#They’re always so full of life and love

[aajjks]

The conqueror (XXIII.)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader

warnings: yándèrè, DÁRK TRÍGGÈRÍNG THÈMÈS, dárk óbsèssíòn, cràzy júngkòòk, dèprèssíón, 18+ thèmès, íntènsè thèmès, kórèàn tràdítíòns, àttèmpt át súícídè, NÓNCÔN KÍSSÍNG, TÓUCHÏNG, lüst, sèxúàl thèmès,

note. YALLLL This chapter is my best one yet I am so proud. Also, just a warning I have copy pasted some of the Korean traditional stuff from Google so I’m just telling you guys in advance and if you have any questions ask or anything to tell me just come into my inbox because this chapter is a terrifying. And sooooo sexy 🥵🥵🥵 undeniably, sexy… I have no words, but please please please share your feedback. OK I love you guys. Enjoy.

series masterlist

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

The air feels heavy, oppressive, as if the entire palace is holding its breath in anticipation of this day. Your wedding day. The day your life is to be bound forever to the man you hate most in this world. You sit in your chambers, unable to bring yourself to look in the mirror. The room is alive with movement, court ladies bustling around you, adjusting every detail of your appearance as though they’re preparing a lamb for slaughter.

The silk of your hanbok feels suffocating, its intricate embroidery weighing you down. The deep crimson and golden hues, symbols of purity and virtue, mock you with every thread. This is not a union of love. This is a chain, cold and unyielding, tying you to a man who thrives on blood and power.

“Perfect, my lady,” the seamstress finally declares, stepping back to admire her work. Her smile is full of pride, but it feels hollow.

Nothing about today is perfect.

“How fortunate you are to marry the king,” Na-yeon whispers close to your ear, her tone laced with a smugness that makes your stomach turn. “Most women would kill to be in your place.”

You don’t respond. Your throat feels tight, your heart heavy. Most women don’t know the truth about him. Most women haven’t seen the darkness that festers behind his piercing gaze. If they did, they’d run far, far away.

“Leave me alone,” you whisper weakly, your voice cracking. The court ladies exchange glances but obey, bowing before quietly filing out of the room. All except Na-yeon. She lingers, always watching, always ready to report back to him.

“You should feel honored,” she says, her voice soft but sharp, like the blade of a knife. “This is the greatest moment of your life.”

You swallow hard, fists clenched in your lap. “The greatest moment of my life?” you repeat bitterly. “This is the worst moment of my life. I’d rather die.”

For a fleeting second, her expression falters, but it’s gone just as quickly. She straightens, smoothing the front of her hanbok. “You mustn’t say such things, my lady. The king wouldn’t like to hear that.”

You glare at her. “Let him hear it. I don’t care anymore.”

But even as the words leave your mouth, you feel the weight of them settle in your chest. You’ve felt the consequences of his anger before. You know better than to provoke him. And yet, part of you doesn’t care.

You’re desperate, grasping at any semblance of control, even if it means testing his patience. You wish that you had died last night when he had attempted to take your own life, but then….

Na-Yeon had caught you. She has been like a shadow and now you’re here.

The palace courtyard is alive with activity, the sound of drums echoing through the cold morning air. The ceremonial guards stand in perfect formation, their armor gleaming under the pale sunlight.

Nobles and officials gather in clusters, their voices hushed as they exchange whispers about the grand occasion.

You’re led through the courtyard by a procession of attendants, their hands firm on your arms as they guide you toward the altar. You want to run, to scream, but your body betrays you. Your legs move mechanically, your feet dragging across the stone path as though weighed down by chains.

The altar looms ahead, a grand structure draped in silk banners and adorned with offerings of fruit, rice, and incense. At its center stands Jungkook, his figure imposing, cloaked in the rich robes of a king. His dark eyes find yours immediately, piercing through the crowd, and your breath catches.

There’s something about the way he looks at you—intense, unyielding, predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s been waiting for this moment, and the satisfaction in his expression is unmistakable.

As you approach, the murmurs of the crowd fall silent. All eyes are on you now.

“Bow,” one of the court ladies hisses under her breath.

You hesitate for only a moment before lowering yourself to the ground, your knees pressing against the cold stone. Your head dips forward in a deep bow, a gesture of submission that makes your stomach churn.

