#glass believer ff

[pa-pa-plasma]

AU where instead of Spectra, it's Dr. Phil with his stupid little studio he just summons Danny into to bully him on live (ghost) television

[weakformingyu]

You are my favorite

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Part 2 of Can I be your favorite?(Recommended to read the first part for context)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst(the tiniest bit)

Summary: you let your insecurities come in between your new relationship with Minho, luckily for you though, he's not gonna let you run away so easily.

Words count: 3,076

THIS CONTENT IS +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: oral(f. receiving), unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it ffs), creampie, marking, hickeys, dirty talk(barely), Minho is possessive asf(is it even my fic if he's not possessive?), reader is insecure

You were sore when you woke up the next morning — or should you say, afternoon? It was already 2pm when you opened your eyes, finding Minho's place empty by your side.

You look around the room, now there's enough light coming from the windows for you to be able to see the room. You don't know how to explain it but it fits Minho perfectly, the decoration is discreet but not basic and it shows a lot of his personality, more than you're aware of.

You get up, not really sure what you're supposed to do. So you collect your things and start getting dressed, tying your hair in a ponytail to try and conceal the mess.

When you open the door, you look around before getting out, not sure if you're going to find someone and a bit embarrassed to be going away at this hour. You get down the stairs, walking past the kitchen at a quick pace but before you can turn the knob, you hear a voice behind you.

“Minho, your girl is trying to escape”, he yells, making you spin on your heels quickly looking at the telltale just to find a boy, who you're sure is Jeongin, the youngest of the frat house.

“Never thought you would be the type to smash and dash”, your crush says, popping out of the kitchen.

“I'm not!” You defend yourself, crossing your arms.

“That's not what it looks like to me”, he shrugs.

“I was just looking for you”, you lie and he scoffs, walking towards you.

“You shouldn't lie, princess”, he leans closer to you, making you gulp. “I don't like liars”, he whispers. Smirking when he sees your breath quickening and the way you lick your lips nervously. “Anyways, you can go if you want. I'll pick you up at 8”

“F-for what?” You ask, trying to recompose yourself.

“I told you I was going to take you out for dinner, didn't I?”

"I can't believe you're really going on a date with Minho”, Jihyo says, clapping excitedly while she searches for something in your wardrobe.

“I don't why he wants to go on a date with me”

“‘cause you're hot?” Your best friend says, as if it's obvious.

“He has a hundred other hot girls to take on dates”, you scoff, making Jihyo throw a pillow at you.

“Stop with the self depreciation, he doesn't want the other girls, he wants you. So get your ass over here so I can help you with your makeup”

You were hopeful but didn't think Minho would actually do as he promised. At exactly 8pm, you heard a knock on the door and Jihyo squealed, giving you a thumbs up and sending you to your date.

Minho was looking exceptionally handsome in all black, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. He stares at you up and down with a grin on his lips.

“You look good”, he tells you, enjoying seeing your cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

“Y-you look nice too”, you say, stepping outside and closing the door behind you.

You are seated in front of him, not really sure what to do next, you two ordered your food and some expensive wine that you never heard about. The ride to the restaurant was a bit awkward, you felt the need to say something but didn't know what to say so you talked about the weather not realizing that he liked seeing you trying, nervous like a bunny being hunted by a predator, him.

“So, what's your major?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts. He's resting his face on his hand while watching you fidget on your seat.

“Engineering”, you answer, sipping on the glass of water the waiter poured to you.

“That's interesting”, he smiles. “I'm a dance major”, he tells you.

“I know”, you say without thinking, covering your mouth immediately. “I mean, everyone knows”, you smile sheepishly.

“Ah, yes. You like me, right?” He smirks, proudly, making your face turn as red as a tomato.

“Please, stop saying that, it's embarrassing”, you hide your face in your hands.

“It's embarrassing that you like me?” He chuckles, tilting his head.

“You were not supposed to know that”, you clarify, “it's pathetic that I have feelings for someone who didn't even know I existed until last night”, you sigh.

“I clearly knew you existed, since I knew that you like me”, he teases. “I don't think it's pathetic, the heart wants what it wants”

“Is that why you dated all those girls?” You ask, naively, making his eyes grow wide. He didn't think you'd be that straightforward.

“No, I'm not one to rejected a nice looking girl”, he shrugs, “they just didn't manage to be more than that to me, but I'm sure they can be something more for someone else”

“Ah”, you nod, feeling awkward.

“Do you want to date me?” He asks nonchalantly like he's asking how was your day, making you choke on the water you just drank.

“What?” You ask, shocked.

“I think I was very clear”, he answers, scowling.

“Why would you want to date me?”

“I guess you heard me well”, he teases, “you're my type”, Minho clarifies.

“I don't think I'm, though”, you oppose.

“I think I know better than you who is or is not my type”

“I mean, I'm not pretty like your other girlfriends”, you push.

“Firstly: why would I want someone just like the people I broke up with? Second: I think you're pretty”

You feel your whole face hot, covering your mouth instantly so he doesn't see the stupid smile you have on your lips.

“Also, I like fucking you”, he ruins the moment, smirking, “I wanna keep doing that”

“What a gentleman”, you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat growing on your lower stomach. He doesn't need to know that you'd give anything for him to fuck you right now on the restroom of the restaurant.

“I can be one”, he stretches his arm, grabbing your hand, caressing it. “Or I can be the opposite of that, it's your call”, he shrugs.

That's precisely how you ended up fucking on the restaurant’s restroom. He pulled you inside the confined space, bending you on the sink and before you could prepare yourself his cock was inside of you.

“Fuck, kitten”, he groans, covering your mouth, not slowing down his thrusts. “You have to be quiet if you don't wanna get caught”, you nod, crying out, seeing his smirk through the reflection of the mirror.

You ended up dating him. It's not like it's a sacrifice for you or anything but you couldn't wrap your head around the reason that the Lee Minho would want to date you of all people. People's reaction was different from the one you expected too, they didn't really care, thinking he was going to dump you in a week.

However, to their surprise and especially yours, he didn't. Minho never even brought up the idea of breaking up and when you realized, two months had already passed.

After two months you still couldn't believe you were dating him and how hot he is, you always thought he was the most handsome man you ever saw but dating him hits differently. Now you can see him after a shower, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hip, his muscular chest bare for you to drool over. He cooks for you, making your favorite foods or some you never ate before. He brings you snacks and makes side dishes for you to eat at home. Minho picks you up before class and takes you back home after or he invites you to sleep over at the frat. You're already acquainted with all his friends, they even come looking for you to show you things when you're in the house. It makes you wonder if they acted like that with all of his girlfriends. Two months of the sweetest romance and the best sex you've ever had.

At least it was. You're not going to deny it, you're insecure. Minho is someone you never thought you could reach, so to be his girlfriend? It's something you never imagined. As he told you before, he has a great number of options, so the possibility that he'll replace you anytime, scares you.

You try forgetting about that, try not to overthink, until you find him at the library with a girl all over him. She's beautiful, perfect skin and shiny hair, she's hanging too close to him, touching his arm and throwing her head back in an exaggerated laugh. She's actually touching him at any chance she gets and you're there paralyzed like an idiot, watching it.

You feel the tears brimming in your eyes and you turn around and walk to the opposite side. You are his girlfriend, you should definitely step in, but in all honesty, you are too scared. Scared he'll look at you like you are nothing, that he's finally going to look at you with cold eyes like you have been waiting for it to happen.

You don't talk to him for days, avoiding meeting with him and ignoring his calls. You know it's childish to just ignore someone like that but you just needed to prepare yourself for the dreadful conversation you were about to have. It's going to be for the best if you two break up, he can go back to the way he lived before and you can stop worrying about when he's going to get tired of you.

It's not a surprise when Minho shows up at your door, you expected that to happen but wasn't expecting his appearance. He has his hair disheveled, deep eye bags under his eyes and he looks furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks, angrily, not even greeting you and storming inside your apartment like a hurricane. “Why did you disappear?”

“I needed to think”, you murmur, closing the door behind you.

“Think about what? You should at least have answered my texts”, he huffs, taking his jacket off and throwing it on the couch.

“About us”, you answer him, making his face soften a bit.

“What about us?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“I think it's best if we break up”, you tell him at once, not really capable of dragging this conversation for too long, it was already so hard to say that sentence, you are about to cry at any minute.

“What are you on about?” He frowns, taking a step closer to you, but you take a step back.

“I'm trying to make the right decision for the both of us”, you sigh, “it's not like this is going to last anyways, you should go find someone who's on your level”

He scoffs, breathing a laugh. You expected any other reaction of him, but that one was not included.

“So that is what this is about”, he starts walking towards you and you start stepping back, until you bump into the kitchen table with nowhere else to run. Minho gets closer to you, looking down on you as he cages you between the table and his body.

“My kitten is insecure, is that it?” He asks, making you blush with the pet name. Minho never gets tired of making you flustered.

