#but i’ve heard stories about them and they’ve heard stories about me

[ofcrowsanddragons]

I want to hear about the Lucavrin drinking scene 👀👀

I WROTE THE BRONCO story! The rest of this fic is going places. SOON. Warning for animal death. Rook is out with Neve (Neverook) when the drinking scene takes place.

Lucanis took a longer sip from the mug, closing his eyes with a sigh. Davrin watched him from the armchair in the corner, lounging with his legs stretched toward the table and his arms resting lazily against the sides of the chair.

“Well, now you have to tell me,” Davrin teased, letting his head fall back against the mosaic, his eyes half-closed.

“That bronco…” Lucanis groaned, lowering his cup so that both arms were crossed in front of his chest. “All right, so you’ve heard Harding’s commentary on how much assassins are paid, yes?”

Davrin hummed. “’Lots,’” he quoted, keeping a straight face.

The assassin cast him a dark look, but Davrin just smiled at him like a cat, all playful innocence.

“Half of our contracts,” said Lucanis, and he paused, looking for words. He looked like he was trying not to ruin the warm mood, and Davrin waited him out. “Most of them, really, are games of one-upmanship among the merchant princes and foreign nobility.”

“So how does a horse factor into that?” asked Davrin, keeping his tone light. “It was a horse, right?”

“You would think!” said Lucanis, his voice lighting up with exasperation as he tipped his cup toward Davrin. “So here I am at the estate of a horse breeder in Southern Antiva who’s pushed some other merchant far enough that they’ve hired a Crow to teach him a lesson. It’s after dinner, so most of the ranch hands are indoors and drinking. And me? I’m much too pleased with myself because, let me tell you, the oxtail stew at the place I was staying, with one of the local red wines?”

“To die for?” asked Davrin.

“You understand. I skirt around the outside of the villa,” he said, “And I make my way toward the pasture where I’ve been told that the prince’s prized breeding stallion is kept. It’s a warm enough time of year, but that should have been a warning sign, you know?”

“Ha,” said Davrin, “Not like a prince to let his favourite animal roam outside of a paddock. At night.”

“And the dehesa, the pasture with the trees, it was communal property,” Lucanis said, pressing a hand to his forehead and running it down his face. “Everyone let their animals graze there.”

Davrin chuckled. “But even someone trying to keep a wild horse would keep the stud in a separate pasture.”

“I didn’t know anything about horses!” said Lucanis with a laugh, setting both forearms on the armrest and leaning forward. “I thought all I needed to do was track the damn bronco and—” he interrupted himself and sighed.

“I’m not that fragile,” said Davrin. He picked up his cup and took a sip of the wine. It was some Tevinter white that he’d picked up in Docktown the last time they’d been through, but Lucanis hadn’t complained about it, and this wasn't the first bottle of it. “So you’re a hotshot baby assassin loaded up with good food and wine, and you’re planning to kill a horse.”

Lucanis leaned forward out of his seat, and through the warm haze of the alcohol and conversation, Davrin let himself admire the liquid grace of the other man. Lucanis came to his feet in an effortless motion and stalked over to the wine bottle on Davrin’s side of the table. He swayed, just a little, as he entered Davrin’s space, leaning toward the hunter like there was a magnetic field that he had to pull away from.

Well. That was interesting.

“It was not just a horse,” Lucanis grumbled, pouring himself a serving of the wine and meeting Davrin’s eyes with too-deliberate calm. “Do you want a top up?” he asked, hefting the bottle.

Davrin let his head tilt to the side as he studied Lucanis standing above him. He held up the cup so Lucanis could pour. “Sure.”

The assassin didn't meet his eyes as he emptied the bottle into Davrin’s cup, and he watched the stream of wine with more focus and care than the task called for. Davrin had to hide a smile at that.

“It was perfect, Davrin,” he complained as he set down the bottle, pulling back and leaning against the mosaic, just out of Davrin’s reach. “I was downwind, nobody had spotted me, and I had a crossbow bolt loaded with enough poison to painlessly kill a horse.”

Davrin leaned forward. “Did you miss?”

Lucanis scoffed. “I did not miss. The bolt hit the horse dead on.”

“So what happened?”

“It exploded,” said Lucanis, “And then I had a skeletal nightmare horse with a flaming head standing directly in front of me, staring into my soul.”

“Yeah,” said Davrin, looking the man directly in the eye as he brought the cup to his lips. “That happens.”

“I was seventeen and had never seen livestock explode into a demon,” said Lucanis dryly. “If it had been a fight, it wouldn't have been nearly as memorable. That demon turned tail and ran like the wind.”

“What?” said Davrin, with a laugh. “I have never seen that happen. It's always a rage demon or something. Tries to smash you flat on the spot.”

“Well this one ran,” said Lucanis, his eyes sparkling as he leaned back so that both shoulders touched the tiles on the wall. He crossed one leg over the other, both arms still crossed. “I had to track that demon through the foothills for weeks.”

Davrin snorted. “You were a big, scary Crow even then, huh?”

“I was a scrawny youth who had barely learned to hold a sword at the right end,” Lucanis corrected, “And I was wearing new boots.”

“Ouch.”

Lucanis give him a small smile and let his eyes dart back to the coffee cup, like he was pleased his story had hit with the right impact. The man swirled the wine in the cup.

[atwhughesversion]

some thoughts from me on the miller trade and how much the millsy/petey dynamic should be blamed —

basically, i’ve already seen plenty of fans (not on this app, but on the Bad One) and media alike saying that petey and miller bear complete blame for how things unfolded, and that their selfish inability to work alongside each other is what cost the team. imo it’s much more complex than that. we don’t have anywhere close to the full story, but here are some things we do know:

petey and miller’s relationship has always been complex — it’s not a development unique to this season — and yet they coexisted for nearly 6 seasons without things imploding.

miller was dealing with something personal this season. he didn’t take the leave of absence just for fun, and missing 10 games wouldn’t have magically fixed it. it’s none of our business, but it was evident that some of his on-ice struggles probably had off-ice factors contributing.

petey’s struggles go back to last season when he was dealing with knee tendinitis (which can take a year or more — notice how it’s been about a year — to begin to truly recover from). he’s had periods this season where he’s put up points, and he’s been putting in a lot of effort regardless of what’s happening offensively as we can see from his defensive play. but it’s not like he started fighting with miller in november and that’s what caused his production to falter.

as heard from a variety of local/national media, it sounds like while miller didn’t necessarily want to stop being a canuck, he was also ready to move on. that doesn’t happen without some level of willingness to start over from the player.

to me, unless something significant and unforgivable happened between them this season that we don’t know about (which i suppose is possible, but like…lmao), i don’t see this as a situation where the pre-existing issues within their relationship just suddenly became impossible for them to reconcile. i believe that there has been tension between them, probably exacerbated by the team’s frustrating season, their individual struggles, and management’s inability to let things settle down. but i think it’s absurd to suggest that a dynamic that they’ve been played alongside for 5.5 seasons — that’s miller’s entire tenure with the canucks, and nearly petey’s entire nhl career — just all of a sudden became unworkable.

maybe things really were that bad between them, but i think what more likely happened is a complex amalgamation of things that neither player should bear the primary blame for. i’m sure canucks’ management would love for this saga to be remembered as “we tried to let them be adults, but they just refused to work together :( sorry to the fans that these players let them down,” but they are much more at fault for how this whole season has played out.

at the end of the day, there’s a lot we don’t know. what we do know is that all good things do come to and end, but that doesn’t mean that the team, players, and fans won’t remember what they gained.

[mars-ipan]

man. strangers you don’t know but have heard stories about are wild

[mimiyanna]

Stealing this image from twitter and bringing it over here, because holy shit, some of the clowns I have been seeing talk about the game lately.

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[shuafiles]

lie to girls [l.jn] preview

SUMMARY | it was hard watching jeno struggle with his relationship, but it was even harder when he ran to you for comfort every time. especially when you, his long-time best friend, have been in love with him for the longest time. but when jeno starts lying about where he’s going and who he’s with, you realize the biggest lie might be the one you’re telling yourself—that he’ll ever choose you. or girls will cry, and girls will lie, and girls will lose their goddamn minds for you.