Jungkook steps forward, his movements slow, deliberate. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of it suffocating.

“Rise,” he commands, his voice deep and resonant.

“AND… you, the court lady… never ever talk to my wife like that, or I will have your tongue for breakfast.” Jungkook growls and the lady immediately cowers in fear, he glares daggers into her head.

You watch and you hear everything.

He’s so scary.

You obey, standing on shaky legs as he towers over you. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes tell you everything. You belong to him now.

The ceremony begins with the gabae, the presentation of gifts. Silk, gold, jewels—each item is placed before you with great ceremony, a display of wealth and power that feels more like a taunt than a gesture of goodwill.

Jungkook watches you intently, his gaze never wavering. You can feel the heat of it, burning into your skin, as though he’s daring you to object. But you don’t. You can’t.

Next comes the pyebaek, the bowing ritual. You kneel once again, this time before Jungkook and the royal elders. Your movements are stiff, your body trembling with each bow. The elders nod in approval, their expressions impassive, while Jungkook watches with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs under his breath, so low only you can hear. The word feels like a brand, searing into your skin.

The final ritual is the joongin, the sharing of food. A tray of offerings is placed before you—steamed rice, dried fish, and fruits carefully arranged in intricate patterns. Jungkook picks up a piece of fruit, holding it out to you.

“Eat,” he commands.

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the food. Your hands tremble as you take the fruit from him, the act feeling more symbolic than it should. As you take a bite, the crowd erupts into applause, their cheers echoing across the courtyard.

It’s done. You are now his queen.

The celebrations continue long into the evening, but you barely notice. Your mind is numb, your body moving on autopilot as you’re led through the motions of the day. Smiling when prompted, nodding when addressed—it’s all a blur.

As the sun sets, the palace is bathed in the warm glow of lanterns. The air is thick with the scent of incense and wine, the sounds of laughter and music filling the halls. But you don’t feel joy. You feel hollow.

Later that night, Jungkook finds you in your chambers. He’s shed his ceremonial robes for a simpler, darker outfit, but his presence is just as commanding.

“Come,” he says, extending a hand toward you.

You don’t move. Your feet feel rooted to the ground, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he warns, his voice low, dangerous.

Reluctantly, you take his hand. His grip is firm, almost possessive, as he leads you toward the royal chambers.

The night stretches ahead of you, long and uncertain. You don’t know what awaits you behind those doors, but one thing is certain: your life, as you knew it, is over.

•••

Hours later… you are even more terrified.

The air in the bridal chamber is thick with tension. The flickering candlelight casts long, trembling shadows across the walls, the golden dragons embroidered on the silk bedding almost seeming to writhe. You stand frozen in the center of the room, your hands fidgeting with the delicate fabric of your wedding hanbok. Your heart pounds in your chest like a caged animal, the cold sweat on your back soaking through the layers of expensive silk.

The heavy door creaks open behind you, and you flinch. His footsteps are slow, deliberate, each one a deliberate announcement of his presence. King Jungkook—no, your husband now—steps into the room, his dark robes flowing behind him, the faint scent of musk and sandalwood following him.

He stands tall, broad shoulders and a powerful frame outlined by the flickering light. His strong jaw clenches slightly, and his dark, piercing eyes drink you in. His presence is suffocating, his physique commanding. The ceremonial attire does little to hide the strength beneath the fine fabric, his toned chest visible through the parting of his robe. His raven-black hair falls slightly into his eyes, framing his perfect like features. He is devastatingly beautiful, and that terrifies you.

“You look breathtaking,” he says, his voice low and husky, carrying an edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

You take a small step back, the edge of the bed pressing against the back of your legs.

His eyes narrow at the movement, but he doesn’t comment. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, the sound filling the silence like a judge sealing your fate.

Jungkook moves toward you slowly, his gaze fixed on you like a predator stalking its prey. Your mouth feels dry, your throat tight as you take another step back, only to have your knees buckle slightly when you bump into the bed.

“There’s no need to be afraid, my queen,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. “Tonight is ours. No one will disturb us.”