“I'm not”, you lie, avoiding his gaze.

“You know I don't like liars”, he tells you, “but I guess it's on me, if I did a better job as your boyfriend you wouldn't be feeling like this’, he pouts.

“You are a great boyfriend”, you murmur, trying not to look into his eyes, he's too close.

“Hm? I am?” He teases. “Then what's it, kitten, did you find someone more interesting than me?” He smiles, it was supposed to be a joke but the way your eyes widened with that simple suggestion makes him a bit mad. “Is that it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to stare at you.

“No, there's no one like that”, you tell him.

“Then why did you hesitate?”, he raises his brows in questioning. You were just too shocked to answer right away but he doesn't let you tell him that. “Nice way to make me angry”, he scoffs. “I told you I can be a fucking gentleman so why do you always make me be the opposite of that?” He asks, taking a step closer to you and pressing his body against yours. His hands slide around your waist, caging you even more in his hold.

“Minho, I-”, you try to speak but he tsks, interrupting you.

“You need to learn a lesson”, he tells you, leaning closer and brushing his lips on your cheek, trailing it down to your jaw and then your neck. “You are mine”, he whispers before attaching his mouth to your neck, biting on your skin so hard you whine with the pain.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing it and pulling you up, to sit on the table. You were on your pjs already ready to sleep and that makes his access to your body easier, the thin fabric of your clothes can barely block the warmth coming from his body to yours.

Minho pops open his dress shirt, letting it slide and fall on the floor, watching your reaction to him. You bite on your bottom lip, staring at his muscular chest. He always looks so good, you feel like moaning just by looking at him.

“Min…”, you murmur, spreading your legs wide for him. It's not like you can resist him anyways.

“There you are”, he smiles, unbuckling his pants and letting it fall down at his feet, “my needy girl”

You avoid his eyes, pulling your shirt off to reveal your bare chest to him.

“You look so hot, all spread for me like this”, he smiles, getting on his knees. Minho pulls the waistband of your shorts and panties down, watching your glistening cunt in excitement. “Is this because of me or are you thinking about someone else?” He pushes, finally seeing you look at him, shaking your head frantically.

“It's all you, the only one I think about is you”, you confess, feeling your cheeks hot.

Minho grins, putting your legs over his shoulders and kissing your inner thighs. He licks your pussy slightly, just teasing you, making you put your hands on his head to force him against your core.

You can feel him smile, licking a long strip between your folds, attaching his lips to your clit next. Minho slides his hand between your legs, inserting two fingers inside of you, going in and out while he sucks your aching core, grunting and groaning with you pulling on his hair and he watches as you become undone in his mouth.

You can feel your orgasm coming, your toes curl immediately and you buck your hips against his mouth desperately, chasing your high and when the knot on your lower stomach finally explodes, you moan loudly, trembling in his embrace.

Minho stands up, cleaning around his mouth with his fingers and then licking on them.

“Still my favorite taste”, he smirks. You look stunning with your soft lips parted and hair disheveled, your chest rises and falls in a fast rhythm.

“This is going to be the last time I'll let you have your way”, you try looking the least bit believable while stating that, but that only makes him chuckle, stroking his cock a few times before he comes closer to you.

“And that only proves that you still haven't understood the situation you're in”, he tells you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock while he waits for you to stop him but you don't, you want to feel him inside you so fucking much that it seems like you're going crazy. He pushes in, feeling your cunt squeezing him deliciously. “Fuck”, Minho murmurs. Your arms wrap around his waist, burying your nails in his skin, the snap of his hips against yours making you breathless.

He kisses you, feeling your sweet lips against his only adds to the building up of his orgasm, you look so pretty, you're perfect for him, your pussy is perfect for him, he won't let you end things with him that easily.

He pulls away from you for a moment, your mouth is parted and your eyes are glossy, he wants to hold you forever.

“I'm in love with you”, he confesses, thrusts faltering a bit. Your eyes grow wide to his sudden revelation. “You won't get rid of me that easily, kitten”, he groans, pressing his lips against yours one more time.

That's enough for you to cum, squirming and trembling in his embrace, while you watch him breathlessly thrust inside of you, eyes locked with yours.

“Do it inside”, you cry out, overstimulated after your second orgasm. Minho groans, bending towards you and kissing you, spilling his hot cum inside you while he bites on your lips.

He rests his head on your shoulder, breathless, trying to recompose himself.

“Don't ever talk about breaking up, ever again”, he pulls away to look at you, finding your eyes brimming with tears.

“But I saw that girl hitting on you the other day at the library”, you pout, making him sigh, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Yes, she was hitting on me but I told her I have a really smart, hot girlfriend and that I was not interested”, he tells you, making you feel like the greatest idiot in the world.

“I'm sorry, I should have checked with you first”, you say, “I just love you so much, I'm scared you're going to dump me”, you confess, making him chuckle. His heart beating like crazy, it's the first time you openly say you love him.

“Y/n, you're stuck with me for a long time”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “I won't ever do anything to hurt you, okay?”

You nod, feeling warmth spreading all over your chest.

“Now, you better prepare yourself, ‘cause you need to receive some punishment for disappearing and making me worry”, he tells you, showing you that devilish smirk of his and before you can run to save yourself, Minho is picking you up and dragging you to your room.

[novaursa]

A Dragon's Claim

- Summary: Daemon returns from his exile during the celebrations of Rhaenyra’s and Leanor’s wedding, with only one thing in mind: to claim you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and is bonded with Grey Ghost. These events happen before and lead to The Blood of the Dragon. The list of all my works in chronological order is on my blog, pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content in this one)

- Word count: 4 538

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The air in the great hall is thick with tension and mirth as lords and ladies gather beneath the towering pillars of the Red Keep. The glow of a thousand candles casts a golden hue over the faces of the realm’s most powerful, yet the flickering light cannot reach the shadows where whispers thrive.

You sit at the high table, a smile frozen on your lips as you watch Rhaenyra and Laenor share a dance, their steps polished but strained. Your elder sister’s gown is woven with gold and red thread, a stark contrast to Laenor’s pale silks. The match is political, a necessity, and everyone knows it. But the feast continues on, with music and wine flowing freely to disguise the uneasy undercurrents.

Your father, King Viserys, is content for now, raising his cup with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You know how deeply he misses your mother, and how hard he’s tried to keep the family together since her death. Beside him, Queen Alicent's gaze flickers between you and your siblings, always watchful, as if measuring the distance between you all.

Yet the evening shifts suddenly when a presence enters the hall, one that sends a murmur rippling through the gathered guests. Heads turn, voices hush. You feel the change in the air before you even see him.

Daemon.

Your Uncle strides in as if the years and the disgrace of his exile mean nothing. His long silver hair is swept back, and his black leather doublet clings to him like shadow. The greenish glow of dragon glass at his throat only sharpens the edges of his smile. He's dressed in dark finery, as if mourning—and you recall, with a bitter twist in your gut, that Lady Rhea Royce has just died. A hunting accident, they say. But few believe it was an accident at all.

Your breath catches as his violet eyes sweep across the hall before landing on you. There's a dangerous glint there, something raw and unsettling, something that reminds you why you’ve kept him at arm’s length all these years. You feel it like a caress, lingering too long, too close.

He moves with purpose, winding through the throng of courtiers until he’s at your side. Your fingers tighten around your goblet as he dips into an elegant bow, just deep enough to mock propriety. The room buzzes with speculation, but Daemon pays it no mind. His attention is wholly on you.

"Little Niece," he purrs, voice smooth as silk, yet laced with something darker. "It’s been too long."

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing as you regard him. "Not long enough," you reply, keeping your tone cool, distant.

He laughs—a low, rich sound that curls in your stomach, unsettling in its familiarity. "Such sharp words. You wound me, Y/N."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead taking a sip from your cup. "What do you want, Uncle? Surely you did not come all this way just to attend a wedding."

"Why would I not?" He shifts closer, the scent of leather, smoke, and something distinctly Daemon filling the air around you. "After all, it’s a family affair. And I’ve missed our little talks."

You can feel the heat of his gaze, the way it lingers on your face before dipping lower, as if taking you in inch by inch. It’s almost predatory. You’ve seen how other women melt under that stare, but it’s never had that effect on you. If anything, it’s only ever put you on edge.

"Missed?" you echo with a scoff. "You were banished, or did you forget?"

Daemon’s smile doesn’t falter, but it sharpens. "Exile is a state of mind, Niece. It changes nothing of who I am—or what I want."

Your jaw tightens. He’s always been this way—playing at power, testing limits. When you were younger, you found it thrilling, the way he flirted with danger, the way he seemed to live without consequence. But now, all you see is a man who’s always hungered for more than what is his.

"And what is it that you want now, Daemon?" you ask, holding his gaze. You don’t flinch, even when his smile widens.

His voice drops, low and intimate, a whisper meant for your ears alone. "The same thing I’ve always wanted. You."