PAIRING | nonidol!jeno x afab!reader

CONTENT | university au, angst, best friends to ?, aespa members included, cheating, swearing, drinking, smut (not everything is included in the teaser yet but just so you know whats in store)

WORDS | 855 (just this teaser)

A/N | sneak peek of what im working on! im planning on making this a looong one but i was too excited so i decided to share without spoiling too much. let me know if you like it! total wc is still unknown and the release date will hopefully be before november ends. also its my birthday today so heres my gift to you :D

“hey.” jeno greeted you, standing at your front door, which only meant one thing. they fought again.

you pushed the door wider, letting him inside. he looked like a mess, his shoulders slumped, dark bags around his eyes, hair disheveled. even from afar, you could tell he was going through something. his phone was in his hand, checking for notifications, but he let out a huge sigh when the home screen was empty.

“do i even want to know?” you prodded, eyes watching him as he plopped down on the couch. his head tilting back on the headrest, head filled with thoughts.

“you know how she is.” jeno mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. “said she needed some space.”

unfortunately, i do know how she is. jeno’s girlfriend, karina. they’ve been together since first year of college when jeno met her at some random party. they were the kind of couple on campus that, at first glance, seemed perfect, but you knew all too well what kind of chaos haunted them in private. you were too familiar with how she behaved with jeno; most of the time, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

jeno didn’t even have to say anything when you saw him at your front door. you have grown accustomed to this pattern: the same heartache, apologies, and cycle of hope and disappointment. and every time it occurred, jeno ended up here—at your door, at your couch, sulking.

you wanted nothing more than to scold jeno for letting himself get run over by her, but you kept your lips sealed. deciding that giving him comfort and support was probably what he needed right now.

“again, huh?” you sat down on the opposite side of him, tucking your legs beneath you.

“i don’t even know what that means, y/n.” jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. he lifted his head to face you, gaze soft as he held eye contact with you. “one minute, everything’s perfect, and we’re fine, but suddenly, i’ve apparently done something wrong, and she won't even tell me.” his voice cracked, hopelessness evident in his tone. it pained you to see him like this. how many times is he going to let her do this to him?

“well, did you do something wrong?” you asked, but you knew jeno too well, he wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship. sure, he has made mistakes in the past, but he was a good person, a good friend, and a good lover, you suppose.

jeno stayed silent for a moment, recalling if he had done something to make his girlfriend upset. “i–no, at least i don’t think so.” he shook his head, “i’ve just been busy with classes, but i always make time for her. and everything we’re together, i always try to make it special. you know?”

you nodded along to his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you have heard this story countless times, so you could probably recite it to him. it wasn’t unusual for karina to act like this; she’d get upset over something vague, and then jeno would beat himself up for it, but he’d still bend over backward to get her back.

“maybe she’s just going through something?” you said, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind.

you and karina were acquaintances at best. it’s not like you didn’t try to be her friend, but something about her attitude just seems so off-putting to you. you weren’t entirely sure if karina was fond of you either. of course, you never told jeno any of these. you knew he wouldn’t listen, not when it comes to her. he loves her. he’d return to her every time, like a moth to a flame. and you’d be there, picking up the pieces when he got burned.

“i wish she’d just tell me what’s on her mind instead of leaving me wondering what i did wrong.” his face twisted into frustration with a mix of confusion.

“jen, you know i can’t help you if you don’t tell her what you’re feeling.” this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you’re supposed to tell her these, not me.”

jeno flinched at your words, somehow unsatisfied with your advice. “yeah… you’re right.”

you watched his expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he was deep in thought. “i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.” you hesitated, knowing you were treading dangerous waters. “i just think… you deserve someone who actually appreciates you.”

jeno stayed silent, processing your words as if he hadn’t told himself that a million times. but for some stupid reason, he couldn’t keep it in his head. he looked down at his phone, tapping the screen once more, but to his disappointment, there was still nothing. “i know you’re just looking out for me, y/n. but… i just can’t give up on her. not yet.”

and just like that, you could feel him slipping away, back into her orbit, leaving you alone with all the things you couldn’t say, wondering when he would run back to you again.

[misctf]

The Demon's Curse

Here's the final Halloween story I have for the month! Hope you enjoy it- I do plan to work on the requests I got soon- please feel free to keep them coming too. Thanks everyone and enjoy!

_______________________

“This can’t be real.” Luke thinks, as he stares blankly at his professor.

The brunette looks down at the ancient book his professor gestures to. If it was any other situation, he and his bros would be laughing. There’s a detailed illustration of a large demonic figure, surrounded by six muscular men. All of whom are on their knees, sporting vacant eyes, caged cocks, and large asses. A seventh sits atop the demonic figure, his ass impaled by its meaty cock.

“So you see, this demon...” His professor continues.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He only visited Ms. Galva- an isolated crone living at the edge of town- to apologize for his fraternity brothers. They threw toilet paper across her lawn and smeared shaving cream on her home. All part of a decades-long, yearly tradition the night before Halloween. And Luke, as the recently appointed risk manager, did not join them. He even tried to stop it. But Jim wasn’t about to give up on tradition. Luke tried to apologize to her the next day. He was not expecting her to finally lose it after years of mistreatment by the community. Warning him that he would get what he deserved.

“Luke, are you listening?” Luke snaps back to the present and looks over at Dr. Finnigan, “You know, I was quite intrigued as to why you wanted to discuss this particular demon.” The older man says, “He is a fierce one. A demon of sexual deviance.”

“I just heard the name somewhere.” Luke lies. In truth, the day after his visit with Ms. Galva, the demon visited him. Telling Luke to refer to it as his new master.

“I pity the man who meets this demon.” Dr. Finnigan continues, “He torments his victims for six days, up until finally taking them.”

“Yeah...” Luke mumbles, trying to discretely adjust his boner. For the past six days, his cock remained rock hard. Yet no matter how much he tried to jerk off, he couldn’t reach climax. The sensation now tortuous, “What do you mean by take them?”

“He takes them to live eternity as...as its... well...” He gestures to the book and Luke gets the idea. He feels his stomach drop, a wave of nausea washing over him. His situation becoming all the more dire- today was day six.

“Is there any way for someone to...”

Dr. Finnigan shakes his head, “Not when they’ve been taken.” Luke’s heart skips a beat, “But for the curse to be unleashed in the first place, the victim’s name must be written in a book of the damned. If that book is destroyed, well...”

“The curse is lifted.” Luke finishes the sentence and receives a nod from the professor. He feels a sense of hope, “Thank you, Dr. Finnigan.” He smiles, and the brunette stands up and quickly leaves, his mission clear.

_______

“I think I know what book you’re talking about.” Stacy says, “Ms. Galva keeps it on a pedestal in her living room.”

Luke sighs, “Are you sure? I don’t want you...”

“I will. I’ve been bringing her groceries for months and we’re friendly. I’ll grab the book.” She replies with a small smile.

Luke returns the smile, unable to verbally express his gratitude. Not only for her believing him, but for helping too. He met Stacy at a mixer, where it was clear the two had feelings for one another, however, no moves were made. Yet now, Luke was determined to ask her out after this was settled.

“I can go over right now. She’s expecting me.”

Stacy leans over and kisses him on the cheek, causing Luke to blush. And with a quick wave, she leaves. Luke sighs and falls back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. But he’s soon interrupted as the room around him heats up. Sweat pours from his skin and he removes his shirt. The heat becoming unbearable.

“Luke.” Luke jumps when he hears the voice echoing around him, “Oh Luke...” It taunts, “It’s almost time Luke.”

“Leave me the fuck alooooohhhh.” He moans as an invisible hand strokes his hardened dick.

“I can’t wait, Luke. I can’t wait to fuck you for the first time.” The demon moans, “To make you mine. For all eternity. Just my beautiful muscle slut.”

Unwanted images of his future fill the young man’s mind. His ass bloated with fat and muscle. The demon’s hand’s groping and squeezing his juicy mounds, causing him to moan. He can hear himself begging for the demon’s cock. His voice filled with lust and desperation.

“No please...” Luke pleads, shaking his head. Trying to dispel these images.

The room returns to its original temperature and Luke is alone again. The young man breathing heavily. His body covered in sweat. It was only a matter of time, and Luke knew his time was soon.