You open your mouth to respond, to beg or plead, but the words die on your lips when he reaches out. His hand is warm as it brushes against your cheek, his thumb tracing your trembling lower lip. The touch is almost tender, but the hunger in his eyes betrays him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” he whispers, his tone dark with an undercurrent of desperation. His thumb presses slightly against your lip, as if testing your resolve. “How many nights I’ve dreamed of you, Y/N?”

“Y-Your Majesty—”

“Jungkook,” he interrupts, his tone firm, almost commanding. “You are mine now, my queen. No more formalities.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours. The warmth of his body radiates against your trembling form, his scent intoxicatingly rich and masculine. You can feel the raw strength in his presence, the way his chest rises and falls, the way his arms flex as he reaches for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, his lips hovering just above yours. “Do you know what it does to me? Seeing you like this? Knowing you’re finally mine?”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a kiss that steals the air from your lungs. It is not gentle. It’s forceful, claiming, a declaration of his dominance. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his other hand gripping your waist and pulling you against his chest.

Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it’s futile. His chest is solid, the muscles beneath the silk unyielding. You feel the raw power in his body, a strength that both intimidates and overwhelms you.

“Stop,” you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, your resistance only seems to fuel his desire.

“Stop?” he repeats, his voice low and laced with frustration as he finally pulls back. His dark eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them burning brighter than ever. “Why do you keep running from me, Y/N? I am your husband now. Your king. You belong to me.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you force them back, refusing to let him see you cry. “Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I—I can’t—”

“FUCK, YN.”

He screams and you flinch, for a moment as he hears his voice through the walls of this chamber, he almost feels bad as he stares at you

You’re so terrified, a crying mess, but God knows, it’s only turning him on more.

Why are you so fucking frustrating?

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening as he stares down at you. His gaze flickers to your trembling hands, your heaving chest, and then back to your tear-filled eyes. For a moment, something unreadable flashes across his face—hurt, perhaps, or maybe just irritation.

“I’ve given you everything,” he says, his voice cold now, but still laced with that obsessive edge. “I’ve built a kingdom for you. Killed for you. And yet you still flinch when I touch you.”

You don’t respond, unable to find the words.

His hand moves to your waist again, sliding around to the small of your back as he pulls you against him. His other hand trails up your arm, his touch light but possessive. The contrast between his strength and his touch sends a chill down your spine.

“You’re so delicate,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “So fragile. But you’re mine. Do you understand that, Y/N?”

You shake your head slightly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “No,” you whisper. “I don’t want this. I never wanted this.”

His grip tightens for a moment, his jaw clenching as he exhales sharply. The air between you grows colder, the tension suffocating.

“You’ll learn,” he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ll learn to love me. To need me. Because no one else will ever have you.”

He leans in again, his lips brushing against your neck this time. You feel the heat of his breath, the light scrape of his teeth against your skin, and you shudder.

But then, he stops.

For a long moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing. He pulls back, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. His expression hardens, and he lets out a low growl of frustration.

“You’re not ready,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Not yet.”

His hands fall away from you, and he steps back, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with barely-contained frustration. “I could take you right now,” he says, his voice cold. “But that wouldn’t satisfy me. Not like this.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to feel relief or dread.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he glares at you. “You insult me with your fear, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and venomous. “But you’ll come to me willingly one day. You’ll beg for my touch.”

He turns abruptly, his dark robes swirling around him as he moves toward the door. Before leaving, he pauses, his hand on the handle.

“Remember this, Y/N,” he says without looking back. “You’re mine. In this life and the next.”

The door shuts behind him with a finality that makes your knees buckle. You collapse onto the bed, trembling, your mind spinning with fear and confusion.

The silence of the room is deafening, but it doesn’t give you no comfort. You know this isn’t the end—merely the beginning of a life trapped in the clutches of a man whose obsession burns hotter than any love ever could.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[temblando]

Liam Gallagher Chart Analysis : Destined to be a star-pt1

Who is he?

Liam Gallagher was born in Manchester, UK.

He was the lead singer of a band called Oasis. Oasis produced a lot of hit songs, such as don’t look back in anger, wonderwall, champagne supernova etc. Oasis became the biggest brit pop band in history.

Oasis was created in 1991 and disbanded in 2009 mainly due to disputes between Liam and his brother Noel, who was also a member of the band. However, they decided to make up and reunite in 2024.

Oasis was famous for their rivalry with Blur, a brit pop band as well.

