought it was your hair that took you long to get dressed.”

He chuckles softly and you share a smile before he pulls his shirt off, feeding your eyes with his beautiful sculpted torso.

“Beautiful,” you whisper before you trail your hands down and unbuckle his belt, causing you both to share a sweet laugh because you have to take more clothes off him.

Before you can attempt to take his breeches off though he steps back to pull his boots off, letting you slip your shoes off too. When there's nothing left for either of you to take care of you get pulled back to him and finally nudge his breeches so he can take them off and leave him naked and vulnerable to you in a room covered with a thick curtain.

Any other time before it would’ve been pretty unbelievable, you both are too possessive over each other to even share a glimpse of each other with anyone else, but right now at this moment, neither of you care.

Then again it’s not like the world outside actually exists; it’s him, you, and your guarded heart refusing to forget what he did, and refusing to give all of yourself back to him—or so that’s what you want to think…

Would a guarded heart really pound at the sight of his member? Would you really desire him as much as you do? Would your body ache for his delicate touch, and for his hard member to complete you if you were guarded?

Perhaps if that’s what you’re pushing yourself to feel. You’re just convincing yourself that you need him in every which way, that he’s all that matters and will matter for the rest of your days. That’s all it is…a hunger for revenge…

That’s why you kiss him with need, without worrying about breathing. He’s all you can need. Him, his thin lips, his tongue fighting yours before you pull away with heavy breaths and push him down to the bed to straddle him.

“<My Aemond,>” you coo in High Valyrian, and feel his tip twitch at those gentle words before he grabs the back of your neck and leans for a kiss, but leaves your mouth waiting as he flips you over to lay you on your back.

“<You are the devil,>” you grumble and he snickers before he presses kisses on your lips, on your chin, up on the tip of your nose, on your scar, and down on your jaw before he brushes the tip of his aquiline nose down your neck.

“Aemond,” you mumble in protest, but he shushes you by pressing his warm lips on your collarbone before he travels down and presses his lips on your breast, leaving his mouth there just for a second, but just enough to make you arch your back and tangle your fingers in his long and soft white silver hair.

You almost don’t want him to move, but he does the best thing and uses his mouth to suck your breast.

“Gods,” you breathe out, making him smile against your flesh before he starts to leave kisses further down your aching body until he comes to a stop on your thigh.

“<Tell me next time how much you need me and I’ll please you,>” he muses as he admires the mess you have between your legs.

“<I need you,>” you whisper desperately and he chuckles before he buries his face in between your legs, taking no time to tease you, he gets right to devouring you.

You try to hold back, but you can’t stop yourself from filling the room with the moans of his name, and small gasps as he drives his tongue deeper. When you begin to roll your hips up to meet the lapping of his tongue, he hooks his arms around your thighs and pins you down, making you increasingly more hot.

At one point you think you can last just to linger in this feeling, but he slides one thumb over to circle your clit and that causes you to grip onto the sheets below you as you’re pushed over the edge right away.

You want to feel ashamed for being consumed by such a pleasure, but you can’t say you remember that shame when that tension snaps and you come undone on his tongue.

Aemond is so consumed by the moment, turned on by the sound of his name coming past your lips and the sounds of pleasure that he alone produced out of you, that he can’t help but come undone moments behind you without you needing to touch him.

Now you would feel pride that you have such an effect on him, but you’re overwhelmed with more soft pleasure as he uses his tongue to clean you up until there’s no trace left of you.

Once he’s done he climbs up to hover over you and steals one look at you, making you smile softly at him, and watch his own lips tug to a mirrored smile before the corner of his lips twitch down and his soft eye is clouded by something dark that's far from lust.

“What is it?” You ask quietly and reach your hand out to grab his cheek.

Aemond’s gaze grows heavy and his eyes droop while a frown wedges itself deeply on his face.

“You must know,” he mutters and slowly grabs your hand. “I am sorry,” his voice comes out soft and apologetic. “About Luke.”

You blink in disbelief and your hand stiffens on his face. He knows you’re going to let go so he keeps your hand pressed against his face.

“I lost my temper,” he mumbles and swallows thickly. “I did not want to kill him. I did not mean it.”

Yes, but his dragon did. A dragon is a part of you when you bond, so Vhagar did not act alone. Her anger may have driven her to act out, but she didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. He knows that. You know that.

Yet you don’t open your mouth to say it. You stay silent and listen with your face growing hard, and your heart no longer dancing out of ecstasy.

“You have to believe me,” he almost pleads for your forgiveness. “I did not mean to kill him. Forgive me.”

Will that bring him back? No. Nothing he says will take back what happened. Lucerys is gone forever because of what he did. You can’t forgive that.

But you don’t tell Aemond that. You bring up your other hand to cup his other cheek and smile at him. “You mean it?” You ask for reassurance.

Aemond leans towards your touch and parts his lips. “I mean it,” he speaks hoarsely.

Despite all the thoughts your mind just conjured, the act of understanding you held falters at the feeling of his neediness feeding off your soft touch, and that blue eye consumed by genuine and sweet sincerity.

Yet you must remain strong…and loyal to your stand of being unforgiving over what he did, you can’t let the wall around your heart crumble. You won’t fall.

Not even as he lays on your side and nuzzles his face against the side of your breast. You do feel a sense of bliss as you make him feel comforted by wrapping your arm around his head and using your fingers to gently caress the side of his head, but that’s it. You don’t listen to your singing heart as he embraces your waist so you won’t go anywhere.

A silence interferes between your nestled-up bodies, and you fight, closing your eyes, finding ease and comfort in his warmth, and in his heart beating against you, assuring you he’s fine. However, you slowly lose your grip and your eyes close, letting a comforting silence linger for a while where only you and him exist.

Neither of you actually fall asleep, you just refuse to let the moment go until it is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the curtain getting ripped open, pulling your eyes open to glance at the intruder, only to grow cold and stiff at the sight of Aegon and his friends, trailing behind him.

You want to alert Aemond, but he turns his attention and finds his brother and his friends too.

And the moment Aegon has the attention of the both of you on him and realizes it’s really Aemond and you on the bed, he bursts out laughing, pulling Aemond to sit up and throw a sheet over your body as you follow him up.

“Aemond, the fierce!” Aegon blurts and points at Aemond as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. Maybe to his drunken mind, it is, but not to his friends, and especially not to you as you see how Aemond recoils into himself as if shielding himself from his brother's torment.

“You know,” Aegon laughs as he stumbles toward the bed, making you scoot closer toward Aemond to shield your body from Aegon’s wandering eyes.

“If it hadn’t been for me, she would’ve been his first. He would’ve saved himself for her,” Aegon continues, only making Aemond stiffen and for his face to fall with hurt that’s obvious to you.

“<Aemond,>” you whisper in High Valyrian and grab his bicep as you feel a growing need to protect him from his brother's continuous bullying that he has yet to grow out of at his big age.

“What a fine, sweet thing,” Aegon teases as he manages to get closer to the point where he climbs on the bed and leans in between Aemond and you. “Did you fuck her like a hound?” He interjects boldly and mocks multiple barks, making your jaw clench, and your quick-grown frustration turn to fury.

“You see,” Aegon directs at his friends who avoid looking at Aemond and never dare look at you.

“< Let's go, my love,>” you insist and lean closer toward him so only he can hear you. “<He's not worth it. Let’s go.>”

“Such is my niece's prowess, that even now my brother will not get tired of her.” Aegon points at you as he looks over to try and catch you exposed, but you hold the sheet tightly against you. “Even after she left.” Aegon laughs.

You sigh deeply and bite back what you want to say to this boy king, instead, you just focus on Aemond.

“<Come on.>” You keep urging him and pull his arm toward you, but it falls limp, making your heartache. You can’t stand seeing him so anguished, you never could stand him being belittled and feeling small. Just like you never found any of Aegon’s pranks funny, Aemond was always your soft spot, and you never let one of Aegon's pranks or mean snide go unpunished.

“Hard luck for your squire though,” Aegon tells his group of friends. “As you can see,” he laughs. “The room is very much occupied.”

He keeps laughing like a madman, finally triggering Aemond’s gaze to go hard at the same time his demeanor shifts from wounded to menacing before he gets up, letting your hand fall off his arm, and making you watch him as he twists around slowly with no care of being seen.

“Your squire is welcome to the room,” Aemond finally breaks his silence and steps off the bed, but not before calling out your name and following with a demand. “Let’s go.”

Aegon chuckles and wiggles his fingers to try and touch your leg, but you quickly pull your leg away and slide off the bed, making sure to keep the sheet on while you grab yours and Aemond’s stuff from the floor, before you follow after him in a tense silence that you don’t break while you change. That tension intensifies and changes the atmosphere you once carried as you walk back to the Red Keep. It stays when you get home and when you get ready for bed, killing any attempt to rekindle the passion you were lost in.

You have a dire need to talk to him, but at every attempt, he meets you with a cold shoulder. He stays mute as if Aegon had cut out his tongue when he left that brothel.

And perhaps you should leave it be, pass it off as cruel mocking, after all, what can you do now that Aegon is King?

There’s no way to make him pay back for what he said without facing some kind of consequence, and right now you need to avoid getting in trouble.

Yet how can you leave the topic untouched? You look at Aemond and your heart aches at the mere sight of the frown on his lips, and at the dullness that takes over his eye as he can’t help but feel ashamed, angry, and most of all hurt after being ridiculed by his brother.

“Aemond?” You call out in the silence of the room to gain his attention that’s turned away from you, but he doesn’t respond right away, even if you know he’s far from being asleep.

“Can we talk about it?” You probe on the matter.

“No,” he deadpans.

You sigh and take advantage that Aerion is not here to persist harder even if you have the chance to leave it be. After all, doesn't he deserve it? This feeling that plagues him so? It’s a piece of justice, isn’t it?

No…you can’t leave it be. And it’s not out of ill intent either. You push because you want to comfort his tormented soul. “At least look at me.”

Aemond’s back rises and falls before he turns around with his long hair falling over his face, making you instinctively brush his hair back behind his ear before you slide your hand down and gently stroke his cheek, noticing that he’s not even looking at you.

“I do not need your pity,” he argues, trying to sound hardened and serious, but you hear the falter in his voice that gives him away and actually seeks your comfort.

“It’s not pity,” you contradict him with the truth, causing him to scoff as he keeps his eye averted, but also makes no effort to take your hand off his cheek.

“It is. You are only doing this because of what happened,” Aemond remarks. “You can not stand me.”

You swallow back thickly and lean your face closer so he can hear your whispers of the truth. “If that was true would I be here? Grabbing your face the way I am? Would I be here on this same bed?”

“I made you be here,” he argues and slowly brings his eyes up to meet your gaze without that fury that weighed him down as all he thought about was the shame Aegon brought him publicly. He looks at you now with that hurt he can’t surpass, it clings onto him and makes his eye glossy and soft. He does try to rip away the hurt to show you fury, but he looks at you now, right across from him, and he can’t put up that facade.

That mask of invincibility and terror he carries is nonexistent with you at this very moment because you are his peace. The one who loves him with their whole heart, with no questions asked, no fear or hesitation despite the new man he became after being mutilated. Who can say that? Who can prove that the way you do every time you smile at him tenderly in public, look at him with love, and touch his face ever so softly despite the scar and missing eye that ruined his face? No one but you.

No one but you can ever read him without a need for words, just an exchange of looks without mistranslating a single look of snide that he throws at someone or something foolish, and without mistranslating something he finds humorous but can’t express in the masses.

Maybe he should detach himself from you, and learn to live without all that you offer him. You are the enemy's daughter after all, he knows the love you harbor for them is not dead. Yet he’s selfish, he can’t let go. He realizes that. Just like he realizes that he can’t be mad at you now.

He realizes you can leave again, pledge your fealty to your mother once again and he would be offended but that would not make him love you any less. There are some things he won’t forgive, he knows that, but besides those exceptions, you can hurt him and he will never let you go because you are the one who loves him the way he wants to be loved.

You prove that by coming back. Even if you had all the freedom with your mother you still came back to him. That’s proof.

Just like there’s proof now by the way you look at him with a tender look rather than one full of resentment.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” you dismiss his accusation that was right at first, but now is far from the truth. “Because I care for you, Aemond. I care,” you insist, but not to convince yourself, to convince him. “I…” you hesitate and struggle to say the next words that are coming to your mouth, but not because you don’t mean them and it pains you to say them to someone who betrayed you. You hesitate because you are struck with realization at that moment too.

As you lose yourself in his eye and the deep blue sapphire in his eye socket, you see the truth looking right back at you. You do love him despite what he did, despite his darkness, his selfishness, and his faults. You tried to hate him, tried putting up a wall, but that was merely an attempt, there was never a wall around your heart. You only told yourself that in hopes that would distance yourself from him, but you realize here and now that you love him.

He may be destruction incarnate, a demon in disguise, but you love him. Despite his betrayal, despite him visiting a brothel. You wholeheartedly, undoubtedly love him.

It’s a wild realization if it was one at all, but you cannot pretend otherwise.

Who will love you selfishly the way he does? He would burn the world for you, and you know that is a hard truth, but you love that promise. You hate that you love it, you don’t want to love him, but you cannot help it, you cannot push it away, you are devoted to him just as much as he’s devoted to you.

No one will understand your darkness that you try to hide the way he does. No one will love your hunger for power the way he does, and he would never find those traits shameful the way you find them shameful about yourself. He cherishes you, loves you despite it all, and you love him despite it all.

You love each other desperately and madly. After all, you are one flesh, one heart, and one soul, now and forever.

“I love you,” you spit out and grab his cheek firmly. “I love you that’s why I’m here,” you express with a wobbly smile. “That’s why I want to talk about what troubles you because I love you and I cannot stand seeing you hurt.” You nod in reassurance and his breath catches before he leans his face against your touch and kisses the heel of your hand.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to redirect without losing sight of your gaze. “I always have. I always will.”

