#words cannot express how much i admire this child

[planetdream]

striped carnations.

characters. hwang hyunjin, reader, lee minho + special guests

genre. angst, flower shop!au. words. 5.6k

synopsis. upon hearing the news that your boyfriend is going to propose to you, hyunjin realizes that he's had feelings for you all along

fic contents: hyunjin is both a chronic overthinker and a hopeless romantic. needless pining. angst. heartbreak. talks of marriage and relationships. suggestive content: hookups; heavy make out + implied drunk sex.

💌 if you think you've seen this before, it's because you have! I deleted it like a month ago lmao....but here it is again <3

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a big fan of flowers. A flower can describe the emotions behind every pivotal moment in one’s lifetime—a wedding, a funeral, graduation, or a life-changing event—though not limited to only those situations; Hyunjin's love for, and belief in flowers reaches across all occasions and sentiments. His admiration of flowers as a whole goes beyond the smell, or how visually pleasing and/or vibrant in color they look. Flowers allow him to express feelings that he feels words simply cannot—even if no one else around him understands it in the way he does. Hyunjin loves flowers because of the stories you can tell with them, and thus, he chooses to document his life with flowers. 

As a small child, Hyunjin would pick flowers at the park for his mother; or one of his various personal art projects. A bundle of flowers bunched up in his tiny little hands as he ran to his mother with the widest, dimpled grin he could make. To his mother, the flowers are a sweet sentiment of his admiration towards the woman raising him. However, to Hyunjin they meant so much more than that—a physical manifestation of a deep awareness that he couldn’t find the words to explain until he matured as a person. This habit of gifting flowers out of pure emotion was probably the one constant in his life other than the crushing weight of heartbreak. 

Heartbreak is much like flowers. It has so many different colors and feels, it takes on a multitude of shapes and smells—and it is pretty easy to romanticize. 

When Hyunjin was in kindergarten, he gifted a daisy to a girl he had a small crush on. She ended up stomping on them, but that didn’t stop little Hyunjin from pining after her. The tradition of Hyunjin picking flowers as a romantic gesture continued in a slightly different way as he got older, and the helpless pining after something unattainable never stopped. Coincidentally, a few of his exes are named after flowers—the unfortunate downside of that is that it still pains him to look at whatever flower the ex had been named after, even if they ended the relationship on good terms. 

These are some moments and beliefs that have shaped Hyunjin—and his future. 

In the second to last year of his high school career, Hyunjin began working at a flower shop close to his childhood home. Morning Glory Floral—located between a convenience store and a bookstore (both of which are frequented by Hyunjin)—is a tiny little flower shop that Hyunjin knows like the back of his hand. He’d originally started out as a cashier and order taker until he eventually worked his way up to being one of three floral designers at the shop. 

He typically runs the shop most days of the week, opening in the early morning and closing in the late afternoon unless he happens to work Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—on those days the store is open until 7PM. Hyunjin usually arrives an hour, or sometimes two, before the shop opens just to get a headstart on things. He prints out invoices, splitting the orders between their type—local, domestic/international; additionally divided between funeral, wedding, and those non-applicable—as well as making sure pre-made flower arrangements are ready for pickup. The shop is fairly busy on a normal day (although that typically comes down to season), therefore, a lot of Hyunjin’s time during the day is making sure things are running smoothly and without delay. 

Floral design is an art. One of the many forms of art and creative expression that Hyunjin excels within. In his mind, floral design can easily be compared to architecture or interior design (both Hyunjin contemplated as career options). The vase is the foundation—who or what is this flower arrangement for? What color helps express the emotions behind the arrangement? Then—what flowers should be used (if the customer doesn’t have a request)? What should be the focal flower that grabs people's attention? Do the flowers chosen represent the overall message? Which filler flowers and greenery should be used? The shape of the arrangement matters too. As do a lot of other minuscule details. 

The details are important to him. Making sure the customer is satisfied with his creation is easy, hardly anything to worry about, but making sure that he’s satisfied with the work he’s done is an entirely different thing. A simple glance at Hyunjin creating a flower arrangement and it doesn’t seem like it takes too much time or energy. He moves in fluid movements, placing one flower after the other, a blank expression on his face. In reality, it’s a time-consuming process and it takes a lot of thought and precision to create the arrangements he does. Still, his hard work pays off greatly. He didn’t know he’d be where he is today, but he’s great at what he does—which is why people always come back. 

His favorite floral arrangements to make are the ones that have to do with romantic love—a date, wedding, or anniversary—since Hyunjin feels it gives him a lot more freedom for creative expression. Like floral design, love is of significant importance to Hyunjin, especially romantic love. Seeing people express their love and admiration for each other via flowers is beautiful to him, as he is a hopeless romantic after all. 

A small order of carnations arrived at the shop one morning. Unmarked and not on any receipt nor written in any book. Carnations are typically cut flowers (as in, used for decorative purposes), so consequently, it’s not unlikely for the shop to have extra, especially since Felix, one of the other floral designers, loves to use them for arrangements. The flowers catch Hyunjin’s eye in particular, not only because they’re striped carnations, but because there are three of them, obviously not enough to do much with unless for a small arrangement. 

Felix, as full of knowledge as he is, once explained to Hyunjin that during the Victorian era, carnations were used to speak very straightforwardly. Unlike other flowers that have many different, complicated, and often overlapping meanings, carnations could be used to respond to something—like a love proposal. If one was asking another for their hand in marriage, the recipient of the proposal may respond with a yes by giving the proposer a solid color carnation, such as pink, white, or even red; however, the yellow carnations mean no. Striped carnations generally mean a refusal of love, almost regrettably so. I love you, but I cannot be with you. A message that Hyunjin is more than familiar with. 

Perhaps it’s an omen. A sign that he’s going to fall headfirst into another relationship resulting in yet another heartbreak. A sign that if he falls for someone again, he may not get back up this time. Hyunjin often wonders if fate is real—he knows it is, he can feel that it's real—but has he been fated to fall in love over and over again just to reach the same emotionally catastrophic end that he always does? Maybe he did something in a past life that would warrant this anguish.

He shakes the thought from his mind, for the time being, choosing instead to blissfully and ignorantly fall victim to his subconscious. He won’t admit it out loud, and when the thought arises, he pushes it out of his mind in embarrassment, but Hyunjin loves the feeling of heartbreak. It stings. In both the worst way and the best way. And while he genuinely does hate heartbreak, it’s almost like he’s addicted to it. 

And then the bell of the door rings, signaling to Hyunjin that there’s a new customer. He looks up from behind the counter and his eyes meet Lee Minho, your boyfriend. 

You and Hyunjin had met in the fourth grade. It can only be described now, all of these years later, as an instantaneous click. You both felt comfortable with each other and eventually opted to do everything together, very soon becoming the best of friends. From grade school to adulthood, you’ve kept a secure friendship. Confiding in each other about everything—when one of you is low, the other is sure to pick them up. 

There’s a sheepish smile on Minho’s face as he approaches the counter. The expression takes Hyunjin aback. The smile is surprising because Hyunjin swears that the older man typically has a permanent scowl on his face. Hyunjin greets him, giving a small smile and a wave. 

“Need flowers for a date?” Hyunjin asks, fixing his standing posture. 

“For something better actually,” Minho’s smile grows wider, as if he cannot contain it. Hyunjin thinks this might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen across Minho’s face. Minho places his hands onto the cold surface of the counter, lightly tapping in it. “I’m proposing this weekend.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops in awe. Never had he thought Minho was a man interested in marriage. Not only that, this means he’d be losing his best friend to married life. Next thing he knows, you’ll start having kids! His mind begins to race around, unforgiving. 

When Hyunjin the two of you were younger, you and Hyunjin would talk about your hopes and aspirations for the future. Of course, the topic of marriage and creating a family entered the conversation. You expressed that when you truly love someone, there’s no need to get the law involved for a piece of paper. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, he felt that your reasoning was a bit childish, joyous of true, deep love. However, when you told him that though, it put a couple of things into perspective—most significantly, how you and Hyunjin are opposites. Hyunjin aches to get married and wants a few children too, he thinks the idea is beautiful. Still, for Hyunjin, the possibility of him actually getting married feels too far-fetched; unimaginable, and unattainable. Would anyone love him enough to want to marry him?

Minho breaks Hyunjin away from the depth of his mind. “I was thinking of a nice bouquet to give them, and you’re my guy for that.” 

Hyunjin exhales as he looks at Minho. He can’t even crack a small smile. He feels he should be happy—but something within him feels wrong. Someone dear to his heart is getting married and he can’t even pretend to be excited. He should be happy for you. He knows he should be happy for you; but he cannot find happiness within himself at all at this moment. 

Hyunjin and Minho aren’t exactly friends. Had it not been for you, they doubt they would have even crossed paths. It’s not that Hyunjin doesn’t like Minho, he’s a cool, upstanding guy; but is he worth being your boyfriend? Let alone, is he worth being your husband? In Hyunjin’s perspective, absolutely not. Sure, from the things you tell him, Minho treats you with love, care, and the utmost respect, but Hyunjin thinks there’s something…off about him, even after four years of you and Minho being together. From Minho’s perspective, it’s obvious that Hyunjin has a crush on you. He’s teased you about it multiple times, but to you it seems highly unlikely that your best friend since practically forever would be in love with you—but it happens. 

“Here, I’ll show you the ring.” Minho fishes into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a black velvet box. He opens the box, places it on the counter, and turns it to Hyunjin. 

The ring is gorgeous. Hyunjin can tell it’s been updated and has had a few repairs, probably a ring kept within the family. He knows this because after looking at so many rings, both through work and in his own free time (self-admittedly pathetic of him to just go looking for engagement rings and wedding bands while he’s desperately single), he’s starting to notice the small differences. 

“Wow.” Is the only thing that leaves Hyunjin’s mouth. 

Minho continues to talk, but it all goes in one ear and out of the other. Hyunjin is lost within his head. One thought after another, layering and locking himself within his own mind. Hyunjin remains on auto-pilot for the rest of his conversation with Minho. Towards the end of it, Hyunjin fishes out the most pathetic fake smile he possibly could. Hyunjin, per usual, promises to do his best at making the best floral arrangement he possibly can. Before he leaves, Minho says something to Hyunjin that sticks with him for the rest of his day. 

“They’ve always liked your arrangements, so just do what you do best. I trust you.”

The carnations are back. Another three. 

Coincidentally, they arrived on the same day that Hyunjin has to create the floral arrangement for Minho’s proposal. Hyunjin can’t lie, while this project was constantly on his mind; subconsciously putting all the pieces together one by one—he absolutely put the entire thing off until the last minute. Hyunjin has never once dreaded coming into work until now. Just the thought of working on the arrangement makes him sick to his stomach. But now there’s no more time left. 

Everything that Hyunjin needs for the making of the arrangement is spread out right in front of him. 

He chooses a white vase as the foundation—white, along with being a symbol of purity or innocence, is also a symbol of new beginnings and marriage, the latter representing what the arrangement means as a whole—sleek and rounded in an hourglass shape. Usually, for engagement bouquets, Hyunjin uses a clear vase to ensure that the flowers stay healthy and alive (of course while being taken care of). However, neither you nor Minho are any good when it comes to taking care of flowers, so Hyunjin figures he can do whatever he wants when it comes to his creation.

The foliage comes first—Hyunjin preps the stems, pulling off the lower leaves that might hang in the water, clipping the ends off the stems before they dive into the water. Floral arranging is not only art, it’s a science. The plants have to be inserted into the vase at an angle so that the arrangement can take shape. The arrangement needs to be balanced and colorful, preferably. Vase arrangements require layering, it’s easier to start with the heavier flowers first; two red chrysanthemums on opposing sides. He cuts the stems so that the flowers hang low in the vase, almost acting as a focal point if not for his statement flowers. 

As a standard for his arrangements and bouquets, Hyunjin chooses flowers that signify love and new beginnings. He also needs to make sure that the flowers he chose actually look nice in the bouquet, as if not, he feels the need to completely start over.

As he works on his creation, Hyunjin allows himself to get lost within his thoughts. Everytime someone comes into the shop, a smile on their face as they’re picking out flowers for their lover; Hyunjin feels something within him break, just a tiny crack at the surface of his identity. For a brief moment, with his work, he’s allowed to peak into the lives—the relationships—of others. Everything from the great moments of excitement to the bad moments that hope and pray to be forgiven. All of it sends Hyunjin spiraling into the depths of his memory. 

He remembers his high school years. Going back to classes after the summer he hit a growth spurt. His voice got a bit deeper, too. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Hyunjin was desirable. Shy as he was, he enjoyed it. And after a few experiences, he’d seemingly gotten over his timid behavior, though still introverted. It was a strange time. He remembers falling deep into infatuation only for things to not pan out. Before the situationship begins, the sharp sting of heartbreak lingers. 

Just a few months back, Hyunjin got his heart broken yet again when his now ex-girlfriend left him to get back with her ex; some total loser named Changbin, of whom she had been originally dating sometime before Hyunjin. It’s not you, it’s me, she said. I just don’t feel the same as you, she said. Maybe we’ll meet later in life, or in the next, she said. He knew she didn’t mean it. That she was just feeding into his past-life and karmic romantic ideologies to lessen the blow. Within that same week (at minimum, three days later), he sees a mutual friend post a picture from a double date including said ex and her boyfriend. 

It stung. Badly. And he’s over it now. In fact, he’s so over it that he can hardly remember her name. Sooyun? Miyeong? See? He can’t remember it. It wasn’t the worst breakup that Hyunjin has experienced. Not by a mile. The worst actually was a couple of years ago, his longest relationship which lasted a year exactly, getting betrayed on the one-year anniversary of their one-sided love. The memory still stings, so Hyunjin prefers not to talk about it—but once it comes time for self-reflection, he thinks of the memories in awe—sickly attached to the distant memory of something that failed to work out. What if? He thinks. 

But three months (yeah, his most recent relationship was only three months; yes, he’s still a bit broken) with someone—constantly talking to them, getting acquainted with their lifestyle, seeing them often, kissing them, feeling them—changes a person; for better or for worse. So, Hyunjin is lucky he got out of it with only hurt feelings. A faint tug at his heart and, understandably, anger surrounding the situation, if anything. Nothing unmanageable that he can’t work or date away. 

Past relationships have driven him into a slump. Depressed and unable to create or live, even, until he finds himself somewhere within the next person—both metaphorically and actually—when he’s really at his worst; the ‘best’ thing to do is to relieve his stress by burying himself inside of someone in an effort to escape intense personal feelings. This occasionally backfires whenever he catches feelings for whoever he fucks and the cycle repeats itself. Over and Over. An unfortunate life lesson that Hyunjin has to continue repeating: spiritually, possibly due to the sins made in a past life; but actually, because he rarely ever learns from past mistakes, especially if it has to do with romance. 

Hyunjin, is, quite simply, a hopeless romantic in every sense of the term, but at a specific level of naivety. Aching to see the good in people or a situation even if it has near-disastrous results to his psyche. Before even speaking to someone, he’d have already envisioned their first few dates, their marriage, and growing old together. It embarrasses him badly. And no matter how many times he has to sit down with himself, reminding himself to calm down, that he should take things slowly, he’s already experiencing heartbreak. 

He’s tried the dating scene multiple times since this most recent breakup. A few dates here and there, and more than a few hook-ups as well (What can he say? He’s a single man). He was mostly encouraged by other friends, and you, to reopen his Tinder account and get back out there. And Hyunjin, easily influenced, did just that. It didn’t last long though, simply due to the fact that he found himself bored almost immediately after each date or hookup. He’s simply wandering through life, boldly yet blindly, without inspiration. 

Then he feels that spark. It’s just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his creation. 

That very familiar, almost sickening spark deep within his soul that he found himself craving after going so long without. Feelings. Of the romantic variety. For you. He can say that he initially realized them during a party hosted by a friend of a friend. You were surrounded by some of your close friends, drinking, and smiling all pretty as you do; and that’s when it started. It was like the universe expanded in a way that could be physically felt—similar to that of an out of body experience—an intensity that feels so right. He could damn near feel the temperature changing in the room due to some kind of universal shift. The vibrations of the music gets heavier, and the chatter of people blurs together—time slows down but is going all too fast. 

But perhaps he’s had these feelings for you for a while now. Maybe since you first met as children. Hiding them deep within himself. Covering up his feelings by searching for you through countless other people. Perhaps it is why many of his relationships never work out. 

It has to be fate calling out to him. Hyunjin clings to this thought and the feeling that it gives him.

Hyunjin questions himself like he does every time he realizes that he has feelings for someone. What do I like about them? He ponders it. Though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Everything. He likes everything about you. From the way you type on your phone to how you order food at restaurants. He loves how concentrated you get when reading something and he likes how you walk a little weirdly. He likes your opinions and the way you see the world. Those small, specific things that make you who you are, are what Hyunjin loves. You as a person, inside and out. The good and the bad. All desirable and undesirable things. 

This is bad. Really bad. The realization feels bad. 

Hyunjin has had feelings for tons of his friends before. He never tells them, but if he does���because hey, life is short—then it never goes past a -with-benefits label. His friends mean a lot to him, and while a romance could strengthen a relationship, it could also weaken one. Some people are meant to stay friends. Perhaps that could change between you two. But it cannot. Hyunjin remembers one little fact: you are in a committed relationship. Of four years. With Lee Minho of all people. 

What does Lee Minho have that Hyunjin doesn’t? He’s just as pretty. Just as charming. And he’s a few centimeters taller. Plus, he’s known you longer than Minho has. If anything happens, you’d certainly pick Hyunjin, right? But Minho wants to marry you and Hyunjin doubts himself as being ready for that type of commitment even though he craves it desperately. 

By the time that Hyunjin has finally finished the final pieces of the floral arrangement and sneaks away from his thoughts, Minho saulters into the store. Speak of the devil. 

He’s smiling just as wide as he had days ago. Tonight is the night that he proposes, Minho informs Hyunjin. To which, Hyunjin congratulates Minho—but he hopes that you say no. He prays that you say no and, just to add insult to injury, you laugh in Minho’s face, despite how crude it’d be. In the pit of his stomach, though, he knows that you’ll say yes to Minho.

Minho leaves with the flowers after a few minutes of chatter; but not before he pays and leaves quite a hefty tip. 

The rest of Hyunjin’s day goes by dryly. A permanent pout rests on his face, as noticed by his coworkers. He’ll just shyly smile so as to not cause any worry. Hyunjin remains on autopilot. Smiling, talking to his regulars and answering the questions he might receive throughout the day. For the most part, though, he retreats to the dark and cozy area of his mind. 

—

He decides to take a refreshing walk back home. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk, and he does it often. More time to think. His headphones are tight against his ears, but not uncomfortable. Hyunjin initially chooses to blast a soft, slow tempoed song before he switches to something more heavy and aggravated. 

The music is cut and a millisecond later, his phone rings. It’s you. Oh, god. You’re going to rub your relationship in his face. 

When Hyunjin answers it, there’s an, albeit fake, smile on his face as if you could see him, and he begins to speak in a typical cheery tone. He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t understand a thing you’re saying and he panics. He stops in his tracks, hand curling to grasp at air in a panic. His eyes widen while he searches for any thought in his brain to console you. 

“Are you home? I’ll be on my way, okay?” He informs you, voice filled with worry. “We can stay on the line until I get there.”

And he stays on the phone with you until he reaches his home; and then the entire fifteen-block walk to your place. Avoiding the eyes of those who wonder whether he might be talking to himself. He hurries, speed walking the entire way—and almost sprinting at one point when your sobs had suddenly gotten worse—in order to reach your apartment in less time than it would usually take. 

He’s buzzed into your building and within a few seconds he’s at the door of your apartment. He doesn’t need to knock, as you open it immediately. Tears are staining your cheeks and you walk up to hug Hyunjin, not bothering to welcome him into your home. 

