#chapter: rosewater

[nanistar]

tornlotus’ family tree is so interesting im very curious about glowcall. it’s interesting that not all moonclan cats were white/grey/desaturated

since Glowtail is directly Rosewater's daughter, and Rosewater was originally a MarshClan cat, she still has some color to her! Rosewater's grandkits still have some uniqueness to them (especially Shatterwick, who is primarily that purple-gray that tornlotus' accents are, more about her later.)

If Rosewater has more MoonClan kits perhaps there would be more variety to them, but she was older when she had Glowtail and pregnancies are harder and far more dangerous in MoonClan. (1 kit is typical, two is lucky, three is a miracle. about 50% of cats do not survive the pregnancy or birthing process. if they have one litter, regardless of whether or not the kit survives, it is enough of a health detriment that they will not try again. no one in the past 5 or so generations has even tried to have more than 1 litter.)

#rosewater was dying anyway but we will learn a bit about that in the nearish future #after the bonestar chapter (: #moonclan

[birlwrites]

2022 writing roundup!

as i said a little while ago, i was genuinely surprised to discover that i posted the urge to have faith this year, so i decided to do a more comprehensive post of what i've been working on!

here's what i did this year (based on my ao3 because i have far too many documents to go through them all looking at date stamps):

posted the final ficlets in the set those ghosts alight universe: regulus's 5th year career meeting with mcgonagall, and the Geoff Deserves Better ficlet

began my grand tradition of rosewater hurt/comfort feat. bedsharing, starting with the urge to have faith (post-regulus surviving the cave)

BEGAN POSTING A TASTE FOR HARD VICTORIES!!!!!! starting with the replacement way back in february, and then continuing with to the dark lord in march (speaking of, happy almost-ten-months!)

regulus and remus teaming up to end the war in like. 4 days in an overdeveloped affinity for spite

brief diversions into other fandoms: a high school musical theater au for AFTG, and continuing my 'check please but make it pride and prejudice' fic (appropriately titled pie and prejudice)

continued the grand tradition of rosewater hurt/comfort feat. bedsharing with a proposal in someday, which i then followed up with a sequel with more hurt/comfort, this time starring barty!

wrapped up my order spy!peter series with hero

leveling up the mutual pining in a rosewater-centric PJO AU ficlet featuring sirius as well as regulus's pet hellhound

various ATFHV spinoffs: a getting-together alternate ending of ch 20 of ttdl, as well as career goals: tyrant, the somehow even more unhinged first draft!!

and my last standalone work of the year, implode—, in which sirius rescues a half-drowned regulus from the cave and i have fun with style. technically this is also rosewater hurt/comfort feat. bedsharing but it's not rosewater-centric the way the urge to have faith and someday are

ttdl is now at about 148k on ao3, and i'm working on writing as many chapters as possible now so i don't have to stress about staying on top of my update schedule during my spring semester!

in 2023: super excited to keep working on ttdl/atfhv and discover random other ficlets that will definitely occur to me, as well as potentially finishing up some that i have in progress (the sirius and barty one, an evan pov followup to sun and shadow, a wedding fic in the promise of series, MANY MORE......... oh god afjskghsdkf)

#wow they could have gotten their shit together in chapter TWENTY #i'm pleased with this we have range #i'm also embracing 'rosewater' as a ship name btw #birl's fic roundups

[knightsickness]

westerosi perfume culture thoughts based on medieval/early modern ^^

incense in septs to the point of both cat and sansa immediately thinking of the smell of it when thinking about the faith. this is fully a ‘the faith is just catholicism’ thing theres reference to a censer being used at tywin’s funeral, though this is also to cover the smell of the body - i believe its implied theyre using a lot more incense than they typically would and failing to overpower the rot smell

scented candles and incense are both used in septs and to scent rooms - scented candles higher-end, beeswax candles, which even unscented smell quite sweet and are quite expensive (they burn cleanly and don’t spit). animal fat tallow candles are much cheaper but perfume can’t stop rotting fat smelling of rotting fat it just combines with it. tallow tends to be used in poorer settings, for light not scent

scented beeswax candles used by tyrion and cat, and in the sept of baelor - imo v unlikely most smallfolk or smaller septs are buying them regularly, especially considering how many candles they need to keep lit. i’d say tallow 90% of the time beeswax on holy days

basically every noble in kings landing seems to wear perfume, ned specifically repulsed by the fact that robert now does which is crazy. whats roberts taste in perfume like

varys specifically is always described as perfumed, which is like. effeminacy due to eunuch status he leans into but also his ambiguous origin - while a lot of people in westeros wear perfume it seems to be significantly more popular in the free cities + beyond, vv frequently mentioned in dany chapters

perfumed and powdered often go together, varys and lysa off the top of my head - powders could also be scented, quite popular in france

multiple references to oldtown being heavily perfumed, dual reference to incense as a faith centre and worn perfume on a dowager, oldtown as a wealthy city and consumer centre

perfume also strongly associated with prostitution, an irony - septs and brothels often scented with incense, the ‘perfumed boy’ slaves victarion kills, satin wearing scent in his beard

popular scents rarely described in more detail than a type of flower or ‘sweet’ - most interesting perfume a westerosi lady wears is taena’s wildflower and musk, which cersei compares to the smell of moss

the tyrells seem to only wear rosewater this is pretty explicitly part of their branding as a house. even the blue bard a tyrell servant washes his hair with rosewater. most roses actually don’t distill well i’m assuming they have some westerosi equivalent to damask roses grown in bulk at highgarden or some other reach territory (probably at highgarden their scent in the gardens would be part of the tyrell image cultivation there. henry viii did this specific thing so you would smell his rose perfume in the gardens even when he was away from home which some historians have referred to as a ‘serve’) only like two varieties of rose work in perfuming. i’d also speculate that the roses margaery and her ladies brought to tywin’s funeral, if they were strong-smelling enough to cover the smell of an unnaturally rotting corpse, were probably roses scented with rosewater

perfume application on people typically oils, waters and more rarely waxes - multiple mentions of perfumed beards or hairstyles and waxes would be easier for that - perfume in baths common for the wealthy

no mention of scented accessories e.g. gloves or fans, though both immensely popular in elizabethan england - are there civet cats or equivalent in westeros? there are whales and thus presumably ambergris, taena’s perfume referred to as musky but unclear if this means it contains actual musk - animal perfumes are best for scenting leather, strong and waxy and other lighter scents can cling to them. dany wears scented silk clothes

tyrion associates worn perfume strongly with old whores, which suggests cheap perfume widely accessible, probably perfumer’s shops in major cities (notable bc otherwise we could conclude perfumers worked primarily for aristocratic patrons)

there are probably westerosi perfume-makers but its also likely theres a solid luxury import trade - dorne and the free cities both have established distinct perfume cultures and strong trade links with merchants

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure. 

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave. 

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott. 

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating? 

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero. 

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around. 

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out. 

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform. 

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity. 

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you. 

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break. 

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always. 

Second. 

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster. 

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light. 

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard. 

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.” 

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.” 

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.” 

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom. 

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.  

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot. 

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident. 

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?” 

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“I told you, last time was—“ 

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?” 

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.” 

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.” 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott. 

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits. 

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth. 

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.” 

“You’re absolutely repulsing.” 

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“You could say please.” 

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.” 

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?” 

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove. 

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little. 

“What?” Theo asked. 

“Did you cut your hair?” 

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy. 

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain. 

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally. 

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.” 

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder. 

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted. 

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.” 

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.” 

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.” 

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin. 

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping. 

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision. 

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark. 

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?” 

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?” 

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.” 

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.” 

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?” 

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.” 

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?” 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.” 

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.” 

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?” 

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.” 

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.” 

“For the draught?’ 

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.” 

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions

#your honor i love him and his filthy mouth #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

[giuliettagaltieri]

Thirst for Sunshine

Pairing: Sorcerer!Gojō x Teen!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Bottomline is, Gojō Satoru was a jerk.

Warning: angst, unrequited love, suggested misogyny, jujutsu society stigma, arranged marriage, age gap

Word Count: 1183

2 of 9

It was not everyday that you were allowed to get out of your estate house to visit modern society.  You have been preparing for the day for weeks.  Your hand maidens helped you with your milk and rosewater baths.  Lathering your skin with the most nourishing of products and sealing the moisture with the finest shea butter.

You were like a dream.

With the brightest smile you can muster, you step out of your family car and step into the gates of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College alone.

Your betrothed, Gojō Satoru has been absorbed by the school as a staff the moment he graduated.  You hear that he has been thinking of working as a teacher in the school.  You are not certain how to feel about that.  Your fiancé is nothing short of a child, how would that turn out for his students?

Still, you wonder how he will manage.  It is a good opportunity for him.  To change his pace, mature a little.

You are glad to find out that the school has not changed that much.  When you were younger, your handmaidens accompanied you to watch Satoru in the Goodwill Events against Kyoto jujutsu high.  He always came out as the victor, much to his schoolmates' annoyance as he does not miss to make every single opportunity all about him.

He was too proud sometimes.  Charging alone when it was supposed to be a team effort, not that he loses. In fact, it makes him shine brighter.  Still, you worry that it might be that kind of attitude that will cause his downfall in the future.

To your right, you hear students yelling at each other as they train.  They were older than you but by the carefree smiles on their faces, you know they were only neophytes in the jujutsu society.  How you wish you could be one of them.  In a few months, you will be old enough to enroll in the school.  But your family would never allow it.

They prefer to keep you at home, training you in the arts of house making.  Including how to keep your husband happy and satisfied.

You shake the thoughts away, lest your face erupts to a wild flush.

You take a deep inhale to help in clearing your thoughts and you walk forward to Gojō’s office, with the box of blueberry cupcakes heavy on your arms.

The other staff in the school bow upon seeing you and you dip your head slightly to acknowledge them.  Your geta sandals softly clack against the wooden floor as your kimono swishes against the breeze.  Your family insisted that you wear traditional clothing wherever you go.  You cannot wait to wear ones that are in the colors of the Gojō banners.

As you turn the corner, you hear the rambunctious laughter of Gojō Satoru.

You hear no other voice inside his office and you can guess that he is on the phone, talking with someone.

Halting in your steps a few feet away from the door, you take a deep inhale.  Your hand is flying to your hair to straighten any stray strands.  You fan your face to get rid of the moisture after your long walk from the gates.

You made an attempt to straighten your kimono to check for any crease when Gojō’s voice startled you.

“You coming in or are you gonna stand there all day?”

It was incredibly foolish of you to not announce your presence, knowing that the man you are about to see possesses the six eyes.

“P-Pardon my intrusion.”  You say in a quivering voice.

Gently, you slide the door open and there Gojō was, lounging on his sofa, tapping away on his phone as his right leg was perched above the other, looking so carefree.

“Uhm…”  You hesitate by the door.  Awaiting his acknowledgement so you can enter.  But the man was still grinning at his phone, despite his eyes being covered by bandages.

Quietly and patiently, you stand there so still, the weight of the cupcake was starting to strain your arms.

“Gojō-sama?”  You call softly.

He hums, still not looking up at you.  “Sit.”  He nods at the sofa in front of him.

With much reluctance, you step in and close the door behind you.  Disappointment slowly replaces your excitement.  But you will yourself to sit in front of him.  You look up to find him still on his phone, a grin playing on his lips.  You nervously twirl at the band that kept the wrapping of your gift.

After a long moment of silence, Gojō sighs.  “You can put that by the table and you can take your leave afterwards.”

You look up from your lap, your brows now forming a frown.

“How…How have you been?”  You are desperate to lengthen your stay, trying to stretch it as much as you can.

He scratches at his head as he places his phone by the sofa.  “I’m well.”

You try to smile at him but it comes out a little forced, with your spirits already dampened.

“You can report back to your family that our chat went smoothly.  I’ll tell mine the same thing.”  He says in a matter that made you realize that your presence is not exactly welcome.

“Certainly.  I am terribly sorry for bothering you.”  You rise from the sofa, clasping your hands together to keep them from shaking.

Gojō gave a curt smile that did not reach his eyes.  “‘S fine.”  He made no effort to disagree with you, making you feel more awful.  He is a busy man, being the strongest sorcerer and all.  And here you were, taking up his rest time.

At least he was kind enough to open the door for you.  “Thanks for the snacks.”  He said rather flatly.

You were about to reply when loud footsteps heading your way echoed around the room.

“Gojō Satoru!  How dare you take the credit for my mission!”

An angry woman in miko clothing marches to the room, her hands gripping the door angrily.  She is covered by bandages and scratches.

What surprised you was the change in Gojō’s voice.  “Huh?  Can’t you just be grateful that your knight in shining armor saved the day?  Again?”  It was the most playful you have heard him speak.  You almost wanted to stay and watch them banter.

But the woman lunges at Gojō who uses his infinity to keep her away, yawning mockingly before he grins at her.

You cannot bear to stay another moment.

Quietly, you slip away and head towards the gate.  Your kimono held tightly in your hands to keep you from tripping.  Every step felt heavier and heavier as your chest tightened with every breath you take.  Soon enough, tears cascaded down your well powdered cheeks. 

Your handmaidens and guards that waited by the car felt the same sympathy for you and nothing but loathing for your fiancé but to save you from embarrassment, they spoke none about the events.

Gojō Satoru.  You are running out of excuses to stay in love with him.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

#gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojō satoru #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojō x reader arranged marriage #arranged marriage #Where the Blue Roses Grow

[seniaasaysstuff]

hopelessly devoted; ryomen sukuna (og form) x fem! reader.

not culturally accurate; will have aspects from both chinese culture and japanese culture tho it is based in heian era where sukuna was at the height of his power.

smut next chapter🤭

Ryomen sukuna, the king of curses. This name was known all around and was reasonably feared. People worshiped the man as if he was the second coming of Jesus. Those who were trying to curry favor with the man sent him beautiful women, including many of their daughters as concubines for sukuna.

Sukuna gladly accepted them and frequently visited the beauties. The beauties were all focused on pleasing sukuna and wished to birth him a son and elevate their status to a consort. Sukuna was like a deity to them and they believed pleasing him would bring their family luck and glory.

Now on the day, your parents were about to send you off to emperor sukuna’s palace as a concubine, your vicious sister born from concubine fed you poison in the guise of a nourishing soup.

Your concubine birthed sister thought if you were killed she would take your place and become emperor sukuna’s concubine. She didn’t anticipate that you would wake up and act like nothing happened.

In the modern world, You were drunk and ran out of the club. You didn’t expect to run onto the road in your drunken stupor and get hit by a truck.

When you woke up, you were assaulted with memories of the body you were inhibiting. You felt enraged at the way that low-birth sister and that wretched concubine pei treated you.

Since you were from the principal line, the rest of your concubine-born siblings were envious of you. You received love from your parents, and grandparents and it made them filled with jealousy.

You hated the way the body you were inhibiting was so naive. She treated the siblings like they were all birthed by the same mother. She gave away her clothes, her hairpins, and everything they wanted. You made up your mind that you were about to make these ugly bastards suffer.

You were about to enter the palace as a concubine today and you made up your mind you were going to grab the emperor’s golden thigh and make all that made the previous owner of the body suffer face a fate worse than death.

First, you had to see what kind of golden fingers you had. Since you were a gen z kid who read ancient-era novels and watched anime and Asian dramas you knew you could stir some shit up and wreak havoc.

When you heard from your parents that the man you were being gifted to as a concubine was sukuna who had quite a monstrous appearance it felt like you had hit a jackpot.

Ryomen sukuna was someone you were quite familiar with. Considering the simping you had done when the original designs of his body were released, you were very excited to see the man in the flesh.