You smile wider and scoot closer toward him to nuzzle your face against his chest, whilst you also snake your arm around him and rub circles on his back with your thumb, making him slink his arm around your neck to caress the back of your head.

“Your place is with me,” he assures you of that. “You belong here. I will protect you here.”

You smile against his flesh and speak against him, causing goosebumps to grow along his skin. “And I will protect you.”

Aemond huffs in protest but you know he loves that shit.

“I mean it,” you continue sweetly. “There’s not much I can do right now, but I can still look out for you. I will. We’re what matters most in this world, Aemond. Us and our son. No matter the cost.” You voice with no hint of that sweet honey, you mean it fiercely and prove your ferocity by pulling back to face him with flickers of that darkness in your eyes.

“Do you understand?” You press to assure him but also seek reassurance for yourself.

Aemond lowers his head to meet your gaze with that same fire in his eye. No questions asked, and no hesitation to consider. “I know. No matter the cost. With fire and blood.”

The corner of your lips pull to a smirk and you seal that fierce dedication with a kiss on his lips. When you pull back you see thoughts forming behind his eye that deepen that smirk before he presses a kiss on your forehead.

You smile in return and as he faces you you return to what you initially needed his attention for. “You are more fierce than he is. You know that.”

Aemond’s eye flickers down, and you slide your hand over to grab the back of his neck. “He just knows that he has more power over you,” you make sure he hears what you have been thinking of since Aegon interrupted your moment together.

“He knows you won’t react because he’s king, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You are still you,” you continue without falter and regain his unwavering attention. “You are stronger. More powerful. Loyal, kind, and more fierce in a way he will never be. You are Vhagar’s rider. You are what he will never be.”

Aemond’s lips part, and his eye widens while also growing dark with desire. An intense ferocity captures him in a stupor, but he quickly snaps out of it to grab your face and kiss you fiercely.

You take a second to grasp this burst of passion, but you snap out of your surprise quickly and kiss him back with the same energy while also letting him take complete control of the heated moment that turns into a passionate night with little sleep.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

“What will you do today?” You ask Aemond as you gently massage his temple with your thumbs while he lays his head on your lap.

“With Cole gone a little less, but I have made it my job to attend more council meetings, to be present while war plans are made. But this morning I will go patrol on top of Vhagar, so I will go to that soon after breaking fast, and perhaps get some training in after.”

You scoff softly. “Oh because you need it?” You tease and look over at Aerion sitting on Aemond’s torso. “Right little dragon? Your papa does not need to train.”

Aerion glances at you before looking back at Aemond and reaching for the toy Aemond holds up for him.

“Refining my skill is necessary,” Aemond finally interjects. “Why would I hold myself back from achieving a new skill in a time like now?”

You hum and tilt your head as you gently slide your thumbs down to massage his cheekbones. “Maybe I could be your sparring partner today? Or you could teach me a skill or two?” You smirk, and his eye snaps over to you as his lips stay still before they tilt towards a small smirk.

“Why would I refrain you from getting better, my love? Here I thought you wanted to be more like Queen Rhaenys?”

You snicker and roll your head away. “She was an excellent dragon rider, but I do not wish to limit myself to one thing especially now during war. I may not always have my dragon to protect me, things happen unexpectedly. I cannot always count on you, you’re busy. I do not want to be helpless when the time comes.”

He hums and comments. “You are not. You have skill.”

“Not excellent skill,” you press and stop your thumbs to hold his gaze. “I want to be great.”

Aemond puts the toy down to reach over and cradle your cheek. “And great you are, but…if you wish me to teach you I will help, maybe then you will not need that sworn protector:”

You snicker and lean down to speak against his lips in Valyrian. “<Don't be jealous my love.>”

“<I chose one for you for a reason, and you went on to choose a bastard,>” he rebuttals and his grip turns firm.

“<You chose an old man,” you remark. “Who would need to be changed the way I change Aerion, no thank you.>”

“A skilled knight.”

“An old man.”

Aemond groans and you lean back, causing Aemond’s hand to fall. “Meet Ser Jason, and watch him fight,” you defend your sworn protector. “He’s very skilled and a quick thinker. He used his cloak to blind his opponent, and! He killed a Dothraki screamer. How great is that?! He also fought at the Step Stones with Daemon.”

Aemond frowns and turns his focus to Aerion grabbing his little foot.

“I trust him,” you plead for the knight's case. “Do you not trust me?”

Aemond doesn’t look at you but he responds. “I will slay him if he does not do his job.”

There’s no need for a clear answer, that was his agreement.

“What will you do today?” He then changes the subject.

You pout and shrug. “Nothing and then more of nothing. I am not allowed to do anything.” You grumble, making him smile.

“Don't laugh,” you scold him and smack his shoulder. “You know I detest being bored, Aemond.”

“What would you do in Dragonstone?” He asks.

You sigh and shrug. “A bit more, I would attend council meetings, but my mother did not let us do anything either.”

He hums and reaches his hand over to caress your knee before he sits up and replaces his head with Aerion instead.

“I have something for you,” he shares, piquing your curiosity.

“A gift?” You squeal as he walks over to a shelf to grab a box before he returns to the bed and places the box down by your lap.

“I hope you like it,” he says and sits on the edge of the bed. “It took me a while to find it.”

You beam at him and secure your arm around Aerion before you reach over and pull the lid off, finding a red-leathered heart-shaped book that strikes you with awe the very moment you lay your eyes on it.

You almost do not want to touch it, it looks too precious to touch, but you can’t contain your excitement, you take the book from the box and realize it’s a songbook from Old Valyria.

“<Songs and Ballads of Valyria.> You read the gold title out loud in your mother tongue. “<Amazing,>” you muse as you admire the cover and the shape of the book. “<It must have been a pain to find it.>”

You proceed to open the book and flip through the pages to take a glimpse at all the different songs it contains.

“You like singing in High Valyrian,” Aemond brings up. “I thought it would be appropriate for you to have songs from where we come from.”

Your heart swoons and when you look over at him your eyes water. “Thank you, my love,” you whisper and lean over to him to press a lingering kiss on his lips.

Guilt begins to wedge itself within you, threatening to spoil the moment, but you refuse to be consumed by anything but appreciation and bliss at this very moment.

If your mind wants to torment you then it can do it later when you’re not with Aemond. Not now.

Even then you’ll bury it if you must.

“Maybe I’ll sing you something later if you come find me,” you suggest seductively before you lean in and bite his bottom lip.

Aemond groans softly in response, making you snicker before you sit up and climb off the bed to try and get the morning started before you’re forced.

“I'll be lonely all day, under the watchful of my sworn protector,” you feign a sigh and you hear Aemond get on his feet.

When you peer back he looks bothered so you offer him a sweet grin before you waltz over to put Aerion down on the ground protected by blankets and multiple fluffy pillows so you can go on and start your day before the morning slips from your fingers.

Albeit you didn’t realize how much you enjoyed your moment of peace. The war did not exist in the confinement of your chambers as you ate breakfast. It felt like the days before the tensions of war; calm, blissful, filled with long talks as you both bring up whatever comes to mind, and filled with wonder as you watch your son interact with the world.

As expected though the illusion breaks when the doors to your quarters open and Aemond parts in his way, and you go in your way; finding yourself in the Godswood thinking of one thing.

How could you be so horrible?

Kissing Cregan was one thing, but laying with him and mayhaps having his babe?

Your brothers suffered because of their parentage, do you want the same bestowed upon your children? Or do you want something more horrible cast upon them if they happen to be his and come out looking like him?

Aemond would never forgive that betrayal, he would not want that to besmirch his name. He would kill you too. Do you want that?

Do you want him to hate you?

If the babes are Cregan’s anyway, they can be Aemond’s. You’re choosing to blindly believe that the babes Helaena said you’d have, are Aemond’s. You can’t believe otherwise for your sanity…unless…

You take something stronger than moontea?

But what fault do the babes have for your sins? And if they are Aemond’s and you rob them of their lives?

You can’t do that, no matter how much that would spare you of any troubles.

Gods!

You fall on your knees and look up at the crying face on the Weirwood tree, unknowingly meeting the intent gaze of Cregan Stark who is leagues away, but looking upon the same crying face thinking of you as he reads the letter you sent with haste before you left—more like before you run from Dragonstone.

He would understand. Only because you aren’t actually married to him, but he would understand and he wouldn’t shame you. He would help in some way…

If you could see him, or continue writing to him, or if he was here. But he’s not here, no one can help you, you have to suffer through this alone because it’s a mistake you made. You must pay its price and hope, pray even that the babes are fully Aemond’s.

And after you pray and beg under your breath with thick tears rolling down your cheeks, you have to pick yourself up and play the part; the dutiful wife as Daemon said.

Only you aren’t really dutiful, nor is it all pretend, you are here aren’t you? In his protective care, marking his lips and face with kisses; knowing only your lips have touched him. You're looking deep into his soul through his eye. You're wrapped in his arms that you find so secure and holy in the madness of war, so what’s a little selfish take in this great suffering?

Daemon pushed you into Aemond’s arms, you didn’t plan to come back, but he pushed you here, so why can’t you let Aemond feed your needy heart his love? And why can’t you feed his starving heart more of your love while you still stay faithful to your mother?

There’s no sin in loving.

Right?

“Right,” you sigh deeply and push yourself to your feet to sit against the white trunk instead and finally take a deep dive into the book Aemond gave you, finding yourself drawn to one specific ballad that you start to mutter before you hum along quietly to try and find a tempo.

When it seems that you have the right beat you start quietly singing to the brisk air, unbeknownst to you having your song travel into the ears of your sworn protector, and capturing his interest to the point he has to peer back at you over his shoulder to stare. He tries to focus on his task at hand, but no matter how hard he tries, his attention draws back to you, as if your voice had bewitched him.

He can't understand what it is you’re singing about, nor does he want to ask because it sounds so sacred. Albeit you manage to catch his curious attention and interject to fill the curiosity mingling in his deep blue eyes.

“It's about the God of the Sea loving both the Goddess of the Sun and Sky and the Goddess of the Moon and Stars.”

Ser Jason snaps his attention ahead with reddening cheeks, and you continue to feed his curiosity.

“To summarize the ballad, the God couldn’t pick between the two, until fate picked for him by killing the Goddess of the Moon and Stars. However,” you sigh and look back at your pages to glance at the ballad. “…Upon seeing her death, carrying her in his arms, he realizes when it’s too late that he always loved the Goddess of the Moon and Stars, for she was his soulmate. Without the moon and the stars who would shine his dark waters, who would bring days to an end, who would bring tides, and the very gravity that holds him down to earth?”

Ser Jason hums before his armor clatters against each other as he turns to face you.

“What a selfish god,” he shamelessly gives his opinion, bringing a smile to your lips that makes a hotter heat unfurl under his cheeks.

“Aren't they all?” You say back and drift your gaze to him. “No matter how gracious one god is, they are all selfish in some way.”

Ser Jason hums and can’t help himself from leaving his post and approaching you.

“You want to know why?” He asks and you probe with hum as you put your book down against your lap.

“Because they don’t live amongst us…”mortals”…no matter how much they wish to relate to us or say they do, they will never be us.” He says and shakes his head. “They never suffer the same because they are the ones that bring that suffering.”

You blink slowly in awe and can’t help your lips from lifting to a softer smile. “Is that so?” You muse.

Ser Jason holds your gaze and blinks repeatedly as if in disbelief of what he’s seeing whilst he parts his lips, but says nothing but a long ‘uh’ as he watches you wide-eyed.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you press him. “Ser?”

Ser Jason clears his throat and nods harshly before he giggles nervously and finally gives his response. “It is…It’s, uh, the harsh reality that you learn in the suffering.”

You hum and hold the book against your chest to lean forward and question him. “Are you from King’s Landing, Ser?”

The knight nods. “Born just in the Street of Silk, before I was raised in Flea bottom until I got good enough with a sword and went to fight for a living.”

“Couldn’t stand the suffering?” You ask and he scoffs softly as he nods

“Exactly,” he grins. “I decided to test fate and suffer in violence instead.”

You huff softly in response and narrow your gaze to continue questioning him so you can know more about him, but not before you check the entrance to make sure Aemond isn’t coming and overreacts.

“Tell me Ser, what led you to fight a Dothraki Screamer?”

The man smiles at the ground, making those deep-set dimples of his make an appearance on his face. “Adventure,” he says. “Access to money…I also had nothing waiting for me here, so after the Step Stones I set sail to different ports, met different people, and saw all kinds of wonders.”

Your eyes fill with wonder as you hear all that you wished to do and be once upon a time.

“Then…why did you come back?” You can’t help but ask and glance at the ground. “There’s nothing too wonderful about this place,” you say as if it was muscle memory to say those words you thought long forgotten. “Especially now with war so rampant.”

You look back at the knight, and he shrugs whilst he meets your gaze with a look of sincerity. “It’s home. No matter the bad memories, or the suffering. Home called me back.”

Your gaze falters and you lose yourself deep in thought about those marvelous wonders you will never see, only hear about from mouths like his.

“Besides, I do have my father…” he trails off and clears his throat as he focuses on something else. You follow his line of gaze and see Alicent walking in the Godswood.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jason greets and bows his head as he closes and opens his hand.

Alicent stares at him for a long second, before she stops in her path and brings up a question. “I cannot say I have seen you before, what is your name?”

Ser Jason swallows back nervously and shakes his head. “My name. I am new,” he stammers. “I am new working within the castle. My name is Ser Jason Waters.”

“My sworn protector,” you clarify for him.

Alicent glances at you and then looks back at the Knight with a gentle smile. “I see,” she says.

Ser Jason lingers there awkwardly for a moment and Alicent keeps staring at him waiting for him to move away, but he doesn’t seem to understand so you interject. “Go back to where you were Ser, it’s quite alright.”

Ser Jason nods rapidly before he walks away, making Alicent wait until where he's supposed to be before she continues her path toward you.