“Hey bro, you good?” Luke grimaces at the sound of Jim’s voice, “I’m setting up a bonfire. You interested?”

“I’m good, dude.” Luke replies, wincing as his dick throbs.

“Suit yourself.”

----------

An hour later, Stacy returns- book in hand. Luke could barely contain his relief. He hugs her, not bothering to put on a shirt.

“We... we should take care of this.” She says, her face reddening.

“Yeah, for sure.” He replies, blushing and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “I think I know what to do with it.” Visible from the window, Jim’s bonfire rages.

The two hastily approach the dancing flames. Luke can see Jim near the forest, grabbing more wood. Some thunder rumbling in the distance. The brunette looks over at Stacy and smiles. And the two toss the book into the flames. It makes a hissing sound as it slowly burns, and for the first time in days, Luke feels a sense of peace wash over him.

“We did it.” He mumbles, “We...” His words are cut short as Stacy kisses him deeply, and runs a hand along his bare chest.

And a few moments later, they’re back in his bedroom. Kissing passionately. Her hands running along his chest. His own hands moving up her shirt. He moans as she moves lower, removing his pants and exposing his throbbing dick. It had been a few days and he was ready. And as she sucks him off, he lets out another moan. He could feel himself getting close. And closer. And closer still. Yet after a few minutes, no climax. Stacy is clearly tired at this point, and looks up at him.

“Is something...?”

“No, no, it’s great.” Luke pants, “But...”

There’s a knock at his door and the two quickly fumble to redress. Luke walks over and opens it, to reveal Jim.

“Hey dude.” He says with a grin, “I saw you throw something into the fire.” He holds up the charred, yet very much intact, cursed book. He can hear Stacy gasp, but he’s too shocked to react, “It started raining and put it out.” Luke stares at the book, his heart pounding in his chest, “But dude, this thing looks pretty expensive. You sure you...?”

“No, no, no!” Luke says, a sense of dread filling him as he backs away, “We need to...”

The sound of wood cracking fills the room as an arm reaches up from the ground and grabs Luke’s leg. The young man yelps as he falls flat on his back. Jim and Stacy look on in horror as more arms reach out and restrain Luke.

“No please!” He shouts, as he struggles against the muscular arms, “Fuck! Get off me! Help!”

He watches as his pants burn away, leaving him exposed. His erect cock throbbing more intensely than ever before. He cries out as he feels something cold and metallic wrapping around his dick, forcing it to soften. The sensation is unbearable as his manhood is forcefully restrained.  

“Ah please, fuck!”

He writhes as a cage secures itself around his dick- sealing it away for all eternity. Never to find release. He cries out again as his muscles start to contract and relax rapidly. His lean figure beginning to swell with meaty muscle. He begs for mercy as his pecs violently expand, the new growths partially obstructing his view. His arms and thighs follow- becoming engorged with meaty muscle. He cries out as his bones crack and shift, accommodating his new mass and height.

“No please...help me...” He begs, his voice deepening. He looks down at his stomach as his abs forcefully pop into existence. And he realizes with dread that he’s taking on the features from the men in the drawing- the demon’s personal muscle slut, “I can’t... Someone! Please help me!” Arghhhhh!”

More images of his future start to flash through his mind. He can see it more clearly than ever- his vacant eyes, his mouth and ass filled with his master’s cock. Master? Luke’s eyes widen as he realizes his mind is betraying him too.

“Not... not my master...” He grunts, trying desperately to free himself.

But even with his newfound strength he is unable to. And as the hands grope his growing ass, Luke cries out again. But this time in unwanted pleasure. He can feel them teasing his hole, preparing him for his new master. Weakening his resistance.

“No, don’t! Ohhhhhhhhh...” He moans as the teasing fingers push deeper into him.

He barely registers the embers that singe away his body hair leaving him hairless. Even his messy brunette locks singe away, leaving him with a buzz cut. The only similarity now between the writhing muscular man and the former Luke are his terrified eyes.

“You’re ready.” A voice whispers in his ear.

“No! Wait!” Luke feels the hands grip him tightly. And then they pull him down.   

The room around him begins to vanish. The horrified looks from Stacy and Jim disappear from view. And as he’s dragged to his new life, his mind starts to break. He tries to think of anything besides his caged cock and throbbing, needy ass. But he can’t. His name, memories, and dreams are locked deep in his mind. Tears of frustration fill his eyes as he tries to access them. But suddenly, he’s on all fours, panting heavily. When he looks up, he’s greeted by the sight of his new master’s meaty cock, which slaps him in the face. He whimpers and slowly looks around at the other men- his new brothers. And then his attention turns back to his master. A sudden, unbearable, and desperate hunger begins to fill him. His tongue falls from his mouth. His eyes half-lidded and vacant.

“Welcome Luke.” His master says with a grin, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

________

The storm rages outside as Dr. Finnigan goes to close his book. But something catches his eye.  

“Odd.” He mumbles, inspecting the picture closely. Instead of seven men with the demon, there are now eight. The eighth man is bent over as the demon fucks his ass. The new man’s mouth opened wide in an endless moan, “I could’ve sworn... I must be getting old.” He mutters, closing the book.

[nyoomerr]

Normally, the community of Proud Immortal Demon Way can hardly be called as such. To call PIDW readers a ‘fandom’ would be akin to calling everyone who visited the same porn site a family. PeerlessCucumber is a loud exception, but in the end he’s still only an exception - by and large, people reading PIDW know exactly what they’re there for, and it certainly isn’t for any sense of shared enjoyment or community.

The community of people following PeerlessCucumber himself, however, is a whole different story.

PeerlessCucumber is the asshole single handedly responsible for at least seven different copypastas, the rich bastard that will pay an artist’s rent for a single picture of Luo Binghe if only the artist can tolerate his demands for constant revisions, the dictionary definition of an anti-fan.

He is also blissfully unaware of the absolute glee in which people take in riling him up. And in the age of the modern internet, nothing brings a group of strangers together like the opportunity to poke fun of a guy like that.

“How do I look?” HualingsWife whispers to her companions. They take a moment to scrutinize her, gaze lingering around her chest.

“I don’t know,” SwordsOfCultivators says, “I think the guy ahead of you let his robes drape open further.”

HualingsWife rolls her eyes. “If I let my robes drape open that far, I’d be disqualified - you know the rules are different for men.”

“It’s not like you’re looking to win, though,” XuanyuMeat says. “And the open chest is clearly effective.”

The three of them pause, turning to look at the stage from their spot in the wings. The competitor that came before HualingsWife is running through a series of poses that are slowly but surely allowing his robes to slip ever wider. 

Two of the judges are watching with thinly veiled amusement - after several years of this tradition, they’ve gotten used to the chaos that PeerlessCucumber’s fans bring to these cosplay competitions. 

The third judge is PeerlessCucumber himself, and he looks like he might be experiencing a serious health condition. A serious mental health condition, to be clear.

“- robes of inferior make! Binghe’s exposure is always purposeful, and artful, and it wouldn’t be because he was wearing robes that didn’t fit him! If you don’t care about dressing true to his character -!”

“Hm,” SwordsOfCultivators hums. “Is it just me, or is Peerless not being as harsh as he usually is? Do you think he’s finally losing some of his obsession with Luo Binghe?”

“He better not!” HualingsWife cries. “I’ve put way too much time and money into working on a cosplay for that awful porn book for him to lose interest right when I get my chance to join the torturing-Peerless-fun!”

“No, no,” XuanyuMeat says, shaking their head. “You heard his rants for the Luo Binghe cosplayers one through four - he was especially cruel to them! Look at his face now, that isn’t the face of someone losing interest!”

They turn back to the stage. Luo Binghe cosplayer number five - likely DickBiggerThanBinghe, if HualingsWife were to guess based on her limited interactions with him in the PeerlessWatchers discord chat - looks unbearably smug. His robes have fallen completely off his shoulders by now.

PeerlessCucumber, on the other hand, looks so red HualingsWife wouldn’t be surprised if she started seeing steam pouring out of his ears.

“Ah,” she says, understanding. “You think he’s recently finally realized his obsession with Luo Binghe isn’t that of a straight man’s?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to get this flustered over a man’s exposed chest and still think it was caused purely by the outrage of seeing one of our ‘poorly done’ cosplays,” XuanyuMeat says wryly. They send HaulingsWife a pointed side eye. “So…”

“Oh yeah, I’m on it,” HualingsWife says, already loosening her robes further. “Just make sure to have the cameras ready to get the direct comparison of his reaction to a woman’s nip-slip versus the absolute conniption he’s going through now.”