Night time was approaching and it was time for you to be sent off in a carriage to your new home with your entire family seeing you off. Your parents and grandmother had tears in their eyes while your grandfather looked sad.

You could tell all of them didn’t want to part with you but this was something that had to be done and you understood that. The carriage reached the palace and you were ushered off to your tiny estate. You brought five dowry maids along with you. You were bestowed with two eunuchs and a maidservant.

You were given a rosewater bath and the maids dressed you up in a sexy negligee and put a huge ass wedding dress on top of that. A huge veil was placed, making you unable to see anything. The maids then left you alone in the room.

The room was dark and the only glimmer of light was from the candles.

You were squirming in excitement. You were about to meet one of your favorite anime characters even though his fraudulent behavior was questionable at times you loved him.

You yawned, feeling bored out of your mind.“When is sukuna coming? Like this is so boring. Been waiting for that guy for so long for fuck sake,” You grumbled loudly. You weren’t aware of your surroundings and failed to listen to the footsteps of someone approaching.

A deep chuckle was heard. “Did I just hear someone calling out for me?” The voice crooned, making you squeak.

“Aww is my concubine shy?” Sukuna spoke in a low voice. You shyly nodded.

“Words love.” He softly said. “M’not shy,” you replied, your face covered in a red hue.

Sukuna removed the veil from your face and gently caressed your cheek. “Your father didn’t lie when he said you were beautiful.” He whispered as he softly tilted your chin upwards.

You gasped, “You think I’m beautiful?” Hearing one of your favorite characters say that you’re beautiful was just sending butterflies down your stomach.

You huffed, “Look at you. You're hotter than anyone on this planet well… except Toji but he doesn’t exist right now.”

You added as a second thought, “Well if you have two dicks and we can count that stomach mouth of yours then you are the best man alive.”

Sukuna let out a deep chuckle. “And pray tell how do you know about my body anatomy?”

You cursed, you should stop babbling. “I have dreamed about you a lot actually.” “Well, shall we make your dreams a reality?” Sukuna teasingly spoke. You nodded your head.

Sukuna wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled your face close to his. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip. You were feeling a bit mischievous so you stuck your tongue out and licked his thumb.

“Sweetheart just say the word I can give you another thing to lick,” He smirked. “Oh I’d love that,” You winked at him.

“You minx,” He growled. He picked you up and sat you down on his lap, so now you were facing his humongous chest.

His stomach mouth decided to be cheeky and licked your hand, making you jump. “Pfft-” Sukuna chuckled. “Hey! It wasn’t funny!” You whined, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

Sukuna kept looking at you with that enamored look in his eyes, it made you feel shy and it made you want to run for the hills. It felt like the man was slowly getting obsessed, and if that obsession grew even deeper? You wouldn’t be able to escape, not that you wanted to.

You caressed his cheek. “You’re a beautiful being sukuna ryomen and being able to meet you was a pleasure,” you whispered.

“C’mere you sweet sweet vixen,” he spoke as he grasped your chin, tilting your head upwards so that you could look at him. His one pair of hands gently ran all over your body. You ground your body against his thigh, a feeling of bliss washing over you.

You gasped as his hand brushed over your waist, slowly and steadily making his way towards the inner of your thighs. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against your lips. His tongue brushed yours, he tasted like sweet sake.

“My sweet girl, you are a treasure,” Sukuna breathed out as he broke away from the kiss, a smile etched on his face as he glanced at you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna headcanons #ryomen sukuna x fem! reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #original form sukuna #og sukuna #jjk x reader

[tekikato]

Post-War Warriors with his brothers potted plants

Close-ups:

Based on Chapter 13 of @elle-rosewater 's fic Steel Can't Carry Me Now ! I highly recommend reading it especially if you like Warriors angst!!!

#linked universe #lu warriors #should i tag the other two? #i probably shouldnt #kato draws #fic fanart #the pots are a gift from artemis

[lunargrapejuice]

forever yours

alhaitham x reader

forever yours valentines masterlist

warnings: no pronouns used, mentiones of reader being smaller than him

it was the heart beating within his chest, echoing within your ear and the comfortable quiet of sumeru, under a tree just outside of port ormos, that lulled you into such a peaceful place, somewhere between dreams and reality. surreal; as alhaithams love for you always was. 

at times you still couldn’t believe that you had captured his heart, most wouldn’t even believe he had one to offer anyways, but behind the thick pages that kept him from intangible, illogical, things such as a love was a man who longed to be in your presence, to seek knowledge of the of the world - of the heart - beside you. and he had held you close ever since.

you can’t help but nuzzle into his chest more, the hints of rosewater and hibiscus clinging to his soft skin mixing with the fresh air around you. it was intoxicating and when you looked up at him, his own eyes dropping from the pages of the book he had been reading to you for the last little bit, amber iris’ glowing molten in the early afternoon light, you felt completely drunk off of him.

“i love you ‘haitham,” you whisper, pushing your feet against the blanket that lay underneath you in order to reach him, your lips kissing the underside of his jaw.

“i love you too,” he replies, his tone soft, and it makes your heart skip far too many beats.

you know he loves you, you didn’t doubt that even when he wasn’t one to voice the words out loud often, because his actions, the little things he did for you, the way he wants you close besides being someone who prefers to be alone, told you more than words how much you mattered to him. still, your heart couldn’t help but feel giddy, like it was the first time he had ever said it, each time he spoke those words.

he relaxes deeper against the tree trunk at his back, the hand not holding his book coming around your middle. easily you settle into him again and he continues reading about the flora of sumeru, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on your hip, his steady heartbeat thumping in your ear.

you’ve heard him read this book more than once, and since being together you know why he so often returned to it even when he knows its content by heart; being a book of his grandmothers, left with a note of her love from him. 

it’s no surprise when alhaitham starts to read the pages in another language, he knows this book inside and out so translating it must be easy for him.

你是我的一切。 比任何知识都重要，我最需要的是你，我的爱。 那我为什么紧张

but even though you don’t know what he’s saying, there is one word that stands out from the rest, that doesn't quite belong in this book.

爱

“you really are quite the romantic, you know.”

lowering the book, he looks down at you with a quirked brow and you swear you feel his heart pick up speed under your palm. “oh?”

“i know that one,” you repeat it with confidence, having fully picked up on what it means after your time of being together. “it means love. right?”

“it does,” he says flatly.

“i’ve heard you say it before but the word ‘love’ doesn’t come up in this chapter.” you would know, having memorized this particular part about padisarahs, since it was your favorite for him to read. “so what did you say, hm?” you tease, moving so you were kneeling between his legs, leaning in to be face to face so he knew there was no way you were going to let him out of this one.

for a split moment he averts his gaze and in the shaded afternoon light you can see the faintest of pink dusting his cheeks. even with that adorable blush, when his eyes meet yours, he’s as confident as ever. he speaks again, this time in completely different language, one you do not know but even though you aren’t sure of the words, with the way he spoke, the ocean in his eyes flecked with honey pulling you in, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed, flustered and lovestruck by them, like your heart knew their meaning that he was keeping hidden from you.

again and again he switches languages, moving so that he was kneeling in front of you, his taller figure towering over you and under his intense gaze, you turned away in hopes it would stop your heart from beating right out of your chest.

but he doesn’t let you get far, not before his deft fingers capture your chin and bring you back to him with a call of your name from his lips. you were so easily coaxed by his touch and words, turning back to him even though you weren’t sure you could breath if he kept this up.

what was waiting for you was a part of your beloved you did not often see, his heart on his sleeve, a nervous swallow that bobbed his adams apple, his eyes so full of love it stopped the world from spinning and left only you two to move as time froze.

your eyes flutter closed in sync with his as he leans in, his fingers still holding your chin, closing the distance between you, sharing your every breath. he places a sweet kiss to the corner of your slightly agape lips and, in a language you know, whispers against your skin.

“you are what i want to hold onto until the end,” he confesses, low and sweet, before pulling away slowly. even his hold on your chin leaves your skin cold and your eyes open to follow after him. 

you can hardly breathe at the sight in front of you; a smitten, yet somehow nervous, smile on your beloveds face and such steadiness and resolute in his eyes, his silver hair looking as soft as silk in the light coming from between the tree leaves above. in his hand, a small box and when he opens it, you feel your entire being burst with warmth, wrapping you around the vines of his truth, his love.

“i want to spend my life with you, loving you, learning with you..” for the first time you think he is at a loss for words and truthfully, he is. there are too many things he’s thought about saying when he’d finally come to this moment, a great many things he feels, but he doesn’t know if any words in the many languages he's versed in will convey the depth of his devotion. so he’ll stick with the question he had asked you a dozen times in a dozen different languages in the last moments that led to this; ���will you marry me?”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff #al haitham fluff #alhaitham fluff #🌙.foreveryours

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Nine

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

18+ only

trigger warnings for blood, vomit, injuries.

We are finally at the end, wow, this has been so much fun. I'm still a little unsure about this ending but I just want to say thank you for reading over these past few months, thank you so much.

  “And we’re back with our President and First Lady to be! It’s so good to see you both smiling after such a tragic time.” Lucky Flickerman beamed into the camera.

    “Thank you for having us Lucky and thank you to everyone watching at home.” You said with a soft smile, taking Coriolanus’ hand in yours.  In return, Coriolanus lightly kissed your knuckles and the studio audience cooed in response.

    “Let's get down to why we are all here, shall we?  It’s been three long and sad months since that fateful day and what a day it was. I should know, I was there and vomited all over my favorite suit!”

    “It really was a great suit, Lucky.” Coriolanus chimed in, earning a  laugh from the audience. 

  “Tell us, Coriolanus, what was it like in those moments?  We’ve all seen the footage of you cradling your beautiful wife, the danger, the drama! In your own words, tell us and everyone watching at home, about your wedding day.”

With a last look at you, Coriolanus Snow, husband, murder, and President-elect of Panem, opened his mouth and began to speak.

The night before his wedding, Coriolanus Snow was not in search of a final fling before an eternity of matrimonial bliss nor was he drinking himself into a stupor to bid his old life behind.  

When he kissed you goodbye after your long important walk and talk, he watched you get into the waiting car, shut the blinds and got to work. Crassus Snow’s record player crackled to life and with a sonata filling the apartment, Coriolanus surveyed the upwards of hundreds of champagne bottles on the dining room table.

He had not lied, if you asked him to burn down Panem, he would fetch a match yet after tomorrow, that would not be necessary.

For you, he would poison his wedding guests and murder President Ravinstill.

And for him, but that's besides the point.

As night turned to dawn, Coriolanus packed the champagne, the scent of apples and rosewater hiding the danger beneath. His guests would get something of his own collection, sweet and light, just enough to make them vomit and collapse, enough chaos to distract from the main attraction.

For President Ravinstill, he would not stray from tradition.

Nightlock.

Not just nightlock berries ground with a mortar and pestle, that was lazy, noticeable.  Every little piece of the berry was used, sprinkled in with champagne already designated for the soon to be former president. 

He watched, oh how he watched Ravinstill, take flute after flute upon his arrival. 

Yet at the very end, the person whom Coriolanus wanted at his side to witness the end of an era was currently unconscious on the floor beneath him.

Coriolanus Snow, with all his careful planning and plotting, had lost.

It had been two minutes since you had stopped talking, one minute since you stopped breathing and ten seconds since Coryo had tried another dose of the antidote. Coriolanus looked to the purpling corpse of Ravinstill, face frozen in death, and refused to let him win. 

There was no Panem with you.

    “ Not yet, Mrs. Snow.”

 “Coryo!”

A small gasp and the click clack of heels brought Coriolanus out his head and back to you as Tigris came running into the room. He had made sure Tigris was away from the venue before the champagne was served  by simple timing but now he was glad to have her here by his side.

    “Coryo, Coriolanus? Is she-

  He did not, could not, answer that. 

    Coriolanus brushed tears back and gave you another rescue breath, watching your chest rise and fall with his help only to remain just as still.  He checked for a pulse again, felt that weak irregular beat beneath his fingertips starting to slow.

Please don’t go, he whispered.

     “Coryo, I can hear sirens, we have to get her outside.” Tigris urged, voice thick with tears and Coriolanus was vaguely aware of himself pressing his lips to your forehead before gently picking you up. It all became real in that moment and Coriolanus began to run. 

The sight in front of him was more horrific than he had imagined to be with his wedding guests in various states of consciousness and the pungent aroma of vomit and blood wafting through the venue. Peacekeepers and medics were beginning to swarm the area and  with you in his arms, Coriolanus remembered there was still a part of his work that needed to be executed.

    “Help, somebody help! There’s something wrong with my wife, I don’t know what’s happening but President Ravinstill, he’s back there, he’s collapsed! I tried to help him but-” Coriolanus broke off, false tears in his eyes as he shook his head at the listening medic. The medic nodded at two other medics and peacekeepers who ran towards where Tigris was pointing. 

  Coriolanus reluctantly let the medics take you before following them into the ambulance himself without a word, barely hearing Tigris’ promise to meet him at the hospital.  Alarms and instructions between medics faded away as he squeezed your hand.

Please don’t go.

At some point, a shrill monotone sound invaded Coryo’s ears and it was then and only then that he let himself splinter. There was more noise and action around your body and unable to hold your hand, Coriolanus curled in himself, hands in his hair, caught between suffocating fear and such incredible rage.

The ambulance came to a stop at Capitol Hospital and all Coriolanus could do was watch a nurse climb onto the gurney take over compressions and let that same gurney carrying Panem’s possibly dead next first lady pass him and race inside.

Only then when standing alone did Coryo care to notice that the inside of his mouth was stinging, letting his tongue pass over the beginnings of a bloody sore. Every time he had breathed for you, what remained of the poison on your lips traveled to his own. 

The taste of blood in his mouth was nothing new to Coriolanus. 

There would be no Panem without you, all would crumble and perish before him, there would be no capitol, no games, just the end of all.

Coriolanus Snow had made up his mind: should you pass this day, Panem would know the dark days once more.

   “I’ve never been more afraid in my life, Lucky. If I could go back and save our dear President Ravinstill too, I would have done more, I should have done more, there was just so much happening.  I couldn’t lose my wife, without her I would lose myself.” Coriolanus broke off, a small sob escaping him and the audience was more than happy to lick up his grief.

 With a soft kiss on his cheek, you guided his hand from your thigh to your stomach with a smile.

Lucky loudly blew into a hanky before gasping when he saw Coriolanus’ hand on your stomach.

   “Mrs. Snow, is there something you’d like to share with us?”

   “Because of Coriolanus,  the extraordinary medical team at Capitol Hospital, and the support of Panem, I’m still here and I’m so happy to announce I’m pregnant.”

The audience roared and it was then you knew the girl from District 6 had all of Panem in the palm of your hand.

But there were games left to play.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

  “Ma, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” You urged, your hand wrapped around hers, tears in your eyes. 

A few long seconds later, your mother weakly squeezed your hand, the same as your Pa the day before.  

You were taking it slow but the doctors promised they would fully wake any day now and pre- inauguration press and third trimester be damned, you would be at their side the moment they opened their eyes.

You kissed your mother on her forehead, promising to come back tomorrow. 

But now, you had a very special appointment.

   “Little thief, you’re glowing! How can I be of service?” Dr. Gaul looked up from her research with that all too familiar venomous smile.

  “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done in aiding my parents’ recovery. The doctors say they will wake up any day now.” You said, taking the seat she offered.

   “How wonderful! It’s good to hear my favorite lab rats are on the mend. Hopefully seeing their daughter pregnant and married won’t send them right back into a coma.” 

 You gave a hollow laugh but sat up in your chair.