“Princess, I thought I would find you here,” she directs at you with a sweet smile you find quite grotesque and all too fake.

“Here I am,” you mutter and stand to your feet. “Enjoying the stillness of the Godswood.”

She hums and holds her hands in front of her as she brings herself to a stop close to you. “I understand. The Red Keep has gotten quite rowdy with everyone moving about.”

You offer her a half smile in response before you glance around as if that will give you the answer as to why she came to you.

“I hope everything is going well with Aemond, I know men sometimes find it difficult to understand our troubles,” she says in an attempt to what? Be nice? Be nosy?

“Well,” you roll out and sigh. “Luckily, Aemond and I have been childhood friends. Growing up together helped us understand each other, so yes there has been difficulty, but we understand each other's troubles quite well.”

She didn’t get the answer she sought but she doesn’t press for a clarification, she just offers you a tight-lipped smile and mutters. “That makes me glad.”

You nod stiffly and purse your lips together before you just decide to cut this formality off and get to what she needs. “Do you need something from me, your Grace, or am I just being blessed with your company?”

She hums with a smile and steps closer, making sure to look over her shoulder once before she comes to a stop very close to you, causing your gaze to narrow as your eyebrows try to meet together.

“With us living together for so long, I like to say I know you like I know my children.”

That’s funny.

“I know that sitting and doing nothing makes you restless,” you let her get to the point because you’re now more curious than ever. “Thus I came to you to offer my help. Or more so my partnership.”

Your eyebrows soothe for a second but soon rise with your amused disbelief.

“We are surrounded by men,” she goes on with no clue as to what’s obviously playing on your face. “Who often think too rash and don’t take rationality under consideration. That’s where we come in, but they don’t tend to listen to the kinder voices.”

“No,” you input as you fiddle with the long smooth pearl snood flowing down with the length of your hair.

“But we must persist, be their rationality. But we can’t do that alone, as a woman it’s important we stick together. Be a force to get in their minds. That’s why I thought we could work together and get them to listen to what we plan out.”

Your gaze flickers down as you nod slowly in comprehension, letting her believe you actually fall for her crap and take it to heart before you start to laugh and face her with an all too menacing smile.

“No,” you snap as your laugh dies and brings your lips down to a harsh frown as your eyes harden. “You do not know me, your Grace. You have no idea who I am, which is telling, really,” you feign a laugh and step closer to tilt your head and narrow your fierce glare. “Why should I ever consider working with you?”

She blinks repeatedly as she’s caught off guard, and steps back.

“I may be at odds with my mother,” you lie. “But I do not forget your treatment, the snide, the torment. The way you made her walk up flights of stairs mere minutes after labor.”

Alicent’s eyebrows furrow, but then quickly knot together as her brown eyes gleam with quick tears, and a long frown grows on her face.

“And then there was me, you sent me away across the country to get back at my mother for something I did not do. I was trying to stop them and you sent me away when I easily could have been your ward, but no. You are no ally, no friend. You are mean and I will never work with you.” You give her your response and look her up and down, finding that frown pretty pathetic.

“But I will tell you this,” you add one more thing in a whisper. “As a suggestion. Leave, Your Grace. There’s no husband for you to tend to anymore. You will find peace in the religion you grip onto as if it’s your salivation. Woman to woman.” You hum and curtsy before you walk past her.

“And you,” she tries to get the last word in. “What will you do? There’s nothing for you to do here but tend to your husband. They will never hear your counsel. He will never hear it.”

You stop and draw out a deep breath. “I have a dragon, I have skill with a sword, not perfect but it is a skill, and most of all I have his trust,” you finally give her the answer she was seeking before. “He does trust me, but you know that.”

You look at her over your shoulder and offer her a sweet smile before you turn your head away and roll your eyes.

Perhaps if she had been nice she would have gained you as an ally, but you do not forget a slight. Especially when it comes to her hurting your mother.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“It’s nice being away from the stench of the city,” you say fondly as you hurry down to a small patio hidden below the castle where the waves crash on the rocks below and bring a nice refreshing mist where the salt filters in your nose, and the noise of the city and the castle drowns out.

“With those Rat Catchers still on the walls the air reeks even from my balcony,” you complain to Ser Jason who listens maybe because he is paid to, but he listens nonetheless.

“It's a poor sight,” the knight says from behind you. “Some of those men were innocent…”

You peek over at him and stay quiet for a moment before you rebuttal. “So was the boy.”

Ser Jason meets your gaze and he keeps his eyes on you for a while as if challenging you, so you fight right back with more fire, making him look down before he moves his eyes ahead to look out for trouble.

“Could I ask,” you shift the subject to a less tense topic. “How did Daemon come to recruit you?”

“Well, the squadron I was in—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I am referring to this job right now. Did he just recognize you and throw you a sack of coins?”

Ser Jason glances at you and you make a quick stop to let him catch up to you before you continue ahead slowly.

“Well, he did give me gold,” he says under his breath, so it's not possible for someone can hear him in the solitude of this path. “But we did not just bump into each other…he actually came looking for me,” he pauses, and his gaze flickers down. “I was his squire at the Stepstones, but he soon released me and gave me a higher rank to go with my skill. I suppose he remembered me and the stories I would tell him of where I was from.”

You hum and scoff in surprise. “That’s unlike him.”

Ser Jason nods and laughs nervously before he throws his head up and looks at you. “He did threaten me after finding me so he stayed himself.”

You huff in amusement and don’t want to ask but you can’t help yourself. “What did he say?”

He clears his throat. “If anything happens to the princess and that babe I will personally come burn you alive after I have gutted you alive,” he says as he mocks Daemon’s voice, making you giggle.

“Nice,” you praise him, causing him to realize what he just did and grow flustered.

“I did not mean to, I mean, I am sorry. I should not have done that,” he stammers and you shake your head.

“Do not worry about it Ser, I found it amusing and accurate.”

Besides it does take you by surprise that Daemon would…care so much as to threaten him with such violence for Aerion and you.

“Many of my protectors before have been older and quite stiff, so it is refreshing to have someone to talk to,” you tell him sincerely. “Especially in a time like now. Do not worry alright?”

Ser Jason's lips part and a red tint takes over his cheeks as his eyes soften. Yet you don’t pay attention to the way his eyes lock on you or the way his breath stills for a second, you manage to finally catch sight of your small lookout and find a Septon and a Septa already there.

What a damn bummer! You wanted to be alone!

Whatever you’ll have to stick to one side then.

“I like to escape here,” you tell Ser Jason as you get ahead eagerly. “It’s peaceful, and when I was a girl since I was not allowed to train with the boys I would come and practice with a sword and strawman everything I watched them do. My mother would get me in trouble though, I tended to go down to the rocks to feel the water, so she said that the waves were too big and wild here and one could take me. But I never listened.”

“Did you ever get close?” The knight asks and you look back at him with a grin.

“Once, just do not tell my mother.”

He laughs under his breath and you make it to the patio, trying to avoid any eye contact from the Septon and Septa, so they would not come speak to you, but you do sneak a glance at the Septon posted behind the Septa, and find yourself a bit drawn by the man as you feel like you recognize his old face.

Before you can take a good look he turns his face away, but it doesn't take away from the fact that his face is really oddly familiar, you just need one good look.

Yet you don’t try because that would mean having to walk back and that would be awkward, so you go sit on the empty bench and just admire the waves the ocean throws at the rocks. There’s no attempt to talk to Ser Jason, you do not want to fill your silence at this moment. All you want to do is sit in silence and not be tormented by memories or running thoughts that spread like a web.

However, your moment of peace comes to an abrupt end when the Septa comes to sit next to you.

She could have stayed where she was but she moved out of her way to come sit next to you. Isn’t that fucking great!

You had forgotten how much you hate Septa’s.

You do bite your tongue though and just keep watching ahead hoping she doesn’t see how you’re starting to fume.

Just keep looking ahead.

Just keep—

Suddenly your mind goes quiet as the Septa drops her hand on yours resting on your lap.

“Uh,” you part your lips and slowly churn your head to the side with a tight-lipped smile to address this bold Septa, but when you lay your eyes on her you immediately recognize your mother…

It must be some weird dream…

It’s not her!

You snap your eyes ahead and stare in disbelief for a second before you take a second look and see that it in fact is your mother, and the Septon is no Septon, it’s Ser Steffon Darklyn! You knew you recognized him!

But how?! Why?!

“Mother?” You gasp in disbelief whilst your face contorts with shock.

She puts her finger against her lips to shush you out of fear someone would hear you from the distant castle, or the knight behind you would say something.

“We…can trust Ser Jason, Daemon paid him to protect me,” you throw out to get that out of the way before you probe her. “What are you doing here? Why? You need to leave. Now!” You get up and take her hand to attempt and get her away, but as she stands up she yanks you back with her.

“Not without you,” she snaps. “I came this way for you. We are returning to Dragonstone.”

You shake your head and she pulls you with her, but you slip your hand away from her grasp and stand your ground, causing her to turn and face you with her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“No, I am not returning home,” you proclaim firmly and raise your chin. “I can help you here. I am here to help you, it’s the only way I can help you.”

Your mother shakes her head and closes the distance to grab your arms and argue. “No, there are other ways, perhaps I have been protective, but I do it for your own good. You are young, inexperienced, and so is your dragon.”

You take in what she says but that still doesn’t win you over. “I understand—”

“There are other things you can help me with,” she cuts you off to try and persuade you. “This is not one of them. If they find out you are sending information they will kill you. We must return home at once, get Aerion, and sneak out.”

“No,” you exclaim and step back. “I am careful, and Aemond trusts me. I use the tunnels behind the walls to listen to council meetings, I will get my dragon out from the Dragonpit soon so she can fly over and send you the letters, you just have to trust me, Mother.”

Said woman goes quiet and her eyes droop with anguish so you approach her and grab her hands to assure her. “It is a risk, but it is one I am willing to take to get you on that throne.”

Her breath catches and she reaches over to cup your cheek and whisper. “And it will not be worth it if I lose you and your brothers. Please listen to me, my sweet. Come home.”

“You will not lose us,” you don’t give in. “You will have us. We will stand by your side when you become Queen. Just trust that I am doing the right thing. I ask you only this, trust me. Please.”

Your mother pulls her head back and stares at you hard for a long and tense moment before she drops her head and lets a tear fall to the ground. “Fine…I will trust you.”

You smile softly. “Thank you, mother.”

“But;” she sniffles and looks back at you. “At any sign of trouble, you come home.”

You don’t hesitate to assure her with a nod before you slip away from her to sit back down on the bench. When she sits next to you you tell her what you have heard, but haven’t been able to send. “Ser Criston, Ser Gwayne Hightower, and a few other knights have left to attack the houses in the Crownlands who support you. He will turn them against you to try and take Harrenhal.”

Your mother's eyes flutter as she looks to the horizon to get lost in thought.

“I heard reports of Ser Criston and other knights marching somewhere, but we had not figured out where,” she says to the crashing waves.

“That’s all the worthwhile things I have heard, but I will get more information soon.” You try to assure her, gaining her attention and a small smile.

“Thank you, just be careful when you try and listen, okay?”

You nod and let a silence befall you where you both feel the urgency to leave so she does not get caught, but in that silence, you also feel the need to speak of your troubles now that she’s here. You do not want to hold them anymore than you have to or you will combust. Besides, you are in desperate need of her counsel to know what to do.

“<Mother,>” you croak in High Valyrian and see her eyes catch the tears that quickly fill your eyes. “<I have to tell you something,” you pause and she immediately grows overly concerned. “I’m…I’m with child.>”

You have not had it confirmed yet, Helaena did tell you and you want to pass her off as a bit mad since there was no way she could know, but you know it in your gut that she is right. There’s also evidence that points to it that you have tried to ignore, but you cannot ignore the truth forever. No matter how much it scares you.

“<That's great…>” Your mother trails off as she doesn’t see your joy and instead sees anguish.

“<When I was a ward in Winterfell I was lonely…some people would not talk to me because I was me, but also because they were being mean, but…Lord Stark did, he became my friend,” you give her context. “He was my best friend and then,” you pause and hold in your sob. “We ventured into a more romantic relationship…but I stopped it when I came back. I was devoted to my husband, I love him, but when I went back and found out what he did to Lucerys…I was—>” You cut yourself off and drop your head on your hand. Your mother reaches for your hand but you pull away and finish.

“<I was hurt. I felt betrayed, and Cregan comforted me…one thing led to another, and…>” you don’t finish the rest but she knows what you mean and stays quiet and still now. You don’t want to know what she might be feeling so you keep your gaze averted.

“<But I also lay with Aemond before I left for Dragonstone and now I do not know who might be the father. I’m scared…I’m horrible.>” You cry and your mother can’t stand your cries so she finally takes your hands and nudges your hands towards her so you can look at her.

“<The father is Aemond,” she says seriously not because she knows, but because that’s what you need to believe, what you need to say if it’s not true. “Do you hear me? There might be a high chance it is. I am betting it is. It was just one night with Lord Stark. Do not worry I doubt anything took root, okay? When was the last time you bled?>”

You shrug. “<It's been complicated since Aerion, I do not bleed as heavily anymore, so I get confused, but I bled for two days and that ended the day after you returned to King’s Landing. But, I was feeling more tired than usual and just odd the entire week I was at Winterfell, just before Lord Stark.>”

“<See, it is Aemond’s. That’s proof,” she tries and convince you of the higher outcome. “Do not worry. It’s not good for you, and there is still a lot of time before that babe comes.>”

“<Twins,>” you share what Helaena told you, making your mother smile and cup your cheek to stroke it.

“<Twins,>” she muses. “<I'm happy.>”

You want to share her joy but you can’t look past your self-hatred. “<I'm still horrible. I shouldn’t have done it. But I did and I’m horrible for it. And I know what Aemond did, I know what he has done, but Mama, I still cannot bear it. I betrayed him. I-I—>” You break into a sob and she moves her head with yours as you drop it.