The words are a knife, sharp and precise. They cut through the haze of laughter and music that surrounds you. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering—and you also know you’d be a fool to accept.

You set down your goblet with deliberate care, your expression hardening. "You’re wasting your time. Whatever game you’re playing, find another piece for it."

His amusement doesn’t fade, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, more frustrated. For a moment, the mask slips, and you see the hunger beneath, the yearning he’s kept at bay since you last rejected him.

"You think you’re above this, above me," he murmurs, his voice laced with challenge. "But we’re more alike than you care to admit, Y/N. Fire runs in our veins, and it will burn until we claim what’s ours."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, but you refuse to let it show. "Perhaps," you say coolly, standing from your seat and stepping back, putting distance between you. "But that fire will not consume me. Not for you. Not ever."

His gaze follows you as you move away, back into the crowd where the music drowns out the tension of your exchange. You feel his eyes on you, a burning brand that lingers even when you force yourself to focus on the dancing couples and the revelry. But Daemon Targaryen is not so easily dismissed.

You know this won’t be the last time he tries. He’s always been relentless in his pursuits. But you’ve held him off before—and you’ll do it again, no matter how many times he attempts to draw you into his web.

Yet in the depths of your mind, a small voice wonders how long you can keep resisting before the fire spreads.

The hall is alive with music and movement, swirling skirts and polished boots creating a dance of color and grace. You find yourself swept into the rhythm, partnered with Lord Tyland Lannister—a golden lion of the Westerlands, resplendent in his crimson and gold. He’s handsome enough, with a confident smile and courteous manners, but he lacks the edge of danger that seems to follow Targaryens like a shadow. 

Still, you laugh politely as he makes some jest about the boisterous nature of the court. Tyland is careful, measured in his charm, his hand respectfully placed at your waist as you twirl together across the floor. Yet your mind is only half on the conversation, aware that a pair of intense violet eyes is tracking your every move.

Daemon watches from where he leans against a pillar, his posture deceptively relaxed. He appears disinterested to those who don’t know him well, one hand holding a goblet of wine, the other idly tapping against his leg. But beneath that mask of ease is a tightly coiled tension, a hungry beast waiting for the right moment to strike. His gaze is riveted to you, sharp and possessive, a wolf studying its prey from afar.

Beside him, King Viserys attempts to draw his brother into conversation, oblivious to Daemon’s distraction. 

“It’s good to see you back, brother,” Viserys begins, his tone amiable as he turns to face Daemon. “We’ve missed you here. It’s been far too long since the family was whole.”

Daemon barely acknowledges the words, his focus entirely elsewhere. His eyes flick over the way you laugh at something Tyland says, the way your lips curve in amusement. A flicker of annoyance passes through him, a subtle tightening of his jaw. He’s always despised the Lannisters—their arrogance, their ambition, their sense of entitlement. And seeing you in Tyland’s arms only fuels the simmering irritation.

Viserys, oblivious to his brother’s dark thoughts, continues, raising his goblet to Daemon. “Rhaenyra is happy tonight, isn’t she? It’s a good match for her, one that will strengthen the realm. Laenor is—”

“A distraction,” Daemon mutters, cutting him off, his tone sharp enough to draw Viserys’ attention.

Viserys frowns, looking at him more closely. “What’s on your mind, Daemon? You’ve barely said a word since you arrived. If it’s about Rhea—”

Daemon lets out a dry chuckle, finally turning his gaze to Viserys, but it’s laced with disdain. “Rhea is long dead, brother. Her bones are cold and buried. Let us not pretend we mourn her now.”

Viserys shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond. “Still, it’s no easy thing to lose a wife, even one you didn’t—”

Daemon cuts him off again, this time with a flick of his hand. “Enough, Viserys. I didn’t come here to talk about the past.”

“What did you come here for, then?” Viserys asks, voice softening as he tries to reach out to his brother. “We can put things right between us. There’s no need for more distance. We’re family—”

Daemon’s gaze snaps back to you, watching as you spin gracefully in Tyland’s arms, your dress swirling around you like flames licking at the air. His lips curve into a faint, humorless smile. “Family…” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue. “Yes, it’s always about family.”

He doesn’t bother hiding the way his eyes track your every movement. Viserys follows his line of sight, finally understanding where Daemon’s attention lies. He clears his throat, his expression hardening. “Y/N is not for you, Daemon. She’s my daughter, and I’ll not have her tangled in whatever schemes you’re plotting.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. “Schemes? You wound me, brother. I only have your daughter’s best interests at heart.”

“Do you?” Viserys’ voice takes on a warning edge. “You’ve already caused enough trouble tonight with your sudden appearance. If you truly care for her, you’ll leave her be.”

But Daemon doesn’t answer. His thoughts are locked elsewhere, watching how you move with such effortless grace, the way your eyes spark with life as you dance, seemingly carefree. He knows you’re aware of his presence, can sense it in the way you avoid looking in his direction, how you keep Tyland between you and the shadows where Daemon lurks. It’s a clever tactic—one that both frustrates and excites him.

“She’s stubborn,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his eyes narrow. “But that’s what makes the chase worthwhile.”

Viserys stiffens, his grip tightening around his cup. “I’m warning you, Daemon. You’ll not drag her into your games. If you truly have any regard for her, you’ll stop this.”

Daemon turns to face his brother fully now, his expression unreadable, but his tone is laced with cold mockery. “And what if she doesn’t want your protection, Viserys? What if she wants something… else?”

“That’s enough.” The king’s voice is steel now, but it wavers slightly, betraying the deep undercurrent of worry. “I won’t allow it. You’ll stay away from her.”

Daemon holds his brother’s gaze for a long, tense moment before he breaks into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, brother. I live to serve.”

But as Viserys takes his words at face value and turns away, relief evident in his posture, Daemon’s eyes drift back to you. A storm brews within them, filled with unresolved hunger and an unyielding determination. He watches as you end the dance with a gracious curtsy, Lord Tyland offering a courtly bow in return, and his fingers curl tighter around his goblet.

You may think you’ve pushed him away, that you’ve built walls high enough to keep him out. But Daemon Targaryen has never been one to accept defeat—not when there’s something he desires as fiercely as he desires you.

No, the game is far from over. If anything, it’s only just begun. And as you catch his gaze from across the hall, your eyes locking for the briefest of moments before you look away, you feel it too—the inevitability of the fire that threatens to consume you both.

For now, you dance with Lannisters and play your part as the dutiful daughter. But Daemon’s patience, like all things about him, is dangerous. And sooner or later, he knows, you’ll find yourself face-to-face with the truth neither of you can deny—no matter how much you might try to resist it.

The music softens, allowing the hum of conversation to fill the hall. You’re surrounded by a cluster of courtiers, each eager to share a word or a compliment with the princess of the realm. They shower you with flowery flattery, and you respond with practiced grace, a polite smile that never quite reaches your eyes. 

You’re keenly aware of Daemon lurking at the edge of your periphery, a shadow just waiting to slip into the light. He’s watching, waiting for an opening—and when your father becomes occupied by the arrival of Lord Beesbury, Daemon seizes his chance.

The courtiers around you stiffen as Daemon approaches, the atmosphere shifting subtly as they sense the tension that follows him. He cuts through the crowd with the grace of a dragon circling its prey, a dark smile curling on his lips as he stops just beside you. The air crackles with his presence, drawing every eye in the circle toward him.

“Y/N,” he says smoothly, his voice warm honey over cold steel. “I hope you’re not allowing these dullards to bore you.” There’s an undercurrent of possessiveness in the way he says your name, a familiar, disconcerting tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep your expression composed, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any discomfort. The eyes of the court are upon you, watching for any reaction, any hint of scandal. You cannot afford to make a scene—not tonight, not at Rhaenyra’s wedding. So you take a slow breath and incline your head, allowing him to join the conversation if only to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

“Uncle,” you greet him, your tone carefully neutral. “I find the company quite agreeable, actually.”

A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as he takes a step closer, deliberately brushing the edge of your skirts with his boot. “Do you? Well, perhaps it’s simply my own poor luck that I’ve yet to find anyone in this hall nearly as fascinating as you.”

The compliment is a blade, sharp and glittering with intent. The courtiers exchange nervous glances, unsure of where to place themselves in this verbal dance between the two of you. They sense the tension, the unspoken challenge in Daemon’s words, but they dare not intervene. Instead, they hang back, listening closely while pretending otherwise.

You give a tight smile, deflecting his advance with ease. “How fortunate for you, then, to have found me amidst so many ‘dullards,’ as you so kindly put it.”

He laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends gooseflesh prickling across your skin. “Indeed. But then, I’ve always known where to find the rarest of treasures.”

His eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his gaze heavy with suggestion. You feel the noose of his presence tightening around you, making it harder to keep up the pretense of polite conversation. Every word he speaks is laced with a deeper meaning, a challenge you’re unwilling to meet, yet can’t entirely ignore.