  “ They’ll be happy to know I’m still alive.  I almost wasn’t, as you well know. It took the doctors so long to treat me, they couldn’t figure out why I was so much sicker than everyone else. So many tests were run and even now they still don’t know.”

  “Have you asked Mr. Snow? He’s always had such an insight into poison.” Dr. Gaul remarked pointedly. 

It was no secret that Coriolanus was involved in Ravinstill’s death but thanks to your dramatic yet romantic near death experience being caught on camera, Panem did not care.

  “ I would but he’s been so busy touring the districts, preparing for the inauguration. Speaking of, there’s something I need to tell you, actually it’s easier if I show you.” 

 One of your security detail came forward and turned on Gaul’s television. 

Lucky Flickerman came on to the screen excitedly, a breaking news banner beneath him and to his right sat Coriolanus.

  “ Mr. President, I’ll cut to the chase, my producers have told me you have something to share with the fine people of Panem? ” Lucky asked, bouncing on the edge of his chair.  Coriolanus smiled into the camera, hands folded on his lap.

   “To honor the tragic death of former President Ravinstill and to celebrate the upcoming arrival of our daughter, the First Lady and myself would like to announce the suspension of The Hunger Games this year.”

Last night, you had asked Coriolanus if would rather be feared than loved.

This was his answer.

You couldn’t hear the TV due to the rather dramatic shrieking of Volumnia Gaul.

As if on cue, peacekeepers entered Dr. Gaul’s lab began to take it apart, boxing up research, emptying cabinets and Dr. Gaul herself stood in front of you, laughing.

  “I underestimated you, little thief. Will you kill me now or televise it?” She asked, head held high as two peacekeepers appeared on either side of her.

You stood up from your chair slowly to face the now former Head Gamemaker.

  “I don’t need to kill you. You tortured and poisoned my parents and through your puppet Ravinstill tried to kill me, death is an afternoon treat for you. I want you to witness the future of Panem, witness them forget your creations the more time passes, and one day, when someone asks what The Hunger Games were for, the answer will be simple: nothing. From now until the day you die you will remember me not as a hostage or the wife of a President, but as the little thief who stole your greatest treasure, your legacy.”

Your time with Dr. Gaul ended in the place where it all began.

If only she had chosen a girl of fine capitol breeding.

EPILOGUE

One week after the presidential inauguration of Coriolanus Snow, Rose Snow comes into the world screaming, Coriolanus holding your left hand and your mother holding your right.

Once upon a time, you had three rules.

Never be seen.

Never take what you could not carry.

Never intervene.

Now you only have one.

To live without fear, now and forever. 

Thank you to everyone who has been waiting, I hope that this was worth the wait! Thank you all for reading and I’m so happy this is out now. If you would like to see a sequel to connubium, please interact and reblog this work!

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x black reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x black!reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tw emetophobia #tw emeto ment

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

The Heart of a Wanderer VII

Clifftop

Previous chapter can be read here

If you need a complete refresher or would like to jump into this story, the masterlist can be found here

4.4k words. Very light sexual themes.

Azriel had flown them back to the edge of Persepolis in silence before winnowing them the rest of the way home. His face had remained a stoic, stony thing. Hard hazel eyes scouting their path meticulously but always carefully remaining averted from her. 

She thought she felt his gaze burning the side of her face a few times, sensed his chest constricting as if he were about to say something, but then he’d stop himself. If he was going to apologise for his outburst then she would accept, but she wasn’t going to beg for it. Nor make it easy for him. He’d acted like an ass, and she was sick of letting people get away with it. The entire way home was such a stark contrast to their flight in.

They had stayed only one night in Helion’s palace, needing the time to rehash her vision with the High Lord and then devise a plan to assist in anything they may need to avoid allowing Beron to be successful in the matter of the looming Spring Court invasion.

Helion, graciously, had agreed to provide aide, in whichever way he could. And she and Azriel had played their parts well. They had agreed the citizens of Spring couldn’t be left to defend for themselves against the might of the Autumn armies, and that their safety would be of utmost importance, along with stopping Beron from successfully taking over the fraught territory. Impeding Beron’s triumph in turn seemed imperative in protecting the humans who inhabited the land just below Springs’ borders, too.

After all matters of importance had been decided upon and planned for, Helion had invited them to drink and dine with him in his private parlour that night. Elain accepted graciously, but Azriel had politely declined, claiming he had reports to complete that had become pressing. 

She tasted the lie in the air, knowing the Shadowsinger was avoiding her, as he had been since their argument in his room. She had been deflated that they had found themselves back in this awkward territory after seemingly coming so close to being friends again. But she decided not to wallow, not to let his broodiness seep into her own attitude. If she had just one night here, out from under the watchful eyes of all of those from the Night Court, then she would damn well enjoy it.

She had changed into a more comfortable but no less stunning dress for the evening. A flowing gown that still resembled the Day Court fashion, but less stuffy and embellished, the colour a deep jade. Its bodice still hugged her torso and the skirts billowed around her slender legs, but the added gold embellishments were stripped, leaving her more relaxed to eat and lounge with the High Lord’s company for the night.

There were perhaps two dozen High Fae gathered in Helion’s private parlour when she joined them that evening, the room dimly lit with flickering glass lanterns strewn across the marble floors. Males and females alike dressed in gowns and robes in a kaleidoscope of deep jewelled tones were lounging on puffy, cloud like cream-coloured cushions, or draped across low-lying, deep-seated settees. 

Some attendees were already entangled in varying degrees of lust and desire, whilst others merely enjoyed the view and ambiance or discussion around them. Swathes of fine gold organza draped and folded from the low ceiling, giving one the sense that they were nestled within a giant ornate nest, the delicate fabric muffling the sounds of neighbouring conversations and impassioned touching alike. 

Crystal decanters of ruby, sapphire and emerald held various wines and liquors. Females in billowing magenta pants and exposed bellies floated around the room offering trays of plump dates, rosewater and orange-blossom flavoured jellies, and a sweet flaky pastry treat called baklava. Brass platters of fresh figs, soft cheeses and olives were spread across the scattered tables around the room. 

It was all so decadent and lush. And although Elain usually shied away from such scenes of debauchery, she found herself once again drawn into the thrall of the Day Court customs. Emboldened by the absence of anyone who reallyknew her. 

Here she could be anyone, here she could enjoy something she would normally not care to want, if even just for just a little while. It wasn’t something she longed for often, not at all. But on the occasion, it felt like a refreshing change. Like she could slip on a different mask and play make believe for just one night.

She had spent that evening in Leto’s company, her sandals kicked off and strewn about on the floor before her and her legs tucked beneath her on a soft, cream loveseat. They had not spoken or seen each other since the last time she had been in Day, which had been months ago, and she had forgotten how easy he was to talk to. She had forgotten how charming his smile was, how his rich olive skin seemed to glow from within, how his pale green eyes peered so intently at her as she spoke. But despite all of this, of how truly lovely this male was, she found her thoughts wandering up to the room beside hers. The room that she knew was currently occupied with the brooding shadowsinger. 

After his outburst, she figured Azriel must have been jealous of Leto. That he had sensed something between them and surmised some sort of scenario for himself. Never mind that all that had happened between them was a few kisses and heavy petting when she had last spent time here. Having indulged in a few glasses of Day Court wine had left Elain feeling lightheaded and a touch rambunctious. 

Sure, they were very hot and heavy kisses that still made her blush when she remembered them; how she had brazenly straddled his lap, how his hands had grazed across her burning skin, how his tongue had traced wicked paths up her throat and along her collar bones. She had explained to Leto that she was just looking for some light-hearted fun, nothing serious. He had merely replied that she was a beautiful young female, and she was entitled to do as she pleased. That there was no judgement in the Day Court. 

She wasn’t sure if he knew the status of her mateship. Not that it meant anything to her. But she didn’t bring it up and graciously, neither did he. 

During that first visit, they had indulged in a night of laughing and drinking and passionate foreplay, Elain draped over Leto’s lap as he ravished her lips, chest and neck. She’d never done such a thing, her human sensibilities always holding her back- but she found the more time she spent with the fae, the less she cared about trivial things such as decorum and propriety. She was free to do as she pleased, and she’d be damned if she was going to let a couple of stubborn males dictate what or who she should be doing. She belonged to no one.

So, she had enjoyed herself this visit too, although she had refrained from partaking in anything physical with Leto this time. He didn’t push her and seemed genuinely happy to just enjoy her company, talking with her into the early hours of the morning. When people started dispersing; either retiring to their quarters alone, or to finish what had been started with one or several partners, they too turned in for the night.

Leto had walked her to her door and left her with a sweet kiss on the back of her hand, wishing her a restful sleep. 

Entering her room that night, Elain hadn’t heard a single sound coming from the occupant next door. And yet a restful sleep was far from reach.

~

Elain sat on a plush leather couch in the main library of the river manor, a small fire crackling before her as the weather had finally started to turn colder. The looming clouds outside had been foreboding enough to have her forgo any of her gardening duties today, instead opting to hunt down any books about Seers, controlling one’s powers, and how to strengthen one’s mind to the onslaught of various magics.

The books she had collected were currently sat in a stack beside her on a small brass pedestal, a heavy tome open in her lap, but the words before her swayed in and out of focus. Her mind was unable to fixate on the topic before her, ironically. The broody Spymaster incessantly floating into her mind instead.

It had been almost a week since they had returned from Day, and beyond their initial meeting with Rhys upon their immediate return to Velaris, Elain had not heard a peep from Azriel. She wasn’t even sure if he had been staying at the river manor, let alone if he was anywhere in the entirety of the Night Court. 

It seemed every time there had been some sort of conflict between them, they would choose to run away. Her to the far reaches of Prythian, Azriel to the Mother knows where. She hated it. And she was sick of having to tiptoe around males. It was bad enough when Lucien imposed his presence upon her during his seldom visits to Velaris, but the thought of needing to avoid Azriel too? She could no longer stand the thought.

Snapping the book shut with a loud thud, Elain stood, flinging the leather-bound pages behind her on the cushion she had previously sat in. A small groan of frustration left her lips as she paced, back and forth, her feet wearing a path across the plush rug along the face of the fireplace.

Elain was fed up, aggravated of this cat and mouse game, the unpredictability of this situation between herself and Azriel. They couldn’t continue avoiding each other forever, and further to that she had the nagging suspicion that there was something he wasn’t being completely honest with her about. She was tired of the restless nights and simply of not knowing. Of not knowing where he was, when he would return, if he was safe, how he felt, how she felt. It was growing tiresome and once again she decided that she couldn’t wait.

She couldn’t wait until an appropriate time to corner him, to speak with him. She couldn’t wait for him to come strolling through the door in his worn leathers, his face weary. She wouldn’t.

And so, she once again closed her eyes. Delving further and further into that mysterious well of power that rumbled deep within, she allowed the pull of the void to lead her along the path to Azriel as she winnowed.

~

Before Elain had even opened her eyes, she felt the cold, harsh wind whipping against her skirts, tangling in her long hair. She hadn’t thought to don a cloak in her urgency to go, and truth be told, the bite of the icy air only bolstered her resolve.

Cracking her eyes open to reveal the scene she had winnowed to, she learnt why the wind was so arctic here, why it so ferociously whipped about her. 

Standing near the edge of a rocky cliffside, she peered around her, spotting Azriel about twenty paces ahead. His back was turned to her, his mighty wings a strong dark force against the strong gale. He stood deathly still, the only movement was his raven hair that whipped wildly about his face, and a few lone shadows that swirled about his feet, caressed his neck.

Elain couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by him, the mighty warrior on the edge of the jagged cliff. His strong thighs planting him securely to the ground beneath his feet, the two siphons upon those brutally scarred hands the only source of brightness in the otherwise moody scene before her. 

A shadow coiled about his ear before disappearing, and Azriel turned, a look of mild surprise lining his face as he beheld Elain standing in the knee length grassy meadow at his back. Before he could turn around completely, Elain’s feet moved. She was grateful she hadn’t winnowed to directly on top of him this time, but she didn’t let the insecurity of that dredged up memory show as she closed the distance between them.

His deep voice floated over to her on the back of a strong gust of wind. “How did you find me?”

Once she was within a few paces of him, she halted, standing before him with her shoulders thrown back. Elain chose to ignore his question. She wasn’t sure how she had found him anyway. It was as if some part of her knew where she could find Azriel, where she could always find Azriel. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d never admit the pull she felt toward him, the bright, invisible thread that seemed to bind them.

“I winnowed,” she responded instead. A vague enough answer that perhaps alerted him to her hedging but provided enough information to the Spymaster that confirmed they remained alone. That no one had brought her here. That they could speak freely.

“Is everything ok?” he responded. She spied a few shadows darting away, no doubt off to gather information about any happenings he should be aware of, any danger.

“Everyone is fine. I just wanted to speak with you.”

His face gave nothing away, even as his eyes bore into hers unwaveringly, seemingly trying to read her expression in return. “What about?”

Elain scoffed at the question somewhat unkindly, his seemingly feigned naivety grating on her patience. “What about?You have been avoiding me since the day we arrived in Persepolis. Barely three words have been uttered. You cannot be that obtuse, Azriel.”

His eyebrows bunched together as a dimple appeared in the tan skin of his smooth cheek. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with her last remark or trying to hide his surprise.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he murmured adamantly, clasping his hands behind his back, a muscle in his neck twitching.

“Oh yes you have, you haven’t been home in over a week, nor present at a single meal,” she bit back, her muscles now tensed against the ice cold winds.

“I’ve been busy with the looming conflict in Spring. I…I’ve been coming home late and leaving before you rise.”

“So, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“As I said, I’ve been busy,” he bit out, not conceding to her inferences.

“Well, we’re here now, and I’ve had enough,” her temper was rising at his petulance.

“Enough of what?”

Enough of what? Elain heard her own heartbeat pounding wildly in her ears, her temper flaring with every passing word Azriel uttered. She exploded, her voice coming out louder than before, her arms splayed out wide. “Of running! Of you running, of me running. I’ve had enough!”

“I haven’t been running—"

“Oh, come off it, Azriel!” she shouted, cutting him off from telling more lies.

“What do you want me to say?” He too was growing exasperated now. Good. She’d had enough of his stoic composure. She’s gladly see him unravel if it meant he was honest.

“The truth! Tell me the truth! I know there is something you are not being honest about.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, the only sign that she had said something with some certainty behind it. Even still, he seemed reluctant to speak his mind.

“Is it really that bad? The thought of kissing me?” She had uttered the words so softly; she couldn’t swallow them before they had come tumbling out.

His face cracked, his shoulders softening slightly, his hands flinching at his sides as if they ached to reach for her. It was clear he hadn’t expected such candor from her, nor had she expected to let that admission free from her private thoughts.

His voice came out as a croak, his eyes peering down upon her beseechingly. “No. it’s not that. Elain…”

His words drifted off, fading into nothing, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly, the scars on his hands stretched over his clenched fists. His eyes darted across her face, his expression giving nothing away, and yet something charged went taught between them. That mysterious thread once again pulling.

“Azriel…”

She started the sentence but truly wasn’t mindful of how she’d finish it. But no sooner had his name slipped from between her lips he was stalking toward her. His long legs ate up the space between them in just a few paces and in the next moment he had reached out with those beautiful hands and buried them into her hair. 

Before she could register his intentions, he had swooped down and captured her lips with his. Azriel kissed her so desperately, so passionately, that the air had been knocked from her lungs. He had utterly caught her by surprise and she couldn’t react, her body wilting in his arms. Melting hopelessly into his embrace.

Her arms hung limply at her sides as he pulled away slightly, his face still so close to hers, lips swollen from their kiss, his bright hazel eyes churning as they searched her face. In vain he searched for an answer, for a sign that what he had done was ok, that she too, had wanted this.