“Please, he probably won’t even see it - he’ll probably get all awkward and look away like he does with any female cosplayer dressed in anything but a full body suit.”

“I think he’ll peek through his fingers anyway,” SwordsOfCultivators says gleefully. “He wouldn’t dare miss the chance to oggle another Luo Binghe cosplayer.”

On stage, DickBiggerThanBinghe finally waltzes off, having received his scoring from all three judges and a score from the back of the room where the group of PeerlessWatchers are sitting. 

After all, none of them are really here for the actual cosplay competition. They only care about one thing: whoever can get the highest scoring Peerless rant about their cosplay will pay for dinner for everyone that night. 

“Ohh, seven out of ten!” HualingsWife says, as the group PeerlessWatchers wave their scorecard around with glee. “The last time someone got scored that highly was when TofuBuns dared to cosplay as a half-dead Luo Binghe covered in wounds!”

“TofuBuns still has their display name set to ‘faithless mongrel undeserving of witnessing Binghes success’ in the discord server,” SwordsOfCultivators sighs. “I can only hope to one day trigger a Peerless rant so iconic.”

On stage, one of the judges glances down at the score sheet, sees that another Luo Binghe cosplayer is scheduled to come out next, and stifles a laugh before gesturing for HualingsWife to come on.

“No way I’m getting something that iconic my first try,” HualingsWife says, “but if I can get Peerless to make that hilarious choking noise he made the last time he saw a female-presenting Luo Binghe, I’ll count it as a win.”

[theunsinkableship1]

DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN LUKOLALAND

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is Lukolaland only. Skip if you don't believe.

Denial is a river in LUKOLALAND?

This has to be a joke, right? Some responses that I have received on my latest posts on TT and Tumblr leave me perplexed. Let me make something clear: I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. You have the right to believe whatever you want, that’s your prerogative. However, this is a Lukola space. It’s a space that exists to celebrate their connection, to nurture it from afar, because it shines brightly and is uniquely beautiful.

I don’t know them personally. I can only judge from what I’ve seen and heard, and I fully acknowledge that my perception is biased. My interpretations come from the way I read into their actions, their words, and their patterns. What I share here isn’t fact, it’s speculation based on observation. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know what’s really going on.

First and foremost, they are colleagues and FRIENDS. They’ve said that multiple times, and I believe them. For those who doubt their friendship, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the foundation here. If you don’t even believe in their bond as friends, this probably isn’t the space for you.

But here’s where it gets complicated: they’re not just platonic friends. You may have missed it, but the signs are there, publicly available. You just need to pay attention. I’m not talking about outlandish theories; I’m talking about what’s right there if you’re willing to see it.

I believe they’re in love with each other. As for their current situation? I’m not certain. But the level of plausible deniability in their story doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it does to you, but for someone who thinks in layers, patterns, double entendres, and undertones, someone who loves words and has studied communication and PR, this whole narrative is anything but straightforward.

Leaving this much space for misinterpretation is a choice. If they wanted to shut this down entirely, they could’ve done so with clarity and finality. It’s not that they can’t make themselves understood without being misconstrued, they absolutely can. But they haven’t.

It’s wise to keep a level of doubt, it maintains objectivity and prevents overreach. However, when coincidences stack up and patterns emerge, it becomes increasingly unlikely that they’re all mere misunderstandings or products of plausible deniability.

The more coincidences there are, the less likely they are to be unrelated.

On their own, one or two could easily be explained away, “just friends,” “PR,” or “fans reading too much into it.”

When similar themes arise repeatedly over months or years (e.g., their timing, shared themes, subtle nods to one another), the likelihood of them being mere coincidence diminishes.

The concept of plausible deniability hinges on actions that could be explained in multiple ways. However, the more layers of ambiguity and deniability built into their interactions, the more intentional it feels.

The subtleties of their public dynamic suggest a shared awareness of fan interpretations. They know how their actions are perceived. To repeatedly engage in behaviors that could be "misunderstood" suggests either: a) Intentional messaging within safe boundaries. b) A significant lack of care, which doesn’t align with how thoughtful and calculated they seem to be.

Take Nicola’s recent Times interview as an example. She could have ended all speculation right there,

“A lot of people really want me to marry Luke,” she says with a laugh. “We have this gorgeous friendship. We have such a love for one another and this experience that I’ll never have with someone else again. Isn’t it gorgeous that a man and woman can have that sort of relationship with one another?”

but she didn’t. Why? There must be a reason. And no, it’s not just PR. PR campaigns don’t operate on layers of plausible deniability that stretch across years, interweave with personal moments, and rely on such specific timing.

Isn’t it strange that for two people who have been so close, their social interactions have significantly decreased compared to before? Over the past two years, especially after the world tour, they appeared to have solidified a deep friendship. If the intent is to disengage fans from the idea that they might be secretly in love, wouldn’t it be wiser to interact more naturally and perhaps even acknowledge each other’s perceived partners?

From a strategic perspective, a like, a follow, or a simple interaction on social media could have gone a long way in dismantling the Lukola narrative. Such actions would feel natural for close friends, especially ones under public scrutiny. Their reluctance to adopt this approach only adds to the curiosity. Why not lean into a strategy that would be less detrimental and more effective at quelling speculation?

Perhaps they are more active on private social media accounts, but publicly, the absence of these gestures stands out. If the goal truly is to clarify their relationship and put fan theories to rest, this perceived distance feels counterproductive. The choice to refrain from such actions, at least for now, is, at the very least, curious. Could it be that there’s a reason they haven’t done so yet?

Both Luke and Nicola have had ample opportunities to firmly address and deny the Lukola narrative. While they’ve made passing comments about being friends, these have lacked the clarity and directness that would fully quash the speculation. Why leave the door ajar if they truly wanted to shut it?

Their reduced interactions seem to have coincided with the conclusion of the promotional period for Bridgerton. During promotions, they were actively engaging with each other and the fandom, fostering the image of a close bond. The sudden change afterward could indicate a deliberate decision to recalibrate public perceptions of their relationship.

The decrease in public interactions after the “papgate” could be their way of managing fallout from the incident, yet it raises questions: Why would two close friends need to distance themselves so noticeably? It suggests a calculated retreat to reduce speculation. However, this strategy seems counterproductive, as the abruptness of the change has drawn more attention. A gradual shift, paired with natural acknowledgments of their respective supposed personal lives, might have been more effective.

It’s possible they’re still VERY close privately but have chosen to limit their public interactions to avoid misinterpretation, or for privacy reasons. If so, this deliberate choice to create distance publicly could point to a deeper connection they’re trying to shield.

This brings us back to patterns. If you observe their public interactions, their timing, their word choices, the double meanings, they’re not random. These coincidences pile up to the point where it’s hard to believe they’re all meaningless. Their bond transcends the boundaries of PR, platonic friendship, or even ordinary relationships.

If you reason in layers, you’ll see it too. The amount of room they leave for interpretation is extraordinary. It’s not just about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. It’s about the undertones, the pauses, the way they navigate questions, and even the things they choose to share (or not share) on social media. All of this seems to be deliberate. The picture is larger and more intricate than it seems on the surface.

For example: Am I truly supposed to believe that Nicola, who has a higher degree in English and a major grasp of language, would post a Scrabble board with so many elements that could be interpreted through a Lukola lens purely by coincidence? Yes, she’s an avid player of word games, but let’s examine the board itself. It reflects competent but not advanced gameplay, logical and adhering to Scrabble rules, yes, but lacking the level of complexity, strategy, and nuanced word choice you’d expect from someone of her linguistic caliber or from a player displaying their skill.

For me, this was never just about showing off her love of Scrabble. It felt intentional, like an intended message rather than a casual post. If the goal was simply to share her hobbies or an aesthetic moment, she could’ve easily posted a picture of herself playing Scrabble, perhaps with a pint of Guinness in hand. Or she could’ve showcased a more advanced board to reflect her skills or creativity. Instead, she chose this specific board with these specific words, words that align so conveniently with a narrative many of us have come to associate with Lukola.