One of the courtiers, a nervous young man from House Florent, clears his throat and tries to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Princess Y/N, Lord Daemon, I heard the finest fabrics for tonight’s event were imported directly from Qarth. Perhaps you’d care to share your thoughts on—”

Daemon silences him with a glance, his attention never fully leaving you. “I think the princess and I have far more interesting matters to discuss, don’t we, Niece?” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, just loud enough for the others to hear the edge in it. “Or perhaps you’d prefer we step outside, where we might speak more privately?”

You stiffen slightly at his audacity, feeling your control slipping under the intensity of his advance. But you refuse to let him see how he rattles you. “That won’t be necessary,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “We’re perfectly fine where we are.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but it’s not the charming smile of a courtier. It’s something darker, edged with hunger and frustration. He’s testing your boundaries, trying to see how far he can push before you break. And you know that refusing him outright, especially in public, might only embolden him further.

He takes another step closer, his arm brushing against yours as he speaks in a tone meant for your ears alone. “You’ve always been so careful, Y/N. So proper, so well-behaved. But there’s fire in you—I’ve seen it. You can pretend all you like, but you can’t deny what’s in our blood, what we’re meant for.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mistake me, Daemon. Whatever you think we share, you’re wrong. I am not like you.”

“Not yet, perhaps,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving as his breath ghosts across your ear. “But you will be, in time. The fire consumes us all eventually. Why fight what you can’t escape?”

Before you can answer, one of the other courtiers—a lady from House Frey—interjects with a forced laugh, clearly sensing the rising tension. “Lord Daemon, you speak of fire as though it’s something to be embraced. But surely even dragons know better than to be burned alive.”

Daemon doesn’t bother responding to her, his gaze still locked on you. “Perhaps some of us would rather burn than live half-alive.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, a challenge wrapped in seduction. You can feel the eyes of everyone around you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. Every nerve in your body screams at you to walk away, to extricate yourself from this perilous game he’s playing, but the chains of decorum hold you in place.

“Not everyone fears the flame,” you reply, your voice a delicate balance between defiance and diplomacy. “But not everyone is foolish enough to be consumed by it either.”

For a moment, Daemon’s expression softens, a flicker of admiration passing through his eyes. He’s always liked your spirit, the way you push back when others would cower. It’s one of the reasons he’s so drawn to you—you’re a challenge, not easily won. But that only makes him more determined.

He steps back slightly, giving you room to breathe, though his presence still lingers like smoke in the air. “We shall see, Niece,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “We shall see.”

The conversation shifts awkwardly back to safer topics as the courtiers nervously chatter to fill the silence, but the damage is done. The undercurrents of tension remain, swirling just beneath the surface, unseen by most but keenly felt by you.

You make your excuses and step away from the circle, moving toward the safety of the crowd. But you can feel Daemon’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement, a predator biding its time.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the revelry, the laughter, the music. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight was only the beginning. Daemon has set his sights on you once more, and though you’ve pushed him away before, you know this time he’s more determined than ever.

The fire is closing in, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it at bay.

The days in King’s Landing have grown longer, shadows stretching thin as the sun’s heat begins to wane with autumn’s approach. It has been weeks since the feast, since Daemon first rekindled his pursuit of you, and those weeks have been filled with nothing but frustration. You’ve become as elusive as a wisp of smoke, always slipping from his grasp just when he thinks he’s closed the distance.

He’s been searching for you throughout the Red Keep, stalking through the corridors like a restless lion. Servants avert their eyes when he passes, knowing better than to cross him when his temper is barely leashed. He checks the gardens where you sometimes take afternoon strolls, the library where you immerse yourself in history, even the secluded balcony where you once sat to watch the sun dip beneath the horizon. But you’re nowhere to be found.

His patience, already thin, frays with each passing moment. Where are you?

Eventually, he strides into the inner courtyard, his boots striking the cobblestones with purpose. He spots Rhaenyra, her golden hair spilling like liquid sunlight as she leans casually against a column. She’s watching a pair of knights spar in the yard, but when she catches sight of Daemon, she lifts a brow in amusement.

“Uncle,” she greets, her tone warm but laced with curiosity. “You seem troubled. Should I be concerned for my safety?”

Daemon barely slows his approach, his eyes narrowed and searching. “Where is she, Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra’s smirk widens, enjoying the tension radiating from him. She has always seen through him, understood the games he plays. But right now, her amusement only fuels his growing irritation.

“She?” she asks, feigning ignorance. “You’ll have to be more specific, Uncle. There are quite a few women within the Keep.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he snaps, his voice a low growl. “You know who I mean. Where is Y/N?”

Rhaenyra’s amusement falters slightly as she studies him more closely. She sees the fire in his eyes, the barely contained storm that brews beneath his calm exterior. She knows Daemon well enough to recognize when he’s truly agitated.

“And why would you assume I’d know her whereabouts?” she asks, though her tone is more measured now, less teasing. “She doesn’t confide everything in me.”

Daemon steps closer, his frustration bleeding into impatience. “She’s your sister. You know where she’s gone. Stop wasting time and tell me.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickers with something unreadable before she sighs, realizing he won’t relent. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” She shakes her head as if in disbelief, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but only because it’ll keep you from stalking around the Keep like a shadowed ghost.”

She pauses, savoring the way Daemon’s impatience makes him lean in closer. “She’s gone to ride Grey Ghost.”

Daemon’s reaction is instant. The blood drains from his face as his eyes sharpen, and without another word, he turns on his heel, already planning his next move. The mention of the dragon’s name—Grey Ghost, the elusive and wild creature—ignites something dangerous within him.

Rhaenyra watches with a slight frown, sensing his sudden intensity. “Daemon—wait. She knows what she’s doing; she’s always had a bond with that dragon—”

But he’s not listening. His mind is racing, the image of you alone on the back of such a wild, unpredictable creature flashing before his eyes. Grey Ghost is no docile mount like Syrax or Caraxes. The dragon is known for being elusive, rarely seen and even more rarely approached. For you to go after such a beast alone—Daemon feels a surge of possessive protectiveness he can’t tamp down.

He strides swiftly toward the stables, barking orders at the stablehands to ready his horse. The urgency in his tone leaves no room for argument. “Saddle it quickly!” he snaps, every muscle tense with the need to move, to reach the Dragonpit before it’s too late.

In the back of his mind, he knows he’s not only worried about your safety. This chase, this pursuit, has become something more to him—an obsession, a need to prove that you can’t slip away from him, not when he’s decided you’re his. And riding Grey Ghost? That’s an act of defiance, a clear signal that you’re not afraid to dance on the edge of danger.

He mounts his horse in one smooth motion and urges the animal into a gallop. The wind rushes past him as he rides through the streets of King’s Landing, his mind singularly focused on getting to the Dragonpit. He doesn’t care who watches or what whispers will follow in the wake of his urgency. Let them talk; let them wonder. All that matters is reaching you.

By the time he arrives at the Dragonpit, he’s barely winded, though his blood roars in his veins like wildfire. The keepers bow hastily as he storms past them, heading straight for the chamber where Caraxes, his own dragon, resides. The Blood Wyrm growls low as Daemon approaches, sensing the tension in his rider.

Daemon doesn’t waste a moment, clambering onto Caraxes’ back with practiced ease. The bond between dragon and rider is instinctual, and with a sharp command, Caraxes unfurls his wings and takes to the skies with a powerful beat. They soar upward, climbing higher into the heavens as Daemon scans the horizon, searching for the faint silhouette of a dragon in flight.

He knows the general area where Grey Ghost roams—often among the mist-shrouded cliffs near the coast, far from the reach of men. If you’ve truly gone there alone, then you’ve either misjudged your own courage or you’re challenging him in your own quiet, stubborn way.

Either way, he intends to catch you.

The thrill of the chase pulses through him, his heart racing as Caraxes cuts through the clouds, flying faster and faster toward where he hopes to find you. There’s a primal satisfaction in the pursuit, the idea of tracking you down, claiming what he believes should be his. He imagines what you’ll say when he catches you, what you’ll do—if you’ll continue to resist, or if you’ll finally realize there’s no escaping the inevitable.

As they fly over the rugged cliffs, he finally spots a shadow moving below—grey scales glinting in the fading light. There you are, astride Grey Ghost, your figure small but unmistakable. The sight sends a surge of possessive relief through him. You’re safe, unharmed, but you’ve ventured too far for his liking.

He urges Caraxes lower, drawing closer until the two dragons are flying side by side, their wings slicing through the air in tandem. The sound of Caraxes’ approach makes you turn, your eyes widening as you realize who’s followed you. Even from a distance, Daemon can see the defiance in your gaze, the way you straighten your back and tighten your grip on the reins.

You’re not pleased to see him. But that’s too bad.