Before he could pull away, she had grabbed the front of his leathers, tugging him down toward her and this time Elain kissed him with back the same amount of gusto. The same amount of aching need leaching from every swipe of her tongue, every bite of her lips, every sweep of her hands dragging along his neck, asking a question she desperately longed to find the answer to. 

He answered, leaving no query as to what his intentions were.

His kiss consumed her, like flames licking languidly at her very soul, slowly devouring her until there was nothing left. Elain threw herself into the kiss, allowing her hands to wander down his hard chest, around his shoulders, the nape of his neck. He groaned in response, a bestial thing born from his gut, his very essence singing in answer to hers.

Her slight hands inched beneath the collar of his leathers, and he shivered as the pads of her fingers caressed along his hot skin. She was burning and burning and burning in his arms. So many months of longing, so many moments of visceral need, so many feelings pulling at her from every direction.

And yet… she still did not know. She didn’t know what this all meant, why he had pulled away all those months ago, why he chose now to act on his feelings. Did he in fact feel anything for her? Or was this merely a physical need? Did he care for her at all? He had, once again, ran away from a problem.

Before the fire burning low in her belly could completely douse the dwindling clarity in her mind, she tore her lips away from his. As painful as it was to do so, they couldn’t leave this conversation lingering once more.

“Azriel… Az— wait,” she gasped as he latched his lips onto the side of her neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, pulling and swirling across the length of her throat as if he couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. A groan escaped his throat as he continued sucking at her and she couldn’t help the flutter of her eyes at the deep sound, the vibrations against her neck shooting straight through her centre.

“Azriel,” she moaned at a particularly delicious swipe of his tongue against her burning skin, “stop—” she mewled weakly.

No sooner had that final word fallen from her mouth, Azriel had flung himself off her. Snatching his hands away from her body and dragging them roughly through his hair he panted, remorse etched painfully on his face.

“Elain, I— I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” he spluttered as he continued to back away from her as if she had bitten venom into his veins. Self-hatred lined his face, truly believing he had done something wrong, something she did not wish.

“Azriel, no- that’s not what I meant. Its ok, I wanted this. Just, stop retreating. Stop running away. I only mean— if you cannot speak openly with me, then you have no right to my body, either.”

He turned pleading eyes toward her, his face stricken, still believing he had done something wicked, had forced himself on her. Seducing her into something that she didn’t wish.

She knew no words would be able to lift him out of the spiral he was currently plunging into so instead she showed him. Showed him that she trusted him, that she longed for his touch, that she wished for it day and night. But before she could completely succumb to those desires, she needed an explanation. She needed an understanding of where they stood, what she meant to him, why he had left her so abruptly that Solstice. 

Stalking up to him and grasping his hands in hers, she looked up into his face, hoping to portray nothing but sincerity, trust, comfort in his near presence.

“Azriel, please. Just tell me. Tell me what it is. What it all means. Why you’re jealous of Leto, why you avoided me for all those months, why you called me a mistake…”

A chocking sound escaped his throat. He looked stricken, his shoulders sagging with the weight of a secret she knew not. His eyes had closed but as he opened them his hazel irises burned brighter than she had ever seen them, appearing almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

“You are not a mistake Elain. You have no idea how abhorrently those words haunt me. How my actions haunt me, just. Please. Please try to understand.”

“Understand what? Azriel, stop evading speaking your truth! Please, just say… something.”

“I can’t—” a rasping sound clawed its way to his lips, as if the words were chocking him.

“Elain, I’m sorry. You deserve better.” 

Pulling his hands from hers he inched backwards once more, edging closer and closer to that cliff.

“Azriel! Stop running!” she cried, her mouth twisting in pain despite her attempts at willing it not to.

His hazel eyes guttered at the sight; the same devastation she felt reflected on his handsome face.

As if his legs moved on their own accord, he stalked back to her, reaching for her like a man finding nirvana. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tilting her face up to his, her doe eyes wide as she peered back at him. He held her tenderly as if he had possession of the most precious thing in the world in the palm of his hands. His thumb traced her jaw and he looked down upon her as if he wished for nothing more than to simply exist in her embrace. “I’m not running, Elain. But please, let me…let me fix something first. I’ll see you at home. I promise.”

With those words, he pressed his lips to her forehead for one long, pointed moment before he retreated again and stepped off the edge of the cliff. Elain gasped, forgetting herself before his wings shot out from behind him, catching a current and carrying him away.

Elain lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling they were indeed swollen from his passionate kisses. That this all just wasn’t a dream, a vision cruelly planted in her mind to torment her further.

She stood on that blustery cliff edge watching him fly away until he was but a dark speck upon the horizon in the far distance, high above the lights of Velaris, just winking to life as the sun set upon the city she called home.

~

Hours later Elain was being woken up by an urgent hand shaking her shoulder. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep, spending hours tossing and turning in her bed back at the manor. She had awaited Azriel’s return, straining her ears to hear any movement from his room down the hall, but such a thing never occurred. Her younger sisters’ tattooed fingers dug into her shoulder as her eyes adjusted to the first rays of morning light.

“Elain. Elain. Wake up. Beron has made his move. His armies march south.”

Elain bolted up in bed, the words clanging in her brain like a clapper pounding against the inside of its bell.

Elain scrambled within her bed sheets, fighting to free herself from the tangle of quilts and furs.

“I’ll get dressed immediately; I just need a minute,” she babbled, her voice thick from sleep.

“No Elain, wait. I need you to stay with Nyx, protect him,” Feyre instructed, the voice of the High Lady making its request. “Rhys and Az have already gone ahead. Cassian is gathering the Illyrian troops. Nesta and I are leaving shortly to meet them, and Mor is on her way too. Amren will stay behind with you to protect the city.”

Elain wanted to argue, wanted to insist she go with them. Help them in any way she could. But she knew why her sister asked her of this. She wasn’t a warrior. Was not trained in combat. Although no one could settle and care for Nyx outside of his parents like she could, something still twinged in her heart about being separated from them all during this time. But she knew this is where she was most useful.

Elain nodded her head just once, her sister seeming to sag in relief that Elain hadn’t put up more of a fight.

“Thank you,” Feyre breathed, “Send word with the twins if something comes up.”

“We’ll be fine, I promise,” Elain vowed. Feyre saw it for what it was; that Elain would protect Nyx with her life. Today and always.

Feyre squeezed her shoulder before turning away, her long braid swinging down her back against the leathers she had already donned. Time and time again her family had gone into battle, had been flung into conflict and danger and terrors beyond her wildest dreams. Elain couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would finally run out.

“Feyre?” Elain called from her bed, the urgency evident in her voice. 

Feyre turned; her blue grey eyes bright with concern. “Yes?”

“Please make sure you come home. All of you.”

Feyre nodded solemnly before she turned back, and Elain could do nothing but watch her sister retreating from her room for what she desperately hoped wasn’t the last time.

*******

tag list:

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#elriel #t writes #elriel fanfic #the heart of a wanderer #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #elain x azriel #elriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #my writing #sorry if this is fraught with errors #I couldn’t look at it any longer and just had to hit publish

[mightymizora]

hello new followers!

I've had a lot of new followers recently and I'm going to take this opportunity to plug my fics, because that's why I am here (between shitposts and rushed meta.) So! I'm going to do a game I've been threatening to do for a LONG time, and I'm going to invite other writers to do the same.

Rules are that you plug a handful of your fics from your current fandom(s), give a quick summary, and then put in 1-2 lines from comments as reviews. Because fuck it, self-promotion is fine actually.

The Portrait

BG3. 6.5k one shot, Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. Lord Gortash requests a portrait of his paramour. The pay is good, the contract legitimate. It seems almost too good to be true... In pre-canon, a young artist takes a job from an upcoming player in Baldur's Gate society. "The voice was amazing, the descriptions are poignant without getting too far in the weeds, you show so much without telling explicitly." "if i could frame this fic and put it up on my wall, i would in a heartbeat! literally the definition of perfection"

Monster, Mine

BG3, 7k one shot. Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. There is a beast haunting the city, and there is a tentative reaching of hands across the table. In pre-canon, Enver Gortash tries to find the truth of the Slayer. "This is a genuinely stunning piece of fiction." "Their poisonous codependency and joint descent into it is the absolute delight to read!"

Even if Love

BG3, 8k, short chapters. Multiple. Shades of love for The Dark Urge, Orin The Red, Enver Gortash, Wisteria Jannath, Sceleritas Fel, Kressa Bonedaughter, Lae'zel, Minthara Baenre, Sarevok Anchev and Araj Oblodra. Can be read individually, but they do build a narrative together. "it is a crime that AO3 only allows one kudos for a whole fic" "All so distinct and sharply observed, and such gorgeous writing throughout!"

Blood and Bone, Bone and Blood

BG3. 3.5K one shot. Ketheric Thorm/The Dark Urge A collection of moments between Bhaal and Myrkul’s chosen as they are bound together with Gortash as the chosen of the Dead Three. "It simply drips with style. Gorgeous prose." "Feral about this fic"

The First Leaf on the Tree after Winter

BG3. 9k, multi-chapter. Halsin/Jaheira. Background Wyll/Karlach. Their time was a century before, she thinks. What can they be, these old souls rooted in their ways, these observers of the world, these failed heroes? "All the kudos here. The ultimate kudos. Oh I really loved this." "I reached the end with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. so bittersweet and beautiful. I adore every word."

Breath and Rosewater

BG3, 20k, multi-chapter ongoing. Gale/Tav She has always loved music for many reasons; the patterns that present themselves, and the sheer joy of playing. Working out the fingering, and bringing joy to others. The breath before the first note. The freedom that comes from following your heart and letting it soar. He has always loved magic for every reason; the study of it, the power in it. The quiet contemplation of hours of learning, the thrill of application on the battlefield, and off of it. The understanding that comes from complete control of your craft. "most well-constructed intro paragraph that i've read in awhile—we get such a strong sense of glim, her expertise, her pride in her art, in just four sentences." "Oh this whole thing is so beautiful. i adore your prose."

#long post #bg3 #enver gortash #the dark urge #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #ketheric thorm #jaheira #halsin #orin the red #sceleritas fel #wisteria jannath #lae'zel #kressa bonedaughter #I'm gonna come tag people to do this one day lmao

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Chapter Four

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x original female character (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Smut, mentions of death, angst, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~3.5k

Chapter summary: Shocking news means Daemon and Melessa must return to the capital. Series summary here.

Endless thanks and all the love to my absolute ride or die @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for cheerleading, beta'ing and just generally being the bestest fandom boo a gal could have. Squishes also to @ruby-dragon and @valeskafics for providing support when I was outlining this chapter.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Header by the insanely talented @em-writes-stuff-sometimes

I love you. I love you. I love you.

It tumbles freely from Melessa’s lips over the first six months of their marriage. With every day that passes, it becomes easier for Daemon to hear. The first time he takes her to meet Caraxes, his large hand covers hers completely as she holds out trembling fingers to touch the great, red beast’s snout. She looks up at Daemon, a bright smile upon her face despite the palpable fear in her big, blue eyes, and utters those three little words to him. He squeezes her hand ever so gently, but does not say it back.

He takes her flying, and she screams bloody murder, turning backwards to bury her face in his chest at the turbulent ride that dragonback provides. He wraps his arms tighter around her waist and, eventually, she relaxes back against him. Daemon is certain she endures it more than she enjoys it. Her pulse is racing when he takes her arm to help her out of the saddle once they have landed. Yet, still, she murmurs a breathless declaration of love to him, which he rewards with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

When he senses she is missing Highgarden, he arranges to have a rose garden built upon the grounds of Dragonstone. Daemon knows nothing of flowers, is unsure if they will survive the climate on the island, and yet none of that seems to matter as she gazes up at him with that grin, soil dusted over her hands and cheeks from pruning the bushes, and tells him she loves him.

He is no longer stricken by panic at the ease with which she tells him this. He grows to expect it, coveting the warmth that spreads through his chest when she tucks her head beneath his chin and whispers it sleepily before drifting off each evening. He never returns the sentiment. Daemon is not one for words of affirmation, but he cannot deny that for the first time in a long time he feels genuine happiness.

Heat of another kind unfurls within him as Melessa lays beneath him, one leg placed haphazardly over his shoulder as he thrusts into her tight wet heat. Such pretty sounds she makes for him, her eyes glassy with tears as he splits her open. Daemon would usually have tired of a woman after this length of time together, but gods, her cunt. He cannot get enough of her. She is all too obliging of his appetite. As her release makes her tighten and spasm around him, he is pushed over the edge himself, spilling inside of her with a groan. He collapses against her, breathing in the scent of almond oil and rosewater, which has grown to be a familiar comfort.

Once he rolls off of her and pulls her to his chest, he is tempted to drift back into slumber for a few more hours. The sun has not long risen and they have nowhere to be. As he is about to let his eyes flutter shut, a sharp knock at the chamber door startles him out of his doze.

Melessa grouses beside him, already half asleep herself, as he disentangles himself and rises from the bed. Slipping into a robe without bothering to fasten it, he stalks toward the door, throwing it open and glaring at the maester who has dared to disturb them.

The elderly man’s eyes go wide as he takes in Daemon’s state of undress, shifting uncomfortably and averting his gaze.

Daemon scoffs. “What is it? Or have you just come to take a look at my cock?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” he stutters. “There was a raven - it’s a message for you. It bears the royal seal.”

Daemon snatches the parchment from the maester before slamming the door in his face. He studies the wax stamped with the three-headed dragon, then turns it over. His name is in handwriting he’d recognise anywhere; Rhaenyra’s. He’s had no news from King’s Landing since he and Melessa were wed. A sinking feeling in his stomach accompanies the overwhelming sense that this won’t bear pleasant tidings.

Father is dead. Come home.

It is as though he has forgotten how to breathe as he reads it over and over. His eyes burn, the words beginning to lose all meaning.

“What is it?” Melessa asks sleepily, her words snapping him out of his trancelike state. She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“I have to go back to King’s Landing,” he replies flatly. “My brother’s dead.”

She hurries to climb from the bed, standing in front of him and taking his hands in hers. “Oh, Daemon… I am so sorry.”

He nods solemnly, his thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over the backs of her hands. “I will leave within the hour. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

She shakes her head, her expression earnest. “You aren’t leaving me here by myself. I’m coming with you.”

He huffs a small laugh. Stubborn little thing. Of course she wouldn’t allow him to leave without her. “Then ready yourself to leave within the hour too.”

“What of our belongings?”

“What about them?”

“You can’t carry everything on Caraxes. You won’t be returning here, not now you’re Hand of the Queen.”

The stark realisation hits him almost as hard as the news of Viserys passing. Rhaenyra’s succession had been the very last thing on his mind. His time with Melessa on Dragonstone has come to an end. They’re returning to King’s Landing for good. The thought makes him want to crumple up his niece’s message and pretend he never saw it.

Yet half a day later, they are landing in the capital, Daemon helping Melessa down from the saddle of his Blood Wyrm as she trembles like a leaf. Their entire lives have been packed up and loaded onto a ship which will arrive later. He is struck by overwhelming admiration for his wife’s courage to endure an experience that terrifies her so much, simply for the sake of being at his side. He clutches her warmly against him as Caraxes is led away into the Dragonpit, their final moment of it just being the two of them.

Melessa is taken to get settled within their quarters, while Daemon meets with Rhaenyra. The Silent Sisters have already finished their preparation of Viserys. The body is wrapped and prepared for burning. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He looks upon it, brow furrowed in sadness and disbelief that what lays before him was once his own brother.

“It is better that you didn’t see him before,” Rhaenyra says gently, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “He was not a man you’d have recognised. I scarcely did.”