And let’s not forget her self-awareness. Why would someone who knows how deeply her posts are analyzed by fans continue to share things that are repeatedly misconstrued? If she didn’t want the association, why add layers of ambiguity, such as the now infamous “the very demure, very mindful” quote? What was the reason?

Just two days ago, she posted a photo in her best of 2024 the phrase "if you know, you know." Let’s be honest, how many Lukola edits have we seen that riff of "when you know, you know"? If this wasn’t related to that, what exactly was the point of the “random” quote?  Is it public knowledge or is it something only some know? Nicola is anything but random on social media. She’s chronically online, she’s clever, and she’s incredibly aware of the narratives circulating around her.

These patterns, Scrabble boards, cryptic quotes, wordplay, and selective ambiguity, don’t feel accidental. They feel curated. For someone so skilled with words and communication, there’s intention behind these choices. If it were just for fun, she could have chosen countless other ways to express herself that wouldn’t leave so much room for interpretation. But she didn’t. And for me, that’s speaks volumes.

I’m mainly talking about Nicola here because there’s simply more material to analyze, her posts, interviews, and public interactions offer more clues and layers to unpack. However, Luke’s activity, or rather, his noticeable lack of activity, is equally intriguing and worth examining.

Luke has always been more reserved on social media compared to Nicola, but his recent silence or carefully curated posts stand out. He’s not just absent; he’s selectively absent. There’s a difference between being inactive and deliberately staying under the radar. For someone who previously shared glimpses of his personal life and participated more openly in fandom engagement, his current approach feels intentional.

When he does post, the content often seems neutral, leaning into professional promotion or generic life updates. Yet, the timing or lack of acknowledgment of certain things, whether related to Nicola or even his supposed personal relationships, leaves room for speculation. It’s almost as if he’s consciously avoiding feeding into narratives while simultaneously not shutting them down.

For instance, why hasn’t he addressed certain rumors head-on, as he has done in the past with other relationships? Luke has historically been upfront about his. It’s a choice.

Considering that Luke has been involved in other projects and worked with other co-stars since the end of the Bridgerton world tour, the ratio of content related to Nicola remains strikingly high. Among the limited glimpses he does share, Nicola accounts for the largest percentage of reposts and interactions. What’s even more telling is that the majority of this content is Lukola-focused, centered on his dynamic with Nicola as individuals, rather than strictly Polin-related, which would be tied to their characters and professional pairing. Yes, she is his MAIN co-star within the Bridgerton universe, but this level of engagement is noteworthy.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t appreciate or acknowledge his other co-stars; it’s just that the weight of attention, however subtle, consistently gravitates toward Nicola. Whether it’s the choice of what he reposts or the absence of comparable attention toward other colleagues, the pattern emerges loud and clear.

If we analyze this through a lens of probability and statistics, the numbers paint an even more intriguing picture. Let’s say Luke has worked with five to seven notable co-stars in other projects and in Bridgerton, if he has been tagged in or had the opportunity to engage with 100 pieces of social media content since the world tour. If Nicola accounts for, say, 60% of the interactions and reposts, despite being one of many co-stars, it defies the expectation of a more even distribution.

For context, if he were equally invested in all professional relationships, the engagement with Nicola might hover closer to 15-20%, proportional to the size of his broader network. The fact that this number is so much higher, let’s conservatively estimate at least three to four times greater raises questions. Is this simply because of their shared Bridgerton fame? Perhaps. But then why focus on individual Lukola moments, bypassing more neutral or inclusive Polin or broader cast content?

From a mathematical standpoint, the odds of this being purely coincidental diminish significantly when you layer in the context:

Nicola has the highest percentage of reposts across Luke's social media activity.

The type of content intimate, personal, or Lukola-specific reflects a curated choice, not random selection.

Even in a professional context, where Polin content would be the obvious promotional focus, the Lukola-centric moments shine through.

Given the numbers and probabilities, it seems less likely that this pattern is accidental or merely reflective of professional obligations. Instead, it suggests an intentionality that aligns with the depth and uniqueness of their connection.

Promotion for Bridgerton Season 3 has come to a halt, creating a quiet period where we can observe and compare how Luke approaches the promotion of his other projects.it could highlight how unique his dynamic with Nicola truly is.

The nature of the content he shares for other projects will be equally telling

By comparing these promotional efforts both in terms of frequency and tone to the patterns established during the Bridgerton promotional cycle, we could gain insight into whether his approach to Nicola was truly unique or simply part of his broader professional routine.

When coincidences pile up, their probability of being just coincidences shrinks dramatically. A single instance might be random, but repeated instances with similar themes, timing, and emotional undertones suggest a deeper meaning. While maintaining doubt is reasonable, the sheer volume of these moments suggests that there’s more at play than mere misunderstanding. It’s not about overreaching, it’s about acknowledging that where there’s consistent smoke, there’s likely some fire. What type of fire is there currently? I’m not sure. Are you? Probably an Eternal flame.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Writers all come from different walks of life but the thing we have in common is the ability to write things down. To put stuff in sentences. Sometimes even non-sentences. But I’ve met people who can’t write. Who can’t talk good. And I think to myself. That’s not a writer. The perspective of a writer is inherently biased towards people who can write stuff down. Public memory and opinion is dominated and documented by the articulate.

And as someone who is quite articulate or at least aims to be I can’t really fundamentally understand the perspective of the not so articulate. So my thoughts are clear and readable before you but those who can only speak in one word sentences or those too afraid to put pen to paper? Not heard from as much. And I’m not certain how you fix that. And of course there are those who simply don’t want to be heard from. Those who don’t care. Those who are illiterate for one reason or another.

Like as infinitely diverse as writers are, we’re still writers. And we can really only hope to approximate the feelings of those who aren’t. Because once you’re able to write it’s difficult to impossible for you to understand what it’s like to not be able to do that. You can certainly try. But there’s whole swaths of society that just never produce much of anything for the written dimension of the historical record.

I think about the ones from the past. So many people like the ones I know. Smart people. Good people. Never were able to write much down or even say much. People who think that my ability to write is so odd. They’ve told me so. Sometimes directly, sometimes in other ways they were able. People like my grandfather who could barely string a sentence together in the best of times. There’s so much he’s lived through that I wish he could’ve written down but he’s not a writer or a talker. So what’s left for history? My interpretation of his life events. Not his. Because I’m the writer in the family. I’m the one who collects information and puts it into sentences later. I’m the only one, really. And what of my family? Do their stories even want to be told? Have I even collected all of them? Have so many of them been lost because they just didn’t know how to put it into a sentence?

There’s a lot I’ll never know that’s locked behind people communicating differently than I do, being good at different things than I’m good at. It drives me crazy.

[slitsfordan]

DanandPhilCrafts + Fucked Up Queer Devotion + Christian Homophobia: An Essay

We’ve all been talking about the willingness of Dan and Phil to perform the ritual, we’ve all been talking about the intimacy of carving out your lover’s heart, but I have not heard anyone talk about the fucked up side of Dan and Phil’s (fictional) relationship with each other, and with Him, so here goes.

On the craft channel, Dan and Phil act overwhelmingly positive, like satanic children’s show hosts, but this is clearly a farce. We see them drop their smiles quite a few times during the crafting- most notably in Glitter Faces when Dan’s craft turns out wrong, and when Phil cuts Dan’s hand. “Don’t cry, craft” is directed towards the audience, but it seems Dan and Phil are following their own advice. Cults, after all, prey on vulnerable people. While they do seem scared of doing the ritual, and their involvement with Him, they are, however, definitely willing. In

The blood on Dan after he kills Phil is interesting; The handprint on his shirt isn’t a sign of a struggle, but rather Phil just grabbing his shirt- that’s pretty intimate, honestly. The blood on his face could’ve been caused by a bunch of things: blood splatter he wiped at? wiping at his face (eyes?) with a bloody hand? or Phil holding his face? (I like the third option) The blood on his nose might totally have been accidental, and just a thing that happened, but it could also be an allusion to the cat whiskers, in the spirit of bringing things back to the beginning and whatnot.