“<Look at me,>” she commands softly as she grabs your face and tilts your head up regardless. “<It is true you could have taken other pursuits, but it happened already. And it does not make you horrible.>”

You shake your head and mumble. “<You only say that because you’re my mother.>”

She scoffs softly and nods. “<Maybe, but it does not matter because I know you. You are not horrible, and doing that does not make you horrible, we are only human, my sweet. You were hurt, betrayed, and he was everything you needed. In a moment like that it’s easy to fall into the wrong thing to avoid being alone. You admit you did wrong, that’s all that matters.>”

Your ache eases off your heart and even though nothing can take away the sin, you still feel comforted by her sweet words. It’s just what you needed to stop letting that torment you as much as it has, she was what you needed; your mother's comfort.

“<Do not let it torment you anymore. It happened in the past, leave it there. Think about your safety, about your children’s safety, that’s paramount. Your other worries are for not because Aemond is the father. You’re just overthinking it because you’re scared.>”

You nod softly in comprehension and she wipes away your tears before she presses a kiss on your forehead.

“I must go now,” she brings this moment to its end in the common tongue. “So I must ask you again, will you come?” She asks, making you smile faintly before you reject her one last time.

“I will stay, but I will be careful I promise.”

She sighs deeply but doesn’t argue anymore. “Alright. I will be waiting for your letters, and any sign of trouble.”

“Okay. I love you, mother,” you tell her before you can’t.

She smiles at you and doesn’t hesitate to say it back. “I love you too, my sweet.”

She pulls her hands away and stands up, you stand up with her and linger in each other's presence for a bit longer before you watch her leave, and with her, taking a chance for you to return home to her, but leaving you with a more sane mind. The possibility of your sin coming to life is something that can happen, but you look at the more positive side now and tell yourself that Aemond will be there, and even if there’s some chance he isn't, they can still look like you, so there shouldn’t be fear.

Besides, if you think about it, really ponder about it, Aemond is the only face you see when you think about their father. Gut feeling or not, you see him, your husband, your other half, the love of your life that you can’t sacrifice, the light in your darkness.

How twisted is that?

——

*LATER*

You can’t help it, you can’t take it anymore.

“What are you doing?” You interrupt the silence and bring your book down to stare at Aemond, who stops fiddling with the gold coin and meets your annoyed gaze.

He’s going to ask what stole your attention from the book in your hands, but he sees you looking at the coin and shows it off before he passes it between his fingers one more time just to taunt you.

“Funny,” you deadpan, making him smile faintly before he throws the coin over at you so you can catch it, but it ends up on your lap.

“Are you trying to pay for my services or what? Because I will say, being a princess, my cost is high.” You taunt and he scoffs in amusement before he mutters back.

“It’s free for me actually.”

You laugh and he finally addresses the annoying coin he’s been carrying around since you got back home. “I found it on the ground after Daemon sent those intruders in to try and kill me.”

You pick up the coin and study it. “So what you carry it around as a reminder of…”

“That he wants to challenge me, but doesn’t come and face me,” Aemond fills your silence and you really want to laugh because that is really unlikely, Daemon has been busy doing other stuff, but Aemond doesn’t look like he’s jesting so you just hum and nod in comprehension.

“Where were you that night anyway?” You finally ask since Jaehaerys ended up being the victim of this tragic affair.

Albeit Aemond just glances over at you once before he picks up your legs from his lap to stand up without making you uncomfortable and without answering your question, which is actually all you need to know that he was at the brothel. It doesn't take a genius to know, he would have told you otherwise.

“Where were you?” He asks as he walks around the map on the small table.

“With my family,” you mutter in annoyance and put the coin down to return your attention to your book, letting him know exactly what you feel, so as to not let you simmer in your annoyance, he walks up behind you and pushes the book down before he gently wraps his fingers on your chin and tilts your head back so you can meet his gaze.

“Don't be mad,” you mock him. “Is that what you’re going to tell me? I’m not. I am…not.”

He hums before he brings his lips down and presses a kiss on your forehead before he brings his face down and leaves a kiss on the top of your nose, causing a wobbly smile to start breaking on your face with no attempt to hold back. He has your heart swooning, and when he kisses you slowly on your lips your heart explodes and you can’t help but grin completely enamored.

“What are you reading?” He asks as he pulls back and stays crouched behind you.

“Just some Valyrian stuff, nothing here compares to the stuff in Dragonstone, but it will suffice.”

Aemond hooks his finger around the cover and presses it to the side so he can see the title. “<Blood Magic or Chosen by Gods.>” He reads out loud in High Valyrian. “That’s an interesting read.”

You sigh and close the book to mindlessly watch the cover. “This man lived in Valyria before it was destroyed, half of the things are hard to read because the book is old, but what you can see is just theories with evidence I don’t need.”

Aemond hangs his hands over the armrest and leans his face forward, leaving his lips by your ear. “What is it you’re looking for exactly?” He queries.

You stay quiet for a moment as you ponder in your hesitance of whether telling someone of your…gift or not. But then again, without any concrete knowledge, you can’t really say a thing. Thus you just pass it off as an interest. “I just read that back then, in Valyria, there were people who…weren’t hurt by fire, but it’s all…” you trail off in frustration so he continues for you.

“Stories.”

You shrug. “Well they are now, but it just caught my attention, you know? I just want to know more.” You say and glance at him.

He glances at you and studies you for a moment before he glances at the book. “My father had books he kept in his chambers that contained important knowledge of Valyria, like magic and prophecies and stories. I’ll bring them to you, I can’t see Aegon having any use for them.”

You beam at him. “That would be great. Thank you.” You lean in and press a kiss on his cheek before you grab his chin and interrogate him. “Now how do you know about these books and did not tell me?”

“I found them after you left for the North, I never got to share them with you,” he says. “And now, I had forgotten until right now.”

You hum and let him go to lay back and stare at the high ceiling. “Do you still read that book about that one dragonrider? The one with the three-headed dragon?”

Aemond gets up and shakes his head, but you know otherwise, so you giggle and sit up to expose him.

“You do!”

The corner of Aemond’s lips tug up and you assure him. “That was always your favorite, I think you wore it out.”

“You dropped it in the pond if I remember correctly,” he remarks. “So it was you who wore it out.”

“Okay, but it was not my fault—”

“You were walking on the ledge of the pond and tripped with the book in hand,” he cuts you off, making you laugh.

“Yeah, I paid for that by smelling like pond water for days, the smell would not get off my hair, no matter how hard I scrubbed.” You complain with a pout, making him laugh softly.

“I ended up finding the book for you after though, I remember I stole it from Dragonstone once when I happened to…venture too far on dragonback.”

Aemond sneaks a glance at you and questions you as he stops at the other side of the small table. “What was your furthest?”

You snicker and loll your head to the side to tell him. “The wall. I would have ventured further, but Astraea did not want to fly past that wall…After this war is over I’ll fly to Dorne,” you share happily with a smile. “I have always wanted to go to a Dornish beach.”

He scoffs. “Perhaps we will finally take it after this war is over. Vhagar is bigger, and Astraea is fast.”

“Not with Aegon we won’t,” you complain without shame as you sit back and cross a leg over the other. “After this war is over, we’ll see this Red Keep filled with all kinds of different wines and women before we see him again.”

Aemond huffs and surprises you by adding a comment. “You know my brother, he’s always lacked…well…everything.”

You scoff in agreement and glance at the map before you roll your eyes up and take a leap. “The crown needs someone smart, someone that holds responsibility at great value, who knows our histories, and has an heir.”

Aemond slowly looks up with a cold expression that's hard to read at first, but as you stare into his eye his expression thaws and you know you’re not trudging in dangerous waters. You actually hit the mark and seem to read exactly what he has in mind, you can see that with the glint that goes over his eye.

Alas just as the corner of his thin lips begin to drag up to a smirk, the door opens, bringing your conversation to a sudden end with no chance to spark it back up to avoid getting in trouble.

“Princess, My Prince,” one of Aerion’s Wetnurses greets as she brings in a sleeping Aerion.

“Marie,” you greet and watch her as she walks to Aerion’s cradle. “Did he eat well?”

The Wetnurse nods and looks back at you. “Very well, it seems we will have to increase his intake. He’s grown quite an appetite.”

You smile softly in awe. “He will be five months soon, so that’s it. I’m sure.”

Marie puts Aerion down and tucks him in, while from the entrance of your chambers yours and Aerion’s sworn protector walks in.

“Princess,” he steals your attention with a warm smile, but also ends up grabbing Aemond’s attention from the map he was studying—“uh…My Prince,” Ser Jason trails off to a whisper and bows his head. “Uh,” He pauses as Aemond slowly stands to his feet with nothing to say, he just stands there menacingly as if trying to intimidate the knight with his tall stature. But then again how can he when his eye is wide as if he had seen a ghost.

“Ser Jason,” you whisper back with a teasing smile and put yourself in the middle of the tension Aemond alone creates. “It’s quite alright Aerion won’t wake anymore.”

The knight's eyes stay stuck on Aemond, and Aemond continues to stay quiet and…surprised? You can’t know, so you continue in a normal tone of voice. “If you’re asking to take your leave for the night, then it’s fine, Ser, have a good night. I’ll see you on the Morrow.”

Ser Jason’s eyes flicker back to you and he nods slowly as he swallows back nervously. “Thank you, Princess. Good night to you too. And to you My Prince.” He doesn’t forget to add before he steps back to let the Wetnurse walk out before he closes the door and cuts the tension off.

“I do not want you being friends with him,” Aemond suddenly breaks his odd silence as he sits back down. “He’s your sworn protector, not someone you can be friends with. If I see it I will assign the old man to protect you and Aerion.” He snaps his eye up and you challenge him with a pointed glare for a second before you look down with an upset frown brought by defeat since you know it’s not something he’s willing to debate.

Then again not like it will stop you from actually talking to the knight unless Aemond tends to be by your side at all hours of the day.

“Have you…told the council of what I told you about Daemon heading to Harrenhal?” You drag out to avoid sitting in silence and getting mad over something that won’t change. No matter how much you argue.

“No,” he admits and gets up to pace around the table again. “Not yet. I will let them figure it out when the news comes.”

You lean forward to study the map and the markers scattered about the paper. “It may be a while,” you mention. “Daemon left suddenly that day, so who knows if he actually went to Harrenhal.”

Aemond hums and gently shakes his head. “I’m sure he did. Where else would he go?”

“You have a point. Now,” you smack your teeth and point to the Hightower marker on the map. “Is that Ser Criston.”

Aemond walks to your side and crouches to lay his hand over yours and press your fingers on the marker to push the marker forward.

“He will be moving all along the Crownlands to take the armies sworn to Rhaenyra,” he surprisingly shares with you, but half of your mind is on the feeling of his warm hand cupping yours and his lips purposely brushing against your ear.

“Once he has garnered enough men he will go and face the Rivermen to take Harrenhal,” he adds.

“With Daemon leaving with just his dragon,” you input your thoughts as you turn to look at him. “It will take him longer to gain any support. He may not even have men to challenge Ser Criston since he also did not have men follow after him.”

Aemond faces you with a smirk and steals a glance at your lips before he nods. “Exactly,” he praises you and strokes your chin, making you grow giddy and smile like a love-struck fool.

“I would also wager you could face Daemon now. He left in quite a mood. You would be doing me a favor,” you grumble and sigh as Aemond pulls away to walk around you with his eyes on the map.

“It would catch him by surprise,” Aemond murmurs, “but alas, too rash now. Those armies are our priority.”

You groan and he snickers.

“Will you join Ser Criston in Harrenhal?” You ask with your heart starting to pick up out of nervousness.

“Hm, in time, we will join him, yes.”

Your heart jumps a beat and you question what just came out of his lips. “We?”

Aemond’s gaze flickers up and he nods. “Vhagar and I could go alone, but I will face Daemon and his dragon, while you help Ser Criston and our armies.”

You keep your secret alliance in mind, but you can’t help it, you ooze with excitement at the thought of being part of something more grand than just sitting here by the fire or listening through walls. You did not think he would consider bringing you with him to fight.

Should you even consider it? Your mother would never allow you to take part in something so dangerous, but he is, he’s letting you do something great and you want to be a part of it. How can you throw away that opportunity?

“But not before we cut off Rhaenyra by land by taking Rooks Rest, after Ser Criston takes the Darklyn army,” Aemond adds, piquing your interest and panic.

“But isn’t facing Daemon more important when you have the numbers?” You ask as some discreet attempt to try and sway his mind.

“It would, but when they hear we are trying to take Rooks Rest, they will send a dragon, and I will be there with Vhagar to take them down.”

There’s no use of we now. He has no intention of bringing you to this part of his plan. Which is good in retrospect, you would give away your true loyalties to try and save whoever they will send. Yet a worry that you can’t let go of is you don’t want Aemond to die either.

You will send a warning to your mother about this plan when you can, but something that is clear is that you don’t want either challenger to get hurt. You are loyal to your mother, to her cause, but your heart is also loyal to your husband, it aches at the thought of Aemond getting hurt or even…meeting death.

How foolish is that?

And what good is begging him to stay when you see how eager he is to already play this plan out?

All you can do is take note of his plan and secretly worry. That’s why you just take in what he says with a strained praising smile before you share a short comment. “They won’t see it coming, not with Daemon gone.”

Aemond hums in agreement before he walks over to stroke your chin again to praise your thinking. “Exactly, my love.”

You smile at him before you lay back down and stare at the ceiling with worry that only strains your heart as you're torn between the two. While on your face, well, you make sure to stay nonchalant and hide anything he might pick up on by filling the silence with a haunting song.

.

.

.

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A/N- Alexa play “The Hanging Tree” by Rachel Zegler

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @callsignwidow @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104

[9amartt]

I tasted hope…

I tasted trust in Allah’s decree and i’ve never been more accepting of myself and everything that happens in my environment.