“Did they do this?” he asks, not looking at her. His meaning is clear.

Rhaenyra sighs. “You saw how he was the last time you were here. As much as Alicent and Otto want Aegon on the throne, this wasn’t their doing.”

“Has there been any discussion as to the succession?” He turns to her, scrutinising the uncomfortable look that passes across her face.

“It has been difficult enough just to get them to agree to have Syrax burn father’s body. They have been pushing for Sunfyre.”

“Rhaenyra - this is your birthright!” His voice raises, his nostrils flaring with anger. “As soon as the funeral is over, we will deal with the matter of your coronation. Those that oppose it will die screaming.”

A heavy silence falls between the two of them. In it, Daemon contemplates all he has given up in order to support his niece. He longs to turn on his heel and flee back to Dragonstone, back to the life of quiet solitude he’d shared with Melessa; but he cannot abandon his niece. Not a second time. Resentment settles within him, dark and ugly and overshadowing his grief. All of this would be easier were it not for the fucking Hightowers. He will have Otto’s head for this.

The funeral is a tense affair. Alicent stands solemnly off to the side with her children, none of whom look particularly upset, just uncomfortable. Otto is beside her, his expression unreadable. Daemon has asked Melessa not to come, telling her that it was something she was better off not seeing. He regrets that decision. As he watches a tearful Rhaenyra surrounded by Laenor and her children, he cannot shake the feeling of loneliness that overwhelms him. He is with his family, yet none of them are a comfort. The flames of Syrax engulf his brother’s corpse and Daemon is lost, longing for the softness of his wife’s hand in his, and the words he has spent half a year growing so fond of. I love you.

The ashes of Viserys are not yet cold when a meeting of the Small Council is called. Tthe collective mood around the table is sour.

“My father named me heir. There is little to discuss,” Rhaenyra tells those gathered. Her tone is cool, though her discomfort is more than apparent.

“Viserys asked for Aegon to be crowned before he passed,” comes Alicent’s soft rebuttal.

“Lying cunt!” Daemon spits across the table at her, white hot rage causing him to clench his fists as he glares at her. The ceaseless politicking is a waste of his time - he could cut through half the room with Dark Sister using little to no effort.

“Regardless of what has been said, the fact of the matter is that the people of the Seven Kingdoms will never accept a woman as their ruler. I urge you to see reason,” Otto says matter-of-factly, his attention focused solely on Rhaenyra.

“Then we shall let the people decide,” she shrugs, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Put it to a vote, as it was for Father and Rhaenys.”

“Rhaenyra, no!” Daemon urges from across the table. “You cannot put the claim of your birthright into the hands of fucking halfwits!”

Daemon is no fool, he knows that Otto is right. The people would sooner see his drunken, useless idiot of a nephew sit the Iron Throne than allow a woman to take it. She is sure to lose this.

“I am the Realm’s Delight, am I not?” she retorts. “Put it to a vote.”

“Very well,” Otto concedes, a look of smug satisfaction settling across his features. “A vote it is.”

Standing so abruptly it causes his chair to clatter backwards onto the flagstone floor, Daemon storms from the Council chambers, his fist wrapped tightly around the pommel of his sword. He has heard enough.

He seeks out Melessa, hoping the sight of his pretty little wife will calm him, and finds her in the gardens reclining on a bench, her face turned up towards the sun with her eyes closed. She is wearing the backless gown she had on the day he met her. This is the first time he has seen her in it since then. Watching her like this, basking in the warmth of the afternoon with such a genuine smile upon her lips, is a stark contrast to the way she shivers and wraps herself in furs on Dragonstone. Daemon wonders if the happiness he felt between them is entirely one-sided. She looks so… carefree. He decides not to disturb her, walking away with the uneasy sense that he has spent half a year making this poor woman miserable.

The days that follow pass miserably for Daemon as the votes are gathered by raven throughout Westeros on the matter of the succession to the Iron Throne. The waiting is insufferable. Daemon feels as though he is grieving his closeness with Melessa as well as the death of the brother he’d hardly seen for over a decade.

Every time he seeks her out, she is laughing with ladies of the court, walking in the gardens or otherwise occupied, girlish exuberance radiating from her. He wonders if he has ever made her that happy - if he ever will. He isn’t worthy of her purity, her goodness, and being here is a constant reminder of that. She seems so at ease, and he despises it. He feels like a stranger stalking the halls.

She still snuggles tightly against his chest each night and he clings selfishly to her, eager to hang on to what little remains of their isolation on Dragonstone. When he fucks her, her cries echo throughout the Keep, tears of overstimulation rolling down her cheeks. He is rougher with her than usual, and he is all too aware of the fact he is taking his jealousy and frustration out on her, but he cannot help himself. There is a part of him that longs to hurt her for daring to be content in the capital when he is not.

After a week, all of the necessary votes have been collected and counted and the Royal Court gathers in the Great Hall. Rhaenyra stands to the right of the Iron Throne, flanked by Laenor. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey gaze up at her with hopeful, expectant eyes from the front of the gathered crowd, watched over by the mindful presence of Ser Harwin Strong.

Aegon stands to the left, his slouched posture making it seem as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Helaena is next to him, though no trace of warmth or affection passes between the two. Her floppy demeanour and dreamy expression are indicative that while she is physically present, her mind is somewhere else entirely.

Daemon scoffs in disgust. Gods help them all if the vote goes as he expects it to.

Alicent and Otto are directly opposite, at the head of the gathered audience. Otto appears haughty and smug, while Alicent’s brows are pinched together in anxiety, her fingers picking her nails bloody. A tall, slim brunette girl stands beside Aemond, who appears rakish as ever. It seems no time had been wasted in replacing Melessa.

He feels his wife’s small hand reach out and give his own a reassuring squeeze as the chest that will reveal the outcome of the realm’s act of democracy is carried forth. Looking down at her, a wave of shame washes over him. Her bright eyes are filled with adoration as she gazes up at him. He has spent a week resenting her when all she has done is support him. He turns his attention back to the chest that is now being placed before the throne, unable to stand what he feels when he meets her eye.

He bows his head as it’s opened. He cannot bear to see Rhaenyra’s face when Aegon’s name is read.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

What? 

Daemon is a difficult man to shock, and yet his jaw drops as he hears his niece’s name called out. She beams proudly as her children whoop and cheer in celebration. Melessa joins in, clapping happily with a wide smile upon her face.

Daemon smirks as he looks across to see the shocked look on Otto’s face. He will take great delight in unburdening the old cunt’s shoulders of his head. Alicent looks as though she will burst into tears, while Aemond’s jaw tenses in displeasure. Aegon, on the other hand, appears relieved at the announcement; his shoulders visibly relax for the first time since he entered the Great Hall. His moonstruck sister-wife applauds next to him, apparently unaware of what this news means for her immediate family.

Though Daemon is pleased for his niece, his disposition darkens further as the days press on and he learns of her plans to allow Alicent and her children to remain in residence at the Red Keep.

“I have not forgotten the love I have for Alicent,” she tells him. “The Targaryen family is stronger united than it is divided.”

At the tearful pleas of Alicent, Otto’s life is spared and he is exiled from King’s Landing, returning to Oldtown. Daemon is enraged at being denied the opportunity to execute him. He has barely begun his duties as Hand of the Queen and already he feels powerless. Worse still, Rhaenyra’s reasoning for sparing his life makes perfect sense - there is no hope of a peaceful alliance between her and the former Queen if she has her father killed. He hates that she is right.

The atmosphere at Rhaenyra’s coronation is jubilant. He knows he should play the part of proud uncle as she is crowned. However, when he is passed the golden Hand brooch, he feels as though he is being fettered and chained to a city he hates. The weight of it pinned to his breast is like an albatross around his neck. 

Melessa is as adoring as ever and he finds himself bristling at her gentle touches and loving looks. He does not deserve her admiration or her love, and now that he no longer has her all to himself, he knows it won’t be long until she realises the same thing. He has everything he’s ever wanted; the perfect wife, the position his brother had always denied him, and yet none of it feels remotely satisfying. Nothing has gone the way he wants it to.

He glowers over his wine cup at the celebration feast. The only people still seated are him and Melessa, as well as Aemond and the woman he has since learned is Aemond’s wife, Floris Baratheon, the result of a hasty marriage arranged by Borros and Otto in order to get Storm’s End on side when it was still intended for Aegon to take the throne. A wasted endeavour. Daemon wonders if they are as unhappy together as they look.

“Dance with me?” Melessa asks hopefully, the brush of her fingertips against his forearm snapping him from his darkened reverie.

He softens as he looks at her, guilt washing over him. She must be bored stiff, but he is in no mood for festivities. “Not now, petal.” He offers as kindly as he can muster, not missing her downcast, disappointed expression.

“Uncle, might I trouble your wife for a dance?”

He looks over as Rhaenyra’s eldest son, Jacaerys, hovers by Melessa expectantly.

“If my lady wife has no objections, then I suppose you may.” He waves his hand dismissively as she rises from her seat, walking arm-in-arm with his nephew towards the centre of the room.

He watches them intently as they move. He doesn’t miss the way they smile at each other, the sound of her laughter carries, and once more he finds himself wondering if he has ever made her that happy. Acrid jealousy begins in his chest and rises in his throat as he watches the way their hands linger on each other.

He knows it is just dancing, knows that he agreed to this, and yet he cannot help the angry scowl that pinches at his brow. They are much more appropriate in age for each other - would Melessa be better suited to someone like him? Perhaps it is his lot to stand powerless as Rhaenyra’s hand and watch his wife slip away from him, into the arms of another.

Desperate for distraction, he leaves the table, grabbing the nearest serving girl as he storms from the hall.

“With me,” he commands lowly, his intentions more than apparent.

She nods and follows as he drags her to the nearest alcove, well away from the celebrations. He makes quick work of unlacing his breeches and pushing her skirts up, not bothering to take the time to properly look at her face or commit to memory what she looks like. It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t matter. He just needs the thoughts to stop.

As he leans in, inhaling, the smell of the kitchens and stale wine fills his nostrils. He has grown so used to the scent of almond oil and rosewater, the difference is jarring and the sharp comprehension of what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with, hits him. His cock softens before he’s even had a chance to press inside of the girl he has pinned against him. He slams his hand angrily against the wall beside her head.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

He should not be doing this. Melessa does not deserve this. He pulls away, unable to look at the poor girl he has inflicted himself upon.

A gasp causes him to turn as he moves to tuck himself away. He feels like his heart stops. He has spent the last couple of weeks wondering if he has ever made his wife happy, but knows at this moment he has never made her look this hurt.

Her blue eyes stare at him, shocked and filled with tears. The plushness of her bottom lip trembles. The sight of it is too much. He reaches for her, and she hiccups a sob, turning and running from him.

He stands rooted to the spot, wanting to go after her but unable to as the realisation dawns too late.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

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[willalove75]

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 4

Summary: Friday is finally here, concluding your first week of work! You get to know Alcina a little better and meet up with a "friend" after work for some much needed stress relief.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: fluff

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 4! So sorry this is a little late! Hope you all enjoy💕

Gif source

Finally, it was Friday. Even though it's only your third day of work you were definitely looking forward to the weekend. The day seemed to be flying by pretty quickly and you were grateful for that. You had seen Alcina throughout the day, each time she saw you she politely said "hello" and flashed you her gorgeous smile.

After getting your hands on one of the new wines that will be debuting in the summer, you and Bela decided to take some photos of it for social media. Alcina wandered in and stayed for a little bit to watch. When you were done she asked to see some of the pictures and you happily obliged. She stood close to you - maybe a little too close, but her presence was comforting regardless - and looked over your shoulder at your phone. As you inhaled your nose filled with her perfume. It wasn't overly fragrant but still floral. You couldn't pinpoint what the scent was composed of but you thought you smelled a hint of rosewater and a few other notes you couldn't quite put your finger on. Whatever it was, it was heavenly and probably expensive. She grumbled to herself and you looked over to see her shaking her head and pulling her reading glasses down to her nose. Her short hair, that was straightened today and not in its natural curls, cascaded across her face before she tucked a few strands behind her ear with a perfectly manicured finger.

Her blue-grey eyes flicked over and met yours and you swore your heart started hammering in your chest. After exchanging a smile she looked back down at your phone and you showed her the images. Alcina pointed out which ones were her favorites and you made sure to favorite the ones she liked best so you would remember.

As you were scrolling through the images you took you were going backwards through your camera roll. When you came to the first image as you were showing Alcina and Bela, you went back one picture too far to one of you and Emma in your parents living room.

"Oh, too far." You feel your cheeks redden and go to scroll back but you're interrupted by Bela.

"Oh my god who is that?!" Bela asks.

"That's my daughter, Emma." You say proudly.

"Stop she's so cute!"

"Aw, thanks. She's amazing."

"How old is she?"

"She's three and a half."

"Oh what a fun age!" Bela says and you look over at her.

"Bela is going to school for childhood education, she wants to be a preschool teacher." Alcina clarifies.

"Oh! That's great!"

"Is she in preschool?" Bela asks.

"No, not yet. She'll be going in the fall."

"So is she in daycare?"

"She starts Tuesday, she'll be going twice a week. There was a bit of a waitlist so my in laws have been watching her this week. When she's not in daycare she'll rotate between them and my parents."

"I can't believe how green her eyes are and how curly her hair is!" Bela says.

"She looks just like you." Alcina says, looking at the picture. The corners of her lip just barely curling into a smile.

"Seriously! She's like your little twin. Her dad must be either pissed or thrilled she looks so much like you. Is she a daddy's girl or a mommy's girl?"

You know that Bela was just being friendly, but her question stabbed you in the heart. Tears threaten to sting eyes as you try and brush off the feeling of sadness creeping its way into your chest.

"Actually, I'm a single mom." You say, trying your best to not make the situation awkward. "So by default, she's a mommy's girl."

Alcina tries to give Bela a subtle look but you notice it. Bela looks like a deer in headlights before trying to dig herself out.

"Oh, well, mom's a single mom too!" She says with a nervous laugh. "She raised the three of us all by herself for the most part. Even when she technically wasn't a single mom she still kinda was."

Alcina's eyes narrow at her daughter whose pale cheeks begin to turn a bright shade of pink.

"She is beautiful." Alcina says, trying to divert the awkward energy that took over the conversation. "When we have our summer staff barbeque you should bring her. Most of the staff with young children bring them, it's a wonderful family event." She says coolly.

"Yeah, sure. She would love that. She's a little social butterfly."

"Wonderful." Alcina says with a smile before glancing at the watch on her wrist. "I must be off. The pictures are fantastic, great work both of you."

Alcina walks out of the room and Bela starts talking about the barbeque and how there's games, food, and activities for the kids. When the two of you walk into the tasting room you spot Daniela walking in.

"Hi Katie!" She says with a big smile.

"Hi Daniela, how was school?"

"It was so boring and I had a math test. Talk about a shit Friday." She grumbles. "What were you two talking about? I heard something about games."

The three of you begin to head back towards the offices.

"Bela was telling me about the summer barbeque."

"Oh! It's SO much fun! I love that. I think I like that more than the annual holiday party."

"Mom told Katie she should bring her daughter and-"

"You have a daughter?!" Daniela asks.

"I do."

"Do you have pictures?! How old is she?!"

"Yes, I do. And she's three and a half." You say with a chuckle.

Pulling out your phone once more, you show Daniela a few photos of Emma and she squeals in delight.

"SHE'S SO CUTE! Oh my god look at her little squishy face!"