Sagittarius ascendant

conjunct Neptune:

Just..he is so expansive. Sagittarius is already an expansive sign all by itself and it’s conjunct Neptune? Neptune also expands. So what I’m getting here is that he is kind of full of himself. He probably has a very grandiose version of himself in his head.

Also it’s Neptune conjunct ascendant, so he has the it factor. He is so..mysterious and enticing. He doesn’t seem like an actual human being. His looks are ethereal. He looks like he is dreaming all the time. That’s why he has a huge fanbase. And people might think that he’s innocent even when he’s not? Neptune ascendant people can get away with a lot of shady stuff because they look so innocent. They look like this 🥺 when they’re sad.

I mean like look at him..

And he’s really susceptible to addictive stuff, such as drugs and alcohol. He gets addicted very easily.

1st house ruler in the 1st house:

He is his own brand.

He wouldn’t like it if he was tied down to a 9-5 job.

He’ll probably want to work on his own projects, and wants to be his own boss. He has a strong sense of independence.

Ascendant sextile Sun+Pluto+Mercury:

His appearance really appeals to a lot of people. It has a lot of layers to it, it’s really unique. His appearance has the vibes of Sagittarius,sun, Pluto and Mercury?

And his ascendents sextile those planets which are in the 10th house, so his free spirited sag rising persona goes well with his whole rockstar persona.

Ascendant sextile sun:

Main character energy. Golden retriever boy. Well liked, confident, charismatic. Very friendly vibes. He’s very welcoming.

He can grab anyone’s attention when they walk into a room. Also they like the attention that He’s receiving. He thrives off of attention.

Ascendant sextile Pluto:

He looks difficult to figure out. An enigma of some sort. Very mysterious.

Probably this aspect makes him look really sexy and powerful. He looks like he has some secrets in his life even when there’s none.

Ascendant sextile Mercury:

Friendly and likable. He can be very witty and funny. He might like to learn from a lot of things.

Intellectually stimulating things makes him feel happy. He loves talking and taking in new information.

1st house Neptune and Jupiter:

He always thinks that he is the lucky🍀 charm for everyone. He thinks he is very special. He thinks that he is protected from bad luck by the heavens. That’s because 1st house Jupiter is lucky. Also he’s a sag ascendant so double that up 🔝

Also, he is really full of himself. He thinks he is this god like figure from heaven itself. He is sort of like a cult leader in a way. He thinks he is a bigger than life figure. Like in his brain he might think of himself as “the” Liam Gallagher, the biggest pop star in the world, the pop star that everyone has to know.

Oh and he might not have a clear view of himself. Probably because of the huge ego, but he doesn’t know his personality very well. He doesn’t, and nobody does as well.

Jupiter square m.c:

His ego does not fare well on public eyes. His delusions(sometimes) about himself and his egoistic speech are really harmful to his reputation.

He overindulges in the joys of life, such as drugs or food or woman or whatnot. These hedonistic behaviors can make him unpopular with people.

That’s actually quite sad for him, because he loves positive publicity. His whole identity is tied to positive publicity. He wants to be viewed as this honorable figure, but it doesn’t seem easy.

Sun in 28 degrees:

28 degrees is a fame degree. It's a cancer degree, but this degree gives you long-lasting fame. It makes you a household name. A lot of celebrities have it.

Sun in 10th house conjunct m.c:

This is what I was talking about when I said he loves positive publicity. He loves the public eye because that’s what makes him Liam Gallagher . He equalizes his own ego to his public image. He craves attention and probably would have gotten a lot of attention ever since he was really young. He’s kind of a golden boy. The star of the show. The public probably sees him as a very proud and confident individual. Kind of like a lion.🦁

Sun conjunct Mercury:

A lot of celebrities have this placement. He is very proud and confident in his speech. He probably was the loudest person in the classroom, and they could have been noticed anywhere. He just has to be seen and heard. He’s really expressive and creative. He’s just practically bursting with creative ideas and projects in his mind.

Sun square Jupiter:

He always does too much. He parties too hard, he drinks too much, he overspends, he does drugs too much. He overindulges a lot. He also has a really huge ego, and he often thinks he can do something he’s clearly not capable of doing. In other words, he’s kind of delusional. He does not take criticism very well, because he’ll think ‘who are you to disagree with the Liam Gallagher?huh?😡🤬’He has a very grandiose version of himself in his head. like or reblog for a part two

*part 2 out now

Thank you for all your support!

