#the joyous wisdom
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chroniclyst · 4 months ago
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can i get a song from the ram's playlist please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Living just comes with a bit of heartache
Heartache comes with a bit of young faith
Faith stays young till your heart get broken
Hope grows up to become someday
I never hurt no one and no one will ever hurt me
I believe I believe I believe I believe
Faith plays dumb till the doubts all leave
I believe I believe I believe I believe
listen when you're spending your life controlled, manipulated, used as a weapon, etc. you gotta hold on to what you can. and this is very much a "holding on to what you can" song
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dailykugisaki · 10 months ago
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Day 132 | id in alt
Dolls for everyone! Of everyone.
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j4jml · 10 months ago
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''In the existence of your love, I have become non-existent. This non-existence, linked to you, is better than all existence.'' ― Rumi
Your Love 24/03/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
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chilapis · 8 months ago
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greatest tragedy of our times, woman wakes up to seize the day & then immediately passes out on the floor
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nancywheeeler · 9 months ago
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have already gotten two error messages trying to boop people. most functional website, with honors.
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selfdiscoverymedia · 4 months ago
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C24-37. Dr. Tamara Stephens "Well Of Course"
Choose Positive Living with Sara Troy and her guest Dr Tamara Stephens, on air from September 17th My background was consumed with low self-esteem, depression, and suicidal ideation. Conventional therapies such as medication and therapy did not work for me. However, by reading self-help books and integrating spiritual practices into my daily life, I broke through limiting beliefs and began…
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nyaagolor · 1 year ago
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Thinking abt Ace Attorney Social media HCs
Phoenix: Technologically illiterate, doesn’t really know what social media is or how to use it and refuses to learn because the longer he keeps up the bit the funnier it gets
Edgeworth: Doesn’t particularly care for social media, but found out about tumblr through Maya and now has an anonymous Steel Samurai account. His tagging system is meticulous and he has all notifications turned off. He treats it like he does office work. He and Maya are mutuals. Doesn’t have a personal account to speak of
Maya: Runs a semi-popular canon url pink princess and steel samurai fan tumblr. Also has a personal Instagram that’s mostly her eating burgers
Pearl: Didn’t have social media for a long time because of Morgan, but Maya introduced her and she has a very inactive private Instagram. She’s also in charge of the Kurain Village socials, which are very neat and professional
Mia: Was technologically illiterate and died before the social media boom was completely inescapable so nada
Diego: Socials weren’t as big before he fell into a coma and afterwards he doesn’t care too much about his image so he has nothing. HOWEVER, Maya started a twitter called “dead philosopher wisdom” that’s just random Diegoisms. He’s doing NUMBERS on there but is unaware of it because he doesn’t use twitter
Franziska: Knows how social media works because she needs it for her job but doesn’t use it very often. Her account has like 2 posts on it and she mostly uses it to keep track of targets and online paper trails
Kay: Runs an instagram account called “Edgeworth where he shouldn’t be” that’s nothing but silly and embarrassing candids of Edgeworth. Oldbag won’t stop messaging her asking who she is and how she’s getting these pictures
Apollo: Has a twitter with two followers that he uses to retweet and comment on legal academia news. He’s super active on all the law forums and legal advice columns and unfortunately has definitely posted on r/AskALawyer on mutliple occasions. His real claim to fame, though, is the anonymous Instagram he runs for his cat Mikeko. It’s called “The Pawsecutor’s Office” and he dresses up Mikeko like all the prosecutors (Miles Edgepurrth, Clawvier Gavin, Franziska Von Catma, etc) for photoshoots and silly skits. It’s wildly popular and Apollo would die if he were revealed to be behind it
Klavier: Super popular across all platforms and loves being silly online. If Edgeworth saw all the thirst traps he was posting he would prolly have a heart attack
Kristoph: Has a very minimal personal account for professional reasons but his REAL online footprint is the dozens of alternate accounts he uses to cyberstalk people and send his brother hate mail
Athena: Perfectly normal social media user. Has personal accounts that she posts to occasionally with cute photos of what she’s doing. The only person using it correctly
Trucy: Insanely popular on socials for her magic act. Knows how to market herself online better than anyone. She has a smaller personal account where she occasionally posts silly things about the WAA
Blackquill: Ran an edgy anime Tumblr for years before his incarceration and was posting on AO3 a lot. He comes back after his release explaining the break between chapters of his latest fanfiction was due to him being put on death row for seven years and continues posting normally with no mention of his prison sentence ever again. When he finally posts another AMV it’s a joyous day indeed
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Left to right. First row.
1. The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell.
In a joyous and perverse intermingling of fable, myth, heterotopian vision, and pocket wisdom, The Faggots & Their Friends tell us stories of the 70s gay countercultures and offer us strategies and wisdom for our own time living Between Revolutions. These pages sketch a different shape to time and offer instructions for living within it. This story, like our own, plays out in liminal time. Not the time of revolution, and not after-the-revolution, the story occurs between revolutions. Being between revolutions: being enmeshed in slow entropy, in abandoned spaces, in lives forged without recourse to “winning” or “after.” The faggots feel this disintegration, and live best when empires are falling.
2. Be Gay, Do Crime by The Mary Nardini Gang.
Among the discordant chorus of anons who penned the defining texts of the queer anarchist network Bash Back!, none was more fervent in its glorification of criminal desire, decadent hedonism, and social undoing than the Milwaulkee-based Mary Nardini Gang. Their fiery “Towards the Queerest Insurrection” still circulates as an integral manifesto of riotous queerness, while the “Criminal Intimacy” and “Whore Theory” have made their more subterranean way into innumerable conversations and correspondences.
Ten years later, the secretive group supplements these collected writings with a subtle retrospective. Carefully unlocking the hidden layers of their theses on insurrection, they face up to what they got wrong, concede that the world ended somewhere between the Greek insurrection of 2008 and now, and insist upon the vital task of ushering new worlds into being as we live amid the decomposition and cataclysmic death throes of the old one. To their theses on insurrection, they prepend a new arcana tooled for opening onto the queerest of outsides.
Dedicated to their friends among the dead, this pocket edition is a necromantic mirror, an encrypted message to old loves, and an invitation to those finding these words for the first time.
3. The Criminal Child by Jean Genet.
“As for me, I have chosen: I will be on the side of crime. And I will help the children, not to win back access to your houses, your factories, your schools, your laws, and sacraments, but to destroy them.”
So reads this new clandestine translation of a previously censored and unavailable text by Jean Genet. “The Criminal Child” is a critical engagement with the French youth prisons, a reflection on Genet’s formative years within them, a document of hostility towards society and its benevolent reformers, and – as argued by the anonymous afterword – an initiatory magical system.
5. Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture by Arthur Evans.
This radical faerie classic, first published in 1978 by Fag Rag Press, uncovers the hidden mythic link between homosexuality and paganism in an elegy for the world of sex and magic vanquished by Christian civilization. From Joan of Arc to the Cathars and the underground worshippers of Diana, the author shows how every upwelling of gender transgression and sexual freedom was targeted by the authorities for total and often violent repression or appropriation. The concluding manifesto calls for pagan reconnection with the living world, the creation of armed anarchist cells, and the destruction of industrial civilization.
Left to right. Row 2.
1. What is Gender Nihilism? A Reader.
A collection gathering readings for discussions on an end to gender: not the proliferation or liberation of gender, but its catastrophic cancellation. The reader brings together writings as old as 1883 and as recent as 2015, juxtaposing nihilist, radical feminist, queer, trans, anticolonial, communizing and insurrectionary approaches with other unclassifiable textual/existential disruptions. Many of the readings are out of print or have only appeared online or in zine form, and include: Adrienne Rich, Monique Wittig, Michel Foucault, Judith Butler, A.R. Stone, Paul B. Preciado, the entities known as Radicalesbians, Gender Mutiny, Baedan, Ehn Nothing, Laboria Cuboniks and, as always, Anonymous. Also includes “My Preferred Gender Pronoun is Negation,” “Gender Nihilism” by Aidan Rowe, and the gender nihilism anti-manifesto that inspired the collection.
2. Baedan 1 – journal of queer nihilism.
3. Baedan 2 – a queer journal of heresy.
If the first issue of Baedan was a knife thrust wildly in the dark, the second is an effort to examine our enemies in a new light; enemies who bear scars yet endure. In a sense, this issue follows through our initial attack and pushes beyond our own horrors at the consequences of words. We write at a time when everything which seemed slightly possible two years ago has borne its rotten fruit; when queer recuperation has become more powerful and accepted than ever, while the fetish for technology has reached an unprecedented frenzy; when so many efforts at subversion languish under the tyranny of cybernetic identity and aesthetics (even our own etymologies have become identities!); when friends turn away out of fear of the unknown, turn toward all the comforts and certainties of the past (identity politics, traditionalism, religious morality, activism, et al). The old enemies rear their heads and the terrain is as bleak as ever. And yet we take seriously that adage: “There’s no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.”
4. Baedan 3 – journal of queer time travel.
Bædan: journal of queer time travel marks a further attempt to pose and to flesh out a queer critique of civilization. Queer not only in the sense of coming from those outside and disruptive of the Family, but also in the sense of a critique weirder than its more orthodox cousins. We imagine the Bædan project as an effort to pose the critique of civilization otherwise, to begin from another place. In this issue (and beyond…) we have conjured a strange bestiary of thinking, trying to unearth and trace the tradition of anti-civilization thought in the literature of queerness and in queerness as immanent critique.
*I couldn't find this one online*
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eevees-hobbies · 7 months ago
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ume devours pussy like he's been starved for days on end (he couldn't see you for a few days) and bonus points if you're actually a plaything for furin , so he'll do a pussy inspection first >-< - 💌 anon <3
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Author’s Note: Hi, 💌 Anon! Welcome back 💕 I Just realized that I didn’t mention Sakura in this entire piece, and my heart hurts because of it, lol. Anyway, I’m snatching my bonus points thank you very much! I love the idea of being used by Bofurin; like sign me the fuck up! Trains go choo choo! Lastly, please don't clock me for the name of this little fic haha. I realized I don't have a banner with just Ume, and I was like, "might as well!"
Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. You’re Bofurin’s girlfriend to be shared and loved by all, mention of sexual activities with others, fem! receiving oral, mentions of eating ass, but I spared you THIS time, some dirty talk, pubic hair mention, sorry to the two Nirei fuckers out there, I’m sure he eats pussy like a champ—Tis smut. Minors Don’t Interact. 
Word Count: 1.9K
Divider by Saradika. Banner by me
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One qualification for a good leader is being unselfish, and Umemiya embodies that virtue perfectly. 