You can't help but laugh at Daniela's excitement. She really is a sweet kid with a ton of energy. It came as a bit of a surprise to learn that Alcina was a single mother as well - especially to three girls. Being a single mom to one kid is hard enough. It amazes you that she was able to raise such good kids - for the most part, the jury is still out on Cassandra if you were being honest - and run a business. The complexity of Alcina Dimitrescu continues to grow and the more it grows, the more she seems to fascinate you.

After you head back into your office you decide to shoot your current friends-with-benefits guy a text.

Will you be around tonight?

Depends, what time?

5:30?

6?

Sure, let me just make sure I have someone to watch my daughter.

You send Michelle a text to see if she can watch Emma a little later tonight, lying and telling her a few friends invited you out for drinks after work. She responds saying it was no problem and says she hopes you have fun.

6 works.

Okay, meet me at my apartment.

See you later.

The end of the day comes quickly and before you know it you're walking into Alcina's office to see if she needs you to do anything before you leave and to say goodbye.

"Ah, Kathleen." She says as she takes her glasses off and places them on her desk, giving you her full attention. "Leaving for the day?"

"Yeah, unless you need me to do something before I go?"

"No, not at all. Although I did want to speak with you, if you have a moment?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely." You say.

Claiming one of the chairs in front of her desk, you drop your bag to the ground and meet her gaze. Her blue-grey eyes really are stunning, they contrast beautifully with her dark hair and compliment her fair complexion.

"I just wanted to let you know that you've done a wonderful job this week. I am aware that you didn't work a full week but I am still impressed with your work ethic and what you've already brought to the table."

"Oh, thank you so much." You're a little surprised by her compliment but grateful that she can already see how dedicated you are. "I really, really appreciate hearing that."

"Of course. I always do my best to let my staff know when they're excelling. It's always been my business model as a boss to compliment more often than I critique."

The corner of her lip curls into a small smile and she looks away for a moment before looking back at you. As she looks back you notice a change in her demeanor. Something softer, almost more intimate than she was two seconds ago. It makes your head spin at how quickly she's able to shift gears on a dime.

"I also wanted to thank you for being so kind to my daughters, especially towards Daniela. I know she can be a handful but she seems to have taken a liking to you. She can be quite the distraction and there have been a few occasions where other employees have not taken as kindly to her as you have. So as the owner of this establishment, I appreciate your understanding and your professionalism. And as a mother," she says in a softer voice before pursing her lips. "thank you for being so kind to my children. Even Cassandra. Who I am aware has been less than welcoming - we have had multiple conversations regarding it. Please know it has nothing to do with you, she can be quite difficult and doesn't adapt well to change."

She lets out a sigh and for the first time you see a flash of Alcina Dimitrescu, the mother. Not your boss, not the owner and founder of the estate, but you see the single parent who is trying her best to juggle three young girls; one with an attitude problem, one with endless energy and one who's starting to go off on her own; as well as running a business and all of the other things that go along with life.

"Of course." You say with a smile. "They're all really good kids, you did a wonderful job raising them."

By the way her ears perk up at your words you can tell that she isn't told that very often. There's a softness in her eyes you haven't seen before and you can't help but smile in response. For a brief second you feel a charge in the air that almost immediately dissipates.

As quickly as her walls came down, they were back up. She seemed to have caught herself and she adjusts her posture in her chair. Alcina Dimitrescu the boss is back. It's not that Alcina runs her business with fear, but she doesn't keep it a secret that she holds the power. You've only been here three days but it's evident that everyone knows not to cross her or get on her bad side. You wonder if anyone else on her staff - outside of her children - have ever seen that softer side of her you got a glance at.

"Thank you." She says as she clears her throat. "That was all, is there anything you need from me?"

"Uh, nope."

"Well then, have a nice weekend Kathleen."

"You too. See you on Monday."

She gives you a nod as she puts her glasses back on and turns towards her computer screen. Grabbing your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and head towards the tasting room doors.

"Bye Katie!!" You hear Daniela call.

Looking over, you see her standing at a table in the middle of taking the patrons orders.

"Bye Daniela, have a nice weekend!"

She gives you a big wave as the people sitting at the table she's waiting give her a look. You can't help but chuckle to yourself as you make your way to the doors.

"Have a good weekend Cassandra." You say.

She responds with an eyeroll and you walk out of the building unfazed.

Since you weren't meeting up with your friend-with-benefits right away you decided to run home and jump in the shower before heading over to his place.

Pulling into the modest apartment complex you keep your eyes peeled for a spot. Driving through here makes you grateful that you live with Margie. It's not that it's in a bad area or that it's a crappy complex, it's just jam packed with people. You've only ever been here twice before but both times it was a nightmare trying to find a spot. At least at Margie's house you have a driveway you can park in so you don't have to worry about walking across the complex with a toddler - especially when the weather is bad.

Luckily you were able to find a spot close to the apartment.

Walking up the steps, you knock on the door and you hear footsteps on the other side. A few seconds later the door opens, revealing a taller man with sandy colored hair.

"Hey, how are you?" He asks as you walk in.

"I'm good, and you?"

"Not bad."

The man, who you know as Eric, was about 6 feet tall, if you had to guess he was in his late 30s and despite his small apartment, he was well off. The two of you really don't know anything about each other, you met on a website where people are looking for steady hookups, no strings attached, but wanted to keep their lives private. You both decided to even use fake names with each other. The only thing you do know about him is that he was married but him and his wife were currently separated, which is why he lives in this apartment. You also know he has a daughter as well, but she's in high school.

As he leads you into the bedroom you feel your anxiety crawling up higher and higher. You do your best to push it aside and take a deep breath as he closes the door.

The next hour and a half goes by in a blur and by 7:30pm you're heading back to your car to go pick up Emma.

The time you spend with Eric is really nothing but a way to relieve some stress and tension. Truthfully, he's kind of annoys you, but he's not terrible in bed, good enough to relieve any sexual tension you've had pent up at least - and he's using you for the same reasons you're using him so it's a fair trade.

The post-sex shame starts to settle in as you drive and you try to keep yourself from getting too wrapped up in it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with what you're doing - something you have to remind yourself of often. Yet the guilt still eats away at you every time. You pull out the heart shaped necklace from under your shirt and trace the shape with your thumb as you drive, trying to ground yourself.

"It's okay. It's been two years, there's nothing wrong with being with someone else. There's nothing wrong with what you're doing." You reassure yourself as you drive.

Finally arriving at your in-laws house, you walk in just as they're sitting down for dinner.

"Katie! Perfect timing!" Michelle says as she gives you a hug.

"MOMMY!!" Emma yells as she runs into your arms.

"Hi baby!" You say as you lift her and give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Come, sit and eat." Michelle says.

"Oh, thank you! I promise I didn't time this so I'd get a free meal out of you." You say with a laugh.

"Yeah right." Richard says with a wink before he nudges you with his elbow.

"How was your first week of work?"

"It went really well." You say as you put Emma in her booster seat. "I really like it. My boss is great and so far the people are really nice. The CFO seems a little phony, but I really like everyone else."

"That's wonderful!" Michelle says. "Are there other people there your age?"

"Yeah, we had an all-hands meeting yesterday and there definitely seem to be people around my age. Honestly I've spent more time with my boss and her daughters than anyone else."

"Her daughters?"

"Yeah, she has three girls. One is about twenty, the other probably nineteen and the youngest has to be about 16."

"Do they work there?" Richard asks.

"Yeah. The oldest one, Bela, she was the one doing the social media channels before I was there. But she's starting her last year of college in the fall so I'm taking that over from her; she's been showing me what she was doing before I came. The middle one, Cassandra, she works the bar and is by far the least friendly of the three. Then the youngest is Daniela. She's a really sweet kid with a ton of energy. Obviously she's still in high school but she waits tables after school."

"Wow, seems like a real family business."

"Yeah, or just a way for her to be able to wrangle her kids by keeping them there." You say with a laugh.

"What about her husband?" Michelle asks.

"She's not married, I don't know if she ever was honestly. But Bela had told me today that she was a single parent."

"A single parent, to three young girls? And she runs a business?"

"I know, I have no idea how she did it. Raising this one alone is hard enough." You say playfully as you tickle Emma and she squeals with laughter.

"Stop mommy! That tickles!"

By 8pm, Alcina and the girls have finished having dinner together - something she tries to do with them at least once a week. Soon after the dishes are clean and the kitchen is put back together. She settles into her home office and types away on her keyboard, her perfectly manicured nails clacking away on the keys. Grabbing her wine glass, she leans back in her chair and takes a deep sip, trying to unwind from the week while she finishes up some last-minute things.

"Mamă," Daniela says as she walks into Alcina's office.

"Yes, bug?"

"Do you want to watch a movie with us?"

"What movie?"

"If you join us we'll let you pick!"

"As long as it isn't one of those boring black and white movies!" Cassandra yells from down the hall.

Alcina playfully rolls her eyes and looks at her watch.

"Okay, give me fifteen minutes. Let me finish up here and I'll be right down."

"YAY!" Daniela shouts. "I'll get the snacks and popcorn!"

She runs out of the office and Alcina chuckles to herself and dives back into finish up her work.

As promised, fifteen minutes later Alcina makes her way down the stairs. The girls are sitting on the couch, Bela and Daniela on the four-seater, Cassandra on the loveseat to the left. The girls left a spot in the middle of the four-seater for Alcina. She takes her spot between Bela and Daniela, who pulls the blanket across Alcina's lap and cuddles into her. Putting her arm around her youngest, she scrolls through the movie options on the television and clicks on Singing in the Rain.

"Ugh, not a musical!" Cassandra whines.

"You said I could pick whichever movie I wanted - as long as it wasn't one of those terribly boring black and white movies." Alcina responds.

"You could have picked something more modern!"

"Cassandra you loved this movie when you were little." Alcina says.

"Yeah, when I was like seven."

"Cass, shush! Unlike you I actually like and want to watch this movie." Bela says. Cassandra rolls her eyes at her sister.

Bela and Daniela begin singing along to some of the songs while Alcina happily hums alongside them. As the movie continues Bela and Daniela sing louder and Alcina eventually joins in. The song Good Morning starts and the three of them are singing and dancing in their seats. When Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O'Conner grab the raincoats off of the coatrack in the scene Daniela imitates their dances with the blanket, causing Bela and Alcina to laugh. As the dance number continues Bela and Daniela get up and dance to their own choreography they made up to the song when they were kids.

"Come on Cassie!" Daniela says, grabbing Cassandra's arm. Cassandra pulls back but Daniela's grip is firm. After a moment, Cassandra huffs in defeat and gets up and dances with her sisters. After a minute of acting like she doesn't want to be there, a smile grows on her face and she laughs and dances with Bela and Daniela.

Alcina watches her girls with pride as they dance around the living room. It warms her heart seeing Cassandra, who's usually withdrawn and isolated, dancing and laughing with her sisters. It's not a side that Alcina sees of her middle daughter much anymore, but when she does get to see it, she cherishes the moment.

The number ends and the three girls collapse back into their seats.

"You did wonderful my darlings." Alcina says, kissing Daniela and Bela on the head and blowing a kiss at Cassandra. Daniela lays her head on her mother's lap and Alcina runs her fingers through her daughters strawberry red hair.

When Singing in the Rain comes on, the four women sing along to the song - sans-dance this time. As the movie ends, Daniela is fast asleep in her mother's lap, lightly snoring.

"Daniela, haide dragostea mea, trebuie să te ridici." Alcina says as she strokes her hair. (Daniela, come on my love, you have to get up.)

"Mamă, du-mă în pat." She replies, half asleep. (Mom, carry me to bed.)

"Nu Nu. Ești prea mare pentru asta. Dar te voi pune înăuntru dacă te trezești." (No, no. You're too big for that. But I will tuck you in if you get up.)

Daniela grumbles before lifting herself off of her mother's lap. Alcina wraps her arm around Daniela's shoulder and leads her upstairs into her bedroom.

Daniela crawls into her large four-poster bed. Alcina pulls the covers over her and sits at the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Noapte bună. Vise plăcute." She says, placing a kiss on top of Daniela's head. (Goodnight bug. Sweet dreams.)

"Noapte buna mama. Te iubesc." Daniela mumbles. (Goodnight mom. I love you.)

"Si eu te iubesc draga." (I love you too darling.)

Daniela quickly falls asleep and Alcina continues to run her fingers through her hair and looks down at her sleeping daughter.

"Când naiba ai crescut atât de repede?" She whispers to herself. (When on earth did you grow up so quickly?)

Alcina kisses Daniela's head once more and leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Heading back downstairs, Cassandra and Bela are cleaning up the bowls the snacks were in.

"Thank you for the help, girls." Alcina says.

"Of course mom." Bela says.

"I am going to bed. Don't stay up too late." Alcina says before kissing both girls on the head and making her way back upstairs.

"Goodnight mom!" Bela says.

"Night." Cassandra says.

Alcina lays in bed thinking of her girls. It feels like it was just yesterday they came into her life. It's hard for her to accept that so much time has past. It's hard for her to believe that Daniela, her baby, is going to be sixteen soon. She still remembers holding her in her arms for the very first time. She was so tiny, so small and fragile. Alcina swore to always protect her, to protect all of her girls and she hopes she did a good job of keeping her promise. It's been seventeen years since the girls first came into her life. Alcina reflects on how terrified she was back then, the weight of being responsible for two, soon to be three, young girls weighed heavily on her shoulders and she was barely 30. Of course she made some mistakes, what parent doesn't? But regardless of how the girls came to her, she's grateful to have been able to give them a stable, loving home. For the most part, at least. There were things she'd done in the past that she would change if she could, but overall, she's proud of the women her girls were becoming.

You were awoken by the baby monitor in the middle of the night, Emma was crying. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 2am. You let her cry it out in hopes she would fall back asleep, but when she started calling out for you, you gave up and went into her room.

"Emma, baby, what's the matter?" You said as you came into her room.

"Mommy, I had a nightmare." Emma says through tears.

"Oh sweetie, it's okay. Come here." You sit on the edge of the bed and pull her into your lap and hug her. Running your fingers through her curls, you shush her and rock her until her sobbing slows. "There you go, it's okay. How about we try and go back to sleep?"

You move to lay Emma back down but she clings to you for dear life.

"No mommy, I want you." She says and starts crying again.

"Oh, love. It's okay, it's okay. Do you want to sleep in mommy's bed tonight?"

"Yeah." Emma says

"Okay, come on."

You pick up Emma and bring her into your bedroom. Laying down with her in your arms, you run your fingers through her hair and try to stay awake until she falls asleep. When she doesn't fall asleep, you rub your finger up and down the bridge of her nose, over one of her eyebrows and back, down and up her nose again, and over the other eyebrow. You repeat this pattern for a few minutes as Emma's eyes grow heavier and heavier before she finally gives in to sleep. Even though you know you should be going to sleep, you can't help but stay awake and look at the little girl in your arms. Your whole world. Without realizing it, your eyes start to close and you too drift off back into a deep sleep.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescuxreader #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 daniela #re8 alcina #re8 village #re8 cassandra #re8 bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x original character #lady dimitrescu x oc

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale Seeking Godhood Part V/5 PATH 1

Oh boy. Well. I wanted to release all three paths simultaneously but that may take some time so I'll release the paths as they are completed. This will be the only part for Path 1.

Paths 2 & 3 may be 1-2 parts depending on my brain.

Summary: Continuation of Gale seeking the crown post elder brain, final chapter for Path 1.

Editing to say that I do tweak and edit as I read and re-read these pieces and this makes my heart ache every time I reach the end. Anyway, I'm not crying. Just some dust.

Path 1

You approach Shadowheart with a warm smile and embrace her - “Gods, it’s been to long,” you breathe out as she hugs you. She smells nice - fresh and you can’t help but to inhale the rosewater and lavender from her skin when you embrace. 