Now, everything is seemingly on pause, and Hyunjin is comforting you through your own heartbreak. Once again, time is both slowed down and sped up—he’s present but still lost in his head somewhere. Still, he waddles the both of you into your apartment, and kicks the door closed with his foot. 

He notices the flower arrangement he’d made just hours prior, sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin questions. Dealing with those emotions, especially right after they surface, is difficult, and the last thing Hyunjin wants to do is push you into speaking about it—he knows the fresh wounds of a heartbreak all too well. So, he remains by your side, patient, and comforting until—if—you decide to speak. 

The two of you begin rocking side to side slowly. It’s soothing, and you’re able to speak just quietly. 

“Well, he proposed,” His stomach turns, tightening to the point where he becomes nauseous for a moment. Hyunjin even nearly rolls his eyes, but the thing that relieves him is the reason he’s here—obviously you turned Minho down. That, or Minho dropped dead; but that’s not as likely. Yet, the thing that nearly makes Hyunjin sicker is how much he hates that he’s happy that you declined the proposal. 

“And I declined. I-I said I wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Told him I wish we had discussed it a bit more before he did anything so we’d be on the same page. B-but I begged for us to stay together and he said… he said he couldn’t do it.” 

You bury your head in Hyunjin’s chest, weeping a bit more. 

“I know it hurts,” His words get lost in his mind somewhere, feeling as though he isn’t adequate enough to comfort you. 

“It hurts so bad.” You grab his hoodie with your fist tightly, twisting and tugging at it. 

“Let’s just cry it out. That always helps me.” He suggests, hand running up and down your back. 

“Cry with me? Like that scene in Midsommar?” You laugh through your sobs despite the hurt you’re in. Not that it matters to Hyunjin, of course. You can feel him laugh and, fortunately, it makes you smile. 

“Only if you want me to.” He unknowingly returns the smile. You don’t respond, but you ponder it—even as just a joke. 

The room falls silent but the silence is comfortable. That’s what you love about being around Hyunjin. You intrigue him, and while he always wants to know what’s going on in your mind, he never pressures you to speak. Sometimes, we learn more about ourselves—and to an extent, other people—through silence. 

The hug breaks. You fail to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You walk off to sit in the living room and Hyunjin goes to get water for the both of you. He sets the glasses of water down and takes a seat next to you. 

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asks. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them onto his jeans.

Your frown somehow deepens before you speak. “Went to stay with his parents.”

Silence. Hyunjin can tell that you’re lost in thought. He feels a bit odd. Individually, you both have gone through a significant amount of breakups; but each one is different from the last. It’s been so long since you’ve had your heart broken. To see you like this after so long—eyes red and puffy with a tear stained face, bottom lip quivering as you try to console yourself—it breaks Hyunjin. He does what you would do for him. 

“What will help take your mind away?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

You ponder for a moment. “Remember back in February when you and Miyeong broke up? The sleepover we had while Minho was away? We stayed up all night eating snacks and watching romance movies,” 

He nods. Despite being deeply hurt to the point he got sick, the latter part of that week was one of the most enjoyable times that he’d had in forever. The two of you ate, drank, cried, and watched cheesy romantic movies (to which Hyunjin cried more). Through the stuffy fog that is heartbreak, Hyunjin was reminded that, sometimes, life isn’t so bad. 

“What if we did that again for a couple of days?”

Hyunjin ponders it, considers it, but… “We both have work.” He pouts.

“Not tomorrow, though. I just don’t want to be alone right now,” You need him. A crutch. A support system. And you know he’ll never let you down. “Plus, you act like you haven’t stayed over for long periods of time before! Remember the time that Jisung refused to shower out of spite so you slept over here?”

Hyunjin lets out a short chuckle. He knows that when he goes back to his apartment, it’ll be left a mess. But for you, he doesn’t mind cleaning up after Jisung. “Fine. But only because I love you and I want you to feel better, loser.”

—

“You just have to find your thing, you know?” Hyunjin takes another shot. Neither of you are sure just how many you’ve both had. 

“Like, you know, my thing is art, and flowers and, you know, expressing myself with them. It’s the one thing I can always come back to and feel good about. Not betrayed, not hurt, or anything. But good. That shop—god—it’s like the one place in this world that’s for me.”

He’s venting now. He shouldn’t be. This is all about you. Tonight is all about you. So he cuts himself short, words still lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s a momentary silence, eventually broken by you.

“Are you implying that you want to fuck your flower shop?”

“Wha…? No! I’m just saying…I’m trying to help you!” His ears become red.

“Hm. Not sure. Sounds like you’re confessing your love for your job,” Hyunjin looks at you with a face full of temporary disgust. “I’m jooking! Find my thing, something to express myself with, I know, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” 

��Don’t be.”

Silence once again occupies the room, planting itself comfortably between you and Hyunjin. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. You do, though. 

“You know what’s kinda funny?” 

“Hm?”

“Minho used to mention, from time to time, how he believed you had a crush on me,” You smile. Hyunjin, however, is caught off guard, eyebrows raised with his eyes slightly wide. “I would always laugh it off but part of me kept thinking What If?”

“What if I had been with you instead of Minho. I mean, you wouldn’t propose to me without having a simple fucking conversation, right?” You ramble on. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.” “Two secrets! It’s actually two secrets!”

“One,” You tilt your head to smile at Hyunjin. “I had the biggest crush on you for years. But I was so hurt because you kept going after literally every fucking body else. Wish you had paid attention to me.”

“And Two!” You continue, not as sad. Ignoring the previous sentences that came from your mouth. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you let me?”

He can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth. For a moment, Hyunjin feels ill. He’d somehow missed the signs. You wanted him, too. His eyebrows string together in a brief expression of sadness. He shakes it away. Hyunjin nods and leans in, his eyes close and he puckers his lips. Within a second, he feels your lips on his and then your hand on his thigh. 

Sparks. That’s the only way that Hyunjin can describe it. Your mouth is warm, wet and Hyunjin can only melt into you. The two of you melt into each other. Lips mashed together as your tongues slip into each other's mouths, swapping spit. At this point it’s more than kissing. It’s heavy and messy. It’s full of hurt and passion and the feeling of being missed. Or having something missed out on. Uncertainty. Neither of you have come up for air to interrupt the makeout session. Losing yourselves within each other's mouths—lips and tongue, occasional teeth. 

You end up climbing atop of him to straddle. Breaking the kiss to pin Hyunjin to the floor. You stare down at him, searching within his eyes. “Do you want me?”

“So much.” The two words leave Hyunjin’s mouth desperately. He’s in anguish. 

He tries to sit up, to chase your lips but he’s properly pinned. You plant one soft kiss against his lips. You stand, beckoning Hyunjin to follow you to your room; disappearing into the hallway. And Hyunjin does just that; leaving his sober self to pick up the pieces of a drunken, immoral night. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Let's see what Clover did (yeah i had to play the whole game again):

Decided to find out what happened to the five missing children and bring them home to the surface

Complimented Froggit

Comforted Flier

Distracted Penilla from drawing so she could take a break

Left the exact amount of money on the lemonade stand despite there being no attendance to take it

Gave Sweet Corn a hug

Helped Rorrim fulfill his purpose (make others not criticize how they look)

Respected Decibat's need for silence

Joined Crispy Scroll's excited yelling over anime so he wouldn't feel lonely

Complimented Micro Froggit

Played count the dust with the dust bunny monster

Didn't disturb Decibat while he was asleep

Even when helpless and wrongfully attacked, decided to befriend Dalv, thus causing him to give up on his lonely lifestyle and start making friends

Because the monsters in the Ruins finally got to go outside, all this happened: 1) Sweet Corn got to open a free hugs booth 2) Penilla got to draw things outside of the Ruins, see the big corn cob picture she made for Dalv, and realize that she and Dalv ARE friends 3) Crispy Scroll got to go to the dump and find more anime tapes 4) Flier could learn new dance moves and (maybe) buy a beach house 5) Rorrim could go on adventures

Took their time to get to know Dalv and explore his house

Didn't invade Pops' privacy and waved at him before closing the wardrobe

Danced with Frostermit and got it out of its shell (literally and metaphorically)

Put Insomnitot to sleep

Ended up buying Mo's poor quality products because they knew he was struggling financially x1

Patiently explained the dangers of an open fire to Know Cone

Believed that the remnants of the snowman were full of potential for new life

Played a game with the Shufflers and became their friend

Got the Honeydew Resort band to play that furry monster's favorite song

Found one monster's mitten

Got another monster a coffee and matches so they wouldn't freeze

Found a map for the lost tourists

Freed Slurpy from the pole

Spent time chatting with the Honeydew Resort shopkeeper and learned more about Dalv, who ended up fulfilling his dream of having an organ concert in the end credits

Got Trihecta to split up and literally and metaphorically get off each other's backs so all three could be who they wanted to be individually

Begrudgingly insulted Martlet so they could spare her

Forgave Martlet for fighting them and trusted her to keep them safe

Gave Martlet the highest scores on her questionnaire

Pat Dunebud

Ended up buying Mo's poor quality products because they knew he was struggling financially x2

Made Cactony feel love for the first time

Fixed the elevator in the mines

Helped Bowll put his guard down and discover his true self

Found the mine worker's hat, causing him to get a promotion in the end credits

Did their best to dance with El Bailador despite being bad at it

Sat next to Kanako's friend on the swing

Told Violetta she had nothing to fear

Forgave Martlet for abandoning them

Saw potential in the sapling to grow into something beautiful

Hung out with Starlo and the Feisty Five despite the gang kidnapping them

Was worried about what was bothering Ceroba while she was checking out Starlo's movies that Kanako used to watch with him

Proved to Blackjack that humans can be good

Didn't attack the FF even though they unfairly ganged up on them

Even though they were unfairly attacked by Starlo, they surrendered to him

Didn't make fun of Starlo's true face

Didn't get upset with Martlet for yet again abandoning them

Cleaned Jandroid

Helped Goosic produce music that's actually pleasant to listen to

Ended up buying Mo's poor quality products because they knew he was struggling financially x3

Calmed Guardener down to the point she stopped attacking them and Ceroba

Helped Telly-Vis work together

Calmed Ceroba down while she was yelling at the Steamworks robot

Spared Axis, knowing that he was the last thing left of Chujin, and trusted Ceroba with her plan

Overall took their time to talk to everyone they met so they could understand their situation

Changed Martlet's entire perspective on humans

Tried to understand the deeper reason as to why Ceroba was doing what she was doing, hugged her and forgave her

Decided not to hide underground and willingly sacrificed their SOUL for monsterkind even after being hurt, attacked, and killed so many times (also during the 100+ runs)

Knew the sacrifice might mean nothing but went along with their decision anyway and put faith in whoever would come after them

Waited for their friends to leave before they died, in a lot of pain

Before that reassured Ceroba they'd be okay so she'd be at least a bit comforted

Delivered true JUSTICE

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astrology Observations Pt.4

Long time no see everyone :) i have a few astro observations i wanna share so lets get to it

Lilith/Mars individuals carry an unspoken confidence that ignites a fire in the eyes of other people and can make others fall in love with them. Their self expression comes in through the form of bravery and letting the world see their raw truth unfiltered, not giving a damn about what others think. This makes for strong attraction and they have a hard time getting people off of them, and i mean this in two ways: one way being that others have 'feelings' for them 'down there' *wink wink* causing them to show a deep sexual attraction to them whether they are uncomfortable with it or not. their unconscious thoughts will be shown to the lilith mars person with seemingly lil to no effort. they wont know why they just know it feels good (or embarasing/harboring a lot of guilt) however these lilith babes are about exploring parts of ourselves that we mask and no judgement zones are a necessity when in their spaces. the other way is others will be triggered by them due to the octrasized lililith/mars person embracing their freedom and living their truth no matter what. all in all, both fall under secret (or not so secret) admiration.

Lilith/Pluto are the powerhouses of being who they are and when they want to be it. Literally octrasize by people all their lives and wen through lots of trauma. the way they express their power is through their traumas and taking back what was stolen. People have a hard time looking to them as real people because of their auras they possess. their sexuality/sensual energy is unmatched and is hard to tame. at some point they know when to let go and let this energy in them grow. if it makes people go crazy then so be it. naturally hypnotizing i cannot tell you how bad this cause you could definitely give away something to them and all they did was look you in the eye with a smile. Their natural aroma scares others but also perplexes them. its like damn are you a witch? maybe, maybe not. its just so much deeper than that. a personal message for them is being aware of yourself and the world around you is gift. People that dont know themselves will look up to you in the long run, you are the underdogs of your generations and you're healing a lot of wounds that most people will never face because they do not like what they see in the dark. You like your freedom and do not care what others think, you make your own rules because thats what we're meant to do. Be humans who create our own paths for ourselves and move to the beat of our own drum. Dont take what people say too close to the heart, youre mirroring back the shadows they hate in themselves.

Venus/Mercury has a gift of gab. Highly inspirational and their words connect you to the divine. The heart space opens up when they express their truth through the power of words, the use of their hands and the beauty of their minds. A rare placement since its only in conjunction and sextile. Not too many people have this one. Venus/Mercury babes channel from a source that connects them to the power of love, and when you speak you touch people and we fall in love with you all over again. If you have a voice please sing, speak, share with us your gift of light. Thats what you're called to do. If you are a writer share your stories with the world, your creative mind takes us back to the inner child. Enjoy it while its here!

Mars in Saggitarius. Go. GETTERS!!! When they want something they will not stop to get it. Their fire burns to achieve something bigger than themselves and with the right amount of optimism they will make it if they put the work in. One of the signs that mars works wonders in, because they can achieve their dreams quickly because of the excessive amount of fire in this house. Saggitarius only grows, never limits itself. The more they work hard the more good fortune comes their way. Others can get nervous around their because of their boastful confidence. Its too big.. its too wide. its too strong.. it wont fit or whatever beyonce said LMAOO thats yall. Very big egos and for a good reason. Yall get what you want when you want it. Nothing can stop them from getting what they need and mars sag babes wanting more in life is whats going to keep them moving.

Pisces Ascendant babes are the muses, the stars, the messengers, the oracle, the originators. These dreamers are capable of seeing the beyond even when the world doesnt see it yet. The world could doubt them but if they believe in themselves more they will prove to the world that all dreams are possible. Their reality is formed through subconscious thinking, so they must pay attention to what goes on in the inside of their minds because thats what controls their day to day reality the most. Shapeshifters who naturally move with the beat of the universe, their new look can be formed not just from an idea but because something new is changing in the world, and they are normally the first to get this information first. This is why some of them are trendsetters in fashion. Everything happens in spirit before it is physical, however for them the spirit and the psychical will always meet. And with their transformations it can sometimes be a message from the divine. Before anyone says its not that deep, i wanna tell you that anything with pisces is going to be that deep LMAO no other way to spin that. Their connected to the cosmos and their pineal glands connects them to other worlds we just havent tapped into yet. Its a gift. So a lot of times when they change, something in the environment changed too. All in all, pisces asc are good at picking up on other peoples energy. they can absorb others vibrations and anything around them and this can be a problem for them. Pisces asc will consistently have to connect to nature and cleanse more often than most because they can feel that sense of foggy-ness around them due to picking up on energy that is not their own. They will have to strengthen their discernment skills, level up with shields for the body and wearing certain garments/jewelery for protection because their auric fields naturally take in more than what they can handle.

5th House Plutonians are strong powerhouses in the form of creation. Their dark power is spilled out into the world of arts, giving them the nutrients they need in healing traumas or any dark thoughts thats been held in themselves for so long. Outlets that form a stage for these individuals makes for incredible perfomances that nobody will ever forget due to the way they make others feel. In this life time, they will learn to accept this power with grace because even if the way they feel performing for others makes them feel uncomfortable, someone is being triggered to feel those raw emotions that we hide in us. If they cant find an outlet for their creative expression, they will start to 'go crazy' and be more into psychotic behaviors that will make them lose touch of reality. This raw power that they have must be fed to others as we need to feel the deepness of our own bodies so that we can grow into the beings we are meant to be. Pluto in the 5th house can create an influencer who is just being themselves and the world around them is either inspired by or deeply maddens them. The gift of being yourself is their strongest attribute to society, and can be one of the ways for them to have power and establish some sort of wealth. If they never use this gift to soar into any artistic expression, the world would be missing a fine piece to the puzzle: Raw Truth. I hope this helps!

i hope yall enjoy!

[celesteleoves]

theres one scenario i CANNOT get enough of and its everyones first time meeting the boys (baku, kiri, izuku, sero, denki etcc) gfs AHHH 🤭🤭🤭

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

ೃ࿐ mha boys! x fem!reader

summary: what the request said!

warnings: mentions of aggressiveness (cough cough, katsuki)

a/n: YESYEYES!! i love this idea sm and in honour of me reaching 200 followers I thought this would be the best scenario to write abt!!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ೃ࿐

obviously, it was quite shocking finding out mean, gruff, and bulky katsuki bakugou had a girlfriend who seemed to get along with everyone! unlike a certain blonde, aggressive boy-here—

there were different reactions… izuku was quite shook when he met you, even expressing it.

“HOW ARE YOU DATING KACCHA-” cut off by katsukis explosions and your calming voice sent the crowd on a riot. when you spoke, katsuki listened.

matter of fact, he wouldn’t turn his attention to anything else besides you.

there were taunts from his classmates (cough cough the bakusquad) but it was all in good spirit of course!

it’s time someone tamed that beast!

ೃ࿐ IZUKU MIDORIYA

contrast to katsuki, many were not that shocked that he had a girlfriend as izuku was very charming and intelligent even if he didn’t think so himself.

others simply nodded their heads when you walked in, understanding how well you and izuku worked together.

a few comments spurred out like, “DOES HE RAMBLE WITH YOU TOO?”, “so, is he really all mights secret love child?” and to which you responded happily and cheerful while your bashful boyfriend sat beside you.

you guys are quite cute, the class approves.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU ೃ࿐

with eijirou’s manliness, again, many were not that shocked that he had managed to charm his way into your sweet selfs life.

just like bakugou, he received lots of teasing from his class mates. mina really exposed him though.

“hey– PSST, Y/N! did you know kirishima used to have black hair!” followed by kirishimas nervous fumbling and red cheeks, “ashido! 🫣”

you seemed strong, holding your head high the exact same way kirishima does. and so, class 1.A thinks you guys are a perfect match for each other.

ೃ࿐ SHOTO TODOROKI

when he introduced you to his class, everyone went silent. you were the sweetest bundle of joy and were a slight contrast to shotos personality himself.

one thing everyone noticed though, was when you talked. shotos lips would turn slightly upward and his cheeks would coat a light pink as you held eye contact with him and spoke fondly to him and his classmates.

yep, he was infatuated with you, he won’t even deny it either. but, shoto deserves happiness and some serenity in his life.

so, there wasn’t as much teasing! instead, everyone grew fond of you and shotos relationship. they approve!

DENKI KAMINARI ೃ࿐

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!” are the first words that come out of everyone’s mouths, jirou was genuinely shocked that he, who was almost ranked with mineta in weirdness, could get a girlfriend.

yet again, he had his ways of charming the lady’s and he managed to charm a very beautiful and kind lady! he’s lucky.

for him, EVERYBODY taunts him. bakugou literally COMES for his neck (no, like, literally)

“YOUR DUMBASS HAS A GIRLFRIEND? YOU?!” katsuki says that while he shakes denki around by the neck, which brings the girls to the topic of the drawbacks of his quirk.

“have you seen him after he uses his quirk?” jirou chuckles.

“ITS HILARIOUS!” mina adds in, cackling and slapping denki on the knee who is now, blushing and trying to defend himself.