Alhamdulillah.

Being what they call ‘delusional’ is indeed the key to a happy life.

Be delusional about Allah’s decree, He split the sea for Musa, saved Yusuf from the belly of a whale, and split the moon for Muhammad. He created you! Isn’t that enough of a miracle?

Allah created you and He is the disposer of every single one of your affairs.

We will all die, wether we suffer or not, wether we sacrifice or not, wether we give up on our desires or not, wether we exhaust our weak bodies and minds or not, wether we spend this life wailing or laughing. It all ends in death. And one step in Jannah makes you forget years of pain, meanwhile one step in Jahannam makes you forget all the pleasures of this world.

So be akhira-minded. Hopeful in Allah’s decree.

Know that this dunyah is but an hour compared to the akhirah, it really is not worth despairing for.

Sit in loneliness with your lord often, think about your decisions, regret your past sins, trust that Allah is forgiving but not forgetful. Seek His forgiveness.

Before taking any steps, dispose all the burden of your worries on Him, make dua, cry between His hands, spend the night He has blessed you with in worship. Cry.

Really, cry. Let out all the pains you stored during the day.

Smile upon hardship. Say as they say: ‘Allah is my Lord and disposed of Affairs’, say it with your heart. And mean it.

Stand up now. Compete with your nafs and shaytan, be competitive and do not let them win over you. For the reward is worth the struggle and more.

Let the future for its creator, regret the past but don’t let your regret cause you to hate yourself or destroy your present, rather, let it be a lesson for you. Live your present.

And this is my heartfelt advice to you.

A dear friend of mine, who got out of the loop of depression and despair before us, sent me once a beautiful text she had written about hope In Allah. I told her jokingly: ‘it’s funny how this is coming from the most suicidal person I know’ she said: ‘Allah granted me tawfiq in becoming human again’

Human.

What makes us human is our relationship with Allah.

So come back to being Human. Come join the caravan of hopeful believers. Come join the saving ark. The ark of Allah.

Come join our ranks, let’s reinforce each other, this path is a lonely one, so let’s be each other’s assistance.

[aeth-eris]

scorpio moons aren’t mysterious because they want to be-it’s a natural defense mechanism. their emotions run so deep and intense that not everyone can handle it, so they keep it under lock and key until they feel truly safe. when they do open up, it’s raw, transformative, and probably a little intimidating... but also a connection you’ll never forget.

scorpio moons have this emotional x-ray vision; they can read people like an open book, no matter how hard anyone tries to keep things hidden. they just know what's beneath the surface, and faking it around them? nearly impossible. oddly enough, they're drawn to chaos or intense situations and people that push them to the edge. they don’t create drama intentionally, but a calm, predictable life often leaves them restless, like something essential is missing. if there’s no depth, they’ll either stir things up or keep it moving.

they have this complicated relationship with vulnerability, craving raw, soul-baring intimacy while fearing exposure. they’ll test you, push you, maybe even try to push you away-just to see if you’re really in it with them. but if you stick around, you’ll earn a place very few ever reach.

when it comes to loyalty, scorpio moons are all-in-but cross them once, and getting close again is unlikely. it’s not about grudges; it’s about survival. they guard their hearts fiercely because letting anyone in feels like handing over a part of their soul. they’re the shadow dancers, finding beauty in life’s darker aspects that others avoid, like pain, loss, and transformation. if you’re going through something heavy, a scorpio moon will be right there, unafraid to sit with you through it all.

scorpio moons can be emotionally intense to the point of being exhausting-for both themselves and others. they live in a world of extremes, where every feeling has depth, but sometimes this leads them to hold onto grudges or past pain way too tightly, almost like they’re feeding off of it. forgiveness isn’t their strong suit; once someone crosses them, it’s like an internal switch flips, and they’ll silently cut that person out for good.

their need for intensity can border on self-sabotage. they crave emotional highs and lows, and if things get too stable or predictable, they might unconsciously stir up drama just to feel that rush again. it’s as if they fear peace because, to them, it might mean a lack of depth. but this pattern can end up hurting people who just want a calm, steady love.

they can also be a bit manipulative in relationships. scorpio moons have a knack for understanding people’s weak spots and, when they’re feeling insecure or hurt, might use this insight to get the upper hand or control the situation. it’s like a defense mechanism-they’ll push buttons just to test loyalty or see how much someone really cares, often without realizing how destructive this can be.

scorpio moons are driven by a deep need to understand life’s complexities and uncover what’s hidden beneath the surface. having the moon in scorpio means that their emotional core is tied to scorpio’s intense, transformative energy, which makes them feel everything in extremes. they aren’t wired for light-hearted emotions; their experiences with feelings are all-or-nothing, which creates that intense, sometimes overwhelming inner world.

part of this comes from scorpio’s association with themes of life, death, and rebirth-it’s a sign that’s constantly in the process of shedding and regenerating. scorpio moons are almost emotionally programmed to seek out these transformative cycles, but it makes them feel like they’re living in a constant state of survival. this can make them fiercely protective of themselves and others but also hyper-aware of betrayal or disloyalty. because they feel everything so profoundly, they end up developing thick emotional armor, only letting people in if they’re sure it’s safe.

they’re also deeply intuitive, almost psychic, when it comes to understanding others’ intentions. this comes from a need to protect themselves from vulnerability. it’s like a sixth sense that lets them read people’s energy and motives without anyone saying a word. they pick up on power dynamics and hidden agendas in ways most people don’t, which makes them wary and, at times, even suspicious. the downside? this hyper-awareness of potential threats can make them closed off, always expecting the worst.

finally, scorpio moons have a complex relationship with control. because they experience emotions so intensely, they fear losing themselves in them. to counter this, they might develop subtle ways to control their environment or relationships, creating situations where they feel powerful rather than vulnerable. it’s like they’re in a constant dance with their own emotions, learning to balance depth with self-protection. it’s what gives them that air of mystery and emotional intensity that’s both magnetic and, sometimes, challenging.

[pdflayn]

I HAVE A CONFESSION

charles leclerc x max verstappen

2.2k words

summary: charles leclerc, born and raised in monaco, a mama's boy, raised to worship the man in the cross who saved us from all our sins. and then there's max verstappen, a man who believes nothing but himself and also a good friend of charles and his family. a man who also made charles crumble into pieces by a mere touch.

warnings: (a bit of) smut under the cut ! mentions of alcohol, religion and beliefs, charles is not a racer in this fic, mention of cigarettes.

note: heavily inspired by false god by taylor swift ! for the past few weeks i have been completely obsessed with it and lestappen are my victims with this brainrot of mine.

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

It has only been 30 minutes since Charles sat down but it felt like years, it wasn’t always like this. His mind is clouded and distracted. Distracted with the question of who he worships. Is it the man in the cross? Or is it the man who pinned him against the wall of his bedroom last night?

“Charles! We’re over here!” Max screamed, hoping his voice could be heard against the wild crowd of Monaco’s finest club. It was obvious that the Monegasque did not hear his words, Charles was still wandering amongst the crowd, seeking for familiar faces. Max stood up from his seat, telling the rest of their friends he’ll just get Charles from the crowd.

It was loud. All that can be heard is the upbeat sounds coming from the blasting speakers and chatters of random people kissing each other’s faces. But Charles heard something more than the noise, he heard something calm. “There you are, Charlie.”

He felt Max’s hand wrapped around his arm with a smile in his mouth. He can smell the alcohol in his breath, that’s how close they are. He’s not sure if it’s a right feeling knowing damn well he didn’t have a drop of alcohol yet in his system. His heart was racing, his breathing paced with anticipation. “You’re the last one we’re waiting for at the table, let’s go?” Charles could only reply with a nod. His heart is in sync with the beats from the speakers.

"My god, will they ever stop playing Taylor Swift and start playing proper club songs?" Lando asked irritably while holding a beer in his hand. The rest of the group agreed and laughed. Meanwhile, Charles grabbed another bottle of beer as soon as he finished his first. He was annoyed, unable to sit still. He couldn't forget the warmth of Max's touch from a few minutes ago. They are very close friends, having been together since they were kids. But his touch from a moment ago felt different. His stare, his smile, it all felt different for the Monegasque. It wasn’t right, what he was feeling wasn’t right and the blue and red lights from the club hitting the godly face of the Dutch was not helping at all.

But we might just get away with it

Religion's in your lips

Even if it's a false god

“That’s your third beer already, you haven’t been here for a while. You good, Leclerc?” Max asked when he noticed Charles grabbing another bottle. Charles replied with a chuckle, “I’m good, this beer just tastes good.”

“Anyone wanna go to the dance floor?” Carlos asked excitedly, holding a beer in his hand and in the other is in Lando’s waist. I wonder what it feels to have Max’s arm wrapped around me, Charles asked in his mind. Quickly tapping himself out of his sinful curiosity. Soon enough the table was empty, it was only Charles left.

Charles and Max. In the same table. Drinking the same beer. Blank stares.

We might just get away with it

The altar is my hips

Even if it's a false god

Max chugged his bottle of beer and opened a new one. There was an unusual grin on his face. It was only the two of them at the table.

“You know, we actually didn’t think you were gonna come. You were never really the club type of person, Charlie.” Max uttered, trying to break the ice between the two of them. Ever since Max pursued his passion in racing, the only conversations he had with Charles was the good morning’s and good night’s along with the hi’s and hello’s whenever they saw each other in the streets of their homes.

“There wasn’t anything left to do at home so I decided to stop by. It’s not the usual crowd I like but there’s nothing to lose anyway. Plus, it’s free beer, Max. Who says no to that?” Charles leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair, hoping it could ease the tension between him and Max’s stare. He is intimidated, but deep down he loves it. Max noticed Charles’ continuous movements. Charles kept running a hand through his hair, chugging his beer once after every ten seconds, and licking his lips. Max knew it was all because of him. It was an obvious answer, it was only the two of them.

We'd still worship this love

We'd still worship this love

We'd still worship this love

“How’s your racing career? Maman always bothers me with the remote, asking me to switch to the channel that shows your race.” It was true. Charles’ mother loves Max dearly and treats him like his own son as well. They would always watch Max’s races especially when he’s free from work. “I’ve been winning races, I think you already know since you watch me drive.”

Charles chuckled, “I do.”

“Do you still serve at the church?” Max asked when he noticed a glimmer from Charles’ chest when the light struck him. Charles held his small cross and shook his head, “I haven’t been able to serve the church for a while now. I’ve been… busy.”

Max couldn’t help but raise a brow with his response. The religious boy missing church, it’s like hearing about the diligent student cutting classes. He thought to himself as he saw Charles hiding his cross inside his shirt.

I know heaven's a thing

I go there when you touch me

Honey hell is when I fight with you

“Charles,” Max called, earning a small hum from Charles. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Charles smiled and nodded. Charles knew he needed to be somewhere quieter, Max knew the younger was already overwhelmed with the loud crowd. Charles was no stranger to Max, he knew him more than one could ever imagine.

Charles took one last sip from his beer and stood to follow Max leaving the club. They sat down in the cold ground of the parking lot, disregarding the thought that there were nearby benches under the trees blowing cold winds. It was awfully quiet, opposite to when they were inside.

“Do you smoke?” Max asked while holding a stick of cigarette in his hand. Charles shook his head and watched as the older lit up the stick and blew smoke from his mouth. Charles never liked the smell of cigarettes, that’s why he didn’t know why he’s suddenly okay with Max smoking. At some point, he might even want Max to blow smoke in his face. “You’re so quiet, Charles. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He didn’t know what to say. How could he say that it’s him who’s been bothering him since the moment he laid his hand on his arm without making it awkward? “I’m okay, it’s just a bit cold and I have nothing to say since nothing eventful has happened recently.”

“Then what’s keeping you busy to skip church? You’re one of the most religious people I’ve ever met.” Max asked in a curious tone. Charles didn’t know how to answer that question as well. He’s not himself lately, only Max noticed.

“Max,” Charles called. “Hmm?” Max responded.

“Why don’t you believe in religion?” Charles noticed how Max subtly froze from his sudden question.

“What’s with the sudden question about faith and religion, Charlie?” Max chuckled. Charles was already about to speak again, probably to take back his question but Max spoke first. “I wasn’t exactly raised in a religious family like you. My father is almost never home, my mother is also an atheist, and my sister, well, she’s the religious one in our family but we were never really close. No one really guided me in the religious part in life. And besides, I find comfort in what I can see and understand.”

“But still,” Charles started. “Don’t you feel lost at times?”

Max smiled, “I’d rather be lost than have an unknown entity dictate what’s right and wrong for me.”

“It’s not about dictating what’s right and wrong, it’s more like a guide from what’s right and wrong.” frustration was evident from Charles' voice along with his furrowed forehead. Max dropped his stick and stepped on it to kill the light. He gripped Charles’s arm and made him look at him. He felt the younger flinch within his touch.

“Charles, what’s wrong? Be honest with me, Charlie.” Max placed both of his hands on Charles' shoulder, closing the gap between them. Inhaling the intoxicating smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes. “Max, I-”

“¡Hijos de puta, qué feo su comportamiento!” Both Charles and Max immediately distanced themselves from each other, seeing their friends getting kicked out of the bar, wasted as fuck.

“Ready to go home?” Charles snapped out of his thoughts when his mama tapped his shoulder. The mass had already ended and he didn’t even notice. “I’ll start the car, wait for me in front of the chapel so you wouldn’t need to walk back to the parking lot.” Charles said with a smile as he stood up and made his way outside the chapel. The thing is, he's not headed to the parking lot.

Tipsy. They were both tipsy from all the alcohol they drank. Especially since they decided to continue drinking at Lando’s house after being kicked out of the club. Everyone was already wasted. Charles wanted to be wasted too, but his very high tolerance in alcohol is not helping him. He wanted to drown his thoughts. His sinful thoughts of Max. He keeps on having flashbacks of how Max gripped him and how he sounded when he asked him the simplest question he couldn’t answer.