When he took on the role of leader of Bofurin, he knew that it would involve quite a bit of sharing that had the potential to test anyone’s patience. But as though it’s his calling—and it most definitely is—Umemiya willingly shares wisdom with those ready to receive it and, most importantly, shares his most limited resource: his time. He’s never had a problem giving away so much of himself for so little in return. 
It wasn’t until Bofurin had gotten back from winning an intense match-up with a rival group across town, and you all were celebrating on the rooftop with food and beer, that the obvious occurred to him. 
As he watched over the joyous faces of his crew, he found himself studying you, like he always does, as you interacted with Hiragi, whose eyes looked over your form hungrily after you placed a piece of Gyoza against his lips and the tip of your finger touched his tongue.
He watched when you went to speak to Kiryu, who pulled you into his lap playfully and planted a kiss on your cheek, his hands resting under the curve of your breasts. 
And he watched as you crossed the space to turn up the pop-punk music crooning from the stereo. Suo reached out to you unprompted and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering for a beat too long to be considered innocent. 
It became abundantly clear to Ume that he would be doing a massive disservice to his team if he didn’t share you, too.
You thought he was suggesting an open relationship when he approached you with the idea. Your thoughts were in flux immediately. Was he unhappy? Was there someone else? Your heart sunk into your stomach at the idea and the hurtful implications of such an arrangement, but Umemiya simply shook his head.
“I have no intention of offering myself to anyone but you.” 
Admittedly, your new role as the official Bofurin Girlfriend had you just as busy as Umemiya. You weren’t only a sexual toy for them. You were Nirei’s first date, Suo’s confidant, Tsubakino’s shopping buddy, and Kaji’s and Hiragi’s third wheel at metal shows. You felt so lucky to be surrounded by so much love—and dick. But all those excursions—and dick—kept you insanely booked, to the point that you had to develop a shared calendar with your boy toys to not overlap on dates!
So it’s not to anyone's surprise that there are days when you and Umemiya don’t cross paths. You exchange texts frequently, asking how the other is doing and sharing inside jokes with cute gifs and memes, but the absence hurts and leaves you aching for him. And maybe it was also Umemiya’s intention to busy you with the boys because he knew he couldn’t give you as much time as you deserved, but it didn’t hurt any less. 
But fret not; on rare occasions, your schedules align.
You can feel him before you see him, an overwhelming presence that makes the air dense and clotted with an insurmountable pressure. You look up to the door, and just as your intuition hinted, he strides into the room where you all commonly loiter as a group—members strewn across the worn-out couch and others talking amongst each other immediately straighten and hush. 
Umemiya’s well-kept hair is slightly messy, with a few strands dangling in front of his face, and his eyes are smoldering as they scan across the faces in the room, searching until they land on you.
As soon as your eyes meet, the air feels as though it’s coursing with electricity—sexual tension threatening to boil over and scorch anyone who gets in your path. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get the hint to vacate quickly, knowing that you two are set on a collision course that they wouldn’t be able to stop even if they wanted to.
“Ume," you start but are unable to finish as he crosses the room. His heavy steps are the only thing that prepares you as his lips crash onto yours. As he kisses you, hands placed on either side of your cheeks, he breathes you in. His chest expands against yours, and you’re reminded at that moment how much you’ve missed him—missed this. You both wonder silently, but somehow aloud with your bodies, how you could go so long without the other.
And when you’ve been apart for so long, you don’t have time for pleasantries. Ume is walking you backward until your ass is pushed against the back of the couch, which previously housed Bofurin members, the indentations of their bodies still fresh in the cushions.
He smiles at you—one that you recognize because it isn’t his usual giddy grin; instead, it’s a smile that conveys, “I can’t help what I’m about to do to you.” 
Ume gently grips your elbow and spins you around. As he bends you over, you’re now painfully aware of the feeling of a breeze as he hikes up your dress and his fingers pinch at the exposed flesh of your ass.
“No underwear?”
“Suo doesn’t like it when I wear panties. He says it’s a hassle.”
Umemiya hums to himself in response to this interesting tidbit. He kneels, placing two giant hands on your cheeks, and spreads you down the middle. If anyone else were in the room, they’d be able to see everything, from your juicy, wet cunt to your winking, puckered asshole, and the fact that Umemiya can see everything makes you gush.
“My pretty girl is already so wet,” Umemiya muses, eyeing your pretty hole as it drools for him. You blush, knowing he’s not referring to you but having a conversation with your pussy instead.  
“Have you been a good girl for the boys?” His mouth leaves hot kisses and gentle nips along the curve of your ass, tongue darting out and leaving a trail of saliva across the expanse of your smooth flesh. You stiffen, wondering if his tongue will dip into somewhere more lewd—and Ume considers it, but he’s on a mission with one goal in mind; he’ll devour your asshole another time. 
“Y-yeah, Ume. I’ve been a good girl for them.”
His finger traces your entrance, spreading your freely-flowing juices onto your cunt’s lips. His eyes take you in with pride as you clench around the air simply because his finger is so close to being inside of you. He smiles at the physical way you show how much you crave him.
“For who in particular?”
“My god, Ume! Always with the questions!” You squirm under his touch. You know he isn’t being an intentional tease, but the line of questioning still feels invasive. How do you tell your boyfriend that Hiragi’s cock was breaking you in by noon, and Kiryu had you sucking him off under the table while he tapped away at this phone screen only a couple of hours ago? 
“Why are you shy all of a sudden? Here, I can check.”
Your thighs quiver as he slides two fingers inside of you without warning. You attempt to adjust, but his probing fingers are sweeping so deeply inside of you that you have to dig your nails into the soft fabric of the couch to keep yourself from reaching back and grabbing his wrist. 
“Sugishita, huh? I can tell.”
Oh, yeah. Sugishita, too. 
You cringe as his fingers pass over your clit, making you hiss and recall that you woke up to a particular someone’s head buried between your legs.
“And Nirei, too? Did it feel good when he sucked on your clit? That’s his favorite thing, right? Sucking at your cute little clit until you cum down his throat.”
You huff and wiggle against his hand, growing restless from being exposed like this and against his eyes with no release. 
“Does his tongue feel better than mine?” There’s no jealousy in his tone—just curiosity and a hint of ego because he knows the answer before you can say it.
You give him a quick head shake and mouth the word “No,” earning a smirk. 
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
He’s teasing you, and not saying what he hears means the unfortunate consequence of not having his mouth on you. 
“Your tongue feels better than Nirei’s, Ume.”
“Good girl.” And without further comment, and to your delight, Ume places a kiss against the back of your mound, soft pubic hair tickling his lips.
You don’t like to compare sexual experiences; every Bofurin member brings their own “talents” to the bedroom, but Umemiya has to be your favorite. He touches you with such fondness and devotion that it sets you on fire. Your head falls forward, and your shoulders slump as his tongue makes gentle work of your clit, as if to apologize on behalf of Nirei for making you sore.
“Did you miss me, Ume?”
“More than you could ever imagine. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you—done this—that I was starting to get restless.”
Umemiya’s words ring true. He feasts upon you as though what you have between your thighs is the only meal that can satiate his immense hunger. The way he rubs his nose against your sex, chuckling as you whimper against him, “Needy girl. What am I going to do with you?”
Umemiya’s tongue splits you open, his tongue solid and firm as it explores your cunt, his hands are placed on either side of your ass, with his face flush against your skin to leave as little space between you as possible. 
The way his hot breath fills you up and the way he moans with every lick makes your head spin. Ume and pussy-eating are synonymous. Eating you out is like breathing in air for him, and the way he’s pushing you forward, your stomach digging into the back of the couch from the exertion, is a clear indicator that he’s just as into it as you are. 
“You taste like heaven, baby girl.” Soft, gentle praises float through the air as he laps at you. Between hungry slurps and moans, your legs begin to tremble. If you weren’t holding yourself up against the fortitude of the couch, you’d surely collapse against Umemiya’s face. 
“This isn’t too much for you, right, baby? I’m so hungry; let me have a little more of your pretty pussy.”
It doesn’t matter what you say; Umemiya is set on devouring you regardless of your ability to stand.
“Grind back on my face, sweet girl. I want you to fuck my tongue.” 
And as someone who isn’t in the business of disappointing her king, you use what little energy you have by pushing yourself off the couch and grinding your pussy on Ume’s outstretched tongue. 
He goads you on with each bounce, and in between the soft, wet, smacking sounds from the collision your ass makes with his face, you can barely make out what he’s chanting. 
As you look back at him, curving your midsection to get as best of a view as one can in a bent over, ass-up position, you’re met with the intense, unapologetic, “dare you to look away” gaze of Umemiya’s over the top of your cheeks. 
Direct eye contact during cunnilingus is an unsung hero, and Ume remains the champion. Your walls clench around his tongue, squeezing the muscle as your pussy juices cascade into his mouth and down his chin. 
And despite the way you quake around him, Ume lets you ride it out on his tongue before pulling away and unbuckling his pants.
“God, I’ve missed ya.”
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moonlight-joy · 21 days ago
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The Heir’s Legacy
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Fandom: House of Dragon
Summary: In a momentous feast at the Red Keep, Jacaerys Velaryon is unexpectedly named heir to the Iron Throne, setting in motion a tidal wave of political intrigue, family alliances, and looming threats, as you and Rhaenyra pledge to stand by him in the face of the burdens and dangers ahead.
Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon
The Great Hall of the Red Keep was alight with celebration. It was a feast in your honor, a joyous occasion to announce the long-awaited news that you and Jacaerys Velaryon were expecting your first child. Musicians played lively tunes, lords and ladies raised goblets in congratulations, and your husband’s smile never faltered as he held your hand tightly, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin.
“You are glowing,” Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and full of warmth as he leaned toward you. The soft candlelight caught in his dark hair, the silver undertones of his Velaryon lineage shimmering like starlight. His brown eyes held a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “I think they’ve never seen you look more radiant.”
“And you,” you replied softly, your voice carrying just enough teasing to bring out his boyish grin, “look as though you’ve never been happier.”
“I haven’t,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to your still-flat stomach with a reverence that made your cheeks flush. “This is our legacy, love. You’ve made me the happiest man in the realm.”
The two of you shared a quiet moment, your fingers intertwined beneath the table. Despite the noise of the hall, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the two of you.
But the evening was far from over.
---
The sound of a goblet striking the table rang out like a bell, silencing the hall. All eyes turned toward the head of the table where King Viserys sat, his face alight with a rare energy. His silver hair shone under the golden glow of the chandeliers, and though the years had not been kind to him, tonight he seemed revitalized, his expression clear and determined.