“Did you just sniff me?” 

“Sorry,” you blush, caught. “I guess I’m not used to everyone being so… clean? It’s nice, for the record,” You rub the back of your neck and feel redness simmer beneath your cheeks. 

Her melodic laugh echos in your ears as she says, “I suppose I should take the compliment. Although, sometimes I miss the smell of fresh mud on my skin,” she muses. 

“Don’t tell me you miss sleeping in the dirt too?” You raise your eyebrows and smile. 

She takes your hands in hers, “You know, I actually have found a spot that I frequent when I’m feeling nostalgic.” Giving your hand a gentle squeeze she says, “I’ve missed you. Now tell me, what have you been up to!” 

You feel the looming dread fill your belly and Shadowheart recognizes the look, graciously stepping in, “You don’t have to share, if you don’t want. I can’t imagine it has been easy… I can’t say I’m entirely surprised, although I had my hopes. Do you think…” her unfinished question lingers in the air between the two of you. 

Do you think he will come? 

You aren’t sure. You had tried not to think about it leading up to the party, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots when you received the invitation - from Wither’s, of all people - or unpeople? 

Shadowheart reads the look in your eyes and wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you against her as she leads you towards the rest of your companions. The air is full of merriment, music, and laughter - sounds that your soul has been desperately aching for. “I’ll let you wallow more later - for now, it’s time to celebrate, everyone has been expecting you.” And as she ushers you towards your companions you are filled with the sounds of their ‘whoops’ and ‘there they are!’ and fond slaps on the back, hugs, and the like. Astarion hands you a glass of something strong. 

“Here, you’ll need it - in case, well, you know.” He gives you a wink and brushes his shoulders off giving a little bow. “I am surprised - I thought out of any one of us I’d be the one most likely to go off the rails not - ugh - Gale.” Your cheeks burn and Astarion gestures as if to say ‘be serious’, “Oh come now. What use is being a 200 year old Vampire Spawn if I can’t have a bit of fun at others’ expense?”

You glower at him and his eyes twinkle playfully as he pulls you into a hug. “Oh! I have missed you, you know. Maybe you’ll let me have a nibble later? I do miss that taste.. like a strong, bittersweet brandy..” You see his mouth begin to water and you shimmy from his grasp. 

“We’ll see,” You smirk and he pouts as if hurt and goes to mingle elsewhere. 

“Hey you!” Karlach comes bounding over and gestures wildly, “I can’t believe the bastard did it! I’m here!” 

“It wouldn’t be a party without our liveliest companion!” Minsc bellows and shakes you by your shoulders from behind. “Good to see you, my friend.” 

Everyone’s attention shifts as soon as you hear a familiar and warm voice. 

He’s here. 

***

You feel trapped in the amber of the moment when you see him descend into the party. The familiar, tell-tale marking of the orb is no longer etched into his skin and his eyes dart around nervously as he brushes at his clothes. Tara moseys beside him. 

You step behind Minsc a bit as if to hide and try to distract yourself with the countless treats spread before you although you are anything but hungry. The moment you look up you see his eyes locked on you. You forget yourself as the rush of feeling seizes you, each emotion convoluted and overwhelming.

Two months. It was two months since you told him you never wanted to see him again. Now, as he stood not fifty feet looking ashamed and remorseful, you feel your heart wrench. He cautiously makes his way over to you, his hands mussing nervously in his hair.

“Hi.“ Gale says breathlessly. “Can I - Can we talk?” He shifts uncomfortably on his feet and gazes at you expectantly. 

“Lead the way,” you gesture and you feel your companions' watchful gaze as you and Gale begin to walk towards the water. 

***

As you sit on the embankment the sounds of the water lapping against the shore fills the cool night air. It smells like fresh grass and rain, the stars littering the sky with their wonder. 

“Thank you,” Gale begins, breaking the charged silence. “For taking the time to speak with me, I mean. I wasn’t sure if… well, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me at all. I don’t deserve your kindness, nor your ear, and I am grateful for it all the same.” 

You sit silently and watch him. You feel a heaviness that stirs in your belly, the unconditional love you once felt melded into something else, it made your heart sick. As his brown eyes meet yours you can see the infinite possibilities of what could have been. You do not owe him this, not your time nor energy, but you give it generously. A part of you still longs for him. Gale reaches his hand out as if to brush your hair and recoils his hand, looking towards the water. 

“What happened?” You ask timidly. “That’s why you came, is it not?” 

“Well…” he pauses to look at you, “I needed to see you. I - I know that it’s selfish, especially after what you said.” He sighs and brushes his bottom lip with his thumb. You feel your heart pang, the nervous habit one you find endearing. “Where to begin?” He asks this sincerely and you see his the wheels of his mind churn as he struggles to find the words. 

“I suppose it came down to this: when you left, Tara took her leave shortly after.” He inhales and his voice trembles, “The loneliness… I could hardly bear it. I poured all my time, energy into deciphering the last words of the Netherese text in my isolation. At least that would give me purpose, I thought. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep. Godhood was… it was everything. Time seemed to hardly pass at all. Once I cracked the cipher to ascend I - ” he stops and rubs his temples with one hand. 

You and he sit in a stilled quiet for a moment before he is able to continue. The sounds of the party filter through the air to you as you wait with bated breath. 

“I met Mystra in the Astral Plane. I knew I could still surrender the crown to her, to rid the world of this wickedness. To at last be cured of the orb. I was so close…” The way Gale says this is almost regretful, as if a part of him still wishes he became a God. “I became the inheritor of Karsus’ power at last. When Mystra asked my intentions I was fully prepared to take the Weave from her. And then,“ He looks at you, his eyes pleading and he covers one of your hands with his. You shudder, surprised by how his touch still ignites you. “And then I thought of you. Of Tara. My mother. Of all I’d given up in pursuit of my own blind ambition, of everyone I had hurt in the process. I realized I was no better than Mystra, treating those around me like amusements to be eventually discarded. Oh… I was so ashamed. I still am.” Gale brings your hand to his lips and brushes the back of it. You feel heat spread through you, although it is tainted by sadness. “Mystra granted me renewed life - to become her chosen once more, to remove the blight in my chest. My life my own again at last.” 

He turns fully to face you, on his knees, taking both of your hands. “I’m so sorry, for everything. For what I put you through… I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself for it and know it is selfish to ask for yours. I am not deserving of it and I will not claim otherwise. Although it may be beyond a shadow of a hope - is there - would you ever consider us again?” His eyes flash with terror and anticipation. “I know I am hardly worthy of your love..” His last words hang in the air and you consider them thoughtfully. 

When you break the silence, you feel your hands become cold and sweaty within his, your heart thrumming wildly before you speak. “You were already worthy of it, Gale. You were worthy until you decided to put your ambition over the ones you claimed to love.” Your voice is somber and you avert your gaze as his eyes seem to sear into you. You feel Gale’s hands stiffen and you see his expression fall. You look at him then, the bittersweetness of your voice wrapping Gale in a cocoon. “Gods, I wish it were different. Sometimes… I like to imagine that it is, in a different space, in another time, where we end up happily, spending our mornings lazily and exploring one another… where you chose me.” You see the tears form in his eyes, unaware of the ones that begin to roll down your cheeks until you taste their saltiness on your lips. “But that life is not meant for us here. Not now. Not after everything.” 

“I see,” his voice quakes and you brush your fingers against Gale’s cheeks and turn his face to look at you. 

“I will always love you, even if we are not together. Sometimes, though, when something is lost, despite our best intentions… that chapter must close indefinitely.” 

Gale closes his eyes and brings your hands to his lips again, knowing this will be the last time he will taste your skin and experience the feeling of your bodies intimate in this way. You feel him try to drink every part of you in, committing this moment to memory. You sigh, relishing in the moment although your heart feels shattered and ruined beyond mending. His final words float through the chambers of your mind as you gaze into his eyes, “If I cannot spend eternity with you.. I’ll settle for this evening.” 

You allow the silence to settle over you then, enjoying Gale’s company for one last time. 

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #baldurs gate 3 #gale #god gale #bg3 art #gale x tav #gale romance #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate gale #baulders gate rp #baulders gate tav #god gale bg3 #I broke my own heart with this path stg

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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Six months later.

It's so beautiful.

Green grass under the warm sun. A fresh breeze stirred the decorative flags that were hung all over the capital Mondstadt. Gothic architecture is still strong and stands as the main attraction of this country. The river that flowed outside the great wall was reflecting the white clouds that extended beneath the azure sky. Those who are busy with their daily activities are surrounded by the scent of dandelions. Little ones are playing and running around.

Mondstadt is so beautiful. Unfortunately, you spend all day sleeping on the soft bed provided in one of the palace rooms for royal guests.

Childe left the room early in the morning for a diplomatic meeting, so the opposite side of the bed has been vacant for a while. You (thought) you managed to persuade Sasha to let you sleep a little longer, but instead she assumed you were sick and immediately asked Laura to find Childe.

“Love?”

Here he is. You pulled the covers over your head, trying to ignore the sound of his approaching footsteps. The end of the bed was pressed down and you guessed he was sitting next to you. Slowly, Childe pulled your covers up to look at you.

"Are you sick? Want me to call a healer?”

You shook your head quickly, "I simply want to sleep a bit longer."

Childe glanced at Sasha who was standing not far from the two of you before turning back to you. "But, angel, you've slept all day, and they said you have to attend a tea party this afternoon. Well, I don't mind if you don't but, are you sure you're alright?” He brushed away the strands of hair covering your face.

"I'll be fine. Just.. give me one more hour of sleep.” You spoke drowsily and then shut your eyes once again.

Childe frowned in worry. "Are you sure? Should I stay? I can tell them I have urgent business and leave the conference—”

"Don't be silly, Ajax." You opened your eyes to glare at him. “Why do I feel you’re trying to make me as an excuse to get out of your responsibilities?”

A laugh from him. “Hey, I was really worried you know.” He says.

"I told you I'm fine. I'm not going to die, at least not now."

"I thought we agreed not to have talks like this again." Childe stares in disappointment and you can't help but laugh.

"Good God, I was just kidding." You cupped his face with one hand. “Stop sulking like a baby. I might actually ask you to stay and cuddle with me."

A smile appeared on his handsome face as he drew closer to you, “Hmm? What's stopping you?"

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Sasha and the other two were trying hard to deaf their ears to the conversation you both thought was quiet enough for them not to hear. Her eyes darted to the walls of the room as if that was the most interesting thing. At least that will distract her from you and Childe who are too preoccupied with each other to notice anyone else's presence.

A kiss on your lips. “I'll hurry back for you alright? Don't look at other men at the tea party." You almost roll your eyes at his words.

“It’s a tea party only for the ladies.”

"You can never be too careful."

Childe got out of bed and you already started to miss his warmth. He briefly spoke to Sasha, saying that she should immediately call a healer if anything should happen to you. After giving you one more glance (and a wink), he walks to the door to Dmitri outside the room.

A sigh left you before you got up reluctantly asking your maids to prepare warm water for a bath.

One rosewater bath later and you're sitting at the dresser. Laura did your hair, while Ksenia applied your makeup. She patted the powder pad so gently you yawned. Sasha noticed this and stared suspiciously at your reflection in the mirror. You took a deep breath trying to relieve the tiredness in your body.

"We are finished, Your Majesty." Laura and Ksenia said together.

You said a small thank you to them then got up from the chair. Laura opened the door for you, letting you leave the room first. Your three ladies-in-waiting followed behind you on your way to the garden where the tea party was being held.

Warm air hugs you as soon as you step into the palace garden. Butterflies and a few small insects flutter and land on the colorful flowers that grow around you—you almost forget how beautiful they are after living on Snezhnaya for so long. Once more, the wind blows. The sun falls to illuminate your path to the gazebo with a white iron roof where a table spread out with beautiful cloth is located. The sound of your footsteps turned the heads of the Mondstadt nobles, and you smiled at them all.

“Empress (Y/N), good afternoon.” The blonde-haired woman—Countess Jean—carved a thin smile with her polished pink lips.

Some Mondstadt nobles you've never met before welcome you. Jean stood next to them while helping introduce them one by one to you. “This is Lady Fischl, daughter of Duke Verurteilung of Immernachtreich.” A green-eyed blonde bowed politely at you before giving an enthusiastic look.

“Empress! I, Fischl, hast known all kinds regarding thou, especially how  they define thy grace and beauty as being comparable to the stars that adorn the welkin at dusk. Wouldst  I may add, thy lovely gown caught mine eye and wondered where I might find some one with such stitching talent!”

"Ah? Um..” While trying to figure out what she said, you lifted the hem of your dress slightly. "This was made by a Snezhnayan tailor."

“'tis decided. I shall cross mountains and sail oceans to meet this tailor!"

Jean cleared her throat awkwardly. “Lady Fischl, may I continue?” she asked, earning a nod.

After Countess Jean introduced you to the Mondstadt nobles who were present at the tea party, Princess Ayaka waved enthusiastically. “Princess—! Ah, I mean, Empress! Please sit next to me!” She pointed out the empty chair next to her.

Jean watched as everyone had taken a seat. She then continued, “Since King Diluc doesn't yet have a partner to handle the tea party, I'm the one responsible for this. For that, allow me to present traditional Mondstadt delicacies for overseas guests to taste.” She signaled the maid to put the snacks on the table.

A cake covered with pink cream and fresh raspberries is set in the middle. Lemon buttercream cakes make you smile seeing their small size. You looked around the table as Jean described each dish. The cookies placed in front of Ayaka appeared to be delicious.

What smells like boiled eggs wafts into your nostrils, and you instinctively cover your mouth to hide the nausea that's roiling in your gut. Ayaka immediately got a handkerchief for you. Sasha who is sitting at the table along with other nobles ladies-in-waiting rushes over to you.

“Princess!” Ayaka mistakenly called out from panic.

“Your Majesty! Is something the matter?!”

You were too occupied trying to ease your nausea as you covered your nose with a blue handkerchief to respond to Sasha. Jean orders one of the maids to call a healer. You glance out of the corner of your eye for the source of the pungent scent.

"That.. the smell.. get rid of it, please." You said after finding a loaf of boiled eggs not far from Jean. "I'm sorry but, the smell .."

Jean followed your gaze and nodded quickly. “No need to worry, Empress (Y/N).” He gave the plate of bread to the maid to take away. "The healer will come soon."

A server arrives with a new meal just as your nausea begins to subside. The smell of eggs returned. The handkerchief was tightened over your lips as the shaking of your stomach intensified. Sasha noticed your face beginning to flush and rose up from her kneeling position in front of you to approach Jean.

“Your Excellency, I'd better take Her Majesty to a healer right away. Please accept my apologies for leaving the tea party early.” He says.

“I understand. Please, lead them to the healer's room!”

In response to the blonde's request, one of the maids nodded. Sasha and Ksenia put strong hands on your shoulders helping to support you while stroking your back. Laura pulls out a bottle of fragrance trying to ease your nausea. The long hallway was filled with hurried footsteps on the way to the healing room. After passing through the door, the royal healer immediately tells you to lean on the red velvet couch.

The first thing she did was check your pulse. Her warm fingers touch your skin as she furrows her brows in concentration. She pursed her lips thinly, asking about your monthly cycle—which Sasha answered in detail. You feel awkward knowing she knows about it more than you do.

The healer nodded while retaining an assumed diagnosis. "I already have a suspicion, but I'll need to confirm it again." She dipped her hands in a basin of clean water before turning back to you while making sure her palms were raised; you watched as the water dripped down her elbow. "I must request that you remove your dress, Your Majesty."