“That’s enough, Charlie.” Max said as he snatched the beer from Charles hand and moved away all the cans of beer left. Charles groaned, he wanted more. He forcefully grabbed the canned beer in Max’s hand which ended in the worst way possible.

“Fuck!” Max screamed in shock as the cold liquid drenched his shirt. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Max stood up and threw the can of beer in the nearest trash bin. Meanwhile, Charles ran a hand through his hair and left a frustrated groan before standing up and leaving the room.

“Charles,” Max called but to his dismay, Charles ignored him and went outside despite also being drenched with the cold beer.

“Charles, what’s wrong? C’mon mate, speak up-”

“For fuck’s sake, leave me alone Max!” Charles snapped. “Everything is wrong! It all started being wrong the moment you came back for good. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, Max. This is so fucking wrong!”

“Cha-”

“Man is created for a woman, a man is not created for another man. I can’t have these kinds of feelings towards you, Max. I can’t. My faith tells me it's wrong, but my heart... my heart is betraying everything I thought I knew.”

Max froze from where he stood. He didn’t exactly know how to react knowing that the person he craves also craves for him but forbids himself because it’s against his religion. So he stepped forward, taking the risk, placing his lips against the lips he craves for.

A slap echoed in Max’s ears. He felt a sting in his cheek as he once again froze from Charles’ actions. “Max,” Charles was supposed to touch the cheek but was stopped by Max’s tight grip on his wrist. Max’s jaws clenched, still feeling the sting from Charles’ slap as he dragged the younger inside to a vacant room.

“Max, I’m sorry.” Charles’ kept on trying to remove his wrist from Max’s grip, “You’re hurting me, Max!”

Charles was dizzy from the alcohol but it wasn't enough to knock him senseless. He was aware of where he was. He was aware of Max's intentions. He knew why he heard the door locked. And he knew damn well it's turning the both of them on.

“It’s funny how it's forbidden for a man to crave a man because your Jesus said so. But isn't your Jesus also a man?” Max whispered in Charles’ ear. Pinning both of his hands on top of his head while the other hand rests on Charles' waist, gripping it from time to time. “And you people worship him so badly, craving for his attention.”

Max stepped an inch closer to Charles, closing the gap between them. Not even air could pass through them. Charles groaned at the friction caused by their hips touching. Max thrusted into Charles' clothed self, making the younger moan and close his eyes. Max placed his free hand on Charles’ chin, making him look up. “Open your eyes. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”

“Look at you, even your eyes crave for me, schatje.” Max buried his head on the younger’s neck, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks. He can feel his pants getting tighter every time he would hear Charles whimpering against his touch. “Already such a fucking mess for me, sweet one?”

Max freed the younger's hands from being pinned against the wall and slid it down his pants. Charles’ hands immediately found its way to Max’s hair, tugging a handful as he felt Max’s cold hand against his cock.

“You’ve been worshipping the same man for years now, Charlie. Would you go to hell if you'd worship another? Let's say, me?”

“Father, I have something to confess.”

[tainbocuailnge]

Another thing that's... kinda odd about the English translation is in the DRK quests, Myste says "A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely", which is a big line in basically a secret route of the browser game Fallen London. and yeah, it is a cool line and neat to hear it in FF14... it also doesn't really work for Myste? In it's original context, it's about the remains of a dead demi-god-like being, which was cast into a well, seeking a reckoning and leading the player down a route which will irreversibly destroy their character in pursuit of dark secrets.

Which is not what the Myste sections of DRK were about at all, lol.

oh I could rant for hours about dark knight translations. that questline is actually why I first went to scope out the german script, because I heard drk wildly differs between english and japanese and that german generally stays closer to japanese than english does. I translated some of the fray parts here actually, though you'll note I'm a lot more forgiving of the english script in that one because i hadn't reached sidurgu's parts yet löl

german fray and myste are just completely different characters from english. german myste is upbeat and energetic. he loves people who help others and feels a strong urge to help them in turn. he spawned from the dark knight crystal in response to the loneliness of countless dark knights stored within it so he could console them and be their friend, he's basically the will of the soul crystal itself. he tries to alleviate that loneliness by facilitating reunions with lost loved ones but grows frustrated that this only leads to more partings, so he tries to expand his powers to maintain his illusions forever, because more than anything he just doesn't want to leave his dear friends the dark knights alone. he represents the childish wish at the core of every dark knight for a world where nobody has to lose anyone again.

in the part of the quests where you take myste to the sea of clouds there's this bit where in english he talks about his guilt complex and lets slip that this is also your guilt. in german he tells you that he was always with these people who fight hard for others, watching from the sides, until one day he heard a cry of loneliness and since then he's been trying his best to help people too. that's the moment that for me really hammered it in that these languages fundamentally disagree on what it even means to be a dark knight.

in english myste is desperate to atone for everything he's ever done and fray is your self preservation instinct who is kinda mad that you let it get this far, but they have to forgive him because you're all you have as you walk this lonely and bloody path that you have to believe is right. in german myste is your ideal, the desire to comfort those who have no-one else, crying that maybe it's better to forget altogether if partings can't be avoided and fray is your human heart who agrees that parting will always hurt but that is exactly where you find the strength to continue the fight, because it is worthwhile even if it never ends, and the path may be lonely but you will never walk it alone when there are people who came before you and who will come after you who all share this same dream of a kinder world. of course you won't have to leave us, you're our ideal, you're what we do it all for, as long as we remain dark knights you'll be with us. this all flows very naturally into drk-as-shadowbringers-class and ardbert's deal too but since I haven't reached shb in german yet I don't want to say anything extensive about it yet

i still think english drk was cooking with even your repressed feelings being repressed + the part of yourself that wants to protect itself obviously trying to protect itself and thus not wanting to show vulnerability so en fray postures as the stronger one who will protect you instead, and that fray writing in the journal (and only being able to be honest in a place where you're unlikely to look unless you don't know where to go) is incredibly clever. but in the context of how english treats sidurgu and just the way they handle the entire rest of the game really i also don't think that they were intentionally going for this kind of subtlety, it feels to me more like they just thought sincerity is cringe like usual and decided to make everyone cool and edgy (and thus needlessly mean to each other) instead.

and yeah english fucking loves to just yoink lines from other media whether it's appropriate or not. they turned zenos' final words to wol into a hamilton reference in english, "my first friend, my enemy" is a hamilton line, he doesn't ever call you his enemy in any other language (in german he calls you his hunter though which yes is incredibly horny of him). I'll admit I'm not in a good position to judge whatever epic references the german script makes because I'm unfamiliar with german language popular media so I won't spot them unless someone else points them out but I do know that when german fray quotes fight club it just enhances their characterisation as trying to sound cool and intimidating but failing because they're really kind of lame and awkward and can't hide how stoked they are to hang out with you.

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

episodes: s01e05 - s01e07

❛ I'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this. ❜

❛ Stay out of my head. ❜

❛ I care for him more than he cares for himself. ❜

❛ A whole lot of concern's been wasted on you these past months. ❜

❛ Where are the bodies? ❜

❛ Well, then, I guess you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good. ❜

❛ You gonna let him do this to me? ❜

❛I'm never gonna forget what happened here. I hate you both. ❜

❛ Sounds like there's a maniac on the loose. ❜

❛ So much wine in his blood. And beer and whisky. ❜

❛ Happy? We were not happy. ❜

❛ Who am I supposed to love? ❜

❛ Why can't I make one? No matter how much blood I give them, they just lie there gaspin'. ❜

❛ What is this? Look at me. What have you done? ❜

❛ If you could find them, which you won't, they would shred you to strips, because you are built like a bird - because you are a mistake. ❜

❛ He treats us like shit and you take it! Why is that? ❜

❛ Been following you. You ain't been your careful self. ❜

❛ Don't... Don't run off. ❜

❛ Poor dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders. ❜

❛ Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you. ❜

❛ Assume we are under suspicion. ❜

❛ We should leave the city, start anew. ❜

❛ Should I do like you instead? Read the first pages of every book, pass myself off as cultured? ❜

❛ You draw me into your gloom. ❜

❛ So, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good. ❜

❛ If what I've read is lies, then tell me what's true. ❜

❛ The vampires out there are vicious. Oh...but you've learned that already. ❜

❛ Come with me!  I thought I could live without you, but I was wrong. ❜

❛ His love is a small box he keeps you in. Don't stay in it. ❜

❛ I fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper. I never once harmed you. ❜

❛ Let him go. It's me you want. ❜

❛ Listen to me, and listen very carefully, my infant death. It was never you. ❜

❛ I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me... as I love you. ❜

❛ Just say it. Say, "I am never going to love you". It would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips...your quivering...hateful lips. ❜

❛ Excruciating pain was the proof I was still alive. ❜

❛ You know he's a vampire, right? ❜

❛ NDAs signed by any and all who cross the threshold, eh? ❜

❛ Are you still dreaming about our first meeting? ❜

❛ Are we the sum of our worst moments? Can we be forgiven if we do not forgive others ourselves? ❜

❛ You gonna be my knight in vengeful black? ❜

❛ Save your charity for the needful. ❜

❛ I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed. Let me prove it to you. I'm nothing without you. ❜

❛ If you want me to go away, just say so. I'll obey you. I'll leave your life forever. ❜

❛ This silence is cruel. And you were never cruel. ❜

❛ Write me a song and put your lover's voice on it? What the fuck is wrong with your head? ❜

❛ Put some clothes on and get the fuck out. ❜

❛ The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. Lover, murderer, maker. ❜

❛ It's a bond that can never fully be severed. A bond like that makes you believe there are only two of you on the planet. ❜

❛ I cried. I called to God. I didn't want this. But I have a capacity for enduring. ❜

❛ We leave the damage so we never forget the damage. ❜

❛ She's grown very protective of me. ❜

❛ I ask these questions because I'm trying to understand you better. ❜

❛ I'm sorry for your losses. ❜

❛ I admire your steadfast pursuit of a game you clearly have no acumen for. ❜

❛ You're ugly when you act like that. ❜

❛ They don't appreciate you like I do. ❜

❛ You're like me. You like to laugh. ❜

❛ Well, now that I'm dead, I can be whoever I want. ❜

❛ I seek refuge from complaints when I visit you, dear. ❜

❛ He's the father of lies. ❜

❛ This life, it does a number on the head, on the soul... if we even have a soul. ❜

❛ When he hurts you again, and he will, come find me. ❜

❛ You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away. ❜

❛ You left without saying goodbye. Again. ❜

❛ Back in your cage, sweetheart. ❜

❛ We endure each other for [name]’s happiness. ❜

❛ I love you. I don't say it often enough anymore. ❜

❛ You threaten a life which will endure till the end of the world. ❜

❛ Are you a narc? ❜

❛ I want to interview you. ❜

❛ So...question. Can an immortal meet mortality? ❜

❛ We would spend our hours enduring, with little pretense of getting along, locked together in hatred. ❜

❛ Knowledge is the ocean's edge. ❜

❛ They say that Satan lives in this house. ❜

❛ Well, send Saint Peter our regards. ❜

❛ We have to leave this place. ❜

❛ Maybe start by telling me the plan? ❜

❛ You spend an hour alone with him and you're breathing in sync together. ❜

❛ I'll lose myself in him. ❜

❛ You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. ❜

❛ I came to make peace with you. ❜

❛ No one's comin' to a party thrown by freaks. ❜

❛ You're gonna try to kill him at this party? ❜

❛ I mean, this is all good and... sufficiently creepy. What do you want? ❜

❛ Would you like to know the secret of immortality? ❜

❛ I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself. ❜

❛ I'm going to miss this place. ❜

❛ I was his, and he was mine. ❜

❛ Always the petty slights with you. ❜

❛ We are joined by a cord, by a cord that you cannot see, but it is real. It is real. ❜

❛ I have loved you...with all myself. ❜

❛ I'm happy it was you...here with me…at the end. ❜

❛ This horror that had been [name]...I stared helplessly at it. The thing lay still. ❜

❛ Murder? What murder? It was an act of mercy. ❜

❛ You didn't kill him. You spared him, out of some fucked-up idea you had about love. ❜

❛ We have to burn him. It's the only way we'll know! ❜

❛ You don't need a memoir. You need a hundred sessions of EMDR. ❜

❛ You've only heard half the story. ❜

❛ This time, I won't save your life. ❜

[islamicrays]

How to deal with stress, anxiety, anguish and sin, and helping find the secret of success & happiness.

People often forget the importance of the simple yet powerful dua (supplication) – Istighfar i.e., saying “Astaghfirullah” (I seek forgiveness of Allah).

Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) recited this at least 100 times a day.

Let us see the benefits and virtues of reciting this simple beautiful supplication insha Allah.

Istighfar (Astaghfirullah) is the gateway of relief and happiness. Whenever you are in distress start reciting it and Insha Allah it will take you out of your anxiety and will put you in a peaceful situation and will give you happiness.

Istighfar removes anxiety and duas are answered.

Istighfar opens the door of sustenance.

Istighfar opens the door of mercy.

Istighfar opens the door of knowledge.

Istighfar is also gateway of productivity.

Istighfar relieves you.

When you feel that sadness within you, when you are disturbed and frustrated, when anxiety surrounds you, say “Astaghfirullah” “Astaghfirullah”…

Reciting Astaghfiruallah is an effective method of calming our self and wipes away the variety of worldly worries from our mind and body. It may also help us, if we are suffering from depression, it calm us and lessen our depression.

Astaghfirullah also helps us to refrain from all forms of sins. Regularly saying this reminds us that Allah is everywhere and in this way there is very small chances of doing wrongful actions.

Ibn Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) said: The Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) said,

“If anyone constantly seeks pardon (from Allah), Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress and a relief from every anxiety, and will provide sustenance for him from where he expects not.” [Abu Dawud].