Daemon grins, his eyes flashing with determination as he closes the distance, ready to confront you, to remind you that running—or flying—won’t keep him at bay. He’s always known where to find you, and now that he’s caught up, he has no intention of letting you slip away again.

The chase may be thrilling, but Daemon Targaryen has never been content to chase forever. At some point, even the most elusive prey must be caught. And when he finally corners you in the sky, he’ll make sure you know exactly what it means to be his.

[sophswritingthings]

Can we get a Mizu thing in like the soulmate universe? I don’t really care what soulmate trope it is, but reader and Mizu are soulmates and also complete and utter opposites

pairing: soulmate au!mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): light swearing

a/n: me running through ideas in my head, trying to find out if the red string of fate also pertains to japanese legends and low and behold

summary: mizu never believed in soulmates, never believed in the little red string around her pinky. that was, til she met you.

word count: 953 words / 5,164 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

mizu never believed in "soulmates", per say, she always believed that you chose who you loved. love was set in stone, to her, love was made and festered from a bond.

not that she thought that could ever happen to her.

but she still didn't believe in it; no matter what the red string around her finger said or not.

"I will not be tied to... some string."

that's what she would always tell everyone, when they told her how lucky she was, that she someone out there--waiting for her to find them.

even though she didn't believe in it, she did sometimes wonder to herself: was this person she was so "destined" to be with, actually out there?

she didn't think they were, until she met you.

she'd stumbled across you during her travels, when she stopped on her way to tanabe island.

you were a woman, first and foremost. to which, she expected.

the thing that stunned her more, though--

--was that you were married, settled down with a child.

she knew it was you, because the string had stopped stretching. the strings length had shortened--and stopped right at your feet.

your eyes were wide as you looked at her, sparkling. your baby was cradled in your arms, your heart pumping underneath your kimono as you looked at her.

you never thought your husband was your soulmate. you always knew your soulmate was someone else; and yet you'd settled down with him, because that's what was best, wasn't it?

the cord connecting you had always been tangled, representing the boundaries that lay between the two of you. your marriage. her vow.

yet the cord would never break; and, maybe someday, the cord would untangle.

"hello," you whispered softly. your voice was soft; it was kind, it was gentle. "this--this is weird."

"I agree," her breath was short and a bit rapid, her voice raspy. she hadn't expected her string to be connected to such a beautiful woman.

"so.. my soulmate is a samurai," you nod to yourself. "and.. what is your name?"

"mizu," she replied.

"water. wave," you murmur to yourself. the meaning of her name seemed pretty fitting, given the situation. "(y/n)."

"well, it is nice to meet you, (y/n)," she bows to you. "but I must be on my way."

your eyebrows furrow, a bit, at her words, "you're going to leave? but were--"

she puts her hand up, stopping you mid sentence, "I know what we are.. considered, but I don't have time for any of this. I am dedicated to other prospects, and you seem to be settled down, even without your "soulmate". I must go."

you had just found your soulmate, your ticket out of your loveless marriage--the person you had been waiting for, for all these years, and she was just going to leave you?

"may I inquire what's so important?" you narrow your eyes, gently rocking your child in your arms.

"my vow," she slowly slides ff her glasses, to reveal the pools of blue that rest under them, "I have vowed to kill all white man at the time of my birth."

you take a few steps back.

she was half white; what you had been taught to be an onryō your entire life. and she was connected to your string.

she wasn't scary. she didn't seem all bad; dedicated, is all..

"right," you whisper, holding your young child close to your chest. it isn't that you thought mizu would hurt your child, but it was that instinctive and primal fear that you had, deep down.

seeing you worried that she'd hurt you, or your child, made her wince deep down. on the surface, she showed now reaction--she was used to it, at this point.

but for some reason, she cared what you thought about her. she had never been so concerned of her perception until this moment.

"maybe I will see you another time," she took steps backward, keeping her distance from you. "for now, this is our goodbye."

you took in a little breath, retreating back into the guarded fence of your house. it reminded her of her old home, a little. and she saw a little of herself in you.

but she supposed that made sense. you were connected to her by a little string.

"goodbye," you murmured, hearing your husband ruffling around in your house. you glanced over your shoulder, "I better go, then. before he sees me talking to you."

"right." she sighed. her feet were hesitant to leave you; for some reason she didn't want to. that damn string was doing something to her mind; she had the frustrated urge to snap it in half. but she knew it wouldn't break, no matter how hard she tried. "go on."

her blue eyes watched you retreat back into your house, sliding her glasses back on her face and making her way down the road.

her thoughts swirled with the image of you. that child held in your arms, your almost scared expression when she revealed her demon blue eyes.

she didn't want you to be scared of her. not in the slightest. for some reason, her heart dropped into her gut at the idea.

why did she all of a sudden care about this fucking string?

why did her heart drop thinking she could never have you? because she couldn't.

the string was tangled, the string would always be tangled, a knotted mess. a mess of knots that you, nor her, would ever be able to untangle.

there was so many things in your way; in her way to, maybe, having someone who cared for. and someone she could care for.

you'd just... have to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: gonna make a part 2 cuz my ass has ideas

[mykneeshurt]

Worship

Photo screen grabbed from Asty on TikTok (could not find this church anywhere ffs)

Priest AU

Sister Valeria Garza x AFAB!reader

Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, explicit smut, Heavy use of religious imagery, sexualising religion (Christianity/Roman Catholicism), so much smut and blasphemy, all chapters are explicit but all consensual

———

The city of Las Almas at night was beautiful, houses dotted around the mountains, lights twinkling like the stars above. The streets filled with music and laughter, guitar notes a drift on the cool summer breeze. A Church sat in the middle of one of plazas, two tall towers hugged the entrance. Lit up in the evening sky a tribute to the almighty God.

It was at this Church you met Valeria. She was one of the nuns you had befriended on your volunteer trip. You both clicked instantly, like a moth to a flame.

And it was on this summers evening you found yourself sat across from her, sipping wine sharing a plate of tacos and molote. Taking a sip of your Dolcetto you eyed her from over your glass. She sat back in the chair, legs crossed with her elbow resting behind her. Her umber eyes captivated you in the warm orange glow of the street lights. Everything she did, she did with confidence, but with a silent, respectful demand. Her entire presence was captivating.

While you were drinking her in you completely missed her ordering two shots of tequila. The waitress placed them down in front of you, giving you both a warm smile. Valeria nodded at the clear liquid, urging you to drink. ‘Val I can’t, this stuff makes me gag’ you laughed.

She rolled her eyes as she traced the rim of the glass around her plump lips. ‘Ah, but you’ve not had this tequila. This isn’t the shit you get where you’re from.’ She held up the small glass to your lips, ‘take it, do it for me mi vida.’ You looked at her with furrowed brows, but inside an inferno was raging. You saw how her eyes slowly watched your lips as you spoke, how she purred her pet names to you, how each one of her movements towards you were deliberate yet poised.

‘You’re not a normal nun are you?’ You asked as you took the glass from her fingers. Her skin gently grazing over yours. ‘Drink it’ she demanded, lips pulled back over her teeth as she ran her tongue over them. ‘Fine!’ You huffed, causing her to laugh. You threw the liquid back and swallowed, pleasantly surprised by the lack of burning in your throat. You still didn’t like it, but it was a hell of a lot better than the shit you usually drank.

‘Well?’ She questioned, eyebrows raised as she drank her own. Not even phased by the alcohol. ‘Alright, it’s not bad’ you admitted reluctantly, ‘now, answer my question.’

She smiled as she thumbed the rim of her wine glass, ‘no, you could say I’m not your run of the mill nun.’ Her eyes met yours and they suddenly seemed darker, intense. ‘I believe God gave me this body to enjoy the life he has given me.’

She scooted her chair closer to yours, your knees now touching as she leant in resting her chin on her hand. ‘I believe not to enjoy the pleasures he put on this earth is to deny his very existence.’ She leaned in closer to you still, watching your lips, watching how your breathing changed, how your thighs tightened. ‘And what are they?’ You asked, almost breathless.

‘Hmmmm’ she sighed, ‘I like to eat, I like to drink, I like to swear …’ her hand found your thigh, nails tracing over your skin just below your shorts. ‘And most importantly?’ Without even realising you had leant into her, noses barely touching, completely entranced by her. ‘Most importantly …’ she whispered, tongue hitting the roof of her mouth with every word, ‘most importantly, I like to fuck.’

And this was how you found yourself on your back, thighs spread with Valeria looking up at you as she ate your pussy. Her nails dug into your skin, small crescent shaped dents littered your body as she hummed at your taste. ‘Fuck Val’ you sighed as you rolled your hips, pulling her hair between your fingers.

You felt her smile against your folds, teeth gently nipping at your cunt. Her tongue made languid strokes against your clit as she added her finger. Her now black eyes watched as you arched your back, eyes glassy and dazed, fingers wrapped in her sheets. She said a quiet prayer in her native tongue against you, her breath fanning along your slit.