Liam Gallagher Chart Analysis Part 2 https://www.tumblr.com/temblando/767921263580741632/liam-gallagher-chart-analysis-destined-to-be-a?source=share

[laswells-ashtray]

New here but already in love with the way you write Price and Nikolai, so I have an idea for you.

I saw the hybrid COD idea and was thinking about how Price would never show his wings to anyone except those who keeps close(his boys, Laswell, Mac, etc), but he only shows them one because the showing of both wings is something reserved for significant others, which is something John thought he’d never have.

Cue Nikolai coming in and turning his whole life around, and now they’re sitting in one of John’s favorite quiet places and having a drink when the dragon hybrid gets up suddenly and turns to face Nikolai, a look of content and bliss in his eyes as he stretches his wings to their full height and show them to the pilot in all their glory.

At first, Nikolai is stunned because- it had taken damn near years to get this powerful captain to trust him, to be around him, and to learn to love him, and now all of a sudden on a warm evening he’s showing off his wings to him of all people?

Needless to say he’s stunned and immediately wraps John in his arms, large form surrounding the dragon’s easily despite his own large size.

Aaaand.. yeah! That’s all I got.

Awwww, that's so fucking cute and very John, to do it without any warning.

John, watching Nikolai discuss the mechanics of a heli: I need this man in my life forever and I need him in my bed without the next two hours.

I think touching a dragon's wings is a big nuh-uh unless you're someone close to them, or a medic because God forbid John go a single mission without getting fucking injured.

Kate has felt them because despite having a master poker face, John could tell she was curious and he trusts her completely. He just took her hand and rested it on her wing, because she's Kate she asked him if he was sure and he nodded. She ever so gently trailed her fingers across his wing and hummed approvingly. "They're nice... Sturdy." "That stops being a good thing when you clobber them off of something."

The boys have all felt one of his wings. It's grounding for Simon when he needs it, Gaz treats it as something precious; being allowed to feel a dragon's wing is a unique experience and Soap is more often that not the one to tell John that he needs to visit the medic because he's a little scratched up.

MacMillan has felt his wing because John has always been a reckless arse and back in the day, Mac was the only one he'd let patch it up because the medics at the time were a bit too heavy-handed and it was either that or John tried to do it himself. He can't twist at the right angles to patch up his own wings. He has a habit of always injuring the right one, too.

Nikolai? Nikolai spends his mornings lazily drawing the shape of a heli against John's wing when they're in bed together in the morning and the other wing is wrapped around him. He does it so often that John knows just from the touch that it's a heli. "Again?" "You complained when it was a penis." "...You're right, carry on."

Nikolai drapes a blanket over John's wings because Soap joked that if they did it then they could make Price look like Batman and Nik's curiosity got the better of him.

He wraps tinsel around the tips of one of his wings at Christmas just to see if John will let him away with it, John does. And John will, every time.

[zyafics]

how face and reader met, how rafe knew she was the one, why reader loves rafe, what year of college they’re both in, was reader receptive to Rafe’s advances like in the beginning/ was she hesitant to open up to him/ was Rafe like in love at first sight etc

i don’t know if i’ll get a chance to answer these in the series, so i wanna answer them here 🙂‍↕️

how rafe and reader met? this was discussed in pt40, but rafe saw her at one of the orientations and saw the way she laughed and how full of life it was. so, he met her there. she acknowledged and met him in class when her earbuds decided to unplug that day!

how rafe knew reader was the one? i think he definitely saw it gradually. like it just one day hit him. he loves everything about her—spending time with her, her humor, her heart, her personality. so, one day it just snuck up on him and he was like… huh.

why reader loves rafe? there’s so many reasons. he’s always been there for her when she needed him. he’s always make actionable steps to solve her problems. he makes her feel so happy. but at the heart and soul of it, it’s him making her feel better on a bad day and him promising they can make it thru anything.

what year are they? ha ha. it’s not important whatsoever so i don’t have a definitive answer.