“My lords and ladies,” Viserys began, his voice strong despite his frailty. “We gather tonight to celebrate the most joyous of news—my grandson Jacaerys Velaryon and his wife are to bring forth a child. A child of pure Targaryen blood, destined to carry on the legacy of our house.”
A murmur of approval swept through the hall, but Viserys raised a hand, commanding silence once more.
“This is a time of great change,” he continued, his tone taking on a weight that made your stomach twist with anticipation. Jacaerys straightened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “And it is only fitting that we look to the future. The realm deserves a clear line of succession, one that reflects the strength and unity of our house.”
The murmurs grew louder now, a ripple of confusion and intrigue passing through the gathered nobility. You glanced at Jacaerys, whose brows furrowed in silent question, but neither of you could have predicted what came next.
“It is with great pride,” Viserys declared, his voice rising, “that I name Jacaerys Velaryon as my heir to the Iron Throne.”
The hall erupted. Gasps and murmurs of shock gave way to applause, though not all present clapped with the same enthusiasm. The announcement was as unexpected as it was monumental, a bold declaration that shifted the balance of power in an instant.
You looked at Jacaerys, whose expression was a mixture of disbelief and resolve. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his hand slipping from yours as he stepped forward to face his grandsire.
“Your Grace,” Jacaerys said, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. “I am honored beyond measure by your trust. I swear to uphold the legacy of House Targaryen with the strength of my ancestors and the wisdom of your reign.”
Viserys smiled, his pride evident as he gestured for Jacaerys to sit. But as your husband returned to his seat, his gaze met yours, and in that moment, you saw the weight of what had just been placed upon him.
---
The rest of the feast passed in a blur. While many came to offer their congratulations, others were less subtle in their skepticism. Alicent Hightower’s expression had been unreadable, though her fingers tapped against her goblet in what you could only interpret as disapproval. Ser Otto stood close to her, his calculating gaze flicking between you, Jacaerys, and the king. It was clear the announcement had caught them off guard.
---
The feast had ended, but the tension lingered long after the last goblet was drained and the final guest departed. The news of Jacaerys' ascension to heir had rippled through the Red Keep like wildfire, leaving whispers of awe and dissent in its wake. As you and Jacaerys returned to your chambers, a soft knock at the door interrupted the fragile silence.
Jacaerys opened it to find his mother, Rhaenyra, standing in the dimly lit corridor. Her silver hair was unbound, flowing over her shoulders, and her violet eyes shimmered with a mix of pride and concern. She stepped inside without a word, her gaze falling on you briefly before focusing entirely on her son.
“Mother,” Jacaerys said, surprised. “I did not expect you tonight.”
“How could I not come?” Rhaenyra replied softly, her voice carrying both warmth and steel. “My son has just been named heir to the Iron Throne. I would have words with you before the weight of the crown settles too heavily on your shoulders.”
You stepped back, sensing the significance of the moment, but Rhaenyra reached out to clasp your hand briefly. “Stay,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “You are as much a part of this as he is. Your child will carry this legacy forward.”
Her words sent a shiver through you, the weight of the truth settling over your heart. You nodded and sat down near the hearth, allowing mother and son to speak freely while you remained a quiet witness.
---
Rhaenyra turned to Jacaerys, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his cheek. “You have always carried yourself with honor, Jace. Even as a boy, I knew you were destined for greatness. But tonight…” Her voice faltered for a moment, and she let out a breath. “Tonight, you stepped into the shoes of kings. And I am proud of you.”
Jacaerys’ brow furrowed, his eyes searching hers. “But?” he asked, sensing the unspoken caution in her tone.
Rhaenyra smiled faintly, her hand falling to her side. “But I know the cost of being named heir,” she admitted. “I know the burdens it brings. The alliances that will shift. The enemies that will rise. And now, with you carrying this weight… I cannot help but fear for you.”
“Mother,” Jacaerys said, his voice steady, though his brow creased with worry, “you have borne this weight yourself. You know what it means to fight for what is ours. I will not falter, not when I have you, my wife, and our child to guide me.”
Rhaenyra’s gaze flicked to you, her expression softening further. “And you,” she said, addressing you directly now, “you will be his greatest strength. Never let the world convince you otherwise. You are as much a dragon as any of us.”
You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I will stand by him always, Princess.”
“Good,” Rhaenyra said, turning back to Jacaerys. “But remember, my son, this moment will not sit well with everyone. Alicent and her father will see this as a challenge to their influence. And Aegon…” Her lips tightened. “He will not relinquish what he believes is his right.”
Jacaerys’ jaw clenched, the mention of his uncle stirring a flicker of anger in his eyes. “Let Aegon believe what he will,” he said. “I will not shy away from what is mine. If he challenges me, I will remind him that dragons answer only to fire and blood.”
Rhaenyra studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she stepped closer and cupped his face in her hands. “You are ready,” she said quietly. “But do not let ambition blind you to what matters most. The throne is a heavy burden, Jace, but it is nothing without love, without family. Do not forget that.”
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice softening. “And I will make you proud, Mother.”
“You already have,” she whispered, pulling him into a brief but fierce embrace.
---
After Rhaenyra left, the room felt quieter, though the weight of her words lingered in the air. Jacaerys sat beside you, his shoulders slightly hunched, his expression thoughtful. You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him in the moment.
“She’s right, you know,” you said gently. “This won’t be easy. But we’ll face it together.”
Jacaerys turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and affection. “I couldn’t do this without you,” he said. “You and our child… you are my reason for everything. Whatever comes, we will rise above it.”
You smiled, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. Together, you gazed into the fire, its flames dancing like the dragons whose legacy you would now carry forward.
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utterlyotterlyx · 7 months ago
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The Time Travellers Husband
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Rhys x Cassians!Sister!Reader
Summary - The gift of time travel was unique to you and you alone, the only thing is that you can't control where you go or when, or for how long.
Warnings - ptsd, trauma, angsttttttt, fluff, mentions and depictions of SA, Under The Mountain trauma
Word Count - 6.8k (unedited, don't come at me)
Based on this ask x
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It was an odd feeling, to travel through time. The sensation of it was like you were swimming toward a tide break, desperate for oxygen that felt an infinite number of lengths away whilst battling the currents of time like they were rips in the ocean waves.
Reaching the destination had never been the issue, it had always been the disappearance, the blinker of your essence as you faded into oblivion for what felt like minutes to only return to your husband hours, days, or even weeks later.
No one understood it. Prythian had never been graced with a traveller before you, even Helion and Thesan had researched endlessly but returned to Rhys empty handed. All he wanted was to help you to control it, he knew the mental toll it often took on you considering how you sometimes travelled to the darkest of places and memories, most of which were never your own.
Nights had come and gone where he would have to cradle you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whilst you cried from the nightmares that plagued you; of bloody battlefields and torture, both of which you'd have to endure until the Mother decided to send you back to your mate who was waiting for you in Velaris.
Rhys had always been fated to be yours, you were certain of it.
The pair of you had grown up together thanks to Cassian being your older brother by only a couple of minutes, he had been gifted the strength and agility of the gods whilst the Mother had sealed your fate long before you were both even conceived.
It had snapped for Rhys first, on your birthday 300 years ago. Mor had insisted upon throwing you and Cassian a joint surprise birthday party at the House of Wind, though she had told you that she had planned an intimate dinner for you all to make sure that you dressed as best as you could. As a thank you for everything you had done for them, from your incessant teasing to your bounding wisdom, Rhys had delved into his mothers trousseau and had hand-picked the most spectacular dress he or you had ever seen; though, he hadn't told you where he had gotten it, you were led to believe that he had it commissioned.
Rhys had kept it a secret from everyone, he didn't want to upset Cassian or ruin anything for you, he wanted it to snap for you on its own.
It only took a year for the bond to snap for you.
It had been one of the more warmer afternoons in Velaris, and you had been tending to the garden at the River House, planting your favourite shade of peonies into the earth when you felt the sensation. Cassian had returned to the garden to find that you had disappeared, leaving your tools buried in the soil and your scent drifting away in the breeze.
You had been transported to a shared memory, but the projection of your present-day body found itself stood behind Rhys, staring inward at the room buzzing with anticipation. Nerves were pouring from him as he fidgeted in his spot, whisky in hand and swirling it every moment his attention wasn't stolen by a passer-by muttering a greeting to their High Lord.
It was a night you remembered very clearly, but you weren't there to live it again through your point of view, you had been taken there to see it through his.
Looking toward the large double doors of the House of Wind, you watched as they opened to reveal both you and Cassian arm in arm. Cassian was wearing his usual lax trousers and open collared shirt, hair styled into a low bun with strays falling over his face; and then there was you, and you watched Rhys inhale sharply as his eyes landed on your frame, scanning you from head to toe whilst joyous shock consumed your angelic features.
The dress he had gifted to you had certainly been the right choice, it accentuated each and every curve and line of your body, hugging your delicious hips and exposing just the right amount of skin. And your wings, gods, they had fluttered and rustled with every compliment directed at your from a room teeming with whispers. The garment was the shade of newly born starlight, a cascade of fine diamonds had been sewn into the skirt and they flowed downward like lazy ocean waves at sunset. Light bounced off of you, your skin held a certain shimmer to it and the warm faelight was making you glow.
The brightest star in a sea of darkness. Everything felt dim in comparison.
It felt as though you were on the first row at the theatre, enthralled in the emotions of the moment; you examined Rhys closely, how his eyes trailed down your body and then to your face, and then they widened, and he stumbled backward, his fingers floating over that particular spot on his chest whilst the past version of you was none the wiser from her spot on the other side of the room, laughing and thanking Mor for all of the effort she had put in to make your birthday as special as possible.
As though you could see the golden thread winding itself around you, Rhys muttered a singular word to himself, a word that made your heart clench in its cage
Mate.
That night was just over a year ago. Why hadn't he said anything?
Before you could fathom an answer, you felt your essence be pulled back to the present, and you landed in the main living area of the River House feeling confused and conflicted, and betrayed to a degree.
Within moments Rhys was on you, standing at your side whilst your gaze bore into the ground, he could see your mind reeling, replaying whatever you had seen from whichever moment you had been taken to. The sky had grown dark beyond the window, telling you that the day had scurried by whilst you had been kidnapped by your power.
"Hey, hey, hey," Rhys cooed to you, trying to gently pull your mind away from the memory or future, "Where did you go, darling?"
Your brows twitched with every thought that flew through you and Rhys turned your body to face his own, resting his large hands on your arms and rubbing his thumbs softly against the skin he found there, lowering his eyeline to yours to try and capture your gaze.