Pulling away she kissed her way up your abdomen, leaving a fire in her wake. She ran her tongue over your nipple, nipping it gently between her teeth causing you to hiss. She placed gentle kisses in the crux of your neck, hands gripping at your body beneath her, lingering on your curves, tracing your soft skin.

Wrapping your leg around her waist you pulled her closer to you, bringing her lips to yours. The kiss was messy, tongues swiping over one another’s as you whined into each others mouths. ‘It’s like God made you for me’ she panted as she kneaded your skin beneath her.

Feeling a sudden influx of panic you cupped her face, worry written over your face. ‘Won’t you get in trouble for this? For all the other stuff we did?’ Valeria took your hand in hers, taking your fingers tips in between her lips as she kissed them. ‘It doesn’t matter what we did mi vida, only what they can prove.’ You sighed, letting the relief wash over you as she kissed you once more.

Her body rolled on top of yours, hips grinding into your thigh, wanting to release the ache that swelled inside her core. Throwing her head back she palmed at your breasts, desperate moans dripping from her lips. Her skin shone in the dull light of the bedroom as she moved, her body fluid and pliable. ‘Let me worship you cariña, let me show you how I praise God.’

You dragged your nails along her back, leaving a path of crimson destruction in your wake. She arched under your touch, hissing between her teeth as she gripped your hips, jaw slack, eyes screwed shut. She looked almost godly on top of you, the light illuminating her body, her silhouette swaying in the summer heat.

The devil disguised as an angel.

You could tell she was close, her breathing became more laboured, deep and breathless. Her hips slowed, thighs clamped around your own as she leant down, resting her forehead on yours. ‘Oh! … mi vida’ she breathed, ‘please … please … take it … I’m so close.’ Placing your hands on her hips you guided her to her orgasm, she whispered a secret prayer in Spanish, a prayer of thanks, of love, of adoration into your lips.

Her voice strained and cracked as she came, short sharp breaths of ecstasy burst from her throat. You eagerly inhaled them as if they were the very life line you depended on. ‘Sound so pretty’ you cooed as you held her down, as you forced her to become overstimulated. She smiled as she bit her lip, kissing you deeply.

Pulling away she caressed your cheek, ‘I want to watch, I want to see you lose yourself, I want to see you praise him.’ Rolling off you she pressed her body against yours, fingertips tracing your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Gently she guided your hand to your pussy, placing your fingers over your clit. ‘Let me see … please’ she whispered.

Slowly you started to make firm little circles, feeling the pleasure wash over you. Your arousal coated your fingers and you sped up, feeling your body begin to tense. ‘Hmmmm’ she cooed, ‘put them inside, feel what god gave you.’ Doing as you were told you slipped your fingers into your core, it was warm and inviting. Valeria watched as you fucked yourself, watching your arousal coat your skin.

She kissed your neck, her breath fanning over that sensitive spot just by your collarbone. There was a sudden change of sensation as you pleasured yourself, looking down you saw she had placed her fingers over your clit, manipulating the bundle of nerves beneath her. ‘So pretty mi vida’ she purred, ‘does it feel good?’

‘Yes’ you whispered as you felt your orgasm build, rapidly.

You rolled your hips as she increased the speed of her fingertips, ‘I want to hear you’ she ordered. Allowing yourself to moan a little louder you descended into the abyss of euphoria. ‘Good girl’ she purred as she bit her lip. Your orgasm ripped through your core ‘God! Fuck!’ You panted as you came around your fingers, your pussy pulsating, muscles contracting as you writhed in the bedsheets.

‘Yes, praise him’ she drawled as she watched you come undone. Cupping your face she pulled you to look at her, smiling against your lips as she kissed you. Ever so slowly you came down from your high, sighing deeper into the kiss. Removing your fingers you placed them in between you, both tongues swiping over them savouring your taste.

‘Fuck Val’ you muttered, ‘that was incredible. I think I could get used to praying like this.’ She hummed as she placed her leg over your abdomen, pulling you in tighter. The warmth of her body setting your heart alight. ‘Mmmm, I knew you’d like my way of worshipping.’

———

A/N - Jesus Christ I struggled with this chapter, so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par with my normal work 🙃

Taglist - @tiredmetalenthusiast @glitterypirateduck @lollycotton @00ops1e @cowyolks @villainsoftheweek @soapyghost @ghostslillady

[moonjxsung]

I was curious which love trope would you give to each skz member 🫠

I LOVE THIS QUESTION okay hear me out:

Chan: Best friend’s brother. He just gives super sweet guy who comes around your place a lot because your brother’s there, but he won’t hesitate to flirt with you in passing and ask about your day. And eventually it turns into you guys both falling for each other (I literally have a fic of this exact trope and am 15k words into it I’ve been working on for months I NEED TO FINISH IT FFS)

Minho: Opposites attract/“I hate everyone except you”. He’s a little quiet and reserved and you’re a mess, you’re loud and you love him so openly and vocally. You purposely fluster him in public and shower him in affection and he secretly loves it though he’ll pretend not to. He’s never been loved like it before and it instills this overwhelming feeling in him he could never begin to explain. When it’s just the two of you alone he won’t hesitate to make it known how grateful he is for you. You two against the world fr

Changbin: Work adversaries to lovers. He’s the loud, persistent coworker you can’t stand and you guys get paired to do some big project together. He’ll eventually break down your walls and find out you’ve been hurt before and through late night bar trips and working on your project in office after hours you guys will fall for each other. Maybe also because I like imagining Changbin in a suit and glasses a little too much

Hyunjin: Love at first sight. The minute you see him you’re absolutely smitten with him. He looks like straight up poetry, he has soft soft expressions and beautiful features and you just have this urge to know him and get close to him. And lucky for you Hyunjin believes in love at first sight too so when he catches you staring, he’s enamored, too. Doesn’t take long before you guys are approaching each other and arranging for a date and pretty soon it’s like you’ve always known him.

Jisung: Friends with benefits to lovers. People love the friends to lovers trope but I think Jisung starts out as a physical endeavor for you after you guys meet a party or something because physically you just can’t get enough of him. Slowly turns into jealousy when he talks about other girls or can’t see you one weekend. You guys will definitely end up adjusting your rules to stay exclusive to each other and then Jisung will find that he’s really fucking smitten with you and he doesn’t want anyone else. So much fluff but the sex is A1

Felix: First love. Hands down. Felix’s little crush is so mutually reciprocated because he’s an absolute sweetheart and he makes the most kind, grand gestures to win you over. Felix grew up with sisters so trust that he gets veryyy sagely advice about what you want for gifts or what little gestures he can do to earn your trust and your love. It’s kind of dizzying when you guys start dating bc it’s like?? What did I do to deserve this person??? And it’s just safe, healthy, fully reciprocated, beautiful flourishing love !!

Seungmin: Best friends to lovers. He’s constantly texting you, hanging out with you, arranging hangouts with you and just catching up on every detail of your life. He’s bringing you dessert at 3 in the morning after you said you were craving something specific. He’s dropping off his jacket at your cubicle at work because it’s raining and you didn’t dress for the weather. He catches himself talking about you to everyone and people start to know it before you guys even do. Dating him comes so naturally because he’s your best friend before he’s even a lover. Absolute sweetheart to you always

Jeongin: Boy next door/neighbor. Your families knew each other growing up and you grew up hanging out with Jeongin. Chasing after the ice cream truck together, going to the park together, chatting while your moms caught up with each other. Maybe you separate for a while when you guys start college or something but by the time you see each other again, there’s so much attraction and chemistry like never before. He can’t stop thinking about you, and the little hangouts turn into dates where you relive those memories. Picnics at the park, ice cream dates, catching up while your parents have dinner. You never expected to be dating him down the line but it’s so much fun bc you already know him so well!

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tumblr au ft. the strawhats! (/some cameos)

basically what if the strawhats had tumblr?? hehe no. but what if?

🍖thepiratekingxdd

YOU GUYS WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY. SO, SANJI GOT THIS MICROWAVE FOR US RIGTH? AND SO, I PUT A GLASS FULL OF WATER IN THE MICROWAEV AND AFTER A MINUTE IT WAS GONE!! THE GLASS WAS EMTY WAS IT STUCK TO THE ROOF? EVAPORTATED?? WITCHCRAFT??? WHO KNOWS

♻️🦐sanjissscokbook Follow

for the last time, YOU FORGOT TO PUT THE WATER IN THE MUG. NOTHING HAPPENED! FOR THE LAST TIME IT WASN'T WITCHCRAFT.

#and who taught you fucking evaporated?? #was it nami-swan? #she's the cutest #strawhat pirates

723 notes

⚔oni-giri Follow

ive witnessed many horrors of the world but one of my most jarring experiences of being alive is the fact that today, sanji actually managed to get a date 🤢😀

♻️🍊namitheexplorer Follow

and why are you jealous??? homo.