was reader receptive of rafe’s advances in the beginning? she definitely flirted back. definitely had fun with it. so, yes! but she wasn’t easy for him to just have. she didn’t play games but she wasn’t going to fall into his open arms like that 🙂‍↕️ (might explore more of this question)

was she hesitant to open up with him? no actually. i think—hoped—i demonstrated that reader loves with an open heart. when we were learning bout their past, she was so free spirited and wholesome. loving came easy to her especially w rafe. NOW, she’s more hesitant to open up with rafe. a lot more cagey and keeping her heart locked up. we can see it in the way she holds herself back from fully feeling happy and experiencing joy with rafe bc if she does, she opens up her heart entirely. from the past, we get (squeals of joy) now we get (soft laughs).

was rafe love at first sight? for rafe, yes. but not love. definitely intrigue. definitely… knew she was gonna be something more.

[innocentcurse]

Evangeline’s heart swelled at Marisol’s words, the kindness in her voice wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Human connection was so important to Evangeline, and to feel seen by another was always one of the most joyous aspects of those connections. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a little more than a whisper as she met Marisol’s gaze. “That really means a lot to me. I didn’t expect to feel so connected to a place this quickly, but Cardinal Hill… it’s different. It feels like home.” Evangeline had had many homes in her life, and so she couldn't say if this would be her home forever, but it definitely was for the time being, and she was thrilled about that.

She felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest as Marisol spoke about the town and the energy it gave off. Evangeline had only just begun to understand the deeper layers of Cardinal Hill, and hearing it reflected back at her like this, with such understanding, filled her with a quiet sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. God, Evangeline loved speaking to new people. “I’m glad it resonates with you,” she added, glancing at the piece in front of them again. “It’s the town, really - its quiet moments, and those little things people often overlook. It’s like they’re all captured in this one, simple scene. The magic is in the stillness.”

When Marisol spoke about the magic of the town and the connection Evangeline had with it, something shifted in her so warmly, so pleasantly; it was so affirming, in such a surprisingly joyous way. Cardinal Hill had called to her in ways she didn’t yet fully understand, and the connection she was beginning to feel was undeniable. “I think you’re right,” Evangeline agreed, her voice full of a quiet certainty. “There’s something in the air here… it’s hard to explain, but it’s definitely real.” She gave a small, almost shy smile. “I’m happy that I’m able to capture even a fraction of that with my art.”

As Marisol spoke of the stall and the magic of seeing beyond the surface, Evangeline nodded slowly. She had always prided herself on looking deeper, on seeking out what was hidden beneath the surface, whether in her own work or in the people she met - which had naturally been influenced by her father's work in her upbringing. Now, it seemed that Cardinal Hill, with all its quirky charm and underlying mysteries, was doing the same with her. She wasn’t here by accident. She was meant to be here.

Her breath caught a little as Marisol mentioned taking the piece home with her. The idea of it finding a place where it would be appreciated, framed and displayed, filled her with a sense of pride she didn’t expect. Evangeline had given away and sold her art to so many different people, but it wasn't every time that it felt so meant to be. She looked at the painting again, the way the light seemed to dance across the water, and felt a pang of reluctance to let it go. But she could see it - framed and placed just right in Marisol’s home, a part of the woman’s world, and that felt right too, even more so than Evangeline keeping it herself.

“I’d be honoured,” Evangeline replied, her voice steady but warm. “It’s exactly what I wanted, to share my art with someone who truly appreciates it. I would love to come visit Widow’s Wail to see it once it’s framed. Thank you, Marisol.” She took a deep breath, then smiled. “I’ve already said it, but it’s worth saying again - you’re too kind. Your words mean so much to me.” With the invitation to visit hanging in the air, Evangeline felt a growing sense of excitement. This wasn’t just a transaction of art, it was the beginning of a connection. One she was eager to see unfold.

Marisol listened intently, her gaze lingering on Evangeline’s art with a soft appreciation, her own gratitude evident in the warm smile she offered. "The energy in your work speaks volumes,” she said, admiring how each piece seemed to capture the essence of Cardinal Hill through fresh eyes. “It’s as if you’re breathing life into each scene, and that’s no easy feat.” She gave an approving nod, recognizing the soul poured into these depictions of her beloved town.