“ILL ZAP YOU AND THEN YOULL SEE HOW IT FEELS–” you simply laugh, making him go quiet and turn to you.

he watches with admiration as you grin, smiling at everyone around you.

the girls mainly catch this moment of calmness from the electricity quirk boy, giggling and observing.

he needs some consoling and reassurance in his life, you can do that. so, they approve!

ೃ࿐

hope you enjoyed!

[daydreamerbunny]

Star-Crossed and History-Lost

Aegon II Targaryen x sister!female reader, hints of Aemond Targaryen x sister!female reader as well

Genre: Smut (pwp)

Summary: You adore your brother, Aegon, while married and growing resentful to your other brother Aegon. You reminisce on your moments with Aegon while you care for him after being burned and plan on his escape.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: targ incest, infedility and pregnancy (brother and sister)

Author's Note: Please do not engage with this fan fic if you cannot read the warnings above. I felt inclined to write this. It may be very all over the place, so apologies for that. There also may be some grammatical errors as well. Lots of dialogue at one point so...bear with me on that. I want to write more for this character very soon!

You weren’t sure what or if Aegon could hear, but you read to him. You smile to yourself as you did. Maybe reading about the Doom of Valyria to your crippled brother was not the best of materials, but it’s how you know to comfort him. It’s how your mother spent time with you. You look up from the texts at Aegon. He is melted and crippled, but how you would kill to see him smile again. You prayed until your mind was buzzing with nothing but Aegon. Praying that the Seven will spare Aegon from the Stranger for now and heal him from his ailments. Praying that Sunfyre is not dead.

The doors to the king’s bed chambers opened and your husband struts in, his facial expression not moving as he observes you at Aegon’s side. “Wife.” Aemond greets. 

“Husband.” You greeted shortly back and did not meet his gaze for much longer, shutting the large book and placing it on the nightstand. “Have you come to check on our dear brother?” You asked. 

Aemond approached you slowly while still looking at Aegon. You stand between Aemond and Aegon on the bed, watching your husband drag his fingers against the blankets. You take a moment to look at his face. To others Aemond can be hard to predict and read, but for you it was like looking through glass. His face is a face that is frozen in time. The moment he was born the second son. The moment he lost his eye. These moments still walk with him wherever he goes. 

There was a time where you deeply admired Aemond. He held himself with grace and he was patient. He was a reserved, but kind lover.  The two of you were content with being together. Then Storm’s Rest happened and you cannot look at your husband the same. He is now a kinslayer. It’s bad enough already, but he will not share his guilt and you resent him for it. Aemond knows this and his pride will not let him tend to your marriage. The only thing he managed to tend to was fulfilling his duty of giving you children, which your first born is still forming in your belly. 

As your resentment grew for Aemond you spent more time with Aegon. Alicent did not approve of how much time you spent with him as she thought you to be so proper, or maybe a reflection of herself, and she did not want Aegon ruining you. Your affection towards Aegon has always existed since you were a child, but Aegon and Helaena were betrothed and you shoved any hope of marrying him aside.  It was clear you were going to have to marry Aemond.  A duty the two of you were happy to fulfill, but now all it is is duty. 

“Someone will need to rule in his stead.” Aemond stared at Aegon and his condition, his face unchanged. 

“And I imagine you intend to plead your case to the council that it should be you.” You stated. 

“And who do you think it should be, dear wife?” He turned his gaze to you. You knew he wasn’t actually asking you. 

You bite your lip and feel your eyes start to water. “Do you even care about your family, Aemond?” You place your hand on your stomach as the tears fall down your cheeks. 

Aemond places a hand on yours and leans closer to you, “everything I do is for this family.” 

You hold his gaze and lower your voice. “Did you burn him?” 

Aemond gulps and pulls away, “the King fought well. Now, I believe you need some rest. This pregnancy has been rough on your mind, dear sister.” He turns to walk out the door. 

“I’ll never forgive you.” Your voice shook, but it was strong. 

“I can live with that.” Aemond said curtly as the doors shut behind him. 

A sob escapes your throat. You hate the person Aemond has become. You’re married to a kinslayer and a possible attempted kingslayer. You are pregnant with his child. You hold your swollen stomach as you sit down back in your chair next to the bed. Aemond used to dance with you and drop off flowers in your chamber, but now he courts his books, his swords, his dragon, and his revenge. 

“Aegon, you cannot leave me with him.” You sniffle and wipe your tears with your handkerchief. 

“Sis…ter.” Aegon croaked out, but his eyes stayed shut. 

“Oh, thank the Gods.” You smile and stand, leaning over to look at his face. “I’m here. Do you need anything? Oh! Let me get mother and the maester.” You excitedly say and run as fast as you can out of the room. 

“Sis…ter.”

It was your name day and your mood was sour.  Your father had died and your husband had killed your little nephew shortly after.  Aegon was crowned king, which converted Alicent to the Dowager Queen.  Your grandsire insisted that they still have a name day celebration for you.  Otto favored you greatly.  You were smart and dutiful.  Besides him favoring you he also thought it was wise to show the kingdom that the crown is not shaken by Rhaenyra and by what Aemond has done.

It was a beautiful day.  The sun hung high above the gardens of the Red Keep.  Music played gracefully as lords and ladies chatting with a glass of wine in hand.  You stayed close to the food table and nursed many lemon bars.  The food cravings you were having were rather intense and lemon has been on your mind.  “Mmm.” A small hum of contentment escaped your lips.

“Hiding away from the attention, are we now sister?” Aegon appeared at your side with a grin on his face.

“Is it obvious?” You ask as you wipe some crumbs from my lips.  “I did not expect you here.” You said.

Aegon almost looked offended.  “It is your name day, sweet sister.” He spotted a pitcher of wine and poured himself a glass.  “Of course I’d be here.” He smiles at you.

It made your heart pound.  “Well, Your Grace, will you do me the honor of keeping me company?” You ask with a soft smile.

Aegon took a swig of his wine and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles softly.  “Happy to oblige.” He offered you his arm.

You rest your arm in his and follow his lead.  Aegon has the two of you hug the outside of the crowd.  It was enough to get noticed, but not approached.  Aegona and you made your way to the gazebo and you sat down, looking up at him as he leaned against the structure with his wine still glued to his hand. There was a moment of silence between the two of you.

“How have you been feeling?” Aegon gestured to your stomach while he asked.

“It’s a mix of feeling ill while also being hungry all the time.” You sigh.  “If I eat and indulge too much, it just comes right back up.”

“That sounds horrible.” He sips his wine and scratches his head.

“It is most definitely not pleasant.” You giggle a little and nod. “I’ve missed you, Aegon.”

Aegon smiles softly and places his cup down, walking over to stand over you.  “I’ve been busy adjusting to being the king.” He held out his hands and wiggled his fingers, coaxing you to hold his hands. You can still hear the music and the chatter of feast goers.  You look out of the gazebo before grabbing your brother’s hands and standing, following him to the middle of the gazebo.  “Can you handle a dance, sister?” He asks.

You grin and line yourself up with him, arms out to mimic the wings of a dragon.  “Can you handle not stepping on my feet?” You jest.

Aegon shook his head and smiled, the dance started.  Not only the physical dance but also the one in your heart.  The nausea squashed down as your eyes locked and your skirts twirled.  Aegon only danced with you.  The one person who could convince him to place his wine down and stop brooding from the dinner table.  The last person he danced with was Helaena at his own wedding and that was when he was still a young boy.  There was something about you.  It was probably how you were such a dutiful, sweet person.  You were there to wipe the sweat off his brow and to dab the tears off his cheeks after his mother’s verbal or physical lashings.  There was that, but you were also fun.  You snuck into your siblings rooms to go dragon riding in the dead of the night.  It was mostly just Aegon who would agree.  It truly was a shame that you were born after Helaena.

Aegon had many chances to whisk you away and take your maidenhood.  It would have been very easy to make you his mistress, but Aegon held you in a higher regard.  You were not a maid who cleaned his linen or a whore in the Streets of Silk.  You were a princess and his sister, although it was not like you were not trying and it did end up working.  It was not too long ago either.  Aegon cut eye contact with you and his eyes trailed down to your stomach.  You were not showing yet.

“How long ago was it that we rode to the lake on dragonback?”  Aegon asked and reconnected the magnet that was your eye contact.

You knew what he was asking or insinuating.  This was something that you wanted to keep to yourself.  You did not want to complicate either of your brother’s lives.  You were going to not question anything and raise this baby as Aemond being the father and which it could be.  Your wedding night did not fall too far behind the rendezvous at the lake.  You had hoped, just this once, that Aegon would stick to his cups and not even question this.  

Yet you could not lie to him.  “A little more than a month ago, I suppose.” You suddenly felt nauseous and took a deep breath, counting your steps.

“Is it mine?”“I don’t know.” You answer back quickly.  “I believe it to be Aemond’s.” 

You step forward and then stop, holding your arms out again like a dragon.  Aegon moves behind you and places his back against yours, stretching out his arms to match yours.  He stared out into the gardens in the general direction where his mother and grandsire were entertaining guests.  His nose scrunched up in disgust.  Another thing that he could not have.  This is another area that his brother has bested him in, even though he stood there with the Conqueror's crown on his head.

Aegon turned and quickly turned you by your shoulders, cupping your cheeks and kissing you deeply.  A noise of surprise was quickly covered in the passion of the kiss.  It was like he was trying to swallow you whole.  For a moment, you kissed back.  Your hands placed on his chest to make sure you do not fall as his force leaned you backwards a little.  He took your breath away and sucked the oxygen out of your lungs.  You lightly pound on his chest and attempt to push him away.  Aegon pulls away from the kiss, but his grip on your face remains.  The two of you pant and stare into each other’s eyes.  

“Aegon, we must keep the little sanity that this family has left.” You say slowly, feeling as though you need to diffuse the bomb that is your lover.  

Aegon let you go and tilted his head up slightly, holding a finger up as he spoke.  “If there is ever such a moment where we can take Sunfyre and Fyredancer and fly so fucking far away…I will take it, dear sister.” He cups your cheek again with one hand and rubs away the tear now falling from your eye.  “I have never wanted for anything.  Not this damn crown or this upcoming war.  All I wanted was to be loved and wanted, and I only got that from you.”  He dropped his hand and retrieved his almost forgotten wine cup.  

“Our family would blame us…for so much.” You breathe out as you fantasize about the idea of running away from the keep, the faith, the war, and the attempted love that your mother gives you and your siblings.  

“History would not blame us in the long run.” Aegon takes a long gulp of his red wine and takes one final look at you.  “Enjoy your name day, sweet sister.”

“My sister..such a good soul, is she not, Maester Orwyle?” Aegon complimented you as take the glass of water from his lips and dab the liquid away from his mouth.

Maester Orwyle and you share a small smile, “she is a natural nurturer, Your Grace.  There is no doubt she will be a great mother.” He shared the compliment as he put his tools away.

Aegon’s leg was propped up as it was still on the mend from being broken.  His eye and skin have healed at a remarkable rate.  It was challenging, but yet rewarding to see someone bounce back from such conditions.  There was no word on Sunfyre’s conditions, but Aegon is convinced he is dead.  Ser Criston Cole swears Sunfyre is still alive, but in no condition to fly.  You try to reassure Aegon of this, but it’s no surprise that he is drowning in his self despair.  

You smile softly at the two men and nod, “the two of you are so kind.”  You rub your hand over the small bump forming in your dress.  “The next time we sit you up, Your Grace, we need to brush your hair.” 

“Ah, always doting on me.” Aegon reached his good hand out and you place your hand in his, “what would I do without you?” He asked.

Aegon was putting on a bit of a show for Maester Orwyle, but he still meant it.  “You honor me, my King.” You squeeze his fingers and reach up to pat his cheek.

The doors open and Lord Strong enters the room, the armor of clubbed foot hitting the floor.  You turn to dismiss the maester, but he is already on his way out of the door.  “May we have a word, Your Grace.” Lord Strong asked as he reached the end of the bed.

“My sister stays.” Aegon commanded as Larys looked at you.

“I was not going to protest, Your Grace, in fact I am glad she is here.” Larys nodded his head at you.

“Lord Larys, what do we owe the pleasure?” You ask as you stood at Aegon’s bedside and to which Aegon rolled his eyes.  It was so easy for you to channel your mother when you are being polite, but impatient.

“I must ask you, You Grace, to steel yourself.”  The lord started. “We must leave King’s Landing quickly and we will not return for some time.” 

“What?” Aegon and you asked, furrowing your brows.

“The pretender has found three new riders for her dragons.” He continued with his arms crossed.

Your eyes widened at your half-sister’s progress and looked at Aegon, “that’s impossible.” You breathe out.

“Your husband thought the same, princess.  He flew to challenge and was rebuffed.  Fled in terror from what I hear.” Larys looked down for a moment as he spoke and back up to Aegon.

You put your hand on your stomach and look out the balcony as if you were looking for Aemond.  “He deserves no less.”  Aegon drawled out after a weak attempt at a chuckle.

“Be that as it may be he has gone in fury to Sharp Point and laid waste to the whole of the town.” Larys continued as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Fucking mad cunt.” Aegon took a breath and said, “she really did it then.” 

“I fear so.” Larys nods.

Aegon looks down at himself with just his eyes and back up to Larys, “so, what was the fucking point in all of this then?” He asked.

“The Gods are cruel, but I hope you see the urgency–” Larys started.

Aegon shook his head and interrupted. “No…no.  I am the King, why must I run?”  You look back over to Aegon and wipe the tears threatening to fall away from your eyes.

“Because the Prince Regent is going to kill you.” Larys said confidently.  Aegon gulped and you snapped your head to Larys, shocked at his statement.  “You were in danger before, but now he is thwarted and he is angry.  There is no telling in what he will do, but we have an opportunity while he is away.”

“An opportunity to push him out.” You reply.

“Take me to my throne and once he returns I shall take him prisoner.” Aegon said and you nodded.

“And what then?  When Rhaenyra descends on you with her seven dragons and you without Vhagar, what then?” Larys asked and it made you return your hand to your stomach, reaching to your baby for comfort.

Aegon remains silent and Larys walks over, sitting on Aegon’s bed.  “With anticipation with little bumps in the road I have moved away Harrenhal’s gold reserves to the Iron Bank in Bravos.  We can live well and remain until what is coming has passed.” Larys looked at the two of you while he spoke.

Aegon began weakly chuckling at the proposition.  “You want to take my sister and I to Essos? To live with the goat fuckers?” He asked.

You put your hands on your temples.  This was blowing your mind that Larys is proposing this.  “Lord Strong, Aegon is in no condition to travel and I–” You pause.  There are many things you could say here.  You are pregnant.  You are married to Aemond.  You would break your mother’s heart, but you want this.  There is no tricking yourself here.  This is what Aegon spoke about on your name day.

“It’s best to live, I think.” Larys moved his head to make sure you were looking at him.  “However you do it.”

“Is it?” Aegon asks.  “My dragon is dead.  I am burnt and disgusting.” You shook your head as he continued. “ And alone and I’m a cripple.” You want to protest, but you let the men speak.

“You’re not alone.  You have your sister, who loves you very dearly–” Larys spoke.

“Yes, but my cock is destroyed. Did they tell you that?”  Aegon just kept talking and staring at Larys.  “It burst in the flames like a sausage on a spit.” You closed your eyes at his words and wished that the mental image would leave your brain.  “How am I supposed to make love to her now?  Even the very idea of running away with her is now ruined.  In my head, we would ride away on our dragons together and raise our own family.  No duty but to each other and our children.” 

“Do not despair, Your Grace.  Let your brother and the pretender destroy themselves in blood and in bitterness.  When they are spent we will return.  And the people will rise up to meet us.” Larys attempted to pull Aegon out of the spiral he was going down.

“I cannot even piss without it running down my leg.” Aegon says, looking off between the two of you.

“Aegon.” You interrupt and kneel down.  “This is probably what is best.  Aemond has no remorse for what he did and you know that.” You grab his hand that is resting on his stomach and squeeze it, making him look at you.

“They will tire of their endless deprivation and fear.  They will hail the returning king.  His father’s true heir.  Aegon the Victorious and Risen from the Ashes.  Aegon the Peacemaker.” Larys goes on to list various titles.

“Aegon the Realm’s Delight.” Aegon said as he looked away from you and started to stare off into the distance.  Imagining the people calling him what they called his older sister years ago.

“Princess, I rely on your help to make this plan happen.  Do you wish to do this in your condition?” Larys asked while nodding towards your stomach.

You gulp and nod, “I am not so much worried about myself, Lord Strong.  It is my brother I worry about.” You stand, but do not let go of Aegon’s hand.  “What of my dragon?” 

“She will need to stay here.” Larys said and continued, “do not worry, princess.  We will be coming back.”

“Sister, we will be free.” Aegon drew your attention back to him with a half smile on his face.

“At what cost?” You ask, but you smile back at him.  You lean down and kiss his forehead, not expecting him to answer your question.

Aegon smiled as you rushed past him on top of your dragon, Fyredancer.  Fyredancer was a quick and nimble dragon.  It was only a little smaller than Sunfyre as you took your dragon out a lot more than your other siblings did, aside from Vhagar.  She was a pale purple-gray with orange on the wings and she was as pretty as a sunset.  The two of you suited each other.  Aegon commanded Sunfyre to move faster and to catch up with the she-dragons.  It was the middle of the night and the only thing that lit the sky was its moon and stars.  Aegon flew behind you and watched you turn in your saddle to smile at him, nodding your head down towards the large lake below.  Aegon gestures outwards as if to say, “after you, sweet sister.”

Once landed Aegon follows you to the edge of the lake.  It was incredibly dark out, but his eyes have mostly adjusted to the darkness.  He watches you strip your riding gloves and toss them to the side on the ground.  Your eyes were focused on the water in front of you and your hair was braided back and down the length of your back.  Aegon stayed back for a moment to observe you before approaching you slowly, stopping behind you.

“Surely we did not sneak out of the Keep on dragonback just to stare at a lake, sister.” Aegon jested and pinched the fabric of his own gloves, shimmying them off his hands.

“You’re right.” You turn your head and point to the ground with your eyes.  “Sit with me? Please?”  You ask as you sit to the ground.  

Aegon rolls his eyes, but not at you.  He was rolling his eyes at the fact that he did not even hesitate to listen to you.  He tosses his gloves over to where your gloves had landed and sits next to you, leaning back on his hands.  He looked up at the sky and stared at the moon, observing that it was a full moon this evening.  This caused him to look at you and to his surprise, you were already looking at him.  Aegon’s eyes were now fully adjusted to the night.  Your violet eyes stared at him like he was a slice of cake.  It caused both Aegon’s heart and ego to swell.  “Well, I must be the most handsome lad you have ever seen to be staring at me like that.” He grinned at you.

You blushed and turned your head forward, cursing yourself silently.  You smile shyly and decide to play into Aegon’s banter.  “The moonlight suits you.” You compliment.

Aegon tilted his head and reached up to turn your chin haphazardly to look at him again.  Your eyes were so enticing.  They were wide in anticipation and your lips were parted, your chest rising up and down just a pace faster than normal.  His gaze softened and he reached over again, running the back of his hand down your cheek.  Your eyes fell closed at the touch and your own hand reached up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.  You didn’t flinch nor push his touch away.  You welcomed it.  Aegon turned his hand to cup your cheek and leaned closer to you, his fingers dipping into your neat braided hair.  He moved as though you were made out of glass.

Aegon shifts to his knees and runs a hand down the length of your braid, finding the small string that kept the plait intake.  You watch as he unravels your long hair and sigh as his fingers run over your scalp, helping your hair fall into place.  Aegon was privy to the beauties of a woman, but this was someone who loved him.  His hand finds your chin again and his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, watching your eyes dilate at the action.  You mirror his actions and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone.  Aegon closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys your touch, savoring the gentle touch of a woman he loved.  He opens his eyes slightly and moves both of his hands to your cheeks, swooping his head down to finally capture your lips in a kiss.