After the ritual is complete, there’s the obvious tarot symbolism. @freckliedan has a great post about this, but I’ve got more to add, so bear with me. Yes, Dan and Phil are framed as the lovers, but that’s not all. While the sexual deviance associated with the devil card has clear connections to queerness, it’s main association is usually unhealthy relationships and dependence. From this, and the obvious devotion displayed in the video, the craft versions of Dan and Phil are implied to be unhealthily dependent on each other, and devoted to the point of obsession. While the relationship certainly isn’t abusive, this obsession just isn’t healthy.

Furthering the unhealthy relationship idea is when Phil calls Dan “Sampson”. In the Bible or whatever (I’m not Christian sue me) Sampson topples these pillars, killing both himself and his enemies, which has a clear parallel to Dan’s stacked ingredients falling over, but the use of “folly” is interesting, and suggests a further connection. Sampson had married a prostitute, and she sold him out, basically, leading to his enslavement and later death. In this story, this is the clearest and most obvious act of folly by Sampson: marrying someone who he shouldn’t have, someone who it was taboo for him to be with. Connected to Dan and Phil, it suggests that their relationship is dangerous due to the social taboo, but it’s also implied that Phil will betray Dan. Perhaps we’ll see that in a 5th crafts installment, or perhaps it’s simply a commentary on being in a relationship with someone considered unacceptable.

Speaking of unhealthy relationships, that’s sure what they’ve got with Him! Leading up to the ritual, Dan and Phil are shown to be scared of Him, even though they call Him their friend. Dan’s head shake when Phil says “crafting has improved my life in numerous ways” is very telling. At the end, Dan’s shoulders tense at His first footstep, however, when He actually touches Dan, he doesn’t seem scared at all- forgive me for this next point, but from the way he kinda leans into the touch and tilts his head back, it seems more like he’s going for “turned on” rather than “scared”.

“Okay, cool” you say, “but what does it mean?” Well, Dan and Phil’s relationship in this series is not just about homoerotic undertones- this is an allegory for toxic queer sexual relationships. Why would they make something about toxic relationships when they’re in a healthy relationship? With the toxicity, and the power imbalances, and the satanism, Dan and Phil’s (fictional) relationship is a representation of Christian fears of queerness, and the supposed immoral/corrupting/anti-Christian effects of being in a queer relationship. The fear Dan and Phil show throughout the series is representative of internalized homophobia. They’re scared to align themselves with Him because it means accepting their own queerness. Dan shows more fear than Phil throughout the series (like after his glitter face turns out to be a pentacle) which parallels his real world internalized homophobia that he’s experienced. By holding hands with the devil (or baphomet?) standing behind them, Dan and Phil have embodied every conservative fear about queerness, but have come out on top. Through their YouTube channel, we get to do the same.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader 

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing. 

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court. 

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise. 

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand. 

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon. 

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs. 

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“ 

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair. 

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea. 

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations. 

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break. 

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers. 

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens. 

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses. 

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps. 

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head. 

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow. 

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm. 

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off. 

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations. 

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay. 

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens. 

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read. 

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother 

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him. 

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone. 

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull. 

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone. 

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle. 

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes. 

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount. 

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child. 

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man. 

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words. 

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest. 

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter. 

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes. 

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow. 

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest. 

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard. 

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him. 

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows. 

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand. 

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out. 

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback. 

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated. 

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly. 

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises. 

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room. 

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers. 

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm. 

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow. 

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek. 

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch. 

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe. 

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity. 

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later. 

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep. 

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm. 

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him. 

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly. 

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face. 

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow. 

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite. 

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine. 

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me. 

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach. 

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration. 

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.  

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

Part 4

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

[drdemonprince]

I know so many people who are certain the world is about to end. They’ve felt this way since about 2016 or so. They are neurotic and unempowered, refreshing their Twitter feeds and making posts begging others to stay worried and go vote. 

Some of them are leftists, and say they wish to see an end to capitalism, perhaps even to America — but when the possibility starts actually feeling real to them, they fear crime, and chaos, and their own helplessness. They joke uneasily that we live in “The Bad Place” but they are too afraid to get to the good one. They don’t want to see an end to their quiet street corner, their cozy condominium, their favorite television shows on streaming, their door with a lock. They admit this world is hell but they try to claim their own corner of it and keep it comfortable. 

I’ve been in the exact mental spot as these people, so I don’t mean to make myself sound superior. For the longest time, all I wanted to do was find a few comforting distractions to get me through the years before my death. I went to bed with my stomach in knots, certain that one day the power grid would go dark, the water would stop flowing, and the fascists would march in the streets and no one would stop them. 

Back then I didn’t fantasize that I would do anything to stop them. I picture things differently now. 

I used to think that voting and calling representatives were my only avenues for political participation, but now I see that with every choice I am not merely voting for a better world, I am creating it. When I fund a friend’s jaw surgery, when I look an unhoused person in the eyes and ask them how they are doing, when I slow my walking speed, when I share my knowledge, I am making decisions about how the future will be. I am not powerless. I am small, and vulnerable, but I always have something to give. 

I think that when we are feeling powerless and afraid of the collapse, it’s helpful to shift our attention toward practical, empowering questions like these:

If the government collapsed today, what would I do tomorrow?

The End of the World is a big, frightening abstraction. But if some terrible disaster (or glorious revolution) were to happen today, all I’d have to do tomorrow is make a few basic decisions. What would I eat? Where would I sleep? Who would I contact first? 

At the end of the world there are still dirty clothes and rumbling bellies. Those pressing physical needs are the most immediate questions we will need to answer, not larger philosophical quandaries about what life is “for,” or what the ideal new political system should be. For those more essential questions, there will always be answers: canned food to gather, lakes to wash off in, stories to be traded across candlelight. 

The future that we expect is just a fiction we tell ourselves, and it has never been guaranteed. And so, when some dramatic change comes, we can focus not on the loss of certainty, but on the practicalities: finding shelter, getting fed, and keeping the people around us as safe as we can. This is already what life is about — and we’re all more practiced in survival than we might think. 

If the world as I know it ended, what would still be important to me?

Hitting my weekly wordcount goals wouldn’t matter at all anymore, I know that much. But in the wake of a terrible collapse I would still value my friends, my immediate family, my chinchilla, and the people I see every day. I wouldn’t be so fixated on never seeming ‘awkward’ or ‘creepy’; the moment disaster happened, I would just get over myself and knock on my neighbors’ doors. 

If the world ended, I’d stop caring about my appearance, but I’d still long for a mode of self-expression like fashion currently provides. I wouldn’t think of my writing “career,” but I’d still want to be heard. I can imagine myself giving a small speech to my neighbors, trying to persuade them to take whatever course of action I thought best. I would be wrong often and not always persuasive, but I would still get to express myself and witness how that expression influences the world. I’d take care of more animals. I’d worry less about my apartment getting banged up and wrecked. 

It’s worthwhile to contemplate the people we will become after capitalism. The rhythms of our lives will change, as will our priorities. We may harbor fears about all that may be lost, but it’s worth asking whether our possessions and favorite TV shows and Twitch streamers are really all that important. I often find myself looking forward to the person I could become in this new reality. And those thoughts often motivate me to make small changes in who I am and what I prioritize right now.

The full essay also contemplates these questions about the apocalypse:

What would I feel unburdened from?

What important work would I keep doing?

What skills do I have that people will always need? 

What help would I ask for? 

You can read the full piece for free, or have it narrated to you in the Substack app, right here.

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦⎥ 𝗠𝗖71

Pairing: Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader

Warnings: one swear, little brothers being little brothers

Summary: Mack meets the parents.

Notes: Requested by luvzty

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1k

For the first time, Macklin is joining Y/N’s family for dinner and meeting her family in person. Of course, they had talked over FaceTime, but it is a whole different ball game to meet the parents in person. His schedule with games and both of their class schedules, along with being on the opposite side of the continent, made it impossible for it to happen during the season. Now, with both school and hockey over, Y/N and Macklin flew home for the summer. They drove through Vancouver, out into the suburbs. The sun began its descent as they drove east. Y/N flipped the radio to a classic rock station, minimal conversation being made. As they neared her parent’s house, Mack blew out a breath, his knee bouncing nervously. His hand flexed on the wheel, a nervous tick. Y/N noticed, reaching over the console and resting her hand on his knee. Her thumb rubs soothingly over the fabric of his jeans. 