#just date already ffs #tired of this homoerotic tension everyday

12,344 notes

🐾tonytonychopper Follow

Can you stop being so dramatic bro. Look around bro and appreciate the beauty of the world bro. Youre bumming everybody out bro.

85,231 notes

🤠notnicorobin Follow

Does anyone have any tips for new mothers? I'm just twenty-eight and have made the decision to adopt six kids all at once. Any help will be appreciated!

♻️⚔oni-giri Follow

you have kids???

♻️⚔oni-giri Follow

wait are you talking about us???

45 notes

👃🏾godussop Follow

you know if i wanted to, i could be the centre of attention at your stupid party by telling everyone my cool ass advertures but i dont because im nice

♻️😎godussopfanclub Follow

SO RIGHT GOD USSOP!! PREACH

#godussop

8,821 notes

🍊namitheexplorer Follow

being a lesbian is cool because some days, i just wanna run my fingers through her hair and smile at her fondly as we lie in the shade of the trees. on other days, i wanna wear her blood in a necklace around my neck and be buried with her so that when the archaeologists dig us up, they think we were one.

♻️🔵viviofalabasta Follow

If you missed me you could have just texted me babe.

♻️🍊namitheexplorer Follow

no, i need your blood.

♻️🤠notnicorobin Follow

As an archaeologist, i approve. It'll be so funny for the future archaeologists.

#namivivi

112k notes

🔥whitebeardsillegitimateson Follow

ofcourse it's kinda hard being the hottest, smartest, kindest, sexiest, most baby-girl big brother in the world, but someone has to do it. sorry what was your question again?

♻️🍖thepiratekingxdd

my question was when are you gonna come play with me and chopper?

♻️🔥whitebeardsillegitimateson Follow

luffy, i am a busy, busy man. i don't even know when i will be fr- i'll come by 7.

281 notes

a/n: this was so fun to make!!! i cannot wait to make one more part to it lol

[lemonhemlock]

S02E03 First Impressions

- this episode annoyed me a lot less than the last one. i really liked the harrenhal sequence. my gosh, what a great actor simon russell beale is! i mean, i knew already, but goodness. matt smith plays really well off of him. great, moody vibes, great decor and a terrific introduction to alys as a character. daemon conceptualizing rhaenyra as her teenage self.......delicious! this whole section looked lifted off of an A24 movie. loved it!

- i like that they at least attempted to create some tension within the black faction with 1. rhaenys insisting to corlys that he name rhaena his heir and him being meh about it and 2. rhaena feeling resentful at rhaenyra for sending her away to care for children. it's still quite tepid for my tastes and i remain unimpressed because it took them this long to depict even the seeds of disagreement

- you know, i don't even dislike this version of rhaenyra. i don't even dislike this version of mysaria. but they're totally different characters from the book. i've spoken about this before but someone with rhaenyra's current assigned personality would not have done the things rhaenyra has done. i like how anxious she is during council meetings, for example, and i appreciate how she tries to avoid bloodshed, but they want to make her into this reasonable leader because they don't know how to write a story that has two >problematic< sides. they need the dichotomy of good v bad, because the only deconstruction they know how to do is to make the "good guys" just a tad questionable and not perfect and to make the "bad guys" at most a little humanized. they just don't have the guts to go all out from the beginning. i know we will get to mad queen rhaenyra because the story beats demand it (hopefully), but they have to start rhaenyra off as wise and temperate. they don't know how to write book!rhaenyra, who was awful but raw and real in her grievances and could have been sympathetic as such.

- not even going into mysaria the unicef goodwill ambassador. they defanged her so much but without even redistributing her involvement in b&c to daemon. instead, it's all just a harmless fuck up. the diminishing of b&c is such that helaena seems over it this episode. ?? way to gloss over one of the most horrifying scenes grrm has ever thought up. i swear to god, rhaenyra was depicted as feeling more sorry for jaehaerys than helaena. 😵

- my main gripe with this episode, though, is the glorification of viserys. please, i am so tired. i get why otto would be ultimately fawning over him, i get why rhaenyra would hold on to a rose-coloured glass view of her father. i even get why alicent would inhale so much copium as a survival mechanism. but why are we, so often, throwing around so many uncritical statements about viserys being a great king and person? he forced pregnancies on his ailing first wife, killed her to get a son out of her, engineered a succession crisis and maritally raped his teenage wife, impregnating her against her will, too. why is there nothing, not one statement by anyone inviting the reader to contest that? it's one of the grossest things they're doing. is this a joke?

-as such, i don't careeeeeeee about viserys' death bed wish!!!!! i understand why it may be important to alicent and rhaenyra personally. FINE. have them quibble over it in the sept. but no one is making the legal argument that aegon is viserys' heir by andal law! no one! the show wants you to believe that it allllllll hinges on viserys' death murmurings. oh ffs. it can be a good propaganda tool to use, but the king's word is not law as this fantasy setting was imagined with its political structures in place, political structures that the author didn't bother to change from the european medieval history he took inspiration from. he left them as is, so they function as is!!! there are no explanations given as to how or why the westerosi power structure would function differently! the only MARGINAL argument we have heard is that the lords would never accept a woman for a monarch, but never the law itself: a son comes before a daughter and a daughter comes before an uncle. watch the greens in the next episode claim aemond is aegon's heir over jaehaera because the writers won't allow them to remember their own laws. ☠

-as it is, alicent's actions don't make any goddamn sense. if she always thought that somehow viserys' has the last say in naming his successor, then why is she yelling at teenage aegon that he is rhaenyra's challenge simply by living and breathing? why is otto telling her that she has to prepare aegon to rule or else cleave to rhaenyra's mercy? why is little aemond telling teenage aegon that helaena will be his queen? where did he hear that from? if alicent always intended for rhaenyra to take the throne? why is she telling her children since they were small that aegon will be king? it obviously didn't matter to her that viserys failed to actually nominate aegon. it's obvious that she was planning this for a very long time. also, the fact that they wrote that the council "went behind her back" to crown aegon doesn't make any goddamn sense either. it's just a plot hole. they are so inconsistently writing this schroedinger's alicent - she meticulously prepares for years so that aegon could be a legitimate king - gives him the conqueror's name, makes him marry his sister, make him have heirs of his own, tells her children this is what is going to happen, but somehow isn't aware that the council she headed for years was planning the same thing. somehow she was waiting for viserys' say-so. i don't have a problem with highlighting hypocrisy, but this is just a straight-up plothole.

- gwayne. listen, i love freddie fox as much as any man. i knew i was going to stan gwayne since he was cast, no doubt about it. i love how sassy he is. i'm intrigued by the buddy-cop comedy they seem to be building for him and criston. but did they really have to make him sneer at criston specifically because he is dornish and lowborn? and no one is batting an eye? this is so unserious. dorne is not even part of targaryen rule at this point and it hasn't even been mentioned once. no one has said anything about the status of dorne, about how the dornish are viewed throughout the rest of westeros and why. i bet the general public didn't even catch on that being dornish is viewed through a racist lens and that criston is not considered white. 🤦‍♀️ not to mention that ofc they gave the racist line to a green character, whereas rhaenyra gets to collect POC characters like pokemons to prop herself up as a diversity champion

[aniwahstan]

The Jegulus 1999 Record Store AU

Ff: Meet on Telegraph Avenue

The one where Regulus moves from London to crash with Sirius in California, then falls for his roommate who is an absolute prick to him for months before he finally admits that he’s in love with him

(Smut below the cut)

They crawl through the window and discard their glasses in the sink on the way to James’ room. Regulus sits on the edge of the bed while James runs a hand over his CD collection. “What do you want to listen to?”

Regulus lays back onto the mattress. “You pick.”

“Alright, but you asked for it.”

Regulus hears the click of the play button. Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers starts to play. Regulus sits-up immediately. “No, why?”

James raises his eyebrows. “What is your problem with RHCP?”

Regulus groans and falls back to the bed. “All of their songs are about doing drugs in California.”

James lowers himself to the bed and lays back beside Regulus. “I know. It’s perfect.”

Their heads fall to the side and James reaches across his body and lays it on Regulus’ cheek. “I’ll distract you so you won’t even know what’s playing.”

Regulus smirks as James rolls on top of him and lets his full weight drop onto Regulus’ body. His hand wanders down to Regulus’ waist and slips under his t-shirt. They kiss for a few minutes before James stands beside the bed. It’s art - how James undoes the second button of his overalls and lets them fall to the floor in one smooth motion.

James makes quick work of undressing Regulus and throwing his clothing to the floor. They laugh in between their tongues in each other’s mouth, a bit sloppy from the alcohol in their blood.

James guides Regulus’ head to the pillows and trails down his stomach with his tongue, then back up again. He takes him into his hand first, making Regulus’ back arch into the touch. When his mouth replaces his hand Regulus throws his head back, letting a shameless groan slip from his mouth as James adds pressure with his tongue. Regulus is going to implode if he keeps going.