You welcome the kiss and fall back to lay flat on the grass, bringing him down with you.  Aegon naturally slipped himself between your legs and put one hand out next to your head to balance himself.  The kiss quickly turned heated as tongues were mixed in and small gasps of air, fueling the two of you’s desire to soar.  The hand that was on your cheek moved down to your throat and he held it there as his tongue danced with yours.  He tasted like the wine your family had for dinner.  After a moment of that Aegon pulled away and kissed your jaw then made his way down your neck.  Hot and wet kisses were left wherever he could reach.  A quiet moan escaped your throat as teeth were now thrown into the mix and your hands found his head, digging your fingers into the stark blonde hair.

“You love this don’t you?” Aegon asked hoarsely into your ear.  “Is this what you wanted when you snuck into my chambers and proposed a dragon ride, sweet sister?” He teased you.

“Yes.” You feel your body flush with white hot desire as he teased you. 

Aegon chuckled slowly and reached for the clasp of your waist belt, flicking it open and letting it fall off of you.  His nimble fingers then found the buttons of your riding coat and popped them out of their sockets.  Now that your dress was falling to your sides the two of you sat up and shoved the coat off of your body, leaving you in a simple tunic and your riding pants.  You take this moment to also unbutton Aegon’s royal garment and expose his tunic, pulling at the strings of this shirt.  Aegon smiles and strips off his tunic, quickly leaning down to kiss you again.  You smile against the kiss and run your smooth hands down his pale chest.  He hums into the kiss and places his hand on your hip, moving down the length of your leg.  He breaks the kiss and watches his hand meet the edge of your boot.

“I need to see all of you.” Aegon breathed out and yanked your boots off your feet, chucking them in different directions.

You giggled at his eagerness and decided to help him, lifting your tunic over your head.  Aegon licked his lips and curled his fingers around the fabric of your riding pants, yanking them down your hips.  All that was left were your undergarments and Aegon nearly groaned at the sight.  His hand met the middle of your chest and pushed you down, he lowered himself so that his head was level with your breasts.  He grabbed your left breast and leaned forward, gently licking your nipple.  You gasp at the sensation and bite your bottom lip, nodding as he looked up for confirmation that you liked it.

Aegon then committed his attention to your breasts.  Licking, sucking, biting and kissing.  A series of gasps and moans leave you as the heat in your stomach grows.  You lift your hips on occasion to seek out some friction and Aegon quickly takes notice, running his free hand down your stomach.  His fingers slip past your undergarments and carefully touch your clit, causing your hips to jolt in pleasure.  He knew this was your first time and so everything was going to be new to you.

Aegon pulled away from his attention on your nipples to ask, “is this okay?”

“N-No.” You gasp again as his fingers pressed against your clit. “I need more.” 

Aegon chuckles and shushes you, “do not worry, darling.  I’ll give you more.”  He moved upwards to kiss you again and then shifted his fingers downward so that they entered you.

Aegon swallowed the moan in your kiss and your legs opened more to welcome his fingers inside.  He strategically pumped his fingers in and out to create a slow, but delicious friction inside of you.  Your hand grasped his bicep as you struggled to keep up with the kiss because all of your brain could focus on is his fingers inside of you.  He smiled against your lips and moved back down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin by your shoulder.  Your fingers dug into his bicep as he curled his fingers upwards and hit a very sensitive spot causing you to cry out his name in pleasure.  He pulled away to watch your face with a dark, heated expression.

Aegon picked up his pace a tad and continued to hit that spot, causing your back to rise from the ground.  His jaw was slack as his face almost mocked your pleasure ridden face.  His own arousal was making itself very known against your leg and he was now having the worst time to not just take you now.  He wanted to see you come.  You felt a build up starting to form in your stomach and you opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze.  “Oh Aegon, I can feel it.” You moan.

“Do not deny me, darling.” Aegon nods as if he was giving you permission.  “Come for me.” 

Aegon persisted his pace, but did not speed up or slow down.  He watched your face twist up in pleasure and your legs locked themselves around him.  You almost want to run away from how good this felt and then all of the sudden a white hot flame erupted all over your body, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.  You pant heavily as your orgasm washes over you and your body falls slack, moaning softly as Aegon slows down his ministrations. He chuckled at how spent you seemed.

“Oh we are not done, sweet sister.  Do not forget about me.” Aegon sat up and shoved his trousers down his hips to expose his cock.

You lick your lips and shimmy your hips then open your legs again.  Aegon grins and wraps his arms around your legs, pulling you closer to him.  “You look so pretty and all for me.”  He lines himself up to your entrance and collects any wetness from your cunt.  Once he is certain he is lined up correctly he leans down and gently kisses your lips.  “Ready?” He asks.

“Please Aegon.” You beg.

Fuck, Aegon thought.  He pushes himself in and moans out softly as the warmth of your cunt swallows him.  You breathe out a moan when he is fully seated inside of you and lay your head back, letting your eyes roll to the back of your head.  This felt heavenly.  It was everything you dreamed about.  Aegon had a slight grin appear on his lips at the sight of you.  Oh this is so dangerous.  He might have to sneak into your chambers every night just to be able to sink his cock into your cunt and take his fill.  No matter if you were married to Aemond or not.

“Does this feel good? Hm?” Aegon asks in a breath and licks then nips at your neck.

“Fuck yes.” You whine as his hips pull away.

“That’s it.” Aegon grunts as he thrusts forward and sits up, gripping your waist as he moves inside of you. 

His pace quickened as your body adjusted to him.  Aegon’s grip on your waist was harsh, but his hips were calculated.  Every thrust turned your brain into mush.  His eyes trailed over your body as your breast bounced and your mouth was stuck in the ‘o’ shape.  Each drag of his cock inside of your walls was ecstasy and it was spurring you into another orgasm very soon.  Aegon reached down and wrapped his arms around you, rolling over into a new position.  You were seated in his lap and eagerly started to ride him, throwing your head back at the pleasure of the new angle. 

Aegon moaned loudly and grabbed the back of your head, smashing your lips together in a kiss.  It was messy and hot, tongue and teeth clashing.  The hard earth below gave you the perfect support to ride him intensely and Aegon almost did not believe that this was your first time.  He groaned into the kiss and curled his fingers into your long hair, yanking your head back.  He takes in the saliva dripping from your lips and your flushed skin, smiling at how he is ruining you.  He suddenly realized how close he was.

You were not far behind him.  You close your eyes as you focus on chasing your orgasm.  Aegon’s hands moved to your ass and gripped it harshly, moving your hips to help you ride him.  You look down and cup his cheeks, staring into his eyes.  You watch his face contorted in pleasure as he attempts to maintain eye contact.  It turned you on so much that you could make Aegon feel so good.  You cup his cheeks and cry out, letting him know you were going to come.

“Come on my cock.” Aegon was spiraling with desire which caused him to spank you and you yelp, “I’m going to come so deep inside of you.” He growls.

Your orgasm hits you like a brick and you grab onto Aegon’s shoulders, digging your nails into them.  You felt tears escaping your eyes and Aegon wrapped his arms around your chest, gripping onto you tightly.  You felt so held by him.  He lifted his hips as he spilled inside of you and his face fell into your bosom, weak kisses fell upon your sternum.  The both of you shake and hold onto each other as you come down from your high.   You kiss Aegon’s head and smooth down his hair.

“I love you.” You pant and kiss his head again.

Aegon nuzzled your chest and looked up at you, “do you really?” He asked.

“Wholeheartedly.” You smile exhaustedly.  

Aegon pulled you into another kiss and pushed your hair away from your face.  He pulled away and noticed that the sunrise had begun.  The water now shows reflections of orange and blue.  He looks over to your dragons who were curled up together and not bothered by what the two of you just did.  He looked back to you and once again, ran his knuckles on your cheek.  He was briefly sad because you were not his.  You were Aemond’s.  He chuckles though as you were the one still seated on his cock.

“What is so funny?” You ask in a whisper.

“Nothing, sweet sister.” Aegon shakes his head and lifts a finger to graze down your lips.  “We should head back, hm?” 

You sighed and looked over to your dragons, nodding.  “Perhaps so.”

You stare out of the carriage at King’s Landing.  A black cloak surrounded you and hid your blonde hair, braided so tightly so it would not peek out from underneath the hood.  You turn your head and see Aegon, covered in a similar cloak.  Your hand held your stomach as you looked over at him. Aegon met your gaze and he hated the way you were looking at him.  You looked at him like he was an injured stray cat.  He reached over to grip your chin lovingly and nodded.  That was all he could muster as he still had faint pain all over his body.  You smile weakly and look over at Larys, who returns a polite smile and then stares off into the distance.

You do not want anyone to die, but you knew it was not that simple.  A war was being waged within your family and within your walls.  You worry about your mother, Helaena, Aemond, and Aegon.  You worry about how you are going to manage this pregnancy on the road and hope that you are in Essos by the time you need to give birth.  You worry about your dragon, but pray that she understands that you will return to her.  You look at Aegon’s hand and reach over to grab it, intertwining fingers.  You wanted his reassurance.  All you got was a squeeze in return.  This journey was beyond the two of you.  Your love has nothing to do with this.  Your love will be lost in history, but it is what you know and what you will hold onto.

May the Gods guide us in this journey, you prayed. 

[elysiansparadise]

I love the way you interpret things. Your work is amazing.

Can you do Sun in the 5th house, please? <3

Hello love, thank you so much for your words! Of course I can write about this beautiful placement.

Sun in the 5th house

These natives have a strong need to show themselves authentically to the world and never be limited by whatever is happening in their environment. Throughout their lives they learn to develop self-love and self-acceptance, without needing to prove anything to anyone or meet other people's standards and/or expectations. They know how to value themselves and will know how to walk away if someone tries to have them by their side but wants to change something about them. These natives know their place and worth and won’t tolerate disrespect directed at them. They have a strong need to express their individuality and be recognized for who they are. They like to stand out and be unique in their way of being and doing things. Likewise, it is very easy for them to attract the attention of others and attract compliments or people who admire them/ want to be like them. These natives project confidence, great self-love, independence, creativity and light-hearted vibes. They have a natural charisma and personal magnetism. They attract others with their vibrant energy and their ability to make everything seem more interesting and exciting. They possess a high level of appeal and physical attractiveness, most particularly their facial features. There’s a big tendency to attract admirers or people that fall for them. 

Throughout their lives it is likely that they were either surrounded by drama or that they saw a lot of drama around the people they interacted with. They have an enthusiastic and passionate approach towards love and romance. They look for relationships that allow them to express their love in an uninhibited and authentic way. In love they will always look for a connection where they are loved for who they are and in return, they are capable of faithfully and passionately loving their partner. They know how to give their partner their place, even going so far as to recognize them as one of their highest priorities. These natives expect the same treatment and cannot stand the idea that their partner does not give them the same importance that they give, they will never settle for little and will walk away if the other person does not show sufficient commitment and dedication to the natives and/or the relationship. Despite their taste and fascination with romance, they know how to be alone and will always prefer it to being with someone who is not worth it.

This placement is a good indicator of success, especially if the native decides to pursue one of their passions. They are very ambitious people who want to go far on their own, often preferring to achieve things independently. Charisma, artistic talents and an attractive way of expressing themselves, these natives can not only catch attention but retain it. There is a preference for fun and breaking monotony and overwhelming routines, they are spontaneous and can border on the witty. They have a passion for their hobbies and recreational activities. They can spend a lot of time and effort developing their personal interests. Many of them take seriously the phrase "love yourself first before you decide to love someone," not only to recognize their own value, but also to recognize what treatments and behaviors they cannot tolerate from others. Despite this strong and autonomous attitude, many of them enjoy or seek to keep their inner child alive, being deep down curious, gentle and very generous. If this native decides to become a parent, they will not only make sure to give everything to their children, but also help them develop strong self-love, being a great influence on them. One of the most important things for them as parents is to see that their children are happy, celebrating their achievements as if they were their own.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[kckt88]

Hidden In Plain Sight.

Summary:

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

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

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8419

GREENS WIN - AEMOND IS KING!!

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew that motto well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Your Grace-please”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A firefly-” said Larys firmly.

“I know-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End.

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS - The Epilogue'

Summary: A conclusion to what has happened in the ‘You’re Mine’ sequel 'Ours'

Index: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI - if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the series. 🐑 🤍

The is the official end. I cannot express how much I've loved writing this series. I hope you all have enjoyed it just the same.

Part 3 - 'Four'

word count - 10.3 k

“Not going to lie it’s a little funny you went from Trent pulling on your clothes to get to your tits only to have his carbon copy trying to do the same.” Winnie teased looking at Theo doing anything to be closer to his mummy. She gave you a playful grin and a nudge.

“Yeah it’s all been very full circle.” You smiled at her with a giggle fixing your little white Prada tank top to adjust it after Theo had pulled on it incessantly. “But he’s just my little baby boy, huh, Theos?” You cooed gently to Theo, rubbing your nose against his cheek.

“He’s such a mummy’s boy.” Winnie joked tickling at Theo’s pudgy tummy in his favorite Liverpool jersey, one with ‘daddy’ on the back. Theo nodded without lifting his head, his tiny body snuggled even closer against you. You held him tighter, cherishing the sweet bond you shared. You loved that Theo was so attached to you and had gotten even more so especially since you got pregnant.

“I know he is and he’s perfect. Yeah? Your mummy’s perfect boy?” You sang to him swaying him back and forth sillily with hum up in a box at Anfield.

“My mama.” Theo clung to you. He hugged you, smushing his face against your warm skin, comforted by every facet of your being. “Lub my mama.” He muffled against you. The stadium buzzed with excitement for the home fixture. The roar of the crowd mingling with the crisp afternoon air. The box was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as you, Winnie, and Theo, watched the match kick off below you. Theo kept his little arms wrapped around your neck as he buried his face in your chest, seeking a sanctuary from the noise and excitement. Meanwhile, George made his way outside into the open-air seats, carrying Teddy in his arms. Winnie’s heart tensed as she saw them, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She had always admired George’s easygoing nature and most definitely the way he handled your kids with such genuine care. Seeing him with Teddy, his smile bright and warm, made her heart flutter with something she hadn’t felt in a long time. You all settled down to watch the game, the noise from the field below blending with the cheers from the stands. George took a seat beside Winnie, Teddy perched comfortably on his knee. As the match continued, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle way George’s arm had draped around the back of Winnie’s seat, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. And then, you saw Winnie’s hand creeping up onto George’s thigh, a soft, almost unconscious movement that spoke volumes. You smiled knowingly, glancing over at them. But it wasn’t just you who noticed. Teddy, always observant and unfiltered, looked up at George with her big curious brown eyes.

“Georgey, do you like my Win-Win? Cause I like her toos.” Teddy bluntly asked with the adorable innocence only a child had. George’s cheeks flushed a little, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he looked over at you, you were trying not to laugh. Winnie’s eyes widened, a blush creeped across her glowing skin, but she couldn’t help but smile at Teddy’s straightforwardness.

“Yeah, Teddy girl. I do like your Win-Win. A lot actually.” George explained to Teddy gently and simply with a chuckle. Teddy’s face lit up with a grin as she looked between George and Winnie, satisfied with his answer.

“Tay, be…because my Win Win is nice and you are toos Georgey.” Teddy nodded approvingly Winnie laughed softly, her nerves settling as she glanced at George, her heart fluttering at his confession. She hadn’t expected Teddy to be so direct, but maybe it was exactly what she needed to hear. She felt George’s hand squeeze hers gently, a silent reassurance that everything was okay.

“You’ve got Teddy bear’s approval, George. That’s a pretty big deal.” You cooed in a teasing voice reaching over to kiss Teddy and sending Winnie a cheeky wink. George laughed, his eyes warm as he glanced at Winnie, his arm tightening slightly around her shoulders.

“I’ll take it. And I think I’ve got yours too, right, Win?” George asked nervously but laced with hope and charm. Winnie nodded, her smile soft and genuine too smitten to get a real response out. As you turned your attention back to the match, you watched them with a smile, feeling a sense of happiness for your sister. It was clear that George and Winnie were finding their way to each other and you weren’t exactly opposed to the coupling. Theo shifted in your arms, his head lifting slightly to peek out at the field. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling content with your family around you and the joy of watching love blossom once more. When the second half of the match kicked off, Liverpool ahead by a goal, the cheers of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Winnie made her way inside the family box to grab a quick bite. She approached the food counter, her Americanism showing as she casually asked the waitress for some ‘chips’ pointing to the kind of bag she wanted. The waitress nodded politely and handed them to her. Nearby, Theo and Teddy, who had followed her inside with giggles, overheard their aunt’s request, their little brows furrowing in confusion.

“Not chips. Got wrong.” Teddy whispered confused. Ever the curious one, she turned to Theo with a puzzled expression. Theo just shrugged, clearly unsure, but his big sister's confusion was contagious. Teddy was adamant that Winnie must be using the wrong words or they got her order wrong. She watched her very clearly get given a bag of crisps but she had asked for chips. After all, Teddy’s mummy and daddy never called them that. Determined to get to the bottom of it, Teddy ran back outside to where you were sitting, Theo trailing behind her, already losing interest in the whole thing. The game was still going, but Teddy’s little feet carried her straight to you, her face serious.

“Mummy, Win-Win is wrong! She asked for chips but that’s not what she gots!” Teddy urgently explained with real conviction. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her determination. You wrapped your arm around Teddy’s shoulders, pulling her close, and ran your hand over Theo’s hair as he stood beside you, his attention drifting between his sister and the game.

“Baby, that’s just what Winn calls crisps. You know how mummy sometimes uses different words than daddy. It’s just because they’re more common where Winn and I grew up, where Pop-Pop and Mum-Mum live. You say crisps here, but some people say chips there.” You gently explained to her. This wasn’t the first time something like this arose. As Teddy’s vocabulary continued to grow she was more curious regarding words. You often fluctuated your own choice of words depending on who you were with and where but typically at home and with your kids, you’d lean more into British vernacular because it was more cohesive with the rest of your family around them, their environment. Teddy’s face scrunched up in thought, trying to wrap her head around the idea that there could be different words for the same things and the same word for different things. Theo, on the other hand, had already moved on, his eyes focused back on the game, clearly uninterested in this linguistic debate.

“Mama…” Teddy pouted. “Whys? But… thought chips were chips. Confused, mummy.” She explained. You giggled softly, leaning down to kiss both of your babies on the tops of their heads. You loved their curiosity, their desire to understand the world around them but you didn’t want to upset anyone. What on earth was her aunt saying? Teddy didn’t like it.

“It’s just how people from different places speak, my pretty girl. It’s okay. There’s no right or wrong way; it’s just different. And that’s okay. It’s what makes languages fun.” You gave her a warm sympathetic smile. “It’s just the same as how we pronounce things differently depending on where we live. Let’s see, hmm.” You thought for a moment when you saw Winnie who had just returned from inside “Win, can you say the word ‘serious’ for me.” She furrowed her brow at you but quickly clocked Teddy’s awaiting stare locked on her. Winnie said the word ‘serious’ in a questioning tone but nevertheless in her American accent. You smiled half way through your plan turning in your seat towards George. “G, can you say it now?” And so he did willingly, the scouse accent ringing in the distinctive consonants. Teddy tilted her head trying to process not only the accents but how she hadn’t noticed before. “See? Same thing, baby. Georgey and Win just grew up in different places. Still get to eat the yummy snack no matter what you call it, no matter how you pronounce it.” You smiled gently, plucking a crisp or chip from Winnie. At that moment, Theo, who had been quietly watching George, piped up, pointing over at him.

“Georgey, what you call them?” Theo innocently asked. Theo loved George because he always played with him and made him laugh but also because Trent loved George. George, who had turned his attention back to the game, brought it back to Theo and grinned.