As Evangeline mentioned the theme, Marisol’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Choosing autumnal pieces shows great thoughtfulness,” she remarked. “It’s one thing to paint, but quite another to capture the spirit of a season and place." She studied the subtle blend of warm tones and delicate lines Evangeline had used, each brushstroke seeming to evoke a different feeling within her.

Her attention shifted to the favorite piece Evangeline placed before her—a lakeside scene at dusk. Marisol’s eyes softened, taking in the tranquil glow of the setting sun casting warmth over the water. “Ah, yes,” she murmured, tracing her fingers along the air above the piece as if not daring to touch it. “I can see why you feel a connection with this one. It holds a quiet magic of its own—one that words can hardly capture. There’s a sense of stillness, of belonging… as if nature herself is offering up this place as a gift.”

Meeting Evangeline’s gaze, Marisol smiled. “That sense you spoke of — feeling meant to be somewhere — that’s a rare thing. Cardinal Hill is not an easy town, but for those it calls to, it offers more than a place. And I think that may be what you’re capturing here - what she's offering to you. Each piece you make becomes a testament to this moment, and the magic you’re making of it.”

She glanced at the stalls around them, many pristine and deliberate in their presentation, then returned her gaze to Evangeline’s. “You may not have the flashiest stall, but I suspect people will find you for what truly matters—the heart you put into each stroke. After all, that’s the charm of this town: it calls those who see beyond the surface, just as you seem to.” And yet, the town was a siren, and sirens were dangerous, fickle creatures. Still, Marisol didn't have it in her heart to warn the other. She loved the capricious bitch the town could be and welcomed her chaos.

"My mother will love the piece you will give her, and I love this one. Would you allow me to give it a home? I will get it framed, and then, you will come visit me at Widow's Wail to see it, won't you? I will send you a formal invitation, of course. My mother would allow nothing else. But if this piece speaks to you, and you wish to keep it - please. Do."

[kindlythevoid]

I love you OC info sheets. I love you OC fanart. I love you fandom specific OC. I love you borderline-insert OC. I love you original works. I love you OC animations. I love you OC fanfics. I love you OC folders. I love you OC tag.

[banditblvd]

Turns out that when you draw different things it helps improve your art faster! That’s news to me!

Completely unrelated but I redesigned Grian again

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[cantagirldrawinpeace]

Been reading Law Novel 👍

(super legally and not at all from a Google Docs English fan translation 👀)

WOLF ONE PIECE I KNOW YOURE NOT CANON BUT YOU REMAIN FOREVER FAMOUS TO MEEEE!!!

(Handwriting translations under the cut)

1-

Law: Junk-ya this is Bepo. He’s a polar bear and he’s going to live with us now. Be nice

Bepo: He brought me here without explaining anything..sorry….

2-

I like this sad old man :)

3-

Wolf: I swear, I let ONE kid stay - out of pure convenience - and they just kept multiplying!

Dadan: Tell me about it…

Both of them, thinking: I LOVE MY FUCKIN KIIIIDDDDSSSS!!!!

[inkyboyo]

this makes me so emo, look at how they’ve grown :’))

[sweetandglovelyart]

Now that I’ve finished the most recent comic page I think I should actually try and do some proper drawings of some of my OCs. Get ready to see Taranza’s mom Theraphoza, I’m working on drawing her first 🕷️

[gidle]

In case anyone doesn’t know them, PD always has incredibly sensible and on point assessments regarding IDLE’s comeback and the message they are trying to convey. They’re consistently praising the girls in every reaction video, are quick to catch references and add the perspective of Korean culture that sometimes we international fans might miss.

I’ve been checking their reactions since Tomboy and it was truly a soothing and healing experience when I was (still am) trying to come to terms with the new group formation. And without fault I always finish their videos thinking woah this comeback that I already love is even better now.

[goldshadows]

the way i feel SO loved when people mention my muses in threads with others!!!!!!!!!

[pepprs]

i guess im starting a tradition of double ventposting lol but the last thing i’llsay (maybe) is like… all of that has a caveat which is that my emotional object permanence has been absolutely OBLITERATED by 3 yrs of covid hell and it is really doing a number on me. clearly

[alloutshirt]

disclaimer : this is a personal life vent look away

shouldn’t be sharing this but i need to take it off my brain (wow reading it back it really sounds like i lost my mind but unfortunately it’s all true and not all of it fits in 30 tags lmaooo)