In another hadith, Abdullah bin Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) narrates that Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alayhi Wasallam) said:

“The one who (regularly) says Istighfaar, that is, frequently repent to Allah Ta’aala for sins committed, Allah Azza Wa-Jal will open a path from poverty and difficulties.

All sorrow and hardship will be removed, and in its place prosperity and contentment granted. One will receive sustenance from unimagined and unexpected sources.

Do Tasbih of Astaghfaar at least 100 times daily as it is the Sunnah of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

In one minute, you can say “Astaghfiru Allaah” more than 100 times!

The virtue of seeking forgiveness is well-known, it is a reason of obtaining forgiveness, entering Paradise, having good provisions, increasing one’s strength, repelling harm, having affairs facilitated, the descent of rain, and increasing in wealth and children.

The doors of repentance are always open therefore don’t delay your repentance in a hope of tomorrow, as tomorrow is uncertain , Repent now and make it a habit to ask Allah’s forgiveness by reciting “Astaghfirullah”.

Say I believe in Allah’s mercy, I have sinned, I have gone astray, I have been negligent, but still I believe in Allah’s soothing mercy and forgiveness, I’ll not despair!

IMPORTANCE OF ISTIGHFAR FROM THE QURAN:

One of the 99 Names of Allah is Al-Ghaffaar (الْغَفَّارُ) – The Great Forgiver The Forgiver, the One who forgives the sins of His slaves time and time again.

There are numerous verses in the Quran about the importance of asking for forgiveness of Allah SWT. Here are few of them:

And (commanding you): “Seek the forgiveness of your Lord, and turn to Him in repentance, that He may grant you good enjoyment, for a term appointed, and bestow His abounding Grace to every owner of grace (i.e. the one who helps and serves needy and deserving, physically and with his wealth, and even with good words). But if you turn away, then I fear for you the torment of a Great Day (i.e. the Day of Resurrection). [Hud 11:3]

Declare (O Muhammad SAW) unto My slaves, that truly, I am the Oft-Forgiving, the Most-Merciful. [Al-Hijr 15:49]

Then, verily! Your Lord for those who do evil (commit sins and are disobedient to Allâh) in ignorance and afterward repent and do righteous deeds, verily, your Lord thereafter, (to such) is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful. [An-Nahl 16:119]

Your Lord knows best what is in your inner-selves. If you are righteous, then, verily, He is Ever Most Forgiving to those who turn unto Him again and again in obedience, and in repentance. [Al-Isra 17:25]

And verily, I am indeed Forgiving to him who repents, believes (in My Oneness, and associates none in worship with Me) and does righteous good deeds, and then remains constant in doing them, (till his death). [Ta-Ha 20:82]

And say (O Muhammad SAW): “My Lord! Forgive and have mercy, for You are the Best of those who show mercy!” [Al-Mumenoon 23:118]

Need more verses? Read the Quran! There are plenty of verses about the importance of seeking forgiveness.

So did you say “Astagfirullah” (I seek forgiveness of Allah) 100 times today?

#Reflect

-Qasim Rafique

[tiny-librarian]

In the early morning hours of October 16th, having been condemned to death by guillotine, Marie Antoinette was led back to her cell in the Conciergerie. She wrote the following letter to her sister in law, Madame Elisabeth, but it would never reach her.

Here is a translation of the letter, images of the original are above.

16th October, 4.30 A.M. It is to you, my sister, that I write for the last time. I have just been condemned, not to a shameful death, for such is only for criminals, but to go and rejoin your brother. Innocent like him, I hope to show the same firmness in my last moments.

I am calm, as one is when one’s conscience reproaches one with nothing. I feel profound sorrow in leaving my poor children: you know that I only lived for them and for you, my good and tender sister. You who out of love have sacrificed everything to be with us, in what a position do I leave you! I have learned from the proceedings at my trial that my daughter was separated from you. Alas! poor child; I do not venture to write to her; she would not receive my letter. I do not even know whether this will reach you. Do you receive my blessing for both of them. I hope that one day when they are older they may be able to rejoin you, and to enjoy to the full your tender care. Let them both think of the lesson which I have never ceased to impress upon them, that the principles and the exact performance of their duties are the chief foundation of life; and then mutual affection and confidence in one another will constitute its happiness. Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my son in his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which affection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in whatever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but through their union. Let them follow our example. In our own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one another afforded us! And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with a friend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than in one’s own family? Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths. I have to speak to you of one thing which is very painful to my heart, I know how much pain the child must have caused you. Forgive him, my dear sister; think of his age, and how easy it is to make a child say whatever one wishes, especially when he does not understand it. It will come to pass one day, I hope, that he will better feel the value of your kindness and of your tender affection for both of them. It remains to confide to you my last thoughts. I should have wished to write them at the beginning of my trial; but, besides that they did not leave me any means of writing, events have passed so rapidly that I really have not had time. I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have always professed. Having no spiritual consolation to look for, not even knowing whether there are still in this place any priests of that religion (and indeed the place where I am would expose them to too much danger if they were to enter it but once), I sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which I may have committed during my life. I trust that, in His goodness, He will mercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I have for a long time addressed to Him, to receive my soul into His mercy. I beg pardon of all whom I know, and especially of you, my sister, for all the vexations which, without intending it, I may have caused you. I pardon all my enemies the evils that they have done me. I bid farewell to my aunts and to all my brothers and sisters. I had friends. The idea of being forever separated from them and from all their troubles is one of the greatest sorrows that I suffer in dying. Let them at least know that to my latest moment I thought of them. Farewell, my good and tender sister. May this letter reach you. Think always of me; I embrace you with all my heart, as I do my poor dear children. My God, how heart-rending it is to leave them forever! Farewell! farewell! I must now occupy myself with my spiritual duties, as I am not free in my actions. Perhaps they will bring me a priest; but I here protest that I will not say a word to him, but that I will treat him as a total stranger.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 2 - “Peter”

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Visions of a past life plague Felina as she recovers from burnout. Rhys seeks answers. Azriel comforts his mate as past-trauma comes crashing down on her. A former lover tracks her down.

Part 1 - El Paso Series Masterlist Part 3 - Vampire

warnings: past trauma, panic attack, references to sex, elements involving death, blood drinking, violence

Forgive me, Peter. My lost fearless leader.

“Quit fidgeting, Y/N.” Mother whispers as she runs a brush through my tangled hair.

Father is in Windhaven this week and I’ve been free to roam the skies as I please, whenever mother turns a blind eye. The arts district is vibrant with life and so often my family carries me out kicking and screaming. Well, aside from my brother who hides his amusement behind a mask of irreverence. He knows I love the rainbow.

Of course, Rhys has been gone on courtly business for weeks and I am dying to see him. My brother, the one person who truly understands me. Well, as much as one’s older brother can understand their sister.

I miss him.

“Sorry, mother.” I sigh. “I’m just excited to see my brother tomorrow on our travels.”

A pause of the brush strokes gliding through my hair shoots worry through me. I grit my teeth, bracing for her next words. “What is it?” I inquire, turning to see Mother’s lovely face downcast before her warm gaze meets mine. “He’s been held up and cannot travel with us tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I sigh. Hurt running through me. It’s not his fault, he’s busy and a far more benevolent leader than our father is a ruler, though he plays the game quite well.

An hour later as I lay in bed my heart races, my thoughts spiraling into the places I do my best to forget. The males of this court always let me down. Oh the perils of being the second born heir, younger than those surrounding me, female, and never taken seriously.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling.

A note appears at my bedside.

“Night’s truest bloom, there is no starlight without you. Won’t you cast thy gaze upon my room? Xx, Peter”

I smile at the flirtatious note, biting my lip. “You know I can’t but think of me as you bask in sunlight while mother and I trudge through the Illyrian forests tomorrow. Rhys bailed.”

“I don’t like that you’re traveling alone. Shall I come escort you?”

I blush at the thought of walking arm-in-arm with him. Gods, I’m so totally enamored. How did it end up like this?

“You High Fae, so territorial.” I write back.

“You are partly High Fae yourself, my lady. In fact, I’m pretty sure you offered to kill the last female who got too close for your liking.”

My stomach turns. I would. The female’s a lech.

“Semantics. I’ll see you when I get back. Dream filthy dreams of me.” I press a kiss to the letter and send it off.

“Only the filthiest, my sweet Felina.”

She said she was trying. Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

—————-

Felina

“Y/N?” A cautious voice stirs me from my dream. I wake to find myself in a very large bed, surrounded by luxurious blankets that likely cost twenty-fold the standard linens I’d become accustomed to - the ornate room around me more spacious than anywhere I could recall resting my head.

My body is sore, lethargic. I stretch my arms and - ouch - stiff as well.

“Take it, easy, okay? Your body was under a lot of stress.” I blink my bleary eyes to see Azriel’s concerned gaze fixed upon me.

My body feels weighed down from exhaustion but my heart, it feels heaviest of all - a feeling I’ve continued to carry since Azriel found me at the Inn. Shouldn’t I be happy to have a piece of my life in place? I have a mate - and from what I can recall, a damn good one as well.

I open my mouth to speak but his eyes go distant, a look I’m familiar with but trying to place.

An urgent knock intrudes upon the silence, a look of irritation crossing Azriel’s features before he mutters an apology to me. “He couldn’t wait for me to speak with you apparently.”

My gut clenches, dread overtaking it as the door opens. In walks a male with a face so familiar that my heart’s pace rushes. My brother, Rhys.

“Y/N.” He chokes out, love and longing written all over his beautiful face. “You’re home.”

The name. Y/N. So familiar and so foreign. I remember it now but Felina brings me comfort. “Felina, please call me Felina.” Pain flickers across his features before giving a subtle nod. “Okay, Felina.”

His eyes sparkle as tears form in his eyes. “How? How are you here? Where have you been?”

I reach a hand to touch his face, the scruff beneath itching my palm, his hand instantly finding it and leaning in. It feels so warm and familiar and yet, I yank my hand away like lightning. “I don’t know.” My breaths quicken. Flashes of centuries of lies and manipulation rush into my head and it’s all too much. I can’t process this. I can’t relive it.

My hands find my torso, wrapping myself tightly, I can’t catch my breath. The hot blur of tears fill my eyes as I screw them shut. “I’m sorry- I- I“ can’t finish the sentence as I heave, trying my best to even out my breathing and failing miserably. The inky feel of power seeps from my skin and I can’t process the male voices speaking beside me. My name; a cold, icy voice giving a command; a broken voice of night giving in to whatever was commanded as heavy footsteps pace away, and then -

Darkness. Warmth. A heartbeat in my ear. A brush of lips against my hair. Azriel.

I stay there, sobbing as the emotions crash into me like the surf to rocky shores. The pain doesn’t alleviate for what feels like an hour, the rhythm of my mate’s chest finally bringing me back to the present.

When my eyes open, Azriel is draped over me, wings cocooning protectively around my body, his heartbeat the steady constant in my ear. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. I give into his warmth and drift off again.

————————

Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Lovers in a field. Brushed hands at balls. Green eyes meeting violet. Shared smiles.

Words from the mouths of babes

Tears cried into a broad shoulder. Whispers of “It’s not fair”, drunken chants of “fuck the cauldron!”, late nights and long dances beside reflections of starlight.

Promises oceans deep

Young lovers questioning eternity, the forces of fate. Letters signed with pen names.

But never to keep

————————-

“Brother, you need to sleep.” Rhysand stressed into Azriel’s mind.

The stubborn bastard had refused to leave Y/N’s side for the days she’d been unconscious. A huge part of Rhys beamed at that. Who was he to question the bonds forged by fate? Was Azriel being his sister’s mate ideal? In a sense, no. As an older brother, he’d always felt protective over her. But Y/N had always gravitated to Azriel, even as a child his shadows could calm her when she was fussy, his patient demeanor had always been a soothing balm to her inquisitive mind. He’d listen carefully as she pondered the great mysteries of life out loud long after the rest of the family had tuned her out.

“I’m fine.” Azriel’s conscious growled in return.

He sure as hell didn’t sound it.

“Let me send darkness to soothe her, just long enough for you to eat and get some sun.”

A pause and then the mirthful reply of “Is it an order?”

Maintaining composure the High Lord replied, “Is it necessary for me to do so?”

Ten minutes later, Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the light of the foyer emphasizing his hallowed eyes and drained skin. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys knew he sounded like a prick but it was true. “How about you go sun your wings in the garden?”

The energy of the room shifted as Azriel’s eyes rolled, caught between humor and bitterness as he reminded his brother for the fifth time that week of the current circumstances. “Despite your good intentions, you seem to forget that prolonged exposure to the sun is exactly what I do not need.”

“Shit! I am never going to get used to this.” Rhys placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Fine, sit. Amren brought a fresh blood supply this morning. She says it’s goat from Sevenda’s but she was in a mood, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the blood of whatever poor souls had the nerve to cross her path on the way here.”

Azriel wanted to grin at the attempted humor but didn’t have it in him. What a strange turn of the tables, Amren no longer the bloodthirsty one.

The males sat in silence, Azriel nursing the goblet of blood Nuala had kindly brought in to him. Soft footsteps padded into the space, a familiar floral scent wafting through the room, as Elain entered.

“Oh.” the middle Archeron sister gasped. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She gave a wary smile, sad eyes falling on Azriel before flicking back to Rhys.

“Not interrupting, Elain. What do you have there?” Rhys glanced to a piece of paper in her clutched in her grasp. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she spoke too quickly, her pulse fluttering. “Writing secret love letters, Elain?”

She shook her head, glancing to Azriel once again. It grated Rhys to know the recent history, or whatever it was, that transpired between Azriel and Elain. With his sister being thrown into the mix now, he was battling that instinct to protect her at all costs.

Elain blushed a soft shade of pink, nearly matching that of her pastel dress. One hand grasping the delicate wrist of the opposite. “I’ve been writing to Lucien.”