Then you peered up at him, eyes colliding with pools of violet serenity, and it snapped, your own thread dancing outward to meet the end that had longed for it for so long and you gasped when it found its marker, "When were you going to tell me?"
Knowing what you meant due to the opening of the bond, Rhys' expression faltered, but he held onto you tighter, "I wanted you to find out on your own. The bond is a beautiful thing. I just wanted it to snap for you when you were ready."
Rhys' fingers reached for an escaped strand of hair, delicately tucking it behind your rounded ear in a way that made your wings shiver, "You've lied to me for twelve months."
He cringed, his fingers retracting from the shell of your ear, "It was more like avoiding the truth," you gave him a pointed stare, "Which I know isn't good enough. I'm sorry, y/n."
You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't wondered what a life with Rhys would look like, the High Lord was the most stunning male you had ever seen, and the way he carried himself in front of you and others was so alluring to the point that you often thought of him when you were alone in the confinements of your bedroom. Rhys had always respected you, he had always held a certain tone of humour with you that neither Cassian or Azriel were privy to, and he had always been the one to look out for you the most.
Despite being very well aware of your tactical prowess, Rhys did all he could to avoid sending you on missions, and when he did send you away, it was often on his behalf to other courts, he knew they adored you just as much as he did so much so that you would never truly be in any real danger.
"Say something. Please."
Worry had infected his bones at the possibility that you may not want him, and the longer you stood saying nothing the more tense he became, "My head hurts," and it did, not just from the information, but from the anguish travelling brought upon your body; Rhys knew that little fact better than anyone considering he often tended to you afterward.
A hand rested on the side of your face, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, "Let me look after you," Rhys visibly relaxed when you nodded, exhaustion settling into you and coursing down the bond.
Sweeping you into his arms, Rhys rested his cheek atop your head, inhaling the lavender of your shampoo as he carried you through the house that he had permanently moved into to be closer to you; he paced up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you onto the pristine white sheets before finding his place beside you and pulling your body flush against his.
Lazily, you traced your fingers over his clothed chest, drawing small circles and tendrils over his heart, "What did you see?" Rhys asked you, his breath caressing your forehead and his digits curling into your hair in the way he knew brought you untold relief.
"Our birthday last year but from your point of view," your voice paused for a moment as you recounted the images in your mind, you craned your head upward to meet his nervous gaze like he knew that all it would take for his dreams to burn would be the mere action of you pulling away from him, "I saw how you looked at me from across the room when the bond snapped for you, I felt the air shift in a way. You were looking at me like I was the brightest star in the Prythian skies."
A ghosting smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, your voice was soft, void of any anger. Rhys dragged his thumb across your lips, resting it at the dimple in your cheek, "You are." Rhys' eyes drifted over your face, drinking in the fine lines of happiness that had embedded themselves at the corners of your eyes, "You are the star which points to home. You are my homeland, y/n. I think that you always have been."
Watching your gaze soften, he had to ask you, "Does the idea of me disgust you? The idea of us?"
A furrowed brow greeted him, but you shook your head softly, your cheek rubbing against the silk of his shirt, "How can I look away now that I have seen you?" Reaching to brush your fingers against his jaw, eye sparkling and brimming with the silent permission he had been waiting for.
In one swift but gentle motion, Rhys rolled you onto your back, cupping your face in his hands and hovering his lips a whisker away from your own. His breath fanned across your face, it was warm but heavy, he was overthinking it and what it would mean, but nothing would stop him from claiming you. Not even Cassian.
You pulled his eyes to meet yours, dragging him from the thoughts that plagued him, and like you were a spring in eons of desert, Rhys drank. Connecting his lips to yours was something he had only allowed himself to dream of, but nothing could have prepared him for how you tasted. Honeysuckle and sea salt, with the slightest hint of sweet spice. Rhys couldn't stop himself from deepening the embrace, running his tongue along your bottom lip and then darting it into your parted mouth, exploring every inch you would allow him to whilst curling the fingers of his free hand around your hip, his other resting at the back of your head.
Reluctantly, Rhys created a space between your lips, feeling himself losing control of his body the longer he was connected to you; he watched closely as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, the curve of your breasts grazing against his shirt and lips sinfully swollen from the onslaught of his adoration for you. He found his place beside you once more, pulling you to him so that your head rested on his chest, "Rest now. We can face the world tomorrow."
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What you wouldn't give to go back to that moment. Everything had been so much simpler then. The new nerves and the oncoming anger from Cassian had been the only negativity in your world, though, your twin had taken the news much better than you had expected, he had only beaten Rhys once before the happiness for you had taken over.
If you were going to be mated to anyone, at least it was to the person who doted you and protected you at all costs.
It didn't take long until he was asking when the first babe would arrive.
It wasn't like you didn't want children with Rhys, it had been a topic that made you both excited, but you were also very happy with one another so had decided to not explicitly try for a babe, but if it happened then you would both be overjoyed. It took of mounds of pressure from your shoulders.
The mating ceremony itself had been beautiful, Rhys had truly spared no expense on the intimate ceremony where he had also sworn you in as High Lady of the Night Court in front of your family, and he had cried nearly as hard as Cassian when you saw you walking down the aisle in the dress that you knew belonged to his mother, the same one he had seen you in when the bond had snapped for him with some minor alterations, that being a lace veil that clipped into each loosely wound braid of your hair and matching gloves that kisses above your elbows.
The Inner Circle had succumb to the possibility that they wouldn't see you both for at least a month afterward. You were far too radiant for Rhys to allow from his sight, not only as his newly wedded wife, but also as his High Lady and the future mother of his children. You were exquisite.
Centuries passed and your love and devotion toward one another never waned, if anything it only grew, and you didn't think it possible that you could love anything else more than Rhys, and you were right.
There wasn't a single moment of the day where you didn't want to rip his clothes off and have him fuck you until you couldn't form coherent words, and he was always happy to oblige you. No matter what he was doing, whether working through stacks of paperwork in his office with hair messed from raking his fingers through it or relaxing in the living area after a long day, if you entered his space with that feline speck in your eye, he would be the one throwing everything aside to be pulling those mewls from your lips.
It was a love that Prythian would never see again, a love it would always search for and wither when it couldn't be found.
What you'd give to go back to that. Back to the time before Amarantha happened.
You remembered the feeling as though it happened only yesterday, the tidal wave of love and regret and sorrow, a pleading tsunami that you returned with your own, and you could almost see his sad smile, drowning in that feeling for a heartbeat longer before the bond went cold. Cassian and Azriel had burst into the room after hearing your screams all the way from the training ring at the House of Wind, finding you balled up atop the cold ground sobbing and clutching at the skin where your heart lay.
Azriel had moved to you first, his arms wrapping around your body and shadows peppering your tear-stained cheeks, he coaxed your ire from you, freezing as you told him that the bond had gone cold. It had only taken a few minutes for him to piece it together, of Amarantha no doubt trapping him below the mountain and him playing along in order to protect his court, his home, his y/n.
It had taken weeks for you to rise from the ashes of your bedroom, you had refused to move from the sheets that held his scent deep within them. But you were the High Lady of the Night Court, and Amren was struggling to lead the court on her own. Throwing yourself into your tripled duties was all that you could do, if Rhys ever came home, then that home had to be healthy and flourishing.
The citizens of Velaris pitied you more than they mourned the absence of their High Lord, you were the image of despair, pallid skin and a certain voidness to you usually bright eyes, though it didn't stop you from ruling over the court whatsoever. The only time when you would break would when you would be alone, and Cassian and Azriel couldn't allow you to wither away any longer so moved you into the House of Wind, leaving your once perfect home abandoned.
Before you knew it, 50 years had drawled by, 50 years without your mate and best friend. Life had tried to curl around you gracefully, to will you back into some form of enjoyment, and Azriel had coaxed you to accept the hand offered to you, so you did, but there wasn't a single moment that came and went that you didn't think of Rhys and what he was enduring Under The Mountain.
"Cassian, have you been to Windhaven lately? I need an update on the wing clipping laws we put in place." You entered the study, your pale blue dress dragging behind you from the pace of your steps, the crown growing heavy on your head.
It had always been something you and Rhys had spoken of, banning the archaically brutal practice of wing clipping in Illyria. Once upon a time you had almost been one of those young girls, pinned to the ashen soil with a blade a feathers touch away from taking the most sacred part of you. Luckily it never happened, and you had Cassian, Azriel and Rhys to thank for it.
Not looking up from the reports in your fingers, "Cass?" you gritted, too exhausted to deal with his silence. You had disappeared again that day, it had happened much more frequently over the last 50 years without Rhys by your side, but you weren't allowed to rest when you would return, there was always too much to do. "Cassian." Finally you looked up, finding your twin leaning against your desk with a shit-eating grin on his face and puffy eyes, "Are you going to answer me within the next two working minutes or shall I just go to Windhaven myself?"
"Oh how I have missed that voice."
Frozen in place, you felt your heartbeat rattle in your chest at that voice, the voice that haunted every moment you lived no matter if you were sleeping or walking the city aimlessly. Needing some form of confirmation you looked up to Cassian, your bottom lip wobbling when he nodded once at you and leaned back.
Then you felt him, his hands on your hips and nose grazing the curve of your shoulder, those two things alone making the reports in your fingers float to the floor. His chest met your back, his arms wound around your midsection, "Tell me that I'm not travelling right now."
A chuckle rumbled within the chest behind you, his lips pressed dainty kisses to your exposed skin, "I'm here. It's real."
A sob fell from your mouth and you turned in his arms, you buried your head into the nape of his neck and cried, and you felt bad for it, you weren't the one trapped in that place, but part of you had wished that you had been.
At some point during your crying and Rhys shushing you softly with his fingers running through your hair, Cassian had left the room, closing the door on his exit to give you both the privacy you so desperately needed. Another few moments passed and Rhys pulled away slightly, creating a small space between you so that he could hold your face in his hands and know that it was all real, that everything he had endured had been worth it just to have that moment.
"You look exhausted, my love," his thumbs caressed the skin of your slightly hallowed cheeks, his face lowering to level with your own. He didn't look much better than you did, his eyes were darkened with the things he had seen, his skin rough and pallid from the lack of sun, fine lines of worry and anguish ran along his forehead, "Cassian told me that you've been running this court on your own," he told you with a gentle smile, knowing how difficult it must have been for you to rule without him, to take on that load and also deal with your gift, "You've done so well, darling. I'm so lucky to have you."