“I call them crisps, like daddy, mate.” George playfully told him, dragging Theo from his place to stand in between his legs then leaning over to rest his chin on top of Theo’s head, wrapping his arm around him from his seat. Theo nodded, satisfied with that answer.

“I boy so I say crisps, tay?” Theo decisively told you all then looked back at you for confirmation so you gave him a reassuring nod that his decision was okay. Everyone laughed at Theo’s declaration, his innocent attempt to make sense of the different words and then opting just because he was a boy like George and Trent he’d say what they said, never not wanting to be just like them. Winnie grinned, amused by her nephew’s resolve. You smiled warmly at Theo reaching over to pinch at his tummy.

As the final whistle blew and the match ended, the stadium erupted into cheers. You moved down to the pitch side caving to Teddy and Theo’s pleas, your heart racing with a bit of anxiety being so pregnant and being so close to a focal point. Theo was by your side, his little hand in yours, bouncing on his toes as he craned his neck, searching for his daddy among the players on the field. Teddy in Winnie’s arms. Trent, ever amazing and appreciative to play for his club, walked the circumference of the field, applauding the crowd in gratitude for their unwavering support. As he made his way toward your side of the pitch, you could see the familiar glint in his eyes, the smile that was reserved just for you. His jersey was drenched from the rain and sweat, clinging to his body, but he didn't seem to care. With a swift motion, he pulled it off over his head, revealing his toned physique, much to the delight of the surrounding fans who screamed in delirium, eager for a chance to get their favorite player's kit. Frankly, much to the delight of you as well, it was sexy. Trent caught your eye and beckoned you over with a playful wag of his fingers, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. Your cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and amusement, and you instinctively covered your face with your hands childishly just the way he loved from the moment you had done it the first time back in New York on your first date. His grin widened at your reaction, and he winked at you, clearly enjoying the little game. As he got closer, he leaned over a barricade, jersey in hand, offering it to you with a teasing look. You shook your head, half-laughing, half-mortified. The crowd around you buzzed with excitement, all eyes on your family. Trent pretended to pout, then turned as if to walk away, his back to you, but you knew him too well. With a laugh, he spun back around, closing the distance in two quick strides. Before you could react, Trent reached over the barricade, his strong hands gently cupping your face. He pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender but passionate kiss. The crowd around you erupted into cheers and whistles but the only thing you were focused on was him. The world seemed to melt away for that brief, beautiful moment. You felt your face warm up. Trent pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek.

"Can't let you get away that easily, baby." He whispered as his eyes filled with love and amusement. You laughed softly, your embarrassment fading in the warmth of his gaze. He handed you his jersey again, and this time, you took it, shaking your head with a smile at his persistence. You had every jersey, too many jerseys, you didn’t need this. Additionally, it was grossly wet. It was a double edge sword; Trent shirtless was great, sweaty kits not so great. You just draped the jersey over your arm until Theo eagerly pulled on its edge. He asked politely to have it but you were caught up in Trent in front of you so you just nodded. As Trent returned back further onto the field, the cameras had caught every second of the exchange, and it wasn't long before the internet was ablaze with the news. The clip of Trent's playful kiss and your flushed reaction was quickly shared, but what really captured everyone's attention was the noticeable bump under your top. Social media lit up with speculation and excitement, as fans and media alike pieced together the news that you were expecting your third baby. Comments flooded in, congratulating you and Trent, marveling at how gorgeous your family was. Trent turned to wave at you again, blowing a kiss to Teddy and Theo who let out excited squeals that made your heart falter. You smiled, your heart full as you watched your husband, proud and glowing on the pitch, knowing that no matter how big the world around you seemed, your little family was always at the center of it.

Not long after the conclusion of another season, in the heat of summer you welcomed your third baby, a little boy, Tyde Ford Alexander-Arnold. A name you adored and his middle name after your dad, who cried for the third time upon meeting your baby. You and Trent didn’t waste time after Tyde arrived though, both of you really enjoying your full house. With about as little time as possible in between, your fourth was on the way. Teddy who once loved being the only ‘Alszander-Arnal’ girl was less than thrilled when she found out you were going to have another boy, another baby brother for her in the house but she was always amazing, ever kind, helpful and sweet.

So when you got to tell Dianne you were pregnancy with a third boy, your fourth child a mere ten months later it was a moment you and Trent had been looking forward to with great anticipation. You and Dianne shared a bond that was deeper than most daughter-in-law and mother-in-law relationships. From the very beginning, she had welcomed you into her family with open arms, offering not just acceptance but also genuine love and support. Over the years, she had become a confidante, a source of wisdom, and a steadfast pillar of strength in your life. She was like a second mother to you, always there with gentle guidance and unwavering encouragement. The day you and Trent decided to share the news, you were barely starting to show but you wanted to make it special, she was so instrumental in your lives. You invited Dianne over to your home, where the warmth of family memories filled every room. The house was filled with the gentle hum of everyday life—the clatter of toys, the soft murmur of children playing, and the comforting smell of something sweet baking in the oven. Dianne arrived, her face lighting up as she saw her grandkids rushing to greet her with hugs and giggles, the ever excited squeal for ‘nana!’ You dragged Dianne into the living room and on the coffee table lay a small gift box, tied with a delicate blue ribbon. Dianne looked at you both with a curious smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“We wanted to give you something special, Di. To tell you something special and just a little something to show you how much you mean to us and our family” You smiled as your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of excitement. Dianne looked at you with a mix of curiosity and affection, her hands carefully untying the ribbon and opening the box. Inside was a framed photo of your family, five for the time being. You stood in Trent’s arms with a growing belly. Teddy hugging Trent’s leg, Theo seated on the ground with a beaming smile, and little Tyde on your hip. For a moment, there was silence. Dianne’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at you and Trent, her expression a mix of shock, joy, and deep emotion.

“Oh, my goodness... another little boy… Y/N!” Tears streamed down her face as she reached out to hug you, pulling you in close with a warmth that spoke of a lifetime of love and kindness. Her embrace was tender and heartfelt, filled with all the love of a mother who had just received the most wonderful news. You felt her hold you a little tighter, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

“We’re so happy, Di. And honestly couldn’t wait to share this with you. We know this little boy is going to be so lucky to have you in his life.” You whispered as your voice choked with emotion.

“Thank you mum for everything you’ve done for me and even more so for what you’ve done for our family and how you are with you grandkids. We couldn’t have done this without your support and love. We wanted you to be the first to know.” Trent cooed gently. His words filled to the brim with emotion. Dianne pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, glistening with tears of joy. She placed a gentle hand on your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring.

“Oh, hun, I’m so happy for you both. Another precious little boy… our family just keeps growing. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” She then turned to Trent, her eyes soft with maternal pride. “Trenty, you and Y/N have built such a beautiful life together. I’m so proud of you both. You’re wonderful parents, and I know this little one is going to be just as special as the rest.” You could see the love and pride in her eyes as she looked at both of you, and it was clear that this moment meant as much to her as it did to you and Trent. As the three of you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of the moment, Dianne began to share stories from when her own boys were young, her voice soft and filled with nostalgia. She spoke about the joys and challenges of raising children, the little moments that made it all worthwhile, and the deep, unbreakable bonds that formed between siblings. You listened intently, soaking in every word, feeling grateful to have such a wise and loving figure in your life. You knew that Dianne’s wisdom and love would be a guiding light for you as you prepared to welcome your fourth child into the world. And in that moment, surrounded by family, you felt a profound sense of peace and happiness, knowing that your family was growing in the best possible way—with love, support, and an abundance of joy.

When you had found out you were having your first boy, a flood of emotions washed over you. While the joy of expanding your family was immense, there was also a sense of unfamiliarity that tugged at your heart. Having Teddy had been a wonderful experience, and you felt more or less confident in raising a daughter. But the thought of bringing up a son felt different, almost like stepping into unknown territory. You wanted your little boy to grow up with all the wonderful qualities you saw in Trent—kind, strong, caring, and full of integrity. And who better to guide you through this journey than the woman who had raised Trent himself? After you had shared the news with Dianne you found yourself sitting with her in her cozy living room, seeking her wisdom. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow around the room as you both settled into the deep cushions of her sofa. Teddy was nearby, playing with some toys, her laughter occasionally ringing through the house. You needed Dianne, not just as a mother-in-law, but as someone who had already walked this path. Her experience with raising three boys was something you wanted to learn from, to draw strength from. She was patient, understanding, and always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“Di, I’m so excited for this little boy, but I have to admit, I’m a bit nervous. Raising Teddy has been so wonderful, but having a boy... it’s just different, you know? I want him to be just like Trent. I want to do everything right.” You sheepishly said, glancing at your belly. You were midway through your pregnancy with Theo at the time. Dianne reached out, placing a comforting hand on yours. Her eyes were filled with warmth and understanding, and she gave a reassuring smile that instantly made you feel at ease. “Oh, sweetheart, I understand. But remember, you’re already a wonderful mother. And raising a boy isn’t all that different from raising a girl. They need the same love, patience, and guidance. You just have to be there for them, support them, and let them be who they are. The rest will come naturally.” She paused, reflecting on her own experiences with a soft smile. “When I had Trent, I didn’t have all the answers either. I learned as I went, just like you will. And look at him now. You’ll do just fine. You already have so much love in your heart, and that’s the most important thing. Your son will see that. He’ll feel that.” You listened intently, hanging onto every word she said. What she shared was invaluable, not just because of her experience but because of the love and care with which she spoke. It was clear how much she adored her sons, and you could see in her eyes the pride she had in the men they had become. “I just want him to grow up with all the wonderful qualities Trent has. He’s such a good man because of you, Di. I want our son to be like that, too.” You smiled softly, starting to feel slightly more reassured. Dianne’s smile deepened, her eyes misting slightly with emotion. “He will be, because he’ll have you and Trent as parents. You two are doing a wonderful job with Teddy, and I know you’ll do just as wonderfully with your son. And, I’m always here for you, whenever you need me. We’re in this together, my dear.” Diane cooed with emotion. The two of you sat there for the rest of the day, talking about everything from parenting tips to funny stories about Trent and his brothers growing up. As you listened to her stories and advice, you felt your anxieties melt away, replaced by a newfound confidence and excitement. You knew that with Dianne’s guidance and Trent’s love, you were ready to welcome your baby boy into the world. And most importantly, you knew that your son would be loved, cherished, and raised in a home filled with warmth and kindness—just like Trent had been.

When you found out you were expecting your second son, you were filled with both joy and a touch of anxiety. Raising Theo had been an incredible experience— he was a spitting image of Trent, with the same playful smile and spark in his eyes. But now, adding another boy to the mix, you weren’t sure what to expect. Would he be just like Theo, or completely different? Dianne, as always, was a source of comfort and wisdom. She had raised three boys herself, and you knew she would have invaluable insights to share. On another quiet afternoon, as you sat together in her garden, Dianne spoke with a gentle smile, the sunlight casting a soft glow around her.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so happy for you. Having three children is such a blessing. It’s a handful, sure, but it’s wonderful. Watching them grow up together, the way they bond and take care of each other… there’s nothing like it.” She smiled warmly. You nodded, absorbing her words. There was something so reassuring about the way she spoke, her voice filled with experience and love.

“I’m excited, of course, but also a little nervous. I just want to make sure I give them all the attention they need. Theo is so similar to Trent—it’s like seeing him and it amazing but I just…. I hope I can handle it all.” You shyly told her. Finally vocalizing a real fear that’d been growing along with your baby. Dianne chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with fondness.

“Oh, I know that feeling all too well. When I had my boys, each one was a handful in their own way, but they brought so much joy. They were always there for each other, always looking out. And yes, Theo is so much like Trent at his age. Sometimes, I see them and my heart aches a little, remembering my own boys when they were young. But it’s a good ache, a happy one. They remind me so much of him.” You smiled, feeling a warm connection to Dianne in that moment. It was comforting to know that she had gone through the same emotions, the same worries.

“It must be sort of strange, seeing your son all over again in your grandkids. But they’re pretty cute, aren’t they? T always says that we did a good job.” You giggled. Dianne laughed, a light and joyful sound that filled the garden.

“He’s right, hun. They are more than cute, more than adorable, they are perfect. I see so much of Trent in them, especially in the way they laugh and play. It’s like having a second chance to see my little boy grow up. And you’re right, you’ve seen the photos of Trent when he was young. Those two are just like him—mischievous, charming, and full of life. You’re in for an adventure with those two, but it’s going to be a beautiful one.” You both shared a laugh, imagining the years ahead with your three children. As Dianne continued to share stories about raising her boys, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. She was a guiding light, helping you navigate the journey of motherhood with wisdom, love, and a touch of humor. And with her by your side, you felt ready to embrace all the challenges and joys that came with raising your little ones—knowing that they, just like their dad, would grow up in a home full of love.

Somehow as time passed Teddy managed to get more and more gorgeous, she was everything you wanted her to be. Unapologetically beautiful, confident and yet reverential and humble. Theo had begun properly playing football still adamant to be like his daddy, Tyde following suit wanting to be just like his big brother and daddy he adored although he was a little too tiny to always manage keeping up. And a quick ten months after your Tyde arrived, the youngest of your cherubic babies joined you, Tate Rowe Alexander-Arnold. All three of your boys more of a carbon copy of Trent than the next. As they grew you loved getting to learn and admire their developing and individualized personalities derived from you and their look alike. All your boys adored Teddy, although they just as equally drove her nuts. Winnie and George ended up moving to London together maintaining the healthy and loving relationship you’d pray she’d find. Lauren had found herself nomadic, splitting time between New York and Europe... predominately that one city in Spain, you know the one where The Bernabeu was. Marcel and Gracie stayed together despite Teddy’s pleas but she eventually grew to love her. Teddy finally succumbed to having to share her Celly. Gracie helped you a lot with your kids and would often spend time with you and Teddy. You’d tease and tell her you hoped she would be the next Alexander-Arnold girl., Teddy concurring. In the midst of it all, Trent won a few trophies and suffered a few losses. He was still amazing at football, and an even better husband. Your relationship was strong and solid whilst maintaining its fun and sexiness. Since having your four kids, Dianne was around a lot and you not only really appreciated it, you loved it. And so, one evening, as the sun set and cast a warm golden glow through the kitchen window, you and Dianne sat together, watching the kids play in the garden. Teddy was almost six now which you refused to believe because she’d be your little Teddy bear her whole life, you wouldn’t have it any other way, Theo had just turned four, Tyde now two, and your baby Tate only one. Theo was running around with Teddy in the garden, their laughter ringing through the air. Trent stood outside with them, Tyde wrapped around his leg, while your Tate, watched from your lap with wide eyes full of wonder. The sight of your children—each as gorgeous as Trent—filled your heart with overwhelming love. Dianne, sitting beside you, had a soft smile on her face as she observed her grandchildren. There was a certain tenderness in her eyes, a mixture of nostalgia and deep affection. She reached over, gently placing her hand over yours.

“You know, hun, I’ve watched your babies grow, and each day, I see more and more of Trent in them. They have his eyes, his smile, that same spark of mischief he always had. But they’re not just him. They’re more than that.” She gently cooed admiring little Tate in your arms. You turned to look at her, curious and touched by the emotion in her voice. She met your gaze, her eyes warm and filled with a quiet pride “They have your heart, your spirit. When I look at them, I see the glimmer of your love and kindness behind their eyes. Those are pieces of you, Y/N. The best parts of you.” Her words touched you deeply, filling you with a mixture of gratitude and emotion. You hadn’t realized how much of yourself your children had inherited, how much they reflected not just Trent’s traits, but yours as well.

“Thank you, Di. That means so much to me. Sometimes, I worry about whether I’m doing enough, if I’m being a good enough mother for them.” You shyly confessed. Dianne squeezed your hand gently, her smile widening with reassurance.

“My dear, you’re doing more than enough. You and Trent have been through so much, and yet you’ve given me four beautiful renditions of my Trent to grandmother. I couldn’t be prouder of you both. Watching you raise them, seeing the love and care you pour into their lives... it’s a gift. They’re lucky to have you as their mother, just as I’m lucky to have you as my daughter-in-law.” A wave of warmth washed over you, a mix of relief and joy. Dianne’s words were like a balm to your soul, soothing away any doubts or worries you had

“I'm so appreciative to have you during all this, Di. It always makes me laugh that I ended up having three boys like you as well… and of course just one extra little angel.” You smiled with adoration, watching Teddy giggle through the window.

“I have three boys and an angel as well, hun. I have you now.” Dianne leaned over, wrapping you in a gentle hug, her embrace filled with the kind of love only a mother—or a grandmother—could give. Tears welled up in your eyes, but they were happy tears, filled with the love and gratitude you felt for this woman who had become like a mother to you. “Thank you, Y/N, for being exactly who you are. You make Trenty so happy and you’ve made our whole family happy, You’ve given me four more reasons to smile every day, and I’m forever grateful for that.” Dianne cooed with tears in your eyes. As you sat there together, watching your children play in the fading light, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. You knew, with Dianne by your side and Trent as your partner, you had everything you needed to raise your children with all the love and care in the world.

With four children, life had been a whirlwind of family moments, football matches, and endless cuddles. Though motherhood had been your primary focus, your passion for a career had never dimmed. Fashion continued to thrive in the quiet moments, in the way you styled your kids for everyday adventures or the careful attention you paid to every detail when redesigning your home, all chronicled either by your own accord or in the tabloids. You had been featured in both British and American Vogue and GQ once more since your original article with Bentley Brown. You continued to keep close ties with him and even did another feature collaborating with him for Architectural Digest highlighting the renovation of your home, a stunning mix of modern elegance with a warm, family-friendly touch. The article had sparked interest in your design sensibilities beyond just clothing. You remained a familiar face at fashion weeks around the world with Trent becoming your plus one. He loved being your date. He loved you in the spotlight you no longer strayed away from. Even with four children, you managed to stay connected to the fashion scene, balancing the demands of a bustling household with your passion for style.

Likely in part due to Trent’s amazing relationship with the brand, Adidas had brought you on to work as a lead stylist and creative consultant for their collaboration work with another brand you loved dearly. You’d be responsible for curating entire seasonal collections and overseeing presentations. You were apprehensive frankly but Trent, ever supportive, was adamant you take it upon some negotiation for the flexibility to work remotely because you would not give up a single second with your babies. Excitedly, you had got invited to an celebratory dinner down in London for the announcement of your position. You were definitely anxious but welcomed the trip as a chance for you to get away. As the private jet soared through the clouds, you leaned back into the plush leather seat, a contented smile playing on your lips. The hum of the engines was a soothing backdrop to the excitement bubbling in your chest.

"Look at you, baby.” Trent said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Heading to London for work like it's nothing. My wife, you know." Trent beamed as he sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of pride and admiration.

“Oh, stop.” You said, playfully nudging him. "We’re going to London for dinner, we’ve gone around the globe for you.” You laughed, a hint of bashfulness in your tone. Trent chuckled, shaking his head.

“Nah, baby. This is big.” He insisted, his eyes twinkling. "This is about you. I mean, come on! I get to be the plus one of the Y/N Alexander-Arnold? Say less. Couldn’t be more proud of you.” He cooed. Your smile widened, and you felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Thank you," you said softly, touched by his words. "It means a lot to have you here with me." He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. You looked out the window for a moment, watching the clouds drift by. "It’s a bit strange, isn't it? Being on a plane for my job instead of yours." Trent laughed again, the sound light and carefree.

"It's about time we switched it up," he said with a grin. "It was only a matter of time before the world caught on to how amazing my wife is. I’ve had my time in the spotlight. Now you can run with it. I’ll hold your hand the entire time if you’d like." You glanced over at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. You chuckled softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. As the jet continued its journey, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, your hearts full with the anticipation of the days ahead. For once, it was about your dreams and achievements, and having Trent by your side made it all the more special.