“Why are you so nervous, baby? They’ve always liked you.” Y/N asks softly, keeping her eyes trained on Macklin’s face. 

“I know, but what if it’s different now? Besides, I think it’s tradition to be nervous before meeting your girlfriend’s parents.” He says and looks over at her briefly. The joke makes them both smile a little. 

“I guess there’s that. But don’t worry, dad will talk your ear off the whole night if my brothers don’t get to you first.”

“A welcome distraction. I’m not sure who I’m scared of more, your dad or your brothers.”

“Preteens are remarkably harsh.”

“And brutally honest. RJ has more of an attitude than the three actual teenagers in our house combined.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head and says, “It’s always the youngest ones.”

She has many times been a witness to the youngest Celebrini’s antics, hilarious, annoying, and exasperating in equal measure. She turns as much as her seat will allow, content to gaze adoringly at Macklin, a soft smile on her face all the while. Macklin moves to turn up the radio, and before long, they are singing along to Bon Jovi at the top of their lungs. The rest of the drive passes quickly, with each of them taking turns doing karaoke to whatever song plays next. As they pull into her parents’ driveway, Macklin is nervous again. He wipes his palms on hsi jeans, closing his eyes for a second. 

“It’ll be ok. Just be you.” Y/N says encouragingly, “C’mon, they’re probably waiting.”

They climb out of the car, and Mack immediately grasps Y/N’s hand, interlocking their fingers. They mounted the porch steps and just as Y/N reached for the handle, the door flew open to reveal her parents. A flurry of activity had Mack and Y/N in the house, passed between parents for hugs and ‘nice to meet you’ handshakes.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N. I just wish it could have happened sooner.” Macklin says, going to shake her mom’s hand. She goes for the hug instead. 

“Just Anna, Macklin, Mrs. Y/L/N is my mother in law. And technically we have already met.” Y/N’s mom says warmly, smiling at him.

Y/N’s dad is less warm, opting for a firm handshake that Mack returns no problem.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Brian. Not ‘sir’. It makes me feel old. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He tells Macklin. 

“Good things, I hope.”

“Oh yes, as Y/N called it, ‘a grade-A teenager level crush’ which tells me all I need to know.” Her dad winks, and Y/N covers her face with her hands and groans.

“Dad, don’t embarrass me.” She pleads.

“What, it’s my job to embarrass you. I get the feeling that Macklin here isn’t going to run for the hills when he hears an embarrassing story,” He and Macklin share a grin while Anna rolls her eyes and heads to the kitchen, “besides, who knows what stories your brothers will spin and share at dinner.”

Y/N just groans, following her mom out of the living room. The group settles in the kitchen while dinner finishes cooking.

“It smells amazing, Mom. What are you making?” Y/N asks.

“Beef stroganoff and broccoli salad.” Anna answers, sliding the salad bowl and dressing over to Y/N. 

A thunder on the stairs announces the arrival of Y/N’s younger brothers, 13 year old Chase and 10 year old Reese. Y/N introduces them to Macklin, both of them pulling a disgusted face at the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘don’t embarrass me’. Chase pretends to puke. Before long, they whisked Macklin away to shoot pucks outside. Y/N’s dad laughs as she watches the three of them out the window, her mom smacks him with a towel. The boys are called inside to wash up. Dinner passes quickly, with the conversation of school life, the hockey season, and how Macklin and Y/N met, punctuated periodically by her brothers grilling Macklin about the NHL players he knows. 

Y/N and Macklin help clean up before heading on their way. Copious amounts of leftovers are sent with them. Her brothers give her a quick hug, Reese holding on for a second longer. Reese even awkwardly side-hugs Macklin, who simply smiles, while Chase goes for the grown-up handshake. They finish saying their good-byes, hard to do when Brian likes to talk as much as he does, and head back into the city. 

“I’d call that a success.” Y/N comments. It’s dark out now, but the stars can’t quite be seen. 

“I think so. I had a good time. Your dad really likes to talk.”

“I’m glad, and I told you he would. I lived in that house for seventeen years. Mom’s been pestering me since we got back that we need to come for dinner.”

Macklin hums in acknowledgement, “Your brothers are hilarious, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah? What did they tell you about me?”

“Oh nothing important.”

Y/N can hear the quiver in his voice. He’s trying not to laugh, the fucker. She tips her head back and sighs, eyes closed. Macklin rolls his lips together to fight off a smile, hand flexing on the steering wheel.

“You’re never going to tell me, are you?” 

“Nope.”

[flemingsgirl]

PART 1: Building bridges and boundaries

It’s an always kinda type- chapter one - first glances, lasting moments

Back in 2020, Jessie transfers to Chelsea, her first professional season, away from home and friends. But what if she wins friends in this special club, a new family. Follow Jessie and Y/N on their journey through friendship, rivalry and maybe something more. How circumstances change their dynamic and their growth as individuals.

Tw: full of fluffy (the first chapters), heartache/ break, angst (somewhat along the line, I'll tell you if time is ripe:))

AN: Here I am! Back from the dead. Hope you enjoy this story about Jessie, as much as I like daydreaming about it. Let me know your thoughts 🙈

“Let’s welcome our newest signings!” Emma’s voice rang out through the packed meeting room, her energy lifting the atmosphere. “Until now, they’ve trained individually with our coaches, and some of them have already met during those sessions. But today, they’re official Blues.” The room erupted into cheers as the new players stepped forward to introduce themselves.

Jessie Fleming, the young Canadian star, was among them. When it was her turn, she gave a shy smile and introduced herself, taking a seat next to Y/N.

Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the woman next to her. What had brought her here that still required an introduction? Jessie Fleming—Canada’s brightest talent, the one they all whispered about in hushed tones. The rivalry between Canada and the U.S. ran deep, but now, it was time to become teammates. The Canadian’s freckled face turned toward Y/N, her hand outstretched.

“Y/N,” the American replied, shaking her hand firmly but with a softness that matched her smile.

“Y/L/N, right? I’ve heard of you. We’ve played each other quite a few times,” Jessie said, her accent adding a bit of warmth to the already friendly exchange.

“That’s right, but I thought now, as teammates,” Y/N shrugged lightly, her tone relaxed, trying to break any tension.

Jessie chuckled softly. “You’re right. I’m Jessie,” she responded, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You know, Jess,” Y/N began, leaning in just a little, “It’s okay, right? I really want to get to know you. After all those games we played, I can honestly say I love your style of play. Watching you is fulfilling—you’ve got so much talent.”

“Thank you. Likewise. You’re tough to play against,” Jessie replied, her lips curling into a shy smile, her cheeks tinted with a soft blush.

“But that’s the fun part, right?” Y/N grinned, her eyes glimmering. “I appreciate it!”

Before the conversation could go further, a familiar voice broke in. “Psst.” Sam Kerr’s voice was filled with mischief as she turned toward the younger players. She gave Y/N a teasing wink before facing forward again.

“That’s… Sam Kerr, huh?” Y/N started.

Jessie cut in, her voice light but filled with admiration. “Yep. Quite the impressive player.”

Later, after the meeting wrapped up, Emma called everyone onto the field to kick off the new season. “Form pairs!” she shouted, the players quickly pairing up. Y/N turned to find Erin, her usual partner on the field, but before she could, Jessie tapped her lightly on the shoulder, offering a shy smile. “Can we maybe… pair up?”

“Usually, it’s Erin and me,” Y/N said, glancing back at the Scottish player, who was already moving off to partner with someone else. “But I think it’s okay. Let’s go for it.”

Jessie smiled brighter now, picking up a ball and finding a spot for them to start the drill. “So, London—what brought you here?”

“Well, not the weather, that’s for sure,” Y/N said with a playful grin.

“Compared to California? Definitely not,” Jessie agreed, her eyes sparkling with humour. Y/N laughed.

“Honestly, I see this team as a chance. A platform to grow, maybe win a few trophies, and—hopefully—make new friends,” the Canadian states.

“The team really is nice,” Y/N assured.

“Everyone seems really welcoming.” Jessie responded thoughtfully

Y/N nodded, Jessie glances out over the pitch. “Tell me more,” she said, eager to get to know the team better.