Rhys pressed his lips to your forehead like a mother would a babe, loving and certain, and you couldn't help but sob again at the words and his touch, "I thought I wasn't going to see you again. I thought you had left me forever. When the bond went cold, and I couldn't feel you, I thought-"
"Hey. Don't think that. There is no reality where I wouldn't return to you, y/n," he rested his fingers at the base of your neck, relishing at the touch of your skin beneath his fingertips, "You are the only thing that kept me alive down there," his eyes glassed over, replaying memories he would soon rather forget, "I couldn't look into your eyes, but they were all I thought about. I memorised your face long ago, but it was a mirror for me there, or a prayer I had to recite nightly to make me remember who was waiting for me. I told you that you are my homeland, I will always come back to you."
Tears rolled down both of your cheeks when he kissed you, so full of need but also so hesitant, it was tender and light and warm, and you felt the floodgates of your bond crash open, your heart fighting against the tide of his relief and exhaustion, of his love and regret.
"But right now, I would like to bathe with my wife, and hold her until we both fall asleep. That's all I want, to hold you. Can we do that? Please?"
You had never been able to say no to Rhys and you weren't about to start, not when his eyes were weary and heavy with the turmoil of being away from you for so long, for witnessing and taking part in the acts that he had.
Carefully, you took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles, "Of course we can," a gentle tug from you spurred him to move, and you led him through the House of Wind to your private chambers, mumbling to him that sleeping in your shared rooms had been too painful.
The tub was already steaming by the time you entered the bathroom, candles were lit and the window showed the golden valley you both adored so much as well as the snow-capped mountains. A once sultry act of undressing one another held a new meaning, you stripped one another bare with the upmost of care, taking time to touch one another as if you'd blink and it would all be gone.
Rhys lowered himself into the water first, almost groaning at the lavender soak that seeped into his muscles, and he held a hand out to you, positioning himself perfectly to accommodate you between his legs and running his fingers along the membrane of the wings you had done your best to tuck away.
"I love you so much," he kissed the glistening skin on your shoulder, trailing his lips from the spot up to the shell of your ear, and he smiled into your hair when you returned the sentiment, kissing his open palms and drowning in his power.
It didn't take long for exhaustion to settle within both of you, and once it had, Rhys lifted you from the tub and wasted no time in drying you and pulling one of his shirts over your head, pecking your nose once it was secured around your frame and nestling into bed with you for the most tranquil nights sleep he had gotten in 50 years.
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It had taken Rhys a few weeks to feel comfortable enough to be intimate with you, he had never given you a reason, but you knew why. There had been many rumours of Amarantha's whore, and you could only imagine how he was feeling. Whether he didn't wish to admit it to you for fear of embarrassment or judgement, you weren't really sure, but you would never push him. Everything had to be done when he was ready and he alone.
You'd wait an eternity if that's what your mate needed.
Settling back into life in Velaris had been strange for him, he didn't know a single thing that had gone on in his court during his absence, but you walked him through it all. From your detailed reports, Rhys realised just how much love you had poured into his, your, city; orphanages had opened in the city offering education to the less fortunate, you had cracked down on the barbaric act of wing clipping so much so that there were very few cases reported in the last three years, and you had funded so many projects that would better the lives of all, from art galleries and theatres to community gardens, the Night Court was undeniably thriving.
"How have you accomplished all of this?" Rhys had asked you one morning as he scanned over all of the reports, flitting through the pages in wonder.
You had nervously picked at the skin around your nails at the question, "In all honesty I never really stopped working," his gaze met yours and he softened, opening his arms to you and pulling you into his lap, "I was scared that if I stopped doing all of this," you motioned to the papers littering the desk, "That the weight of your absence would consume me. I wanted to make you proud."
"I'll always be proud of you, my incredible mate and wife. You are amazing. Truly."
The darkness still gathered beneath his eyes, more nights than not you'd be awakened from slumber by his nightmares, and you would rise immediately to hold him, to remind him of where he was and that she was gone. It was clear that he didn't wish to burden you with the details, as usual, he was protecting you.
After a couple of months, Rhys felt like he was back to his old self, his usual banter with his brothers was rife and he was spending a lot more quality time with you whenever he had the opportunity. Everything had felt peaceful.
Until it wasn't.
The feeling you hadn't been consumed by since the day of his return had slowly settled in your gut, clawing and tearing at your essence, but it felt more sinister, like it wanted to ruin you. Crashing ceramic pulled Rhys from his book to see you in the doorway, your hands turning translucent and eyes full of terror as it travelled up your arms. Rhys was moving to you in an instant, trying to reach you before you disappeared entirely but he was too late, his fingers moving through you like you weren't even there.
It felt as though death itself had come to take you in that moment as you clawed your way to the surface.
You had landed in a place you didn't recognise, dark stone glistening with day old rain, hallways illuminated by lanterns and torches. The halls were wide, so tall that you felt tiny in comparison to them, and you knew where you were, where the Mother had decided to take you.
Under The Mountain.
A faint voice drifted through the air to you, pulling you toward it, and you followed the call, peaking into each room before you found the one where the sounds felt much more powerful. Though, nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.
The room was dark, dressed in hues of black and wine red, faelight illuminated the walls lined with various dark artworks, a curved tub sat to the left, and in the centre was a large four poster bed, and on that bed was your husband and that creature of a woman you knew to be Amarantha.
Rhys' eyes were closed as he thrusted into her, his brow furrowed and face flashing with pain and remorse, you covered your mouth to conceal your gasp, forgetting that neither of them could see you. Amarantha lay beneath your husband, moaning and raking her talons down his spine, breaking the skin and grinning at the blood sweeping across her lips; her legs were wound around his waist, pushing him deeper into her with every rock of his hips.
"Tell me, Pet," she drawled, rolling him onto his back and sinking down on him, riding his cock and muffling her delight at the feeling, "How do you think your precious wife would feel if she knew what we did each night?" Rhys visibly tensed, "Do you think that she would still love you? Do you think that she would still want to be wed to you?"
Everything within you was telling you to look away, but you couldn't.
It was a question that Rhys couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't want to think about what you would do if you knew, which was the reason why he hadn't told you.
Tears streaked down your face, dripping onto the stone cold floor with every roll of her hips, "Who would want to be wedded to a cheating whore?" Amarantha's talon dragged down the column of his throat, "Do you not think that she deserves so much better than a male who would allow this?"
A moment of silence passed from Rhys, a silence that was filled with her moans as she neared her release, "Yes, I think that she does."
The words broke your heart, that your mate truly believed that you deserved better than what he had done, the things she had made him do. Each night she tormented him, made him submit to her against his will, and told him that you wouldn't want him when she was done.
With that soul-tearing admittance, Amarantha's movements jolted around him, her talons tugged at her hair as her moans climbed and she rode out her release, and once she had slowed, she wasted no time in removing herself from your mate and pulling a robe over her alabaster skin, smirking to him wordlessly before padding right past you on her exit.
It had all been to protect his home from her, and by extension, you. And that fact made you feel sick to your stomach, so sick that you felt the bile rising upward. Rhys had endured the unspeakable to protect his court and family, he knew what Amarantha would do if she got her hands on any of you, but it would be you who would suffer the most, and you knew that Rhys would stop at nothing to avoid that.
As soon as she was far enough away, you watched Rhys crumble; he perched on the edge of that large four poster bed with his head buried into his palms, loud, painful sobs causing his body to tremble and quake. His pain roared through him, "I love you," you rushed to him, you tried to reach for him but your fingers passed right through his body that was covered by a thin onyx sheet, "I love you," he repeated but more strained, he looked to the ceiling, his cheeks stained with his anguish and guilt, "I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."
"Rhys, please," your broken voice pleaded, but he couldn't hear you, no one ever could when you travelled, you were a simple bystander in these types of memories, "I love you."
The loud sobs of your mate continued, he wrapped his arms around himself, it had been the only thing to bring him comfort, and it was clear that he was imagining that it was you holding him and not himself. Rhys carried on apologising to the skies, hoping that his sincerity would reach you, hoping that you knew just how much he loved you and how much he would endure to keep you safe from her.
You weren't sure how long you knelt before him on that cold stone floor, telling him that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened you would never stop loving him whilst your own sobs broke your heart at the sight of your mate looking so defeated and worthless.
Only when that memory began to fade did you realise that the Mother was done with you, that she deemed you enlightened enough to return you to your home.
You landed with a thud, your knees crumpling beneath the weight of your body making you a blubbering mess on the floor. Marred hands found you instantly, shaking your shoulder softly until you found their owner, hazel pools of worry sketched over your face, his shadows frantically weaving between one another with panic. Sound had become muffled, like you were in a daze, you faintly knew that Azriel had called out to someone, likely telling them to fetch your husband as your focus honed in on him, "Where did you go, y/n?" Azriel had never looked so distressed, "You've been gone for three weeks."
Three weeks.
Rhys must have been going insane.
All you could do is cry and fall into his arms, the vision of your mate causing your body to shake, and Azriel folded you into his embrace, rubbing circles into your back, "I was Under The Mountain," you told him between sobs and he froze, like he knew what you had seen, "I'm going to throw up."
Another presence entered the room and moved to the two of you, an angelic touch graced your lower back and a bowl appeared before you, her fingers tugged your hair from your face as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach, "It's alright," Mor cooed to you, rubbing your back to ensure you had gotten out what you needed to, curtly telling Azriel to meet Rhys and Cassian before they entered and saw you in such a position.
Mor held you as you sobbed, your guilt eating you from the inside out from knowing that Rhys had endured all that pain and suffering and abuse to keep you all safe, to protect you from the devil incarnate.
It didn't take long for the doors to open once more, Rhys took one look at your coiled frame, and the bowl to your left, and strode over to you, sliding onto his knees and gathering you in his arms. Knowing you wouldn't be able to tell him what exactly it was that you saw, you felt him caress your mental shields, asking for permission to enter, and you allowed it, you allowed him to sift through the images and felt his grip tighten around you.
Rhys scooped you into his arms and didn't say a single word to anyone on your exit, he carried you to your shared bedroom at the House of Wind, the same place you had accepted the bond centuries prior, and settled you onto the edge of the bed, kneeling before you and kissing your knuckles.
"I'm sorry that she did that to you," tears flowed down your face, landing on the backs of his hands, "I'm sorry that you had to do that to protect us."
Surprise settled onto his face at your words, like he wasn't expecting anything of that nature to leave your lips, "I'm sorry that she made you believe that I wouldn't love you because of it. I do love you, more than you'll ever know. Nothing would ever be able to take me from you."