Leaving the dinner, the night air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth and energy that had filled Nobu. You and Trent stepped out onto a bustling street, tucked away in Mayfair. His hand securely around your waist as he guided you down the pavement. You had asked Trent if you could walk back to The Connaught hotel instead of jumping in a car right away. It was close by, not too far, you just wanted some air after the dinner. The city lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow that added to the magic of the evening. Trent looked at you and smiled.

"Proud of you.” He cooed, his voice barely audible over the noise of the street. "Everyone couldn’t stop telling me how amazing you are." He told you with a squeeze. You laughed softly, leaning into his side as you walked.

"Maybe they were just being polite," you teased, though you couldn't help the flutter of pride in your chest. He stopped walking, gently tugging you to a halt so he could look at you directly.

"Nah," he said firmly, his gaze intense. "Y/N… you’re unreal, baby. You’re good at what you do, you're smart, you're clever, you're talented and you look beautiful doing it.” A blush crept up your cheeks, and you bit your lip, looking away shyly.

"Well, I couldn't have do it without my even more beautiful husband by my side." You spoke softly. Trent's grin widened, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your temple.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.Trent's grin widened, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your temple. The two of you continued walking, his arm never leaving your waist as you made your way back to the hotel. The excitement of the event was still buzzing in your veins, and you couldn't help but feel a little giddy from the attention, the glamour, and Trent's unwavering support. As you reached the hotel entrance, Trent stopped again, his hand tightening around your waist. He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with a familiar mischievous glint.

"You know," he began slowly, "we still have the whole night ahead of us." A slow smile spread across your face as you caught his meaning.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, playing along, your tone light and teasing. He nodded, leaning in close, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. The Jacquemus mesh dress you were in suddenly felt incredibly hot.

"I've been thinking about this all night," he confessed, his voice low and sultry. "I can't wait to get you out of this dress." Your heart raced at his words, a rush of excitement flooding your system. Trent's grin widened, and without another word, he led you inside the hotel, his pace quickening with every step. The elevator ride up to your floor was filled with anticipation, the air thick with tension as you stood close together, your hands all over each other. When the doors finally opened, Trent wasted no time in leading you down the hallway, his hand now intertwined with yours. As soon as you reached your room, he fumbled with the key card, his eagerness making you laugh softly.

"You're in quite the rush," you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him. He looked up at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Baby, I’ve behaved since I watched you get naked in front of me to put on this dress…" he told you, finally managing to swipe the card and push the door open. "It’s only right you let me take it off." The door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly, you were enveloped in the quiet intimacy of your hotel room. The city lights filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as Trent turned to you, his eyes dark with desire.Before you could say anything, he was on you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away. You melted into his embrace, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you kissed him back with equal fervor. He guided you backward, his hands firm on your waist as he steered you toward the bed.

"You have no idea how much l've been thinking about this," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with need. You let out a soft moan, your fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him even closer.

"Show me," you whispered back, your words barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. Trent didn't need any more encouragement. He lifted you up effortlessly, his strong arms holding you securely as he laid you down on the plush bed. You giggled softly, the sound light and carefree in the quiet room, your excitement bubbling over as you watched him lean over you, his eyes filled with nothing but love and desire. He smiled down at you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I love you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion. "More than anything." With those words, Trent leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that left no room for doubt about how much he loved you. The night stretched out before you, filled with promises of love, laughter, and the kind of connection that only the two of you could share. He had pushed your dress up your thighs before peeling your soaked panties to the side teasing you relentlessly before his fingers found their way to play with your pussy. His name fell from your lips in a hoarse moan the moment you felt his fingers running through your wet folds. With his fingers between your legs now, you were practically dripping for him. You looked down at him with your jaw slacked and lidded eyes. He unraveled you with each movement. Not long after you were crying out his name again and again.

"Tell me what you want, baby, tell me.” He asked you and you continued whining his name.

“T… You’re gonna make me cum. I want to cum on your cock though please. Oh my god, T.” You moaned pulling him down to you more by the back of his neck dragging your nails then harshly down his muscular back. He rested his forehead against yours sweetly with a conniving grin as he abruptly pulled his fingers out of you. You whined at the loss but in swift succession you he was underneath you. You let your hands run up his thighs before undoing his belt. He leaned back into the bed letting you get to work. You let some spit drip from your mouth onto his hard cock as you played with his pre cum already leaking from the tip.

“Take what’s yours baby.” He grunted as you moved to slowly take his whole length at once in your mouth. You cupped his balls and gently massaged them. He uncontrollably let out a moan he couldn’t control as you sucked his cock, letting it hit the back of your throat again and again. “Oh my god, that feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this.” He whimpered, letting his head drop backwards. You knew exactly what he liked now. You knew just where he was most sensitive. Every moan, choke, and gag coming from you taking him had him fighting for his life. “Good girl, just like that. Baby, I gotta cum. Gonna swallow f’me.” You nodded running both of your hands up his strong thighs again. Trent knew that queue from you so he ran his fingers through your hair and gently but securely grabbed your face letting him self fuck your mouth. You could feel your own wetness more and more until your focus shifted to the sensation of his warm cum filling your mouth and running down your sore throat.

You sat back with a cheek smile. The hotel room light cast over you illuminating the dips of your collarbones, highlighting the rise of your tits, the smoothness of your skin. Trent stared in awe just about drooling over his girl. He pulled you towards him. You sat with your legs on both sides of his and straddled him, feeling his hard cock beneath your wet core. His mouth nipped down your neck before his tongue circled and licked around your hard nipples eliciting a whimper of pleasure from you. He slowly aligned his cock with your core and guided you down. You both gasped at the sensation. You moved slowly inch by inch but he just wanted to get as deep as possible so he let you take your time. His thick cock hit your g spot almost immediately once he was in. He felt so deep and the stretch of him being inside you had your mind turn to complete mush. You lost any control you had when he was fully inside. The force and pace of his thrusts increased hearing the sounds of your slick as you bounced on his cock watching his cock go in and out. You were whining in pleasure. Your lips parted gasping at the sensation of him. You both were moaning inexplicable phrases of praise, love, and adoration. You were completely obsessed with each other and how good the sex was only amplified it.

“Cum f’me baby. Feels so good. Doing so well f’me.” He whispered between the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy. He was quick picking you up moving you under him so he could fuck you harder. You weren’t having to muffle sounds at night in your home worried about kids, no, right now you both were incredibly free and loving every second of it. His thrusts sped up, rolling his hips into you as he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I love you so much T.” You whined as your eyes rolled back. You inhaled a sharp breath feeling a lightheadedness come over with every stroke of his. He kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed on you. The pupils in his dark eyes dilated when he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing you tell him you loved him. You were completely his. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was so gentle yet harsh all at the same time. Your pussy tightly clenched around Trent’s cock and then fluttered.

“Such a good fucking girl. I’m gonna cum. Take it all f’me” he sunk his teeth into his perfect lower lip. You silently begged him to. His head tilted back. Ropes of his cum filled the velvety inside of your pussy. He pumped you full gradually and slowly stilling. Your own orgasm crashing over you. Your pussy continued to flutter as you panted beneath him. Your chest rising and falling. He softly stroked your hair and gently kissed you. “I love you, baby. Did so good f’me.” You smiled breathlessly as he kissed you again in a way that you could feel just how much he adored you with each one. He loved you more than he could ever articulate with words but you could always feel it in the silences. He got off the bed and then cleaned you up before he tucked you neatly back in his arms.

Warm winter sunlight seeped through the gap in the room's curtains and fell over your eyes. You shifted on top of Trent under the covers slightly, your cheek pressed against his chest. You pressed your soft lips against his bare skin and dragged your foot up and down his muscular leg. His arm wrapped around your back and he pulled you tighter against him before a voice you love broke the morning silence.

“Good morning to the most beautiful girl in the whole world.” Trent yawned sleepily running his hands down your bare back. You laid on his chest and woke up slowly the day after your dinner, tangled in bed dressed in nothing but bed sheets and morning sunlight.

“I won’t tell Teddy daddy said that.” You hummed nuzzling your face further into him, loving the feeling of his warm skin on yours.

“C’mere baby.” He whispered though a soft laugh bringing you into a lazy kiss. His lips felt like heaven. Your lips pulled into an uncontrollable smile though mid kiss as you fell into a childish laugh.

“I think I’m going to like working.” You giggled as Trent own lips curled into his signature devastatingly handsome smile.

“I think I’m going to like you working too.” His morning voice was sexy as ever. It had the perfect amount of raspiness. Restarting your career had been anxiety producing but having Trent by your side and in your bed always made you feel better. You couldn't wait till the next work trip.

After Tate’s birth, you experienced a transformation in more ways than one. While the early years of motherhood had been filled with sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the beautiful chaos of raising a young family, they had also brought a new sense of purpose and grounding. With each child, your focus on keeping them healthy and fostering a positive environment had grown stronger, especially around issues of self-esteem and body image. In the past, your struggles often felt like they were fought in silence and darkness. The fashion industry, with its high standards and constant scrutiny, had only amplified those feelings and it made you retreat from work entirely. This not only shook your career, it shook your relationships but you vowed to Trent you would keep trying to get better. You had once found yourself caught in a vicious cycle of trying to meet an impossible ideal, where the reflection in the mirror never quite matched up to the image in your mind. The pressures of the industry, coupled with your own internal struggles, made it difficult to maintain a healthy relationship with your body. But motherhood had shifted your perspective in profound ways. With the later two pregnancies, you learned to, you wouldn’t go as far as to say marvel at what your body could do—the strength, resilience, and grace it took to bring life into the world, but you were proud of it. You began to see your body not as something to be judged but as something to be celebrated. And more importantly, you realized the impact of your own self-perception on your children. You wanted them to grow up in a home where health and happiness were prioritized over unrealistic ideals, where they could see their parents taking good care of themselves. Returning to work in fashion after your fourth was a decision that came with a newfound sense of empowerment. You had never felt healthier, both physically and mentally. You committed yourself to a lifestyle that supported your well-being—nourishing your body with balanced meals, staying active in ways that brought you joy, and most importantly, practicing self-love and acceptance. This time, you weren't returning to the industry to fit in or conform but to bring your authentic self to the table. Your children had become a massive source of inspiration for this new chapter. You were determined to create a household where food was seen as fuel and joy, not a source of guilt or shame. Conversations about bodies were approached with kindness and celebration. Every day, you made a conscious effort to teach them the value of strength, kindness, and self-love. You wanted them to understand that their worth was not tied to their appearance, and that health was about feeling good from the inside out.

In your newly accepted role, you were able to use your platform to advocate for a more inclusive and positive approach to beauty. You were committed to working with brands that celebrated all bodies and to creating campaigns that empowered people to feel confident and beautiful in their own skin. Every day was a choice, a commitment to yourself and your family to stay on this healthier path. And with each choice, you found yourself growing stronger and more confident, embracing the journey rather than chasing a destination. You felt a renewed sense of purpose—not just as a mother or a stylist but as a role model for your children and others who looked up to you. As you sat in your home office, finalizing the looks for an upcoming shoot, you glanced at the family photo on your desk—a candid shot of all six of you, laughing in a moment of pure joy. You felt a deep sense of gratitude wash over you. You had come so far, from the girl who once struggled with her reflection to a woman who had found peace and power in who she was. And as you prepared to step back into work, you knew this time was different. You were ready to redefine what it meant to be beautiful, starting from within.

Your home was still the lively, happy place it had always been, filled with the sound of laughter, playful arguments, and the constant patter of little feet. Nestled amidst rolling green hills and ancient oak trees, your home stood grand and stately, its stone façade reminiscent of a classic English manor. Tall windows lined the exterior, allowing the sunlight to flood every room with a gentle, natural light that brightened even the rainiest days. Inside, was a perfect mix of modern elegance and timeless charm. You had carefully redesigned the interior to suit your growing family’s needs while keeping a minimalist aesthetic that felt clean and serene. Soft tones of cream, taupe, and blush flowed throughout the house, creating a calming ambiance, while subtle textures added depth and interest to every corner. Luxurious touches like plush velvet sofas, cashmere throws, and silk curtains complemented more rustic elements like reclaimed wood beams and exposed brick, crafting a space that was both sophisticated and inviting. The kitchen, once immaculate and pristine, was now the heart of your bustling home. The long, sleek countertops and modern appliances gleamed under the soft glow of pendant lights. Your large dining table sat in the room, its surface covered in a delightful mess of colorful plates, half-eaten breakfasts, and spilled juice. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of laughter, the chatter of your children, and the clatter of silverware. It was a space where memories were made, where every meal was a celebration, and where the love you shared as a family was most palpable. Despite its grandeur, the house always felt warm and lived-in, filled with the love and joy of your growing family. Each room was a canvas for your life together — the cozy reading nook by the window where you would curl up with a book and one of the kids, the sprawling cinema with its oversized couches where you all gathered for movie nights, and the sun-drenched conservatory you added on that served as a playroom, filled with toys and laughter.Throughout the house, the minimalist design allowed for a sense of calm, even amidst the beautiful chaos of four young kids. Soft, tactile materials like linen and wool were used generously, inviting everyone to touch, play, and relax. The open-plan layout flowed seamlessly from room to room, making the large space feel intimate and connected. Most importantly, your home was filled with love. The walls echoed with giggles, footsteps, and the gentle hum of daily life. It was a place where every corner held a story, every room a memory, and every day brought new moments of joy. It was a sanctuary that reflected the life you and Trent had built together — beautiful, comfortable, and overflowing with the warmth of a family deeply in love.

It was a perfect afternoon as the sun cast a warm golden hue over the back garden. The vast green expanse was partitioned by the turf field off in the back corner. The pitch was dotted with the joyful chaos of Trent playing football with your four children. The garden, framed by the lush trees, felt like a private paradise, a serene retreat from the world. Teddy was fiercely determined, her face set with concentration as she tried to impress her father with her budding skills. She darted around with a mixture of grace and clumsiness, her pigtails flying behind her as she kicked the ball with all her might. She had Trent’s focus, his intensity, trying to mimic his moves to the best of her ability. Theo and a natural at the game, showed genuine talent. His movements were more fluid, less forced, as if he had inherited Trent’s football instincts. He dribbled the ball with ease, his small legs moving quickly, a bright smile on his face each time he succeeded in keeping the ball away from his siblings. His laughter filled the garden, light and carefree, his excitement palpable in every stride. Tyde was determined to copy his dad. He chased after the ball with an adorable tenacity, often stumbling but always getting back up with a grin. He looked up to Trent with wide, adoring eyes, mimicking his every move, his little legs pumping as hard as they could to keep up. And then there was baby Tate, his chubby legs wobbly as he tried to walk more than run. He was mostly focused on staying upright, but every so often, he’d break into a determined toddle toward the cluster of his siblings, eager to be part of the fun. Every few steps, he’d pause to catch his balance, giggling with delight each time he managed a few extra steps before toppling over. From your spot on the patio, you leaned back on the back of a chair, camera in hand, capturing every moment. The joy on their faces, the way Trent’s eyes lit up when he saw you, the golden afternoon light casting everything in a warm, soft glow — it was all too perfect not to document. You felt your heart swell with love as you watched them, your camera clicking softly.

“Aye!! Pitch-side photographer! Come play with the first team, beautiful!” Trent turned, catching sight of you. A playful smile spread across his face as he called out. His voice was full of laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement at his invitation. Your children immediately stopped mid-stride, their faces bright with eagerness.

“Mummy, come be on my team please!” Teddy shouted, bouncing on her toes. Her hair slicked into her signature tight low bun with a bow.

“Yeah, Mama! We need you! The teams have to be even!” Theo added, his competitiveness already mirroring or even rivaling Trent's, his small hand raised beckoning you over.

“Mama, pleabs!” Even little Tyde chimed in, his face scrunched in concentration as he shouted. You laughed, setting your camera down and standing up. Trent, always the watchful dad, glanced over at Tate, who was struggling to keep up with the game’s pace. He really was solely focused on standing up right and walking without tumbling. Trent crouched down beside him.

“Hey, Tatey, how about you be on Mummy and Daddy’s team? We could use your help.” Tate looked up at his dad, his face lighting up with a big smile as he clapped his hands.

“Tay Dada!” he squealed, delighted by the idea of being on a team with you and Trent.

“Alright! Mummy, Daddy, and Tatey versus the big kids!” Trent announced, grinning at the enthusiastic cheers from Teddy, Theo, and Tyde. The older three quickly positioned themselves, eager to start the match. Theo, always the little strategist, darted forward to grab the ball from Teddy, a mischievous grin on his face. You jogged over to join Trent and Tate, feeling a rush of happiness as you saw your children so full of life and joy. Trent slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’m not loosing to a team that’s combined age is that low.” He whispered with some cheek but laced with a serious you knew. “Want to win with daddy?” Trent cooed louder scooping up Tate who giggled reaching his tiny hands out to grab Trent’s face. Trent’s comment was met with jeers and ‘no daddy!’s from the opposition. You laughed, nodding, your competitive spirit flaring up at his challenge. The match was on, and with every step, every laugh, and every cheer, the garden seemed to glow even brighter with the love and happiness that filled the air. Each day was filled with new adventures, challenges, and joys, but no matter what, you faced it all together. Your home remained a sanctuary of love, laughter, and endless possibility, and you knew that whatever the future held, you would always have Trent, you would always have your babies. And as Trent would always tell you, this beautiful beautiful life you created was all

“Ours.”

•

Thank you for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading The Epilogue along ‘You’re Mine’ and 'Ours'. I know it was a long read but if you got though it I appreciate it so much. 🤍

The End

[top-vi]

the contrast of rhaenyra's and alicent's experiences with motherhood is so fascinating

I’ve always argued the storyline of being wary of motherhood and childbirth would’ve worked better with Alicent than Rhaenyra.

Alicent doesn’t get to choose who the father of her children is, she doesn’t have access to contraceptives nor can she refuse Viserys when he calls for her.

The themes of forced motherhood and the consequences of this would work so much better with women like Alicent: struggling to love children forced on you, not understanding why you’re not overcome with maternal affection, suffering from undiagnosed postpartum depression etc.

With Rhaenyra it just doesn’t work because unlike Alicent she can choose her children’s father and she can decide when she wants to be pregnant. In the books she has three back to back pregnancies and then stops for 4 years, whilst in the show she has Joffrey eight years after Luke which means she intentionally had a third child. Either way it all comes down to Rhaenyra having bodily autonomy; if she didn’t want to be pregnant she wouldn’t be pregnant.