“Well, Erin’s a bit… strange. I’d recommend staying away from her.” Y/N’s voice carried a teasing tone, and as if on cue, Erin shot her a mock glare from across the field, which only made Y/N laugh harder. “Told you.” She chuckled and looked back at Jessie, who was grinning.

“I can see it,” Jessie replied with a nod. “She sounds like quite the character.”

“She is,” Y/N confirmed, her tone fond. “But you know, she’s a gem. She’s the one who answered the phone every time I called her at weird hours of the night. She’s always there.”

“That’s a true friend,” Jessie remarked, her voice soft.

Y/N smiled at her, feeling the warmth of the conversation settle between them. “Yeah, for sure. Then there’s Sam. She’s one of a kind, like everyone on this team. In the last year, I’ve learned so much from her. She’s like an older sister to me—teasing, challenging, but always having my back. I love her, but all platonic, of course,” she added with a slight, nervous chuckle.

“Sounds like you’ve got a really strong bond with them,” Jessie said, her eyes softening.

Y/N’s smile faltered for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah, I had to leave my family and friends behind when I moved here for competition, for change. But in the end, I found my people. They’re my family now.”

Jessie looked at her, understanding flashing in her eyes. “I get it,” she said quietly. “I hope to find that here too.”

Y/N met Jessie’s gaze with a warm smile. “Of course, Fleming. You’re not being left out.” She shifted slightly, then added, “I can show you around, the good side of London. I think you’d like it.”

Jessie hesitated for a moment, then smiled, her cheeks slightly pink. “I don’t want to force you.”

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have asked,” Y/N replied, her tone firm but gentle. “I’m an honest person, Jess.”

As they continued their drill, Niamh appeared, offering a thumbs-up to confirm their plans. “Right after training, we’re all going out. You in?”

Jessie glanced at the ground, her fingers fiddling nervously with the ring on her hand as heat crept up her neck. She nodded, agreeing with a soft smile.

After training, the trio found themselves wandering through the streets of London, Y/N leading them to hidden gems.

“You know the hidden spots, huh?” Niamh asked, her voice curious as she looked around.

“Erin showed me around, and I guess you could thank her and Millie for it,” Y/N said with a grin.

“You made it, huh?” Niamh’s voice held a teasing tone. “You’re officially with the cool kids now.”

Y/N laughed. “More like the older, noisy sisters,” she teased, giving Niamh a playful shove on the shoulder. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving.”

Later, seated in a cozy Italian restaurant, the trio relaxed into conversation, their laughter filling the air. “What are your first impressions of training?” Y/N asked, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“The squad seems nice,” Jessie answered, a note of genuine warmth in her voice.

“I agree,” Niamh chimed in. “The staff, too. They seem like a good group.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair. “So, who are you looking forward to playing with most?”

Jessie’s eyes twinkled as she thought. “I think Sam and Magda would be fun to play with.”

“Ah, I see,” Niamh mused, “Can’t wait to play with Pernille, or you, of course.”

Jessie’s eyes flicked to Y/N, a subtle shift in her posture as a small smile danced on her lips.

Y/N noticed it, but before she could comment, Niamh leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “So, Fleming. What are your thoughts on the team?”

Jessie’s cheeks turned a shade darker, and she quickly turned her gaze away, fumbling with her hands under the table. “I’m happy with everyone,” she said quietly, her voice soft. “I couldn’t choose, really. They all seem amazing.”

“Sweet answer,” Niamh teased. “You’re definitely a heartwarming person. I’d love to have a friend like you.” She reached across the table, giving Jessie’s cheek a playful poke.

Jessie’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat, avoiding their eyes. “Well… he’s not my type,” she whispered, barely audible.

Niamh’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” she asked, clearly puzzled.

Y/N glanced between them, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I think we’re getting off track here,” she said, laughing. “Any thoughts on lunch?”

After a long, laughter-filled evening, the three of them finally parted ways, heading home for the night. Y/N drove Niamh and Jessie home. She looked over at Jessie as they stopped in front of their apartment building. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “you’re on my way to training anyway. Let’s take turns driving.”

Jessie hesitated for a moment, but Niamh cut in. “Sounds good,” she agreed quickly.

Y/N smiled, giving them both a thumb-up. “Til tomorrow.”

As she drove back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but think about the night—and the spark of something that felt like it was just beginning between her and Jessie.

[pucksandpower]

Lewis Hamilton x Queen of Latin Music!Reader - Social Media AU

lewishamilton posted a story

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, antonelaroccuzzo, and 2,746,583 others

yourusername temporada de fresas 🍓

(Translated from Spanish: strawberry season 🍓)

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lewishamilton delicious

y/nupdates excuse me, sir???

lh44updates did you see what lewis posted on his story a few minutes before this?

y/nupdates oh my god 😵‍💫 if this is a coincidence, i’ll eat my hat

f1wagupdates no way it’s a coincidence because this is textbook soft launching

lh44updates imagine if they made the jam together?

f1wagupdates this might mean that they’re living together or at least staying over

latingossip “lewis” this, “hamilton” that … why is no one talking about the fact that this is directly shading her ex?

yourfanclub i love that y/n is sneakily calling ruiz out by using strawberry jam considering it’s sort of the reason why she broke up with him in the first place

y/nupdates it’s so poetic

yourfanclub especially taken into context with lewis’ story 🤭

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, neymarjr, and 2,941,685 others

lewishamilton Feeling beyond blessed on my birthday 🙏🏽 Thank you for filling my heart with love, joy, and the most incredible music. Here’s to another year of embracing the magic of life ❤️🎵

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yourusername happy birthday, my love! you are a blessing in my life each and every day. i will always be eternally grateful for the endless love and happiness you bring into my heart

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

charles_leclerc are you okay, mate?

georgerussell63 OPEN UP AND SET IT FREE (AH-OOH)

alex_albon he’s still a little starstruck

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

landonorris i think the party broke him

georgerussell63 LET IT OUT SO IT CAN BREATHE

f1wagupdates they are finally official 👀

latingossip not like they’ve really tried to hide that they’re together but it’s definitely still nice to get confirmation

y/nupdates i hope everyone who got to see her perform appreciates how lucky they are 😭

yourfanclub i would have given my firstborn to be invited 🫣

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, badgalriri, and 9,852,416 others

yourusername “slipstream” with XNDA is out now! hope you guys love it ❤️

“slipstream” con XNDA disponible ya! espero les guste ❤️

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lewishamilton my inspiration and motivation 😘

yourusername the reason my heart sings 🥰

f1wagupdates they’re actually the cutest

y/nupdates who is XNDA? his voice is so familiar but i’ve never heard of him before

hamilfan44 XNDA is just the stage name that lewis uses for his music

y/nupdates for real? he’s so talented!

lh44updates the fact that lewis used to be insecure about his rapping and now he’s proudly featured on a song with his girlfriend 🥹

Comments

⤷ Wait … did I just hear that correctly? Did Lewis call Y/N his wife?

⤷ He said it so naturally that I didn’t even realize until you pointed it out 😳

⤷ It’s definitely a surprise but I absolutely love them together! They are so much happier with each other

⤷ This is a bombshell considering they never even officially announced they were engaged in the first place

⤷ Who can blame them for wanting to keep it private after so much of their lives has been aired to the public? This just goes to show that they are well and truly in love

⤷ I hope this means we continue to get more music collabs from them

yourusername and lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, billboard, and 12,586,734

yourusername and lewishamilton racing against the world, our love’s the finish line 💍

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mercedesamgf1 congratulations to our favorite paddock couple! wishing you a lifetime of happiness and success together

georgerussell63 i’m not even mad because they’re my favorite paddock couple too

carmenmmundt honestly same

billboard congrats! we can’t wait to see the hamilton-y/l/n family expand (and by that we mean new music of course 😉)

f1wagupdates what do you know that we don’t?

lh44updates i’m not sure what i want more: for them to release a new song collab or for them to have the most adorable baby ever

y/nupdates why not both?

Liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

y/nupdates umm are you guys seeing this???

donatella_versace so stunning, my darlings! thank you for giving me the honor of designing your wedding dress (and roscoe’s tux) 🩷

formulanone when a dog gets to wear something that costs more than your rent 🫠

paddockstyle roscoe is a fashion icon just like his father