Rhys picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and perching on the space where you had been seated only moments before; he peered up at you, his eyes the lightest shade of violet you had ever seen them, "Don't apologise for something that wasn't your doing," he wiped your tears, "I would do it all again if it meant that you would be safe, I'd endure the most wicked of punishments to keep you healthy and alive."
"I don't want you to ever feel like that again."
"I won't. I'll never leave you, not until death finds me and even then I will cling onto life with everything I have left so that I'll be able to find you in the next. It's always been you, and it'll always be you. There is nothing that can take me from you, I would burn the world to ash if anyone ever tried it, do you hear me?"
Rhys knew how hard it had been for you even if you hadn't told him yourself. It had been Azriel who had confided in Rhys about your mental state over the years, how you struggled to sleep and that when you did you were haunted by his loss, how you had travelled more often and for longer periods of time than before and how you always returned to them exhausted and little more broken than the last time. Rhys had been told how hard the entire Inner Circle had to work to contain you, to make sure that you didn't journey to Under The Mountain yourself and get yourself tortured and killed right before his eyes.
Desperate to hear your voice, Rhys continued on, "You and I are entwined for eternity, my love. Our life is going to be full of wonder and joy, that is what we fight for. In 100 years when we have our own babe and a life of serenity, I'll know that everything we went through was worth it, to have a chance to create the life we always dreamed of, the life we spoke of before the bond snapped and we were just Rhys and y/n dreaming about the future."
Rhys' fingers ran through your hair, pulling all of the tension from your body in the exact way he knew that you needed, "Tell me how much you love me."
Your palms rested flat on his chest, his heartbeat thumping through the skin to feel you, and he smiled softly, "I love the way your skin feels beneath mine," his arms pulled you closer into his chest, his chin rested atop your breastbone and his eyes bore into yours, "I love the little noises you make in the night when you're getting comfortable, and the little content sighs when I wrap my arms around you. I love the sound of your voice and your laugh. I love your truth and wisdom, and how you've never been afraid to do what is right despite the consequences. The world bores me - it bores me and irritates me when I'm away from you. You're the only thing that makes this life worth living. I love you, I love you more than our insanely irritating family," a gentle laugh passed through your lips, and you sniffled, "I love you more than this court or my power, I love you more than life itself, because what is the meaning of life if you aren't in it?"
"Rhys?" He hummed in question, still staring deep into your soul, "Love me. Please." It was a whisper, one you weren't quite sure he had heard, but he nodded gentle and placed you onto your back, ensuring that there were enough pillows beneath your head before he lowered his lips to meet yours.
Rhys made sure that he showed you how much he adored you and everything that you had given him, his lips covering every inch of your skin in a night filled with passion and the purest or adoration. And, unbeknownst to either of you in that moment, it seemed that your collective dreams were going to come true a lot sooner than you thought.
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Author's Note
Brb crying x
(Also happy 1k followers besties, my first Rhysie fic is here for the occasion)
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chroniclyst · 6 months ago
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bound, failure, and wound for the ram PLEASE i just reread the masterpost and i want to heaer literally everything about aries <- normal reactions to this archetype of character. many such cases
bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?
oh you fucking know it!! when aries power was developing air was restrained to keep arie in check, and when air would rebel against the king. as well as just being kinda overall functionally imprisoned (albeit not exactly literally) by the king? air doesn't really break free until the king starts to change from vee's influence, particularly in book 2. air is close with vee, but they aren't enough to give arie the capacity to shake loose from the king.
failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?
while no new occupant of the town will remember they are from elsewhere, they do maintain some of their backstory, because of course they have to have some kind of past. this is nebulous and in progress, but the ram lived on the streets with aries siblings, and while air doesn't remember the details, air either lost or left them. air feels that aries greatest failure is that abandonment, and that air failed in the caretaker role air was pushed into.
wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?
the ram is a tank, especially in Certain Circumstances, and has a high pain tolerance--air can take a hit, and has before. air's much more susceptible to the king's mind games, and swings back and forth between violent anger and debilitating depression. all of aries time as the king's plaything has taken its toll, that's for sure.
as for the worst wound? that's a secret ^_^
[send me tvc asks]
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feistyvirghoe · 3 months ago
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☆⋆·˚ ༘ * pick a card disclaimers ೃ🤍⁀➷
pick a pile u feel most called to, the one u cannot look away from, the one that is pulsing, go with your gut, always trust yourself, and if u feel called to more that’s cool baby boo! there’s more for u!
these are general and for a vast amount of ppl, don’t get ur undies all twisted up bc it’s not resonating, it’s normal and it’s fine, this just wasn’t for u! <3
these are extremely general timeless readings and they’re meant for entertainment purposes, please don’t take things so seriously and also realize my readings are for people above 18!
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╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ- major changes regarding your interpersonal relationships, how you guys interact with people and letting yourself experience new friendships, romantic relationships. I feel like your message here is to let go of what has been holding you down for so long. This energy of not wanting to see the good after you’ve been betrayed. Brighter days are ahead. It’s like the universe wanting you to see your real potential. They want you to see that you are capable of living a joyous life. You’re capable of being happy without feeling guilty or ashamed of yourself. You’re not the only one struggling mentally or in any other way. I feel like your guys are nervous to experience new things again because there’s this feeling of you being like “will this even last?” “Will this eventually be taken away from me like everything else?” I feel like you guys may need to move yourselves out of this period of thinking the same things will always happen. It wont! Especially when we believe and change our mindset surrounding this topic. You guys are being led into a newer direction. Somewhere where you feel you belong. Forming new relationships that’s re healthy and authentic with likeminded people who understand you. Things don’t have to happen so quickly so it’s always good to remember not to push yourself to fit into a mold you know will never work. This major change will lead you to your true calling/purpose, where you will be seen by the right people for you, it really is all for you. But i know we can get stuck in this negative loop or tormenting emotions that confuse us about ourselves. I’d say, what I’m seeing happening for you next is you feeling more hopeful about this new opportunity or just this general change you’re making or should be making for yourself. I also feel like you may be getting into a new partnership with someone. This person seems like they may bring a lot of positive encouragement and helpful advice to broaden your perspective. I feel like you’re going to be celebrating yourself and what you know deep down you were always capable of. You just need to see this fr yourself. That you’re an amazing, strong, independent person that achieve their goals on their own. We don’t really need people, but it’s not good to isolate yourself and hide because of your fears that are hindering you from moving on. I feel like you guys are also being shown that you can put your trust into certain individuals that respect you and wont betray you for their own benefit.] ❞
Affirmation - solar crown → i am decisive and wise. When action is required, i move swiftly with courage. When wisdom is necessary i step carefully with grace. I trust my intuitive wisdom to decide correctly.
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╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ-keep on going pile 2! If someone here is feeling like giving up, DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT! You seem to be so close to something. It seems like you guys have been working your asses off, to achieve a certain goal, or idea, it’s something that you can’t take your mind off of. The energy is so fast paced, like i just want to get into it, you all seem to be moving in the right direction. Using all the power you have within you to get to this thing of yours. I feel like it may have to do with work of some sort, it doesn’t have to be so extreme, but you’ve been putting in action or you need to put in that action. You have this spirit of persistence and not giving up on this decision. I feel like you guys know where you want to be. But it’s the moving, a lot of passionate energy here, man I don’t even think that this is something you can take your mind off. You’re just aware of what is needed, you shouldn’t hide what power you hold. There’s something about you guys being more in that masculine role, moving towards your purpose, which i feel is the theme of this entire reading, doing what you love to do without feeling ashamed of it. Yes this will take some of your time and have you very busy, but i think you moving and not staying in a stagnant place pumps up your energy. It could even be with building your strength within and outside of you. Taking better care of yourself, knowing your own limits and not falling off because of one setback. I feel like you guys are being shown that it’s okay to show off your talents and gifts. This light within you that you should never really repress, but don’t burn yourself playing with the flames. I feel like you guys really need to keep going, it’s just something about the messages coming out for you that are screaming at me to tell you to keep on moving forward. Leaving the unhinged shit in the past.
“I can heal now and always.” Another message that I’m getting is not pushing yourself to the point of burnout. That’s when it gets tricky, because you put your all into something all at once and then get weird results where you feel not good enough. But you are, you’re enough right now. No, you do not need to be where that other person is, i know working and working will tear you apart. You guys should give yourself a break from time to time to re-collect and realize that your healing journey will never look like or be anyone else’s but yours. It’s time to fight off these distractions and quiet that overthinking mind of yours. You can work and play as well. Don’t take everything so personally, know when it’s you and take yourself out of the equation. I feel like this full moon is helping you to own your full potential and understand that you are also in control of your life. Don’t leave everything up to chance and own your shush! You are an amazing powerful being and i want you to understand this deep down even if you feel different, you are fricking powerful, a goddamn badass! ] ❞
Affirmations - clairvoyant author → i am the author of my story, i am the author of my own narrative. I write the future in myself. I re-script negative self-criticism, and i narrate positive thoughts.
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╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- Right off the bat y’all, i truly feel like there is some sort of competitive, petty, jealous energy that is being projected your way. Either you already know this or you don’t to the fullest extent. But you guys seem so guarded and indifferent to this shit. I’m not sure if it’s one or multiple people projecting this towards you, but you don’t seem to be buying something or someone’s BS! Whatever this is, it’s extremely unhealthy, the energy is wonky and that’s probably how you feel. But this i feel has to do with some sort of relationship. I feel like you don’t want what this person has to offer, or there is an offer but you seem to be skeptical of it. Why do i feel like you’re being pulled in so many different directions, it’s like hard to make a choice. This confusion. I really hope you’re not with someone who’s trying to control you or even manipulate you into something you know is damaging for you. I feel like someone/something can’t let you go, there’s this energy trying to cling onto you. It feels like someone wants to block you from seeing your true potential. Because you are talented at something, you got the tools for whatever this may be, like you’re so fucking close. A chapter has ended, you have to decide if you want to walk away or keep repeating it with other people, but i feel like you already know that you should be taking things more smoothly. You can’t get up and go back playing kickball right after you sprain your ankle. It’s alright for you to rest and look after yourself. I feel like you guys need to let that wall down a little bit and remember the why, the why that made you get up and go after what you want every day even if its small steps. Small steps to creating a better social circle. Finding the right communities for you, engaging with people who get it. You don’t have to force anything or be anything to anyone but your most authentic self and i know we hear it all the time but it’s so true. It’s better to walk around knowing who you are instead of pretending to fit in. You don’t have to mold yourself. I feel like you guys should do some inner self-reflection and talk with yourself, journal, rage draw, whatever you need to do. Even crying, things are pretty intense. But I don’t want you guys to go around letting someone else try to influence you and tell you what to do, its reminding me of a Bret man rock video he was saying something along the line of “don’t tell me what to do BITCH!” lmao. But for real, don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do with your damn life. It’s like they want you confused about who you are as a person. People seriously need to contain this obsessive jealousy and just mind their damn business. I feel like you guys need to be more kinder to yourself and show more compassion towards you! You’re very abundant and have a lot headed your way, i just don’t wanna see you giving up, fuck what people say about you! What gives them the right to try and tell you about yourself, unless you really need the reality check but I don’t think so. I feel like people really want to try this group. Don’t let em, nuh uh uh uh. You’re self sufficient on your own nd you didn’t really need me to tell you that, but i see it. You can take care of your damn self. Fuck the projections and let yourself live. Even if shits not so great, LIVE! Try to put a smile on that face everyday, but also feel your emotions and acknowledge it. I feel like you guys may not feel the love but you are so so loved, pease remember that, and I’ll tell u, i love you! Mwah! ] ❞
Affirmations -
Embrace divinity → i am a loved child of divinity. Reality is a love story written for me. I sit silently and experience the loving embrace from my eternal mother. I store up the words of affirmation of my ageless father. The tender words that spoke my consciousness into existence to become me.