Also having Rhaenyra be the one who expresses her wish to not have children honestly feels more sexist because the writers are implying not wanting to be a mother isn’t normal, so once Rhaenyra gives birth to Jace she realises the error of her ways and happily has five more. This implication doesn’t sit well with me.

so i wasn’t fair to you anon, and i’ve let this sit in my inbox since may. the reason for this is because i wanted to see how alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to their children were developed, explained, and expanded on in season two.

regarding alicent and her children:

i think we officially got your wish anon (mine too). while some people may be unhappy with her arc in season 2, alicent has always had a deep-seated love-hate relationship with her children. i’d argue that in season one we also got glimpses into the just…visceral revulsion that she cannot shake when she looks at her children, aegon in particular. but in season two i think she’s truly confronted, in a noticeable tangible way, with the facts of her sons.

obviously, i wish we’d been able to see more of this kind of dynamic back in season one, especially with a younger alicent. however, there are season constraints and we can only see so much in ten episodes (side note: 8-10 episode seasons with a two year wait in between is a rant for another time, but know i’m not being like “yay season constraints!”).

the problem with alicent’s arc and struggle is that so fucking much of it is internal. it is so incredibly hard to show on screen and i find the way its been done so far admirable. up until luke’s death, alicent is lying to herself over and over every day about her relationship to her children, aemond and aegon particularly. once the war starts i believe the tower of lies she’s told herself (this is morally correct, i’m just doing my duty, i was treated well, i’m protecting my children like any mother should) start to crumble. i hate so much that we never got her reaction to aemond killing luke for this reason.

also, to a certain extent she may not ever truly come to grips with her trauma. there are no words for what she went through—marital rape was not a concept then. it still manifests, obviously, but i think we can tell with her repeated insistence that viserys was a decent husband and man [loud incorrect buzzer] that she still thinks she’s the one who’s done something wrong. i’ll be interested to see if the writers ever actually have alicent come to grips with the fact that viserys was, in fact, not a good person or king. personally, i don’t believe they will, but we can always hope.

anyways, all this is to say that: i do believe the themes of forced motherhood and its lifelong consequences are well done and explored with alicent (thus far). people will disagree, perhaps even you, but her eventual rejection of aegon and aemond; her desperate, almost chaotic protection of helaena; her ideas about daeron; all of it really speaks to the struggle she’s had and is going through as their mother.

regarding rhaenyra and her children:

this is more difficult that alicent lol

before i get into my gripes with her story, i do want to push back just a little bit on the idea that rhaenyra truly has bodily autonomy. regardless of when or with whom she gets pregnant, she’s still expected to get pregnant and have children. while its unfortunately not explored, she does need to produce heirs.

now. i agree with you for the most part. rhaenyra’s relationships to her children really make no sense. the only one that’s fleshed out is jace, and while that is interesting in the “she’s doing to him exactly what viserys did to her,” it is not complex internally (in the same way alicent’s is). i also personally see joffery as an oops baby, but who really knows. i don’t even know how to explain her children with daemon. they were plot necessary i guess lmfao

the problem with rhaenyra and her children is that almost all of the critical moments in their relationships happen off screen during the time jump. its a structural tv show problem and it brings up these kinds of issues when looking deeper into the relationships she would actually have. i think the writers did a good job this season of making the internal conflict and intrapersonal strife within team black better, but this is just one of those things thats never going to be explored. in this sense we’ll never really know her true feelings or the development that could’ve happened—which is a massive shame.

my personal headcanon (so take with a grain of salt and don’t come for me), is that rhaenyra isn’t against the idea of children as a teenager, she’s against the childbirth. i believe this both because of the horrors of watching her mother’s repeated miscarriages and eventual death while in childbirth, and her consistent refrain of the desire to be a man. i think she wants, to her core, freedom and, as a woman, having a child requires much more sacrifice than having a child as a man.

i don’t personally see the change from not wanting children to totally wanting children as misogynistic, but i don’t blame you for seeing it that way because of the utter lack of canon explanation for it. again, i wasn’t really fair to you keeping this until season two was finished, but i think both alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to motherhood were developed well.

[edgeray]

🌸 madoka anon back! can i request arle finding clervies reincarnation later? with or without memories and how arle will handle it

To Find You Again

(Arlecchino & Clervie)

A/N - So… it's been a while huh? Guess I'm back for a little bit. Did you guys miss me? I missed you guys (please talk to me T^T it's been so lonely).  I am so sorry for taking so long to make this 🌸 Anon. Anyways, platonic arlevie because reincarnated clervie is a child while arle is an adult.  As you guys may have known, I was working on the follower special, and the reason I haven't posted it yet is because I haven't finished 💀. I know. Writing has been on and off for me the entire month, and I think I burnt out from just writing about one piece so much. That, with the added stress of finishing this before school started, and also me not knowing how to start the smut was just a fuck cluster of me procrasinating from writing because the solution to your problems is obviously running away from it :D. I was simultaneously exhausated and antsy to write. Anyways, with school approaching, instead of putting it off, I decided it'd be better to get the requests out of the way so I can get back into the groove of writing without having to focus on the oneshots.  TLDR; Going back to writing requests because I'm sick of writing the specials. 😭 I'm not abandoning part 2 or part 3, because god forbid I throw 9k words in the trash, but lord do I need a break from that writing style. They will be worked on steadily but they will happen… someday.    Content warnings / info - some angst :(, maybe bittersweet ending, 1.7k words.

There is a reason that Arlecchino favors a certain shade of red. The type of vibrant scarlet that leaves her breathless for the slightest second, and she cannot help but admire. Because in that single brief length of time, she is thrown back to when she was no older than six or seven, when she was just Peruere–underneath a tree, a small box in her hands, the sun beaming down at her, knees in the dirt, her curse creeping up her fingertips–and then warmest set of emerald eyes peering upon her. Memories, some fond but largely agonizing, swarm her thoughts, rising in waves that threaten to swallow her whole. 

Over the years, she's learned to stay afloat above the fickle waters, no matter how many times they resurface in varying sizes. Except today is when the waves tower over her, as it crashes into her body, shaking her to her very core, the very foundation of her memories disturbed. All caused by a single engagement in the middle of the Fontainian streets. 

Arlecchino often enjoys strolls when her work allows respites; they are refreshing to the mind, and the beauty of Fontainian architecture never fades away. Walking along the path, she hears small footfalls approach behind her, and then something collides into her body. The weight and negligible force of impact tells her it's a small person, a child, she confirms when she hears a high-pitched voice. 

An apology tumbles out of the child's lips. “I'm sorry!” 

And Arlecchino stiffens immediately, as her ears suddenly ring with those two words, familiarity bleeding through each utterance, because she knows of this voice. This is the same voice that has haunted her dreams for a decade, only this time, it's not whispered, not sapped of all of her previous vitality. Arlecchino is sixteen again, loose sword in hand, the press of a body against her chest, and surrounded by smoke, ashes, and blood, and all she knows is her last words. 

I'm sorry. 

Arlecchino looks down with a gaping expression, lips parted and eyes widened as she stares down at a mop of hair, the color of that ever damnable shade of red, carmine. Gleaming jade stones gaze back at her, and Arlecchino thinks of the impossible–reconsidering every preconception about death. Everything but her attire matches that out of her memories. Many explanations come to her for this child's appearance, but they mock the Harbinger's own recollection of her past. 

“I'm really sorry, ma'am!” The imposter repeats again, before looking down at her shoes, to hide away from any disapproving expressions. 

Had it been one of her children, she would have chided them on their spatial awareness. Had it been any other witless child, she would have scowled and shooed them away. But even with the knowledge that this is a fake, that the girl this child resembles could never return, she cannot help herself when this girl looks so much like her. 

She crouches down to the child's eye level, placing a tender hand on the top of their head, suppressing the urge for her fingers to card through the locks, just to re-experience one final time. She has to be no more than six or seven years. 

“What is your name?” Arlecchino inquires with a softness she seldom had for anyone.

“Clervie.” 

Arlecchino’s breath hitches, and she wills her face to remain still, betraying none of the internal turmoil inside of her. What kind of trickery was this? It's not plausible for Clervie to be alive, not when she had buried her a decade ago, so how could this child stand before her? It'd ease her if she chalked it up to coincidence, but the resemblance is uncanny. Fate works in inexplicable ways, and if it is at play here, then perhaps that is the only explanation. Only Arlecchino contemplates what it is that fate has in plan for Clervie: does it intend to redeem Clerive, or punish her? Or perhaps, was it to punish the Harbinger herself? 

This Clerive seemed to have not a single drop of recollection of her. Forgotten was Peruere, like ash drifted to the wind. 

“How old are you?”

“Six.” 

Further eye contact with the child proved to be too unbearable. Arlecchino observes around, seeing no adult making their way to them.

“Where are your parents?” 

“They're at home.” 

Multiple parents? Arlecchino prays to her Majesty that this Clervie did not have her own version of a Crucabena. A miniscule, selfish part of Arlecchino wishes that her answer was that she had no caretaker. If that was the case, Arlecchino almost wouldn't hesitate taking Clervie to the House of the Hearth, if only to keep this Clervie, no matter if she doesn't know of what occured in her past lifetime, close to her. Anything to replace the emptiness that her Clervie left her with, to pretend that she still has this seldom source of her content. 

She knows that her Clervie would never forgive her, if she knew. And Peruere knows that Clervie longed nothing more but freedom, freedom from the House of the Hearth. Even if this is not her Clervie, she could never trample what Clervie achieved for her own selfish gain. Even if Crucabena was no longer there, Arlecchino could never subject Clervie to the cruelties of the Fatui, could never subject Clervie to herself.

(Arlecchino lays alone in the darkest of nights, when the stars do not shine on her. During such sleepless periods, she contemplates that if Clervie could see her, would Clervie see her in place of their late Mother? 

Peruere is afraid of the answer.)

Clervie is free. There is no need to cage her again when she is always meant to be with the wind. 

But when Arlecchino sees this fake, but undoubtedly, Clervie, she cannot help but want to relive the pleasures of reading books in the window sill with the moon and constellations, climbing trees to collect its bearings, or delighting in cakes. A foolish, naive part that Arlecchino thought she had long buried resurfaces, and it longs to reenact those placid memories. 

“You should not be outside without your parents, Clervie,” Peruere states. “Did you run away?” 

Does this Clervie wish for freedom, just like she did before? The same freedom that she can only sought by death? 

The child shakes her head. “I can't find them. I lost them somewhere.”

The Harbinger lets out a relieved, inaudible sigh. Maybe fate decided to be kind to Clervie this lifetime. 

“Would you like me to help you look for them?” Peruere finds herself asking without a single thought. 

Clervie beams, and perhaps it hurts more than any blade that could pierce her skin. Still, she commits it to memory. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you want me to carry you so you can see better?” Peruere inquired. Admittedly, this is more out of selfishness than for Clervie's benefit. However, she wants to replace the memory of the last time she had carried Clervie's body, broken and bloodied it was when she brought her dear friend to her burial place. If, for the briefest moment between the tides, she would like to fool herself with this memory, then she wishes that she is allowed just this. 

Clervie nods her head, and Peruere carefully picks up the child in her arms, before standing up from her crouching position. 

“Wow, you're so tall!” the six-year-old admires with a wide grin. 

The Harbinger faintly smiles but says nothing. 

“What's your name, ma'am?”

Peruere stops before she's taken 5 steps. It's instilled in her for her to state Arlecchino, the Knave, Fourth Fatui Harbinger, but on her tongue lies another name. “It's… Peruere.” 

“Per…uere?”

Peruere nearly shudders from her utterance, but nods. 

“Can I call you Perrie instead?” 

Arlecchino is the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, her power nearly comparable to that of a god. She has faced Crucabena's Kingmaking, she has endured the icy prisons of Snezynayan, and she has fought countless enemies. Arlecchino is all but weak, and yet she crumbles from a mere innocent question, from a child of all people.

“Yes, you can call me Perrie,” she answers far too quickly then she would like to. 

The Harbinger traverses around the Fontainian streets with the child in her arms as they look for adults similar to Clervie's description. They seem nothing like Crucabena, Peruere notes.

“Perrie, why did you stop when I asked you your name?” is the first question that Clervie asks on their search.

“You remind me of someone that I knew.” 

“Oh…” Silence, then, “You're really tall. Do you think I can be tall like you?” 

You never got the chance to, Peruere almost says, but dismisses it immediately. “I do not see why not. You have plenty more to grow.” 

Clervie hums, before her attention flits to Peruere's hands. “How come your hands are like that?”

“I painted them,” Peruere says and winces at the answer her mind conjured up. Nonetheless, it's more than convincing to the child.

“Wow… they look really cool! You painted them yourself?”

“I did.”

“Can I touch them?” 

“I suppose.” 

The conversation flows as awkwardly as one would expect with a six-year-old. Peruere is now privy to random tidbits of this Clervie's life: her favorite pastimes, preferred animal, and favored dishes, and favorite plants. The Harbinger finds it unsurprising that this Clervie still pleasures in reading novels, ravishes cake, and admires Lumodice Bells. Then she discusses why she had been out earlier today: her parents intended on getting her new clothes but lost her after she was distracted by the window displays of a bakery. 

Peruere allows her to talk, wordlessly indulging in the youthful spirit that this Clervie exhibits. It is nearly evening when Clervie exclaims sighting her parents, and Peruere hesitantly approaches the couple. 

It takes more strength than Peruere knew she possessed to let Clervie down. Clervie sprints to her parent's arms without a second thought. Clervie's parents thank Peruere for reuniting them, and promise Clervie that they would visit the bakery to buy the cake she eyeing so much.  

It is clear that Clervie has her own life to attend to. Fate chose to be merciful to her, and Peruere knows she cannot interfere with Clervie's life more, no matter how much she wishes it. Clervie is content, without Peruere.  

Arlecchino turns on her heel, intending to leave without an additional word, but Clervie calls out to her, waving frantically. 

“Bye-bye Perrie! Thank you so much!” 

Peruere glances back over her shoulder, a faint smile stretching on her lips. 

“Goodbye Clervie.” 

In your next life, let us know each other more familiarly. Until then, live the carefree life we both yearned for. 

[five-rivers]

Just One Day (Chapter 1)

During times like this, Iroh glimpses what Zuko could have been if Lu Ten lived.  

It’s easy, almost painfully so, for Iroh to see what he himself would have been.  He wouldn’t have had any reason to change, after all, and he had already been old by the time he’d breached the walls of Ba Sing Se.  But for Zuko?  That’s harder.  

Zuko had been a child, still forming, still being formed, when Lu Ten died.  Zuko’s training would have taken a very different path, if he had been allowed to remain a mere cousin to the crown prince.  

Looking at what could have been for Zuko is like looking into a kaleidoscope.  Even within the confines of the royal house, there are a thousand paths Zuko could have walked.  A diplomat, a priest, a soldier, a scholar, an artist, an advisor.  A spy.  An assassin.

It’s the way Zuko pours himself out of the ventilation shaft, utilizing a economy of motion that could be called graceful that does it.  The utter silence of his movements, the color of his clothes, the brightness in his eyes…  Yes.  Iroh sees what Zuko might have been.  What he might have been used for, in another world.  What even Iroh himself might have been encouraged.

But if Iroh would imagine that world, he might as well imagine any of the dozen others that have crossed his mind over the years.  That countless myriad of what-ifs set on him like a spirit plague.  If he imagines that world, he could instead picture kinder ones.  Ones where the war was over, where Zuko was happy.  

It was immaterial.  What mattered was the here and now.  Here and now, Zuko is none of those things.  Zuko is an exile, a desperate one, chasing after a rapidly narrowing beam of hope that had more in common with the lure of an angler-shark than anything good.

“Uncle?” asks Zuko, voice quiet and rough.  Burnt.

“My apologies, Nephew,” says Iroh.  “You must forgive an old man his woolgathering.”

Zuko’s pinched expression says that no, he doesn’t have to do that and probably won’t.  “You have to focus if-- if we’re doing this.  You can’t be distracted when Zhao is looking over your shoulder.”  His tone is angry.  At least, that is how most people would interpret it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’ve made sure we’re alone.  We’re as safe as we can be.  In the meantime, food!  And more importantly, tea.”

Zuko scrunches his face into an expression that is both delightfully teenage and undoubtedly painful.  His face is covered in bruises and small cuts.  “Uncle…”

“You may wrinkle your nose, Prince Zuko, but every person in the world has at least one virtue, and Admiral Zhao’s is excellent taste in tea.”  He smiles as he sits down and reaches for the pot.  “Although, I am sorry to say that his virtue is a very lonely one.”

Sadly, this does not get the laugh Iroh was hoping for.  Zuko’s scowl may, however, become slightly less pronounced.  He also, once Iroh sits down, falls on the food like a starving man.  He might very well be.  Iroh’s position on the ship and in Admiral Zhao’s retinue has the unfortunate requirement of being in Zhao’s presence, or that of his trusted subordinates, most of the day.  This means that he cannot help his nephew nearly as much as he would like.  

So.  It is, in fact, very likely that this is Zuko’s first meal today.

Although, Zuko is quite capable of theft, when it serves his purposes and sense of honor.  Maybe he is just being a teenager.  Teenagers are hungry.  

Iroh would ask, but he doubts he would receive an honest answer, either way.  

Then, Zuko stops, mid-bite.  “Uncle,” he says around a dumpling, “have you eaten?”

Then again, Iroh is, perhaps, not a bastion of honesty himself.  “Of course!”  He pats his stomach.  “Have you ever known me to miss a free meal?”

Zuko squints at this, then looks back down at his food.  He doesn’t start eating again.  

“Do you ever…” he starts, before pursing his lips together.  

“Yes?” prompts Iroh, hopefully.  

“Do you ever wish,” says Zuko, quickly, the words tumbling over each other, crowding to get out of his mouth, “that you were someone else?”  He freezes, then, jaw clenched tightly, as if he fears that he has spoken out of turn.  

“No,” says Iroh, glad that, at least, this is a familiar fear.  “No.  Prince Zuko, I do not regret my decision to be with you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Zuko, clearly frustrated but keeping his voice at a near whisper.  “I mean…  Do you ever wish that you weren’t-- That you didn’t--  That you were a, I don’t know, a poet, or a priest, or a-- a normal person.  Somewhere.  Someone who didn’t… didn’t have to…”  He shrugged.

Iroh blinks.  Not a fear, then, perhaps.  Well, if Zuko wants to stop his hunt, to disappear from the eye of the Fire Nation and more importantly the Fire Lord, Iroh will do his best to make that happen, and with a glad heart.  Although, it would have been far more convenient if Zuko had his change of heart before he snuck onto this ship…

“I suppose all men do so at times, especially men of power.  Otherwise, why would there be so many stories of kings and lords in disguise?  Why would there be actors, or the masks of the Fire Festival?  I confess, even I have, hm, occasionally pretended to be someone who is not Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General and Dragon of the West.”  He paused.  “Do you wish for such a thing, Nephew?” best to not use his title and remind him of the responsibilities attached to it.

“I… I have, uncle.”  He looks up, alarm clear on his face.  “Not permanently!  Not forever!  Not-- Not even for very long!  But sometimes…”  He looks down again, a blush spreading across skin that is alternately pale, scarred, burned, bruised, and scraped.  “I wish,” he says, very quietly indeed, “I could be someone else, anyone else, just for a day.”

In that moment, Iroh can see all the things that Zuko wishes not to be, not to have.  He wishes not to hurt, not to be hurt, not to have this weight upon him, not to have this duty, not to be banished, not to be so far from home, not to be part of this war, not to have these memories, this history, not to be betrayed over and over again.

Although, that is probably not the way Zuko is thinking about it.

“But just for a day,” says Zuko.  He swallows.  “Just for a day.  I know my duty, Uncle.  I love our people.  It’s my honor to serve them.”

Ah.  Perhaps Zuko is not, quite, ready to run away with him to become nameless, faceless Earth Kingdom peasants, then.  Well, Iroh always knew this was going to be, how should he put it, a work in progress.  Or, no, that probably wasn’t the best way to put that.  He’d have to think on it.  

Metaphors took a lot of work that the youth of today just didn’t appreciate.

Iroh put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder and squeezed it as tightly as he dared.  “I understand, Prince Zuko,” he said.  “But I hope that someday, the spirits will grant your wish.”

Zuko blinked hard, then went back to inhaling his meal.  A few minutes later, he was climbing - practically levitating - his way back up into the vents.  

Iroh leaned back, sighing.  They really shouldn’t make those things as big as they did.  

.

Zuko crawled to the bend in the ventilation shaft that he’d been sleeping in while Zhao sailed north.  It was near the showers, so while it was unpleasantly damp, it was warm and he could sometimes overhear the officers talking.  

He curled up, tucking in his knees and pillowing his head on the small bag of necessities he’d been able to put together.  He should sleep.  He needed to sleep.  

But to sleep, he’d have to forget all the stupid things he had said to his uncle.  What had he been thinking?  Ugh.  He’d hit something, if that wouldn’t give away his position and therefore his presence.  