“Ah, and how is dear Little Lucien?” Rhys raised an eyebrow, lip quirking upward.

“He’s fine.” Her words were clipped. “I have to go now. Cerridwen is waiting for me in the gardens. We’re planting a new variant of night-blooming jasmine.” She gave a nod and scurried from the room.

Azriel’s lips remained in a firm line as Rhys nursed the whiskey he’d poured himself.

Months ago, her words would have hurt, sliced like a dagger at Azriel’s own lack of a bond. Now, well, he still felt jaded toward Rhys for the solstice that he essentially banned him from pursuing a relationship with Elain. But- it worked for the best. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than his own mate, his Y/N, his Felina - as she insisted she be called.

Guilt tugged at him, he should be up with her, not downstairs. What if she needed him? What if she woke with a night terror and he wasn’t there?

“She’s fine, brother.” Rhys broke him from his thoughts. “Your shadows will alert you the moment she wakes, and I have darkness soothing her.”

Shaking his head, Azriel rested his face in his own palms as if he’d rub his face hard enough and all concerns would fade away.

Finally, he looked up. “How do you do it, Rhys? How do you stay away when there are so many questions that need answered?”

Sitting his glass down onto a coaster, Rhys leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I know she is in good hands. You brought her back to me. And I know, a mate can help her right now far more than an older brother.”

The thought warmed the icy chill that had settled into Azriel’s bones, he reveled in the moment before replying. “There’s so much we don’t know- So much we need to know.”

“You’re the spymaster, Az, and she’s your mate. I know you need answers. And gods, don’t think for a moment that I don’t want answers too. It takes every ounce of will not to just dive in to see what I can find, but…. It’s her story to tell. And, when I send my darkness to soother her, her shields, there’s something about them that my own darkness recoils from.”

Digesting the words, Azriel took another swig from his goblet. “I need to go back upstairs.”

Rhys only gave a knowing nod.

—————————

Love’s never lost when perspective is earned

Dreams shifted from young love and light to pain and darkness plague my sleep state with visions of bloodshed on pristine snow. Brutal hands of power-hungry males. Sharpened blades. A mother’s scream. Shredded wings falling to the earth.

Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life

And then, warm hands and a familiar face. Love and terror in emerald eyes. Strong arms carrying a broken body. Cries of “Please just hold on for me.”

A promise of “Stay right here. I’m getting help.” The back of a lupine creature running toward the distance.

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold on.

The effort of holding on is growing too hard. My head slumps as blood trickles from my wingless back. An unheard plea of “Peter!” falls from frozen lips.

Then there is darkness. Void. Impending death.

A cold, pale hand chills my skin. A cruel, beautiful face promises eternity. Unfamiliar arms drag me away and I do not fight.

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

———————————

Azriel

Azriel had finally settled in beside a sleeping Felina, resisting the urge to take her in his arms and never let go.

His shadows alerted him to the breach in the wards first, shock running through him at the intrusion. Apparating to the entryway, he found Rhys at the front door, baring his teeth at the intruder, waves of night rolling off of him in a way that would send most running.

Icy rage shot through Azriel’s veins at the audacity of the male to show up at their door. The urge first, ask questions later pulling him toward the intruder. His lunged was interrupted by a sharp inhale behind him behind, diverting him from his war path.

His mate had walked down the stairs, her first time out of bed since arriving to the River House. Her slim form trembled, those otherworldly eyes swirling with emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

“Peter.” She whispered through rapid breaths. Azriel ran to her, bracing an arm around her back to steady her uneven footing as she climbed down the grand staircase.

The blonde male fell to his knees, his tears falling ricocheting off the marble floors.

Azriel has no time to ponder the incorrect name she’d used, focusing on her steps, observing the sight before him. He’d only ever seen the male solemn or filled with rage. Never this.

And Felina, there was no fear or hate in her eyes, no wariness, as she took in the male. No, the only emotion he could now read was one his heart wasn’t prepared to face.

So, Azriel watched as his mate’s eyes lined with tears, her slow steps increasing and filling with purpose as she reached the entryway, stepping out of his brace and flinging herself into the arms of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

—————————

Tamlin

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer?

He didn’t believe it when Lucien wrote to him sending word that Elain mentioned that Y/N was in Velaris. That she was alive. There was no way and getting his hopes up would kill him.

How many nights had he spent plagued by the memories of the day it all came crashing down? The ruination of a beautiful friendship, of a love forged from two kindred souls damned by fate, and the role he played in it.

They were both so jaded at an early age, he and Y/N. And for whatever reason he couldn’t fathom, the princess of night found the youngest heir of spring to be worthy of her presence. She was everything and he was just, a lost male. Everyone wanted her time but she wanted his, and so began the affair of sneaking off at parties, stolen kisses under starry nights, long rolls in soft grasses, love notes written with pen names.

He was Peter, the lost boy forced to grow up too soon - who wanted nothing more than a life of music and poetry but doomed to strengthen ties to Hybern, to be married off like seed stock to a mate that he hated, Hybern’s wicked general.

And Felina, feline, curious and sleek as a cat. She’d been heartbroken by a one-sided mating bond, by a mate who only saw her as the child she once was, a mate too busy pining over her cousin to notice the gem he had right in front of him.

They’d found comfort and peace with eachother, two young adults who could be whomever they wished in their stolen moments.

They were careful to avoid being caught. So careful, until the day he snuck off to watch as she traveled through the Illyrian forests with her mother, that instinct to protect those he cared for surfacing at such an early age. He thought he’d lost her forever. He’d tried so desperately to save her. By the time he returned with a healer, she had disappeared. To this day, Felina had been his greatest loss.

And moments ago when her cry called into his mind, “Peter!”. There was nothing that could hold him back from her, no wards too strong, no distance too far to winnow. There was only he and his need to see her for himself.

And now, here she was in his arms. Repeating over and over how sorry she was for not holding on, for not having faith that he’d return.

All he could choke out was, “Felina.”

We both did the best we could do, underneath the same moon in different galaxies.

—————————————

Tags:

General ACOTAR: @lilah-asteria

Series tag list: @saltedcoffeescotch @julesofvolterra @glittervame @nocasdatsgay

SPOILER FOR THIS STORY (in case you need to know who is end game) : click here

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

💸 What sort of money flows comes to you naturally? 💸 (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ - ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ - ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ✧

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello and always a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support, it means a lot to me!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll explore the ways in which money and financial abundance might come into your life effortlessly and harmoniously. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ - ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ - ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ✧

💵 PILE 1

(the longest lol)

The Sun, Ace of Swords, The Hermit

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

The vibes I'm getting from this collective are super energetic and moving. It's about not staying in the same environment and situations, because life should move for y'all. This tells me that the way money and financial abundance come to you is through experiences, trying different things. Mostly through traveling and freedom. Literally expanding your mind and soul. To attract prosperity, you have to feel free from any burden, which could be in the form of a thing, a person, or a situation. I see that you easily drain yourself, and you need to retreat for a certain period to come out stronger and empowered. People drain you, my pile 1, but you shouldn't feel bad about it. Indeed, you benefit more from alone time and focused on your goals.

You attract financial abundance, money the most when you're tuned into yourself - which is hilarious because in my spread I see no one but you. When you do what your heart suggests and ignore people's opinions trying to get into your business, you hate this, right? You don't look for help outside of you, but let me remind you that asking for help doesn't make you any lesser, but it's actually a strong act, and you should be proud of it.

So, the inspiration comes or should come from within you because you're the type that ventures in search of new, exciting experiences, and this is a great way to attract abundance into your life. But, your guides are warning here - be careful not to spend over 'useless' things that don't serve your higher good, and some of you do this a lot, and when you go broke, you regret it.I see your cup overflowing with water, and you know when you fill something with too much liquid, some of it falls. You have to learn how to control yourself, my dear, and stop yourself from falling into this trap of spending where there's no need. However, don’t deprive yourself entirely when you truly desire something. Always remember the saying, 'who wants too much, at the end nothing holds.' Be mindful of your own spending - and when you borrow money from someone, please don’t forget to give it back, or the divine may not be forgiving.

If we have to sum up your reading, we'd say keep seeking new experiences and don't forget to follow your heart/your intuition, and trust that money will find you. This doesn't mean immediately or magically, but for example, if you take new job opportunities or open your own business. Right off the bat, if someone here is thinking about open their own activity this is your sign, as I saw the Chariot before starting your reading, it's a sign that it will bring you success in the long run. I also see many 9, Aces, and numbers following – 9, 111, 789 may be significant, as well as enlightenment and the color yellow.

9: validation, completion, justification, intuition, success.

1: beginnings, core, inspiration.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

💵 PILE 2

2 of Wands, Ace of Pentacles, 10 of Pentacles

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

When it comes to money flows, I pick up a similar energy to pile 1, although in an opposite way. Despite this possible correlation, some of you may still resonate with some messages in pile 1, so feel free to check it. Unlike my pile 1, who is more open to adventures and new experiences, you are more restrained and closed off, even though you'd like to get out of your comfort zone. The cards have spoken, dear. It's not a question of 'if you want' but a necessity – 'you've got to go.' This is how financial abundance naturally finds you. Some of you have refused job offers that would have brought significant gains because you felt you weren't good enough, or someone was better, and later regretted it when it was too late.

I completely understand, but I have to tell you that our mind is powerful, and if we want something, we shouldn't give up and persist through sweat and tears. In this way, we'll obtain it no matter how it may not align with us. We are souls in a human body, and we can reach whatever we set our minds to.

The abundance of pentacles suggests the career area as your most thriving and struggling aspect, but this struggle is a lesson for you to do even better.What I also see is that you're stubborn when it comes to want something - people and even the divine offer you something that would help you grow and expand, but you're always thinking, 'No, I want that one thing/person.' Unfortunately your tendency to be a traditionalist or afraid of change hinders your growth and expansion. You have to be more open to new possibilities. You're a traditionalist or afraid of change, and I hear you loud and clear because same here.

Side note: I feel like some of you are about to get money from your friends or family, perhaps a grandmother for your birthday? this is nice!

To sum up your reading, you have to stop refusing any kind of opportunities presenting in front of you, evaluating the pros and cons based on your goals, and not on your lack of confidence. Get out, and let everyone see you. You are meant to shine, darling!

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

💵 PILE 3

7 of Wands, 2 of Cups, Knight of Pentacles rv

Hello Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

You guys let other people step on your dreams and goals, and I'm picking up energy of defeat. Maybe you let others dictate your life, consciously or unconsciously. When we don't realize it, our subconscious starts to play. This is a heavy burden for you.

So, the sort of money flows that come into your life effortlessly is when you don't let anyone's opinion, including family or friends, phase you. You have all the tools to live on your own terms. One of the worst feelings is to regret not doing something because someone didn't want you to. You need to start believing in yourself more. You have all the right tools to go forward without anyone's help. But as I like to mention asking for help doesn't make you any less, and it's important when you really need it. A little trip alone can be beneficial to show yourself that you can do it on your own.

Another important thing I'm getting for financial abundance to naturally enter your life is to be loyal to your goals, dreams, beliefs, and complete things you start. Be productive as much as you can, and don't let laziness take control. We all have lazy days and there's nothing wrong with admitting it, but as I said try not to let them get the best of you because it would be a pity since you're one of those people that can change the world if you really want to.

Some of you may have or will have wealthy or even rich partners who will bring financial stability or significant gains, especially if you're still youngish. I'm picking up unions, partnerships whether in love or in work as an another money flows for you, connections that will help reach your goals and so financial stability (not immediately though)

To sum up your reading (which is kind of short as the cards and your guides came up more straightforward for you 😆), the cards highlight the importance of self-belief, loyalty to one's goals and beliefs, and the potential for financial abundance through partnerships or wealthy partners.

Spiritual warfare, meaningful pieces of jewelry may be significant for some of you, as is the color green.

Thank you for allowing to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

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ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

4:52PM | Song Mingi

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Requested: by anon

Synopsis: Mingi and Readers date gets cut short when it rains.

Warnings: established relationship. small mention of Mingi being in his underwear/naked. This was originally for a drabble challenge over on my old account. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Wordcount: 400

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“That rain really did come out of nowhere,” Y/N says to Mingi as she walks out of the bathroom, a towel in her hand as she dries her hair. They'd been on a date at the park not far from his dorm building when the sky suddenly decided to open its floodgates. In that moment, Y/N regretted teasing Mingi because he thought it might rain.  

“You didn’t notice the dark clouds?” he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“I was having too much fun with you to notice the sky changing,” she says giving him a cute smile. “A part of you must have thought it wouldn’t either because you didn’t bring a coat or umbrella.”  

“You were making fun of me!” he defended himself.   

She pouts, “I’m sorry for making fun of you. Forgive me?”  

“Buy me food first,” he says pretending to be mad at her. “And then I might consider it.”  

“What do you feel like?”   

He quickly rattles off all the food he wants to eat and adds a couple drinks because he plans on sharing it all with her. She orders everything, her stomach rumbling at the thought of all that food. The rain had blown their chances of eating at one of the pojangmacha that’s near the entrance of the park.   

Curling into Mingi’s side, seeking his warmth, she places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for today.”  

“Even though we got soaking wet?” he questions.  

She nods, resting her head on his shoulder and pulls her knees to her chest. The clothes he lets her borrow while hers are on the rack drying, swim on her but she couldn’t care less.   

“Thank you for letting me use your clothes. I might just have to steal this hoodie too,” she smiles.   

“Keep it. It looks better on you,” he says what he says every time she suggests stealing his clothes. He knows she's joking even though 9 times out of 10 she ends up taking the hoodie home and forgetting to give it back to him. He only shrugs and tells her he can buy more or go steal one of Yunho’s.  

Y/N giggles, an image of Mingi walking around in only his underwear because he’s given all his clothes to her, plays in her head. “You’ll be walking around naked if you keep giving me your clothes.”  

He shrugs like it’s no big deal.   

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

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