Observatory of the mind → i have a happy heart. Today will be full of joyful moments waiting for me to discover. My gratitude overflows from my inner self to those around me.
Empowering friendships → i select my relationships carefully and invest in them fully. I am the average of the people i spend my time with.
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hiiii, hope everyone’s doing well, i know i know, im back lmao, and i didn’t forget about the other PAC, i just wanted to do this first. hope this helps w anything you’ve been going back and forth w, or any kooky energy that you’ve been wondering about, stay safe and don’t let anyone walk all over you! <333
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fel-09 · 2 months ago
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Clothes for a seamstress
In Mirkwood, an air of anticipation filled the silence before the harvest festival. Elves worked tirelessly to adorn the hall for the celebration, but all the royal attire, exquisite and majestic, was the work of a modest seamstress. For years, she had crafted garments for the elves and for the king himself, finding purpose in her craft.
This time, she had poured special care into Thranduil’s attire. Each stitch held her devotion and precision; each element reflected her pride. His cloak, the color of the midnight sky, was embroidered with golden threads that shimmered like starlight, and intricate symbols of his lineage adorned the cuffs. The garment was beautiful, embodying the wisdom and strength of the king of Mirkwood.
On the day of the celebration, all the garments for the elves were ready. She had meticulously arranged the final touches, assisting each of them in donning their finery, adding pearls and brooches with her delicate touch. Despite her modest role, her work was deeply appreciated—each elf expressed gratitude with warm smiles, though many did not even know her name.
The festivities had begun, and joyous music filled the hall, but the seamstress lingered in her workshop. She hadn’t found time to tend to herself, so she wore a simple, modest dress. Though it was a deep shade of blue, it drew little attention, and the narrow belt only accentuated her slight frame.
Eventually, she made her way to the celebration, hoping to remain inconspicuous. The hall gleamed with torchlight and dazzling outfits. She stood against the wall, quietly observing as Thranduil, dressed in her magnificent creation, greeted the guests. Her heart swelled with satisfaction, though he barely glanced her way. She resolved to stay in the shadows, but just then, an advisor approached and conveyed a simple, solemn request:
"The king wants you to come to his room."
A hint of mystery in his tone left her slightly apprehensive. She didn’t know the reason behind the king’s summons, yet she left the hall and followed him, abandoning her hope of remaining unnoticed. Entering his quarters, she found Thranduil standing by the window, deep in thought. His posture was proud, and when he turned to face her, his expression held a calm but intense authority.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice your contribution to this festival?” he began, his gaze meeting hers. “You labor for everyone, yet you come to the celebration in such humble attire, as if you are of no importance.”
She wanted to respond, but the king stepped closer. “You are a master of your craft and deserve honors no less than any guest here,” he said gently, his tone leaving no room for protest. With that, Thranduil produced a gown of purest white from a chest. Unlike her plain dress, it was beautifully embroidered with silver threads, shimmering in the moonlight like milky rivers beneath the stars. “Allow me,” he murmured, helping her into it.
Every movement of his was filled with respect, and she felt her heart quicken as he He began to take off her clothes slowly, her heart skipped another unexpected beat when she was practically naked in front of him, Thranduil tenderly dressed her in her clothes, his fingers expertly tying the knots in her dress , while his eyes looked at her open neck and shoulders with special trepidation.
He didn't dare to speak first, many years had passed since they stopped talking, because... he was still hurt that he pushed you away because of his grief. But now... His fingers gently ran down your back, making you shudder.
"In those moments several centuries ago... I though ..." Stopping, Thranduil did not dare to continue what he wanted to say, but his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your back to his chest, burying his nose in your neck.
"I miss you," he whispered, leaving a timid kiss on your shoulder.It was necessary for him...and for you as well, but he wanted to make amends with you.
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Humorous dialogue behind the scenes----->
Link to the post
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parmahamlarrie · 8 months ago
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Sugar, Sugar ~ 25k ~ Explicit
Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website. Louis isn’t waiting with bated breath for his soulmate either. He has more important things to worry about than love. Mainly, his career as a writer, publishing under a pseudonym. He spends most of the year buried under research and manuscripts, taking as much time as he would like, much to his publishers' chagrin. After receiving many millions after the death of his Aunt Ethel when he was young, he technically never has to work again. As far as soulmates go, he figures if it happens, he will be so old that he’ll be stuck in his ways. Or he’ll have grey eyes forever, he doesn’t fucking care. He can get his needs met through a sugar baby website. Or… The Sugar baby soulmate AU
Read on AO3 Here!
Artwork by the incredible @louieshalo
Part of @onedirectionbigbang
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hail-brod · 6 months ago
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The Days To Remember [1/2]
Jack Sparrow x FReader
MASTERLIST || Part 2
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Summary: What if Will had survived Davy Jone’s attack? And in return, the captain of the Black Pearl got what he wanted—to sail the seas for eternity. But as much as he desired the thrill of that curse, he was torn between a longing sentiment and his greed for exploration. It was either that or honor his chances. Well, he is a mad pirate. Why not settle for both?
WC: 3.1k
Warning/s: Mentions of gore, battle, and consummation, light cursing, light angst, suggestive themes, kissing, madman Jack, sexual tension, smut (next part).
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The battle with Cutler Beckett has met its end. The Black Pearl still stands as your fellow crewmates rejoiced with each other’s cry, voices rumbling out of their chests. Even in your previous state of panic over Jack’s actions to carve his heart out, and ramming it shut into the good ol’ dead man’s chest, your lungs cried out in victory. It was a battle that no man could have ever imagined to happen right before their eyes.
Well, at least maybe just in your case. But you’re damn well sure your mates had the same thought.
This is history.
And as much as you wanted to cling in this moment’s joyous reverie, a single look at the other ship floating right next to yours reminded you of what else your party had gained.
The Flying Dutchman carried itself with a new light, and at the helm stood its new captain, all with his sloppily grandeur demeanor and a wildly pleasant grin. He looked satisfied, and you can’t blame him. This is what he had his eyes on the moment he learned what the ship had to offer; immortality with his beloved sea.
You’re glad that he’s alive and will be around for a very long time and that he got what he desired. That he’s there standing in the presence of his new crewmates who will definitely treat him as a revered captain, heeding his command for it is he who sails it. But as he crossed the deck and towards the plank to bid his farewells on the trusty Black Pearl, his long time darling ship, as well as his loyal crew, you start to feel how much it pained you to see him go as your earlier mirth wisped away into shards of yearning.
You already knew what he planned to do. You were made aware so. And yet, why does it seem like you aren’t prepared yet for this outcome?
There was a falter in your emotions. You have half the mind to not let your bitter smile turn upside down. This is not how you wanted your dear captain to see you one last time.
“No point in hiding it, can ya?” a murmured-like voice speaks next to you. The one-eyed pirate, Ragetti, looks upfront at the sight you were looking at, and points a finger at Jack who’s making the most of his banter with Mr. Gibbs. “If you don’t say it now, ‘tis but a moment you’ll look back on with only regret to accompany it. Well, personally I think you’d regret it more if you’re looking to be with the captain. The Dutchman ain’t worth o’ it all, I tell ya.”
Next to him, his bald-headed companion added. “What the bloody hell do you know? We could take on the ocean and be immortal beings. I’m sure the captain wouldn’t mind us boardin’ in.”
“Go on then! See how it feels to be alive for centuries. It’s just more work ferrying souls—endlessly,” the man bites back with a wisdom you never thought he’d have.
The two bickered on, but you went back to Ragetti’s words. No point in hiding it, can ya? Exactly. At this very moment, you and him are now on a very different footing, on vastly separate worlds. Even if you meet each other at sea whilst he carries on his duty as captain of the Flying Dutchman, it’d be but a fleeting memory that will only tear you away from him before you could even touch the man. So it’s now or never.
It’s either you pursue him or not at all. You have to do it. With only regret to accompany it.
But a line has been drawn, so what in the hells could change once you did so? Wouldn’t that leave you with a broken heart that could easily shatter more into bits?
Jack got what he wanted. What else could he want from you? The helpless woman he saved once from the ocean’s wrath. The torn woman who became a part of his crew even when she had a family waiting for her at shore. The awed crewmate who was only grateful to be a part of his adventure. The teary eyed crewmate who tended to his fatal wound, thinking he would die at her hands.
The appalled crewmate who questioned his choices for choosing her over a hill of wealth—which was very unlike him.
And those were just that. A bond that you will never forget, much less something that you’ll regret. This is what he clearly chose, and you don’t plan to disrupt it. Just like you thought earlier; he’s satisfied.
Yet you see him almost drop his smile from across the deck, a passing gloom that felt so wrong to see on him. It worried you. Nevertheless, his loose smile still hung on as he ran his eyes around the crew, before landing it on you. There was only one thing you could give him, a lopsided smile that you know he’d always return. But this time, it didn’t reach the creases of your eyes and for a moment there, Jack’s expression was that of a relieved one. As if being able to navigate your presence amongst all of the other people onboard was a shining starlight in a vast dark sky. Though, it wasn’t long before he was back at his countenance of flaccidity, elbows at his sides as he sauntered over to you.
“And my darling partner in crime. How could I forget about you?” he teased.
“I’m honestly thinking you did,” you quipped. You then gestured to the docked ship beside the Black Pearl. “With that marvelous thing waiting for you? I’d be over the moon. Well…it could use a bit of color if you ask me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, eyes seemingly not leaving you. There was something about his gaze that felt intense, and you couldn’t help but meet it, engraving those gleaming dark brown irises into your memory.