Although the examination is uncomfortable, you know that it is necessary for the healer to confirm the diagnosis. After she was done, Sasha helped you put on your clothes again while waiting for the woman to tell you what was wrong.

"There are several reasons besides pregnancy that can affect your late monthly cycle, such as stress or fatigue. However, after I combined that with the nausea caused by the strong smell—the smell of eggs as one of them—and the physical examination just now that revealed enlarged breasts and changes in areola—I can confirm that you are pregnant.”

Laura and Ksenia gasped with joy. Sasha smiled silently. While you are frozen.

The healer's lips curved up, “Congratulations, Empress (Y/N). You are with child.”

Something defines the brilliance of this world's hues. The basin is no fuller than your heart which flows happiness and emotion to every inch of you. The realization that there is another life growing inside your tummy sweetens the air. You want to set your foot on every green meadow here to let them know that you are the happiest human being on earth.

As you covered your mouth to contain your sobs, your hold on the fabric of your dress' grew tighter. Your maids approach you to congratulate you. You couldn't help but extend your arms and hug all three of them. Women celebrating other women's blessings

You wiped your tears, looking at Sasha with a smile.

"Please don't tell him just yet."

Sasha's eyes widen from that, but what she gives you next is a smile—a warm one. You wouldn't have realized she was holding you if it wasn't for the light squeeze she gave; her way of telling you that she will continue to be with you and wants nothing but the best for you and now, your child. Laura and Ksenia congratulated you, saying they would do their best to accompany you on your pregnancy journey.

Aside from the promise made by Sasha, it's another one that makes you smile with blushing cheeks.

In your room, Sasha instructed Ksenia to prepare warm water for a bath while Laura hurried to inform Jean that you were unwell and couldn't continue the tea party. The ball is being held tonight—that's reason enough for Sasha to force you to stay in bed and take plenty of rest.

When they dress you in a mauve dress for the ball, your ladies-in-waiting make sure not to tie the bodice too tightly. Diamonds and gems accessorize your neck, ears and fingers. You try to hold back a smile when you see the door swing open showing Childe ready in his nice suit. He leans against the arm of the couch, blue eyes sweeping across your back carving a thin grin before he meets yours and gives you his usual wink.

"We are done, Your Majesty." Sasha told you.

"Thank you." You got up from your seat, not missing the enthusiastic stares of your ladies-in-waiting.

Childe holds out his hand to receive yours. He squeezed it gently before bringing it to his lips, a chaste kiss you received from him. "Are you sure we shouldn't skip the ball and cuddle the night away?"

“Absolutely. Besides, I heard that Mondstadt has the best wine.” You reasoned that even if you knew full well, there would be no alcohol going down your throat tonight and in the months to come.

"Firewater is still better in my opinion." Childe said, leading you to the door.

The sound of music is heard the second you enter the ballroom. A resounding blend of harp and piano throughout the opulence. Many of the guests had dragged themselves onto the dance floor, their partners clutched tightly in their hands. You and Childe get greetings from several familiar faces, but not a few Mondstadt nobles who you don't recognize have the courage and courtesy to introduce themselves and give a warm welcome.

“Emperor Childe.”

When Childe and you turned around, two men were standing there, one with red hair and the other with dark blue strands. Both of them had long hair, with the only distinction being the height of their ponytails.

“King Diluc.” Your husband holds out his hand for a handshake.

Diluc Ragnvindr. The red-haired King of Mondstadt who reminds you of fire. You wonder if he's hiding a smoldering spirit behind his polite face. He was present in another set of his dapper suit. Unlike at Snezhnaya's recent banquet, he appeared with his long hair pulled up into a higher-than-usual ponytail.

Diluc gave you a brief nod before turning to the man next to him. “Allow me to introduce my brother. This is Duke Kaeya. Perhaps you have not met." He said, making your attention fall on the man wearing an eye patch.

“Ah, right. This is the first time we have met, Duke Kaeya.” Childe shook his hand.

Kaeya painted faint dimples on his tan skin. "It is an honor to meet in person such a wise person as you, the Emperor and Empress of Snezhnaya." He gave Childe a friendly smile, which you swear turned into something else when he swept his dark eyes across you.

Diluc's red eyes widened as he watched Kaeya hold out his hand asking for yours. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to do it. Childe watched as you offered your hand hesitantly. A kiss that was too long for Childe not to think anything of it landed on the back of your hand. Kaeya opened his eyes to look at you accompanied by a smile that had a meaning behind it.

“Welcome to Mond, Empress (Y/N).”

If looks could burn, Kaeya would have already emptied all the drinks in here to quell the fire that was searing him. You swear you heard Childe pulled out a light scoff. Kaeya straightened his back again with an expression close to satisfaction.

“Ahem.”

Diluc made a fake cough noise, but it was more to remind Kaeya to keep his boundaries than to break the uneasy silence between the four of you. "Kaeya is known to be friendly with others, so I hope you don't take it the wrong way, Your Majesties." He says.

Childe laughed dryly. “Does this mean Duke Kaeya is also friendly enough to take me on a little tour around Mond?” His voice is sweet, but you know the intent in it contrasts from that.

"Why, of course, Your Majesty." Kaeya smiled widely and placed his right hand on his left chest. "It would be my pleasure.”

This situation is too heavy. You want nothing more than someone to save you from this and luckily, Diluc has the ability to read that. "If you'll excuse us, we have to greet the other guests." He then turned to the buffet. "Do enjoy your time with banquets and refreshing drinks like grape juice."

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” You said.

Childe and you turned the other way while Diluc and Kaeya started walking toward the other nobles. You take a deep breath before emptying your lungs again.

"I would appreciate it if you would stop picking fights with every man I talk to."

"He was flirting with you." Childe stopped in his tracks.

You hastily put your hand in front of his lips stopping him from letting out a longer protest. "Could you get me a glass of grape juice?" you ask him.

Childe furrowed his brows, "Not wine?" You shake your head.

Although not completely convinced, Childe gives you a kiss on the hand then tells you to stay here. You see his figure walking to the buffet table. His broad shoulders make you smile. You sweep your eyes around to relieve boredom.

Strands of blonde caught your eye. You remember she has longer hair; now it falls a little lower than her earlobes. The woman with gold eyes was spinning in an orange gown, in the arms of a man with nearly the same hair color as her. His eyes could still be seen through the mask that covered the right portion of his face.

The smile on Lumine's face was so wide it radiated happiness.

Footsteps draw your attention to Childe, who is holding a glass of grape juice and another of what you assume is dandelion wine. He handed you one. You stared at the liquid before taking a gulp, feeling the sweet taste on your tongue.

"Do you like it?"

You nodded, "It tastes better than I imagined."

"Wanna bring home ten barrels of it?"

A laugh from you. "One bottle is enough, Ajax." You said.

In the midst of a sea of people, a figure stands out for some reason; you're not sure why; it could be his complex fancy suits, the way he carries himself, the power in his gaze, or the fact that you've known him all your life. You greet your old friend with a smile on your face.

Zhongli made strides towards you with a handsome smile. Under the extravagant chandeliers, amber eyes sparkled beautifully. Childe did not take his blue eyes off his every move.

The man stops right in front of you for a bow, "Your Majesties."

Weird to hear that from him. Even though it had been six months ago Childe had inherited the throne and three months ago Snezhnaya had declared it an imperial state; You think you'll never get used to all this. Let alone one that came out of Zhongli.

"Duke." Childe gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Duke Zhongli.” You called him enthusiastically. "It's.. a surprise to find you here."

Zhongli nodded, “His Majesty Emperor Shiva is unable to attend. I've come to represent him at his request.” He says.

“Make sure you do well, Duke.” Childe commented.

Zhongli pretended to be blind by the sharp glare Childe gave him. “I appreciate the concern—

"Who said I was concerned?"

“—but, everything is well.” Zhongli continued despite being interrupted by him.

Your lips were about to part to change the topic to break the pressure between the two when a woman bumped into Zhongli and spilled her glass on him. Her voice is sweet, making you turn to look at her and stop in place.

“O-oh my! I'm so sorry! I was careless and—”

A laugh from Zhongli. "Nothing to worry about. Are you alright?”

Zhongli asked the woman—the woman you saw in your vision. You're completely convinced after casting a glance at the hanfu she's wearing. Zhongli continued to talk to her with a big smile that seemed to be permanently etched on his face.

"This is my first time here, and I've already ruined someone's expensive suit. I'm truly sorry!” The woman kept apologizing to Zhongli.

"As I said, this is nothing, Lady..?"

“Guizhong! My name is Guizhong.”

Guizhong.

Guizhong appeared in front of you with everything that made you believe she would be a good fit for Zhongli. You watched her give him a blue handkerchief. Long fine strands of hair. She's clumsy, but you find that to be cute. You wonder if Zhongli thinks so too. They were lost in their new conversation and every word they exchanged dripped happiness into the depths of your heart.

The promised happy ending had at last arrived.

“Duke Zhongli, Lady Guizhong, “You have their attention.

Guizhong looked at you and then at Childe before bowing deeply in regret. “Goodness! Your Majesties! M-may prosperity and health be bestowed on you! I'm sorry I should have realized sooner." She tightly shut her eyes after hearing your chuckle.

"Please rise. Forgive the interruption but, we'll leave you both to your talk."

Zhongli turned to face Childe who was grinning happily at you. "Now?" he asked.

"Yes." You turned your gaze on the area where people were dancing. “I suddenly want to dance.” You turned to Childe. “Perhaps the Duke can bring Lady Guizhong for one.” You said to Zhongli.

Those amber eyes stared at you in curiosity and confusion. In your heart, there is one thing you want to tell him: that happiness is close to him. But, just as Zhongli and Guizhong gave nods and let you go, you twisted your heels and tightened your grip on Childe's arm.

"That’s scary." Your husband comments.

“What is?”

Childe slowed down as he reached the dance floor. "Your smile. You look like you've planned something and it's working." He put his hand on your waist.

A chuckle escaped your lips. You put your hand on his shoulder, and he starts picking up on the melodic tempo of the music. “If so, will you stop sulking and dance properly?” You see the annoyance reflected on his face again.

"How could I not when nearly every in the room—in all of Tevyat—was trying to flirt with my wife?"

"They were just talking to me, Ajax." you corrected.

“They were flirting with you, angel. Don't try to manipulate my memory."

A sigh comes out a sign you give up arguing with him. Childe took you for a twirl. "You are the most jealous man I have ever known." You then continued, "I can't imagine how you'd react when the other one showed up."

The frown in the middle of his brow deepened before his limbs came to a complete stop. He gave you a dumbfounded look. “Wait, what are you—” His expression now full of hurt. "—you're.. you have another man?" He spoke with trembling, and you stifled a laugh in the guilt that you were covering up.

"Well," Your hand tried to lead him to dance again but, Childe refused to move his feet before you answered him. "After all, I'm still not sure if it'll be a boy or a girl, right?"

Confusion hit him like a tsunami even though his betrayed expression was still there. “A boy or a girl? What kind of nonsense are you playing—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words died suddenly on the tip of his tongue. Childe stared at you with wide blue eyes. The blood seemed to be drained from his face before returning to fill his cheeks.

For him, the world came to a halt for a brief minute. His brain stopped functioning. His ears suddenly went deaf leaving your voice and those words repeating over and over in his head. His mouth gaped open. His heart was pounding inside his ribs pumping out the feelings he was still digesting. Then a tsunami of happiness washed over him, so overwhelming that his lips curved and he sobbed as he took you in his arms.

It was one moment he wished could stay forever. Even so, Childe—Ajax, is aware that there will be more happy things in the future. With you, with now—his unborn baby. At the same time, Childe felt and desired a lot.

In the middle of the melodies that flowed from a combination of piano and harp, you hugged him even tighter. He is the luckiest man in the world. His heart felt like it was wrapped in satin and moonlight. You laugh, but it's his chest that warms. What a dream this is, and God has the generosity to make it not end up as one. Perhaps He knows: happiness should come in the form of a really sweet fruit for two human beings who have suffered for a long time.

Childe gave you a smile before laying a kiss on your lips. He didn't mind if he had attracted everyone's attention as a result. The music could stop but, he wouldn't with this. He placed another one, still not caring if people would label him unethical.

“I,”—he kissed you again—“love,”—another one—“you.” He said in between kisses.

You both left the ballroom early that evening. The moonlight filtering in through the opened window illuminates the bed where you lie down for a cuddle. The wind of Mondstadt's capital is finally appreciated the next day in the lush meadows.

"Please be born healthy." Childe speaks to your still unnoticeable pregnant belly before giving it a small kiss.

The blue sky stretches above the white clouds. He held your hand as you walked down the grassy path. The gurgling waterfall sounded faint. Dandelion blooms swayed and then scattered into the air. On a wooden chair with a view of a statue in the center of a lake, the two of you decide to take a break.

"I wonder how Shiva will react to this." You start the conversation.

Childe's shoulders shook as he laughed. "He will definitely kill me. For impregnating my wife." You join in the louder laugh.

There was a silence before you lifted your head from his shoulder to say, "About that grape juice.." Childe looked at you curiously. "I don't think ten barrels will be enough."

Childe carved a smile. The two of you returned to enjoy the sight ahead.

"Twenty it is."

AbbyBianx, ness

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[ponder-the-orb]

Broken Things: Prologue

Pairing: Fem Tav (named)/Gale

Chapter Tags: Post-Canon, Mystra,

Future Tags: Angst, Major character death, dealing with trauma, hurt/some comfort, Happy ending (I promise), Whole lotta Tara

Prologue word count: 300 words

Basically I had a lot of feelings about what would happen if the orb destabilised post-game and thus this fic was planned.

(The angst starts with chapter one.)

Read below or on AO3.

***

Tireless is her work. 

With practised hands she spins the weave, feels ten thousand mages rip its seems, then winds it back until it is whole once more. Rosewater and spice perfume the air. It’s the scent of magic, of her– something all but imbued into the very fabric of her skin since she’d been granted her task. 

Again the strands break. Again she knits them back. Over and over and over again– as deft as a bard with their lute.

It’s ceaseless, but such is the duty of the Mother of Magic.

Prayers steeped in gold prod at the edges of her realm: ‘Empower me. Save me. Succour me. Show me the truth beneath your veils.’

She ignores the trifles and rewards her faithful, smiling as new threads burst forth from below. The creation of new magic– a gift from her most devoted archmages. She guides each piece to its place within the weave, tastes the fire and the force, as perfect and malleable to her as a freshly-borne babe.

Something brushes her finger as she shapes each sliver. One tiny thread flaps free; wavering and stretching out continuously into the mortal plane. She wraps it around her hands, scoffing as she feels the foul blight that still so greedily feeds upon her creation.

Karsus’ half-formed abomination. The thorn that still pricks her side with each turn of her hands.

She plucks the thread and hears her mandate: Unleash it. Tear down the heart of this false God. Re-earn your place in my paradise. Another pluck and a newer charge sings out: Deliver what should be mine and let your failures be washed away.

They flutter sour on her tongue, as expired as her patience on this matter.

One flick of her wrist and the tether snaps. Broken pieces fly in jubilant colours, each she guides back to the weave, now immaculate once again. 

A hungry cry brays from far below, then another, quiet as air. Mortal. She whispers the noise away and turns back to her work.

A promise broken. A price paid. Such is the nature of the weave, so too is the nature of her mercy.

***

Delving into Mystra's lore and how the weave actually works was more fun than I thought.

Updates will be posted on my AO3 and promoted here.

I have a LOT of angst I need to get out so please read all the tags on AO3 and when chapters are posted.

Also thank you to everyone who voted on my fic poll! Astarion will have to wait until next time

#This will be VERY angsty #gale bg3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #mystra can catch these hands #gale x tav #bg3 fic