Well.  It might not, at that.  Ships were noisy.  Still.  

Still.  

Still, he hadn’t been lying.  But he knew better than to just say things like that.  That’s what got him exiled in the first place.  

He forcefully closed his eyes.  He would sleep.  He had to be rested, to break into the north pole and capture the Avatar.  

.

The sun slowly rose over the arctic horizon, waking all of the fleet’s firebenders, even if for only a moment, depending on their shift.  In his stateroom, Admiral Zhao woke slowly, and called for his aides to brief him.  Decks below, General Iroh, already awake, ran through a set of katas he had not yet taught his nephew.  In a ventilation duct near the officer’s showers, a teenage firebender gasped, coming awake all at once.  But this teenager wasn’t Prince Zuko.  Prince Zuko wasn’t on the ship.  Prince Zuko wasn’t anywhere.  

In the ventilation duct, Kuzon of Hing Wa sat up.  

.

(The moral of the story is ‘don’t make wishes when you’re in a spirit tale.’)

[tulipe-rose]

Nakahara Chūya, and Miyazawa Kenji... Quite the unique bunch, aren't they?

The allegedly 'inhumane', gravity manipulating beast, and the temperamental, often starved sunshine child.

They're explored separately throughout the Manga, and are given their moments to express their characters through words and actions. At first sight, they'd be rendered polar opposites. However that may be true to an unknowing outsider, their current knowledge would never allow them to understand, to comprehend what lies within.

One loyal dog, another morally grey sweetheart.

They do meet once during the main plot; multiple times during the spin offs and once during the anthologies. They're portrayed to be an admiring boy with his idol. It's truly an adorable sight to behold.

The feared Mafia executive, and the loved, yet feared agency part timer.

It's a pity that they'll most probably never get the right opportunity to connect with one another. Their past experiences and sorrows are the key factors that would assist them to truly understand each other's emotions, as they both know what it's like to grieve over loved ones. They both know all too well what it's like to be the strongest; to be the pillar of support that everyone depends on in certain situations; their trump card. They both harbor abilities that are mighty, double edged swords, unstoppable when provoked, even harmful to oneself when pushed to their wits end. The weight of responsibility could weigh on them akin to dead weight, but they persevere through it, and they manage to make it through victorious. It's truly fascinating however, that the difference in environment could impact the path taken, and ideals followed by each. The way by which they choose to handle predicaments they're to be put in reflects the duality of humans that are infinitely similar and different concurrently.

Bottling up their issues and emotions isn't foreign to either. One due to his upbringing, and the other solely because of the fact that he has no time to deal with them. Life is moving, and the mafioso cannot afford to be held up by pitiful emotions. He is capable of destressing using quality wine in the safe confines of a bar table. The young blonde on the other hand is a stranger to pitiful anger, sadness and irritation. He has been brought up to never feel the need to be anything but happy. Yes, it might have effectively impacted him, making his perspective and views brighter, much more optimistic and inviting than most. However, a certain perspective would claim that variety in emotions is what makes us human; I'd leave it up to debate, yet I personally believe that with enough care and attention, the young Miyazawa could open up, even if a little to peak of anything that bothers him. That'd be the peak of character development. Another colossal issue that is faced by this superhuman fourteen year old happens to be how he chooses to handle his hunger. He could be half starved to death, yet not a single complaint would leave his lips. He's far too accustomed to it. He doesn't acknowledge it anymore, and that is not healthy.

A lost soul, and another wandering one.

I dare say Nakahara sees a fragment of his youth in the blonde countryboy. Nakahara would go to unimaginable lengths just to keep the boy's smile genuine; to keep it cheerful and glad to be in existence as ever. He'd try to reserve the boy's happiness, because he was too familiar with it being stripped away.

They might just be the shoulder that both of them needs to lean on, cry on in case the infamous ginger winds up lost to the alcohol.

If only the mangaka gave it a serious chance.

(TD;LR I firmly believe in and support the Chuenji sibling dynamic.

Petition to allow the Miyazawa family to adopt Chūya, aye in the comments if you agree.

Hope you liked this pointless piece of meta that literally no one asked for. I'm pretty sure most of my points have been repeated over and over by other people, but never hurts really.)

[aeoki]

Atlantis - Divine Bridge: Chapter 6

Location: Seisou Hall Theatre Room Characters: Touri, Yuzuru, Eichi & Wataru Season: Winter

TL Note:

Amanohashidate / 天橋立 (lit. Heaven's/Divine Bridge) is one of the three scenic views in Japan. It’s a thin strip of land connecting two opposing sides of Miyazu Bay, located in northern Kyoto prefecture.

Eichi: Hehe. Judging by your speech, it seems your “foolish side” still noticeably remains within you.

You’ll most likely repeat the same mistakes in the future.

Touri: U–Uuu.

Wataru: Eichi–

Eichi: Why do you look at me with such a criticising glare, Wataru?

What Touri needs right now isn’t lighthearted and sweet comfort – He needs to be scolded so that he can face reality.

He also needs hope. Don’t worry, Touri.

I, too, started from the lowest depths of nothing.

I stepped out from the lowest starting line and now I’m arrogantly acting like the idol that you admire.

Yuzuru: You’re heir to a big conglomerate, so you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth, no?

Eichi: Yeah. I brought in elements that would be advantageous for me from the outside and rid myself of the “nobody idol” which no one will acknowledge.

There is nothing more unsightly than seeing an elderly speak of his success story to the young, but it should be more meaningful than spouting empty and fluffy words of comfort.

At the very least, that’s how I won. I have actual achievements to my name. I’m sure there will be those who object, but at the least, history says I’m the winner.

Yuzuru: …Eichi-sama, you’re saying that you want the Young Master to copy your filthy methods?

Eichi: Unfortunately, there isn’t enough time. It won’t be long before the end of the election. There isn’t time to create a scheme similar to the one I used to crush the “Five Oddballs”.

Touri, deep down, you’re a good child who is more kind-hearted than anyone else. I don’t think you have the capability to handle the same heavy, dangerous weapon.

You cannot become me, and you mustn’t.

Touri: B–But I–

I admire you so much, Eichi-sama. I want to be just like you.

Eichi: There isn’t only one path to the same destination.

You have been gifted with a pair of angel’s wings. You can soar freely through the skies, but there is no need for you to intentionally walk down the bad road I cut open that’s drenched in blood.

Touri: I–I’m no angel…

Eichi: Besides, I hate myself so if anything, seeing someone blindly imitate me would only be an annoyance.

It feels unpleasant – like I’ve been forced to look into a mirror that reflects what I don’t want to see.

Wataru: ………☆

Yuzuru: (Ahh, Hibiki-sama has a smug look on his face as if he’s saying, “See! It’s exactly as I said, isn’t it?” But it would be a pain in the neck to acknowledge that, so I shall ignore him.)

Touri: I copied you because I admired you, Eichi-sama, but was that… unpleasant for you?

Eichi: I can put up with that – I now understand that it was an expression of naive affection.

The issue is the other individual.

Yuzuru: The other individual?

Touri: Tsukasa? It’s Tsukasa, right? He sure is infuriating!

Eichi: No. In fact, Tsukasa-kun has had his first initiation of adult society recently and now bears the dirty sentiments that I prefer.

To be honest, I’ve begun seeing him as someone endearing. I didn’t have an ounce of interest in him before, though.

Wataru: I understand what you mean. He has begun giving off an Eichi-like scent (?) recently.

Touri: T–That Tsukasa… Ugh, he’s the last person I wanna lose to.

Yuzuru: But who is the “other individual”, then?

Eichi: Have you heard of the Z. K. Zaibatsu?

It’s the other family who was allowed to call themselves a zaibatsu as an exception after the war – just like the Tenshouin family.

Touri: Oh, it’s because of that that Hiyori-sama’s family could only call themselves the “Tomoe Foundation”, huh.

Eichi: Yeah. That was the beginning of their decline.

Incidentally, the Z. K. Zaibatsu built their base overseas after losing a power struggle with my great-grandfather in the past.

They changed their family name and now, they call themselves the Z. K. Zaibatsu.

Touri: It was originally a Japanese name, right?

Eichi: It appears they still have a lingering attachment to Japan, so they decided to pronounce Z. K. as “zekkei – a picturesque scenery”, and they’re using that as the basis for their logo too.

Yuzuru: Why have you started telling us this story…?

Wataru: Is that common knowledge in the financial world? I have been listening with great interest as it sounds like a story from another world in my eyes.

Eichi: At times, I feel distant from you, Wataru. And it’s rare for your hunch to be off, Yuzuru. I wonder if the poor condition of your master is affecting you as well.

The Z. K. Zaibatsu can be seen as the Tenshouin’s bitter enemy, but there is a talented young lady who has intelligence and promise rivalling her father, the current head, and her older brother, the family’s heir.

Her name is Z. K. Amano Hashidate.

Touri: Oh… I knew it.

Eichi: Yeah. It seems they have a bad habit of naming their children after picturesque places.

It might be old-fashioned to say this, but it’s not a name fitting for a girl at all.

It seems her youthful and dignified name also bothers her somewhat.

She has even used her power to be publicly referred to as “Amano Hashidate[⁎]”.

Amano is a much cuter first name, isn’t it?

Touri: I see. I wonder why I didn’t notice right away.

Eichi: In high society, only her parents kindly refer to her as the Z. K.’s daughter. It seems she really doesn’t like her boorish first name and only chooses to mention her family name.

Touri: Then the Hashidate that’s currently in the lead in the student council president election is…

Eichi: I can only guess at this point, but it’s too much for it to be a coincidence. It should be Amano Hashidate – in other words, Z. K. Amano Hashidate.

Yuzuru: What do you mean by coincidence?

Eichi: I told you about “Project-ATLANTIS”, didn’t I?

The Z. K. Zaibatsu is trying to access this big project while we have our arms folded.

The one who requested an audience with me was none other than the representative of Z. K. Zaibatsu, that talented young lady.

Wataru: Was that the reason you didn’t dine with us the other day?

Eichi: Yeah. She called me out of nowhere and I had to return to my family’s mansion. That’s where I had an audience with her.

She was quite assertive – I was captivated the moment I met her.

She said something along the lines of “Eichi-sama. We’ll be able to create a utopia if the Z. K. and Tenshouin families were to be wed.”

Touri: N–Not this again… What? Don’t tell me you fell for her slovenly seduction, Eichi-sama?

Eichi: It was a rather charming offer. I suppose I could possibly consider teaming up with the Z. K. Zaibatsu.

Touri: Whaa!?

Eichi: Naturally, that’s only if I’m speaking logically. They were once chased out of the country by us – it would be impossible for them to completely throw away their grudges to become one big happy family.

I called her a talented young lady but she’s still young – she couldn’t completely conceal the hatred in her eyes.

She, Z. K. Amano Hashidate, must be an assassin sent to crush the Tenshouins.

She may not succeed in doing so, but she must be intent on harassing us at least.

She must be after the Himemiya family as well, seeing as our two families are close with one another.

Yuzuru: Is that the crux of the matter?

Eichi: Yeah. What should we do, Touri?

Our common enemy has made an appearance.

Touri: …………

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[theartofgrowingblog]

Adult loneliness and my new life

As a person, fundamentally, all I have ever wanted were friends. It sounds vain to say now, wanting people to thanklessly admire me and wish to spend their time around me. But I would love to be in someone’s orbit, and to maybe have an orbit of my own. 

Nowadays, I find myself feeling more and more like a distant dwarf planet in others’ solar system. Days without a text from my college friends are reaching triple digits. I enviously look at what other people my age are doing with their groups. They have a year or two left in college and their smiles show it. I’m moving houses.

I think moving contributes to this creeping feeling of loneliness I have hanging over me. I find myself lingering on every corner of my childhood home, scared that I may forget something in the 70 miles between myself and my family. My family expects me to say some grand things about how much I will miss them, I think. I’m not good with spoken word. I clam up any time the attention shifts to me and why I don’t express my sorrow at going at the ripe age of 21. It isn’t that I won’t miss them. I know I will. I know the tightness that pulls at my chest as I drive further away, like a tether that is pulled to its absolute limit. The boxes in my car feel like little fragments of myself that I am slowly, one-by-one breaking away from my old life. I know that I cried to a sappy country song my baby sister sent me because it made her think of me. An hour and a half later, my eyes still weren’t dry. I know that I cried while my mom dried my hair yesterday, because I was scared it would be the last time. We sang the same songs we did when I was a child and for a brief, fleeting moment, I was her five-year-old, doe-eyed baby girl again. 

I cannot put it into words when they’re supposed to come out of my mouth. My neverending internal monologue ceases and all I can manage is a lousy “Of course I’ll miss you.” I see the disappointment on their faces when that’s all I say.

What I want to say is this: I am sorry I can be so mean. I’m sorry that the teenage angst that I buried for 10 years bubbled over and finally came to the surface in my twenties, during my last few months at home. I’m sorry I took you all for granted when you were just 10 feet away from my closed bedroom door. I wish I didn’t wear earbuds on long family trips and I wish that I didn’t waste my teenage years on academics. I should have had more movie nights and less cram nights. 

The first night I spent in my house, I turned to my boyfriend and said, “It’s too quiet.” He thought it was funny, since I had always complained so much about how loud my sister and her friends could be. While it’s something I’ve wanted for years, I don’t think I like the quiet that much. 

I wasted years of my life wishing for an orbit of friends. I already have one in my family, and now that I realize it, I’m leaving it all behind.

I hate the terms “new life” and “old life”. I’m not a new person because I happened to graduate and find employment in a new city. I’m still me. I still love my family. They’re still the only people I can stand to see every day.

I think my first few months in my new city will be spent crying. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to move. I think I’m just mourning the life I took for granted.

[xivu-arath]

safekeeping

it is femslash february and also valentine's day, so I am finally pulling this snippet out instead of continuing to sit on it! tfw u are gay and also know the galaxy is maybe doomed

“What is it?” Rkorya asks when Lana pulls her away. The ruins she’s led her to are secluded, with enough standing walls to keep them hidden from view, and they’re far away from the coalition’s staging area that it’d be difficult to just stumble on them. In short, a good place to say something she’d rather not have overheard. “Is something wrong? Has the Republic tried to undermine us already?”

“No, no – though they might still try something, the truce holds for now,” Lana says, brow furrowing. Rkorya can feel her thinking something over, deliberating over each word, each action. Throughout every betrayal and crisis, her intellect has been both guide and weapon, something Rkorya has grown to admire and rely on. Normally she would have enjoyed watching her think, or treasured how relatively unguarded she is around her, but even this new, fragile bond cannot distract her from what she must somehow accomplish.

“This isn’t about the coalition, or Revan, or our mission. It’s about you.”

“Me,” she repeats dully, trying to wrest her thoughts away from tactics and battle. “What specifically about me?”

“It... might not be my place to say as much, but you’re pushing yourself. More than you were on Rishi, if I’m to judge.”

“And if I am?” she says, and waves sharply at the ruins, and the humming tension of the Force that they’re both privy to, like a darkly familiar note being plucked over and over. “This is surely a situation that requires it. You know I’m of little use away from the front lines.”

Lana doesn’t quite frown, and once again Rkorya has the sense that she is delicately sorting through what she might say. “You’re right, certainly. The Empire needs its strongest, and you are that. But you’ve already gone into the jungle several times for smaller matters, ones which don’t require your attention.”

Rkorya shifts, prepared to argue that point, and Lana raises a hand to forestall her. “It’s no longer just a handful of us against a conspiracy. We have people now, resources we couldn’t use in hiding. We no longer need to do everything ourselves.”

“I know that,” she snaps, more heated than she’d intended. “Just as I know what sort of missions I’m suited for, and what my limits are. I’ve made it this far without needing to be looked after.” As soon as she says the words she regrets them – she sounds more like a petulant child than a Sith, and one who knows she’s in the wrong.

It’s a struggle to rein in her temper, but she at least manages to soften her tone. “It takes hours or days to gather the intelligence needed to make our next move. What of it if I occupy myself with more minor tasks? What matters if that they’re getting done.”

“What matters,” Lana says, “is that you are the one doing them, wasting your energy when we have other options. Surely after all of this, no one could doubt your dedication. There’s nothing left to prove –”

“It’s not about proving anything! I – Lana, I have to be doing something. It doesn’t matter what, I just can’t stand this waiting.” Before, she had taken such things in stride, but she had been confident then, certain of her strength and her ability to triumph in the end. Now Yavin feels like an obstacle placed in her path, and there’s a frenetic energy humming under her skin, demanding she keep moving, keep fighting, do something of worth. “The stakes are too high, now.”

Usually she admires Lana’s poise, her ability to remain focused and in control despite the depths of her emotions, but right now it’s infuriating – her calm seems implacable, her reasoning a counter to Rkorya’s every word.

Perhaps they’ve grown close enough for Lana to sense that, because her expression softens and she steps closer, reaching for her hand. She lets her take it in both of hers, and not even her current mood can tarnish the quiet thrill of this familiarity, this easy trust.

She couldn’t have dreamt of it, once.

“The stakes are high,” Lana agrees. “That is why it’s important that you be rested, focused. We need you – I need you – to be at your strongest.” Her composure slips – purposefully, she’s sure – just enough for Rkorya to catch just how important this is to her. “There’s little room for mistakes, with the truce and with our enemies. It’s nearly overwhelming as it is. I can’t bear having to worry about you as well.”

She’d clenched her hands into fists, but they uncurl now, some of the tension draining out of her. It would be difficult to fight a need as great as this one, and it’s utterly impossible now, when Lana meets her gaze and holds her hand like it’s some precious thing. For reasons she can’t begin to explain, that nearly undoes her. To be seen as so worthy of this.

“You shouldn’t worry,” she says at last, voice low and rasping with emotions she can’t quite name. “You know my strength –”

“Any other time, and in any other place, I wouldn’t question it. But here, I must. Please, Rkorya.” She squeezes her hand lightly. “Be careful.”

“I will,” she says haltingly.

[justfinishedreading]

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat by Sakaomi Yuzaki 

Volumes 1, 2 and 3

Oh my god I love this manga so much! I’ve often wanted to read more manga about lesbian relationships but unfortunately most in that genre are filled with high schoolers with very child-like faces and personalities, and enormous breasts, created to cater for a male audiences. I cannot fully express how happy I am to find a manga that features grown-up women who look like grown-up women and lead normal lives! This manga follows two neighbours who gradually start sharing meals and spending more time together. Volumes 1 and 2 are slow paced, I was starting to wonder if their romantic relationship was only ever going to be hinted at and stay vague and PG13, but volume 3 indicates that things will develop, now I don’t think anything will ever get particularly sexually explicit, it’s really not that kind of manga, it’s cute and sweet and wholesome -ok perhaps all three words mean the same thing- and while I don’t mind that, I don’t mind no smut at all but I do think that physical attraction needs to be acknowledged in a grown-up way, it can take several volumes to develop if necessary, and never show anything explicit but it’s still important to discuss, even if they end up being a sort of asexual couple, I don’t think that’ll be the case because an asexual character has already been introduced in volume 3.

The things I most appreciate about volumes 1 and 2 are: the illustrations of the multitude of micro-aggressions women face in day-to-day life, the way Nomoto admires Kasuga's huge appetite, the way the author draws women eating full on over and over again, I love how adorable Nomoto is -she’s my crush now, and I like that Kasuga has a larger body shape. 

Volume 3 is where the introduction of new characters really starts to broaden the book, we look at a character that has an eating disorder, and how healing it is for those around her to respect her and not force her to eat (side-note I got the impression this character might be non-binary but not sure, need to re-read it) and then there’s another character who does not cook at all, she lives and dies by the microwave -I feel so seen. Nomoto, our passionate cook, does not shame her in any way.

I’m really looking forward to reading more about this characters.

Review by Book Hamster