As if he was examining you the same, a slight tilt of his head made you aware of the seconds passing by.
“The sea is yours to sail, captain. There’s a lot waiting for you out there,” you said. Your tongue felt bitter.
“Well, yes.” He nodded nonchalantly. “Dead souls precisely.”
“And an endless round of treasures I suppose,” you added as you smiled. And he returned it all the same as the corners of his mouth stretched up into a genuine grin, his golden tooth peeking through. The way he looked at you—it was heartfelt. Not the usual mischief he'd wear. Not a prickle of anything unserious. But it didn't last long as his grin slowly dropped to a melancholic one, his eyes never leaving your own.
Some swell of pride resided in you, seeing that this separation also bothered him. But you won’t assume the extent of such sentiments. You were a team, and that’s where it lies just as it ends.
“Yes…” he hesitantly says. “I believe so.”
For a second there, the world stopped. It was only him that you could see. And in the process, something cracked within you, but you held yourself up with a tilted and pathetic attempt at an amicable smile.
It was time.
“Fair winds, captain," you bade.
His eyes fell from yours, taking him a moment to respond. “Farewell, love.”
And the next thing you saw was his back turned as he strutted far out of your reach.
This was it. This is your choice, and his. No matter how much it hurts, you know that he cherished you as a crewmate just as much as you cherished him as your captain—the savior who made you see light again into this world.
Jack Sparrow was your beginning, and now it’s time to venture forth where that will take you. You owe it all to him.
But, as the said pirate headed towards the plank ‘proudly’, then catching a glimpse of both Elizabeth and Will, that demeanor of his quickly changed with a tilt of his head, annoyance settling through himself like the many times he had to change his course of action. He was one step up the plank when he stopped, seemingly contemplating on the choices he just made.
You had no clue what irked him so. And as you wondered, he turned to you.
What? 
The next thing you know he was already striding towards your way, and soon smashed his lips into yours.
At first you didn’t know how to react, but by then it was instinct to shut your eyes close as you felt him deepen the kiss with his hand cradling your head from behind. There was no room for rejection, so you melted into it as his other arm banished all distance between your bodies. He held you closer like nothing before. As if this particular split bothered him just as much as you did.
Out of all the women he wouldn’t be seeing for a long time, it’s you he chose to cherish. And you dreadfully feel lucky right now.
Somehow, the kiss felt like flying as you feel yourself slightly tilt back with his support, his lips a passionate maneuver. Not even his beard could hinder anything as it only served a far more thrilling sensation.
Who would’ve thought your dear captain felt the same?
For that single moment, the pirates around you didn’t matter. Although, you didn’t miss the comment given by one of them, pride dripping in their tone. “Aye, the captain must’ve heard me advice.”
Honestly, you’re fortuitously thankful if Jack actually did hear. And even if not, you’re not really complaining. Perhaps you should start listening to Ragetti’s words of wisdom more from now on—if you ever see each other again, that is.
But you didn't dwell on that further; you’re far too busy at the moment. 
When he slowly pulled back, the hand behind your head trickled down to your neck as you met his blazing dark brown ones, and you simply couldn't tear yourself away from them. Your poor heart rammed in your chest wildly.
Gods, your thoughts ran. Mum never forbade me to fall in love with a pirate, didn’t she?
And as if he could read your thoughts, that charming smirk of his surfaced.
Which is actually a sign that he's about to do something mad.
You frown. "Jack, what—"
Before you could complete the question, the pirate beat you to it as he diverted his attention right past you, his voice booming across the ship. "Hector!"
"Oh, mercy," the said man sounded displeased as he replied, seemingly knowing what Jack had in mind. "No."
From a second's moment of confusion, you eventually realized what Jack was trying to ask the feathered hat pirate. And if your memory serves you right, this almost feels like the one you’ve witnessed during the battle in the maelstrom. With the look Jack chanced at the two newly wedded couple earlier, you started to register where this was leading.
And you can’t believe it yourself. He is Captain Jack Sparrow for a reason, and he's as mad as ever.
The said man simply stretched out an accommodating smile at Barbossa, and with his arms still holding you close, you tried to look behind you only to see that the latter was staring down his nose at your captain.
“Come on, mate. Do it for an old friend, will ya?” pleaded Jack.
You immediately turned back to Jack. “Please confirm it to me that you’re asking him what I think you’re asking him.”
Jack averts his attention back on yours, his smile turning soft. “I think it’s perfectly obvious now, love.” His hands held you closer from behind just like before, thrill stirring in his dark-pooled irises. Though, it quickly changed as his brows folded. “Unless you don’t fancy the idea.”
You almost wanted to laugh at that, but you refrained. “With me? Now?”
“Aye.” He courtly nodded, as if he was telling you the obvious. “And I doubt your village would want you to join the Dutchman’s crew, so there’s no other day, is there?”
You chuckled at that. “Yes. Yes, I suppose they wouldn’t.”
There’s a part in you that’s begging to digress—that this is your choice. But you also know that they are waiting for you; the rapport of kinship to your homeland is what you also held dear. Besides, piracy was not your first option into livelihood. You already had your fill of adventure, even though it was only a matter of debt. To you, the soils of a land and the buzz of a lively village is where you belong.
Yet you stall here, thinking of bounding yourself to someone who’s now forbidden to step on land. Even so, you believe marriage has more to it than just living together.
“Marry me?” Your words came out quite impulsively than you let on.
Jack’s brows deepened a frown as he tried to process your question on whether you were asking him about his point—or that you’re actually asking him to marry you. But it wasn’t long before he eventually caught on, the corners of his lips upturning.
“Yes,” he answered, a compulsion he can’t turn away. “Marry you.”
You hear Barbossa mutter something as all the other heads turn to his annoyed form, who’s now stepping down from the quarter deck. Stance as intimidating as ever, the feathered hat captain sneered at Jack. But when he landed his attention on you, it at least subsided.
If you blink, you could’ve missed the somewhat compassionate expression he almost fully wore.
“Are we doing this or ya lot already regretting it?” he plainly asked, standing a few feet away from you and Jack, looking like he’s already regretting it himself.
“Oh, no,” Jack started. He pulls away from you, but his palm met yours, and bends down to place a kiss on your backhand without breaking an eye on yours. “No regrets here…nor will I ever.”
You should’ve been shrinking in embarrassment by then, knowing that you were surrounded by a crowd of all kinds of pirates, or melting on the wooden floor from the way Jack ravaged you with his gaze. But none of that prevailed in overwhelming you when Barbossa started his officiation of this middle-of-nowhere marriage.
Jack gave you all of his attention, and it was clear that whatever Barbossa was saying didn’t matter to him any more than you were. You hadn’t even realized how quiet everyone was—maybe just out of respect. But you thought wrong when you glimpsed both Ragetti and Pintel leaning at each other in a heartfelt manner as they eyed the occasion. It was sweet of them. Even Elizabeth herself regarded you with a wide smile as she rested her head on her newly wedded husband’s shoulder.
“Just get to it, mate,” Jack called out to Barbossa. “Skip it to the ‘I do’ part?”
You swear your officiant looked like he was one word away from shooting Jack. You couldn’t help but lightly shake your head, smiling. Jack didn’t even spare his first mate a look.
“Jack Sparrow,” Barbossa mentions the name venomously, and soon after, actually heeds Jack’s request.
When he was finally asked the question, he answered it in less than a heartbeat. “I do.”
There was no teasing at play, nor the walls he puts up as a captain. This time, he sounded as serious as he could have ever been. The smile he hung wasn’t the same ol’ frisky one he’d give you when he’s wrought with excitement. It was different, and you know where you'd seen it before.
A time where he decided the fate of something he couldn’t bear to lose.
And at that moment, he took your breath away.
You had not even heard what or how Barbossa asked you the question, nor the words you unleashed from your mouth. But you know it’s what your heart desires.
“I do.”
Your officiant didn’t even have to say anything else when Jack himself leaned in, catching your lips on his.
I could get used to this, you said in your head. For whatever time we’ve got at least. You couldn’t think of anything else, aside from realizing that Jack had such softer lips than you would have thought of.
“Somehow I’m surprised I haven’t gone and tried to kiss you before all this,” he says as soon as he breaks away, his forehead leaning closely to yours as his hat casts shadows over your faces.
“Did I actually leave you wanting, Captain?” you replied, reminiscing the ghost of his lips on yours.
“No captain, no,” he folded a brow. “Darling would be rather appropriate, wouldn’t it? And yes. Should I demonstrate my love for you again? Because I’m willing to take me single day at shore with just you.”
His gaze didn’t waver as he said that. Sure, you could identify the lingering sexual desire in the door of his soul, but there was also vulnerability. If this was anything like the ways of his seduction to other women, it was not. Because he isn’t trying to seduce you—you’re already his.
Though, with the weight of what the future holds, along with the fact that he’s bound with his new cursed ship with ten years worth of service, there is only one day of respite given to him from the harshness of the seas.
And to be with you.
Well, you mildly think he’d view the seas as harsh when for all his life he loved it. But only a day on land is just as harsh. A longing desire even.
And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that this is the last day you’ll ever hold each other again like this. Not for the next year, nor five. But for a decade. And just until that single day comes again, will you two be able to burn your hearts out.
Your hold on him tightened without you noticing. Getting eloped so suddenly without thinking it through first was certainly not on your list for today. It was all about surviving Davy Jone’s Locker and the battle with the pirate lords. But by the time Jack incited his desire of marriage, it was pretty much clear you both wanted no regrets. For even how too mad it was for you, it is a decision that you will look back on with gratitude for yourself.
Whatever may come, you know that you love and will love this madman.
So as you brushed past the flutter his words had given you, shamelessly suggesting the idea of consummation, your toes pushed you up as you tasted his lips once again. “Shall we make it worthwhile for the next ten years then?” you softly muttered to him after.
Recovering from the kiss, he fluttered his eyes open, grinning. “As worthwhile as can ever be, love.”
>> Part 2
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As what I've typed above, this will have a pt. 2 which I've already written and been moving onwards to finishing it with a wee bit of editing (jk not wee actually). Here's to hoping I'll be able to settle that next week. I'm just excited because it's been fun writing this >.< Especially the next spicy part— Do don't expect too high on my smut prowess. It has been awhile since I wrote one but it isn't for naught. Because even I shocked myself with what I've just written (´。_。`) And lastly, if anyone wants to be tagged for the next one, feel free to comment about it or anything!
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Ko-fi?
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