James stops just before Regulus loses it, knowing exactly what he’s doing with his torturous pause. He kisses Regulus’ neck and reaches for the drawer beside his bed, finding the condoms and lube that he always keeps there.

James looks at him from above, hovering over his body. “Your turn?”

Regulus’ eyes go wide with surprise. He’s topped before, but it’s rare. Very rare. Guys usually just assume what he likes because he’s smaller, and gentle, and listens to love songs.

James’ eyes swim with unholy desire at Regulus’ surprise. “I believe you promised me a little payback from my actions on the bus.”

Regulus takes the condom between his fingers and leans in to bite James’ shoulder - an impure act to match James’ impure eyes. “Fuck yes.”

James turns and falls to the bed. He watches as Regulus rolls the condom on himself and drips lube onto his hand. James’ gaze never leaves where Regulus’ hand strokes, touching himself and purposefully drawing it out to make James agonize over having to wait.

Regulus climbs over with a leg on each side of James’ hips. He trails his slick fingers down his stomach and returns the patience James gave him, making sure he’s ready and all but begging for more.

“Ready?”

The smirk that crosses James’ face is downright a sin. He nods his head as Regulus positions himself between his legs. He moves in slowly, inch by inch, soaking in every moan from James’ mouth as he pushes further and further. James’ neck cranes as he stays inside of him without moving, pulling James hips into him from below. The feeling of being inside of James barely allows Regulus the mental strength to tease. He wants to make it slow, make it torturously slow. But he’s not that strong. He has to move.

When he’s found his rhythm, Regulus leans up and supports himself with one hand on the mattress, leaving enough space for him to reach between them and tease James with his fingers as they go. When he wraps his fingers around James and starts to stroke him in rhythm with his thrusts, James’ gaze lands on Regulus’ face with a slack jaw. James’ thighs press into the sides of Regulus’ body as he looks down at what Regulus is doing to him. He licks his lips, watching Regulus move in and out with the stare of a hunter. Regulus has a sudden realization, and moves his hand from between them up to James’ neck. He lays his palm on James’ throat, just barely adding pressure.

Out of nowhere, James starts to buck from under him. James’ arms wrap around his back, pulling him into his chest. He whispers directly into Regulus’ ear. “Harder.”

Regulus is blind with pleasure as he moves faster, relinquishing himself fully and burying his body within James. James was right. Regulus can’t even hear the music over their shared moaning and heavy breathing. All he can hear is James’ inhales getting shorter and shorter, which takes Regulus right to the edge with him. Regulus comes just as James lets out a final long groan and throws his head back to the pillow.

[berryhobii]

Can I request a Wonwoo drabble? It can be about anything. I hate that I never see Seventeen with black reader ff. I love your blog so much.

Hi! Thanks for your request and thanks so much for reading! I’m planning on writing more of Seventeen and creating a master list for them as well. Please look forward to it! Enjoy and tell me what you think🩵

~

Sitting on the floor in front of his coffee table, fingers working deftly over the keyboard, Wonwoo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one of his knuckles. This essay wasn’t due for another week but he wanted to get it out of the way before the weekend. That and he was a bit of an overachiever so he liked getting his schoolwork completed as quickly as possible. It just gave him more time to do what he wanted like game or hang out with his friends.

And it also gave him time to focus on someone else.

Something tickled at the back of his neck making him jump in surprise. He quickly turned around, finding your smiling face staring back at him. Letting out a sigh, his heart thudding in his chest, his eyes raked up and down your form.

Creamy brown thighs on display in your tight denim skirt, breasts popping out of the plain white tank top under your cropped jacket, a pair of white socks on your feet.

You looked gorgeous.

“Hi bear.” You greeted, the natural lowness of your voice scratching his brain just right.

He nodded at you. “Hey…..um….how are you?” He inquired shyly. He didn’t exactly know why but you just made him so nervous. You were just so beautiful and charming. He still couldn’t believe you were dating him.

Dropping to your knees on the floor next to him, you leaned over to nuzzle your nose against his jaw. “Fine. How are you, my baby?”

He shivered. “I’m good. Uh, what are you doing here?” Then he realized how that sounded, eyes widening and hands gesticulating as he tried to explain. “Not that you can’t be here! It’s just you said you’d be with your friends today and I’m surprised to see you.”

You pouted your lip, tilting your head cutely. “Did you not want to see me?”

Heat spread across his face to the tips of his ears. You were such a tease.

With a huff, he mumbled, “of course I do. I always want to see you.”

Goodness, you could eat him up, he was too cute.

Grinning, you reached out to pinch his cheek. “I always want to see you too, bear. That’s why I’m here. I was bored with my friends and I missed you.”

You two have only been dating for about 7 months now so you were still very much in the honeymoon phase of your relationship. He hoped this phase lasted forever though because he loved spending time with you and knowing you wanted to see him all the time made butterflies dance in his tummy.

“I missed you too.” He breathed out with a tiny smile gracing his face.

You coyly fluttered your eyelashes as him, one of your hands tracing over the muscle in his thigh. He felt his heart stutter in his chest at your touch, swallowing the block in his throat.

“Then why don’t we do something together?” You purred, reaching out to push his traveling glasses back up his nose.

“L-like what?”

~

“Does my pussy feel good, bear?” You whispered against Wonwoo’s spit slicked lips, pouty and red from your assault of kisses.

Wonwoo groaned, hands gripping the fat of your ass as it clapped down on his thighs. Your velvety walls were gushing and squeezing around him, a sticky slap resounding everytime you bounced on him.

“Y-yeah. It feels good.”

Arms tight around his neck, your bare chest pressed to his, you continued to bounce on his long and thick cock. It filled you to the brim, that knot your stomach tightening with every brush against your spot. He had the perfect curve that pressed against you just right. You didn’t even need to touch your clit to cum on his cock, that’s how good he made you feel. That’s how attracted you were to him.

Lifting from your knees to your feet, you started slamming your hips down on him, picking up the pace as another orgasm built inside of you.

Wonwoo’s head lolled backwards against the seat cushion of the couch, his hips beginning to thrust up to meet yours. You choked on a moan, holding yourself still to let him fuck you from below.

Your nails dug into his shoulder, the other hand buried in the hair at the back of his head. “O-oh f-f-fuck, bear. Shit, mmmm…” Your fat and slippery cunt squeezed tightly around him, your grip keeping him from falling out. “Look at me.”

His head lifted back up, bleary vision trying to focus on you through his crooked glasses. Your sultry eyes stared directly into his, the intensity of your gaze spreading heat all over his body.

“I’m close.” He announced breathlessly and you took the initiative to start bouncing on him again, your sopping walls squishing and gushing around him.

“Me too. Cum in me, bear.”

A few more bounces and his hips were stuttering, the grip on your ass forcing you all the way down on his cock. You whined out as his cock throbbed inside of you, your hips grinding down on him as your orgasm washed over you. The feeling of your pulsating walls pushed him over the edge, a guttural moan vibrating in his throat as he filled you up.

You hummed at the warmth of his cum, hugging him closer as you waited for him to ride out his orgasm.

His released your ass in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you. You adjusted his glasses on his face, cupping his cheeks and squishing them together and making his lips pucker.

Giggling, you pressed a few pecks to his lips. He smiled into your kisses, rubbing his hands and up and down your back, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“So what should we do now?” You asked.

He tilted his head in thought, eyes catching his lonely laptop and notebooks.

“Homework?” He offered with a hopeful tone in his voice.

“No chance. Let’s get something to eat.”

[lotusmi]

omg some of u are stupid, idek how u passed elementary school with ur comprehension skills but the reason ppl had results with affirm & persist was.......

bc they were in a state of believing its gonna work !!! omg !! states is not a method and ure in one 24/7 even if u hate it boo 😥😥😥 what u assume to be true is true, that's the principle of the law !!! sooo.... to assume is to be in a state 🫣 a state in loa sense is who u are being RN aka state, state of conscious & omg!! if u affirm one (1) time, ure declaring / identifying as what u just said !! that is until u assume otherwise. so the state / identity u persist in manifests 😄 ur thoughts will not manifest if u identify with "im gonna affirm as much as possible so I can get it" ffs, do u need glasses? a new working, functioning brain? but if u identify aka be in the state of someone who knows "im gonna get it either way no matter what method I use" ooh well guess what Einstein 🤣

so if u persist in that state/assumption...... GUESS WHAT!?!?!? congrats u finally understand the law only after all the 1937281 posts abt states on tumblr 🥺 sorry lotus, i had to. I can't believe ppl are still in 2021 loa tumblr.....

best ask about states i ever got ngl 🎯

🏆 for u

you took the words of my mouth ps: just to make sure, I meant that they explained states in a simple way, not anything related to 'this' 'that' works, I hope you get what I meant

[mybworlds]

Bittersweet

CHAPTER 1

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Hello people, I know there are other two ff that I already started, but I dreamt this new idea for my new ff. So I decided to write it down it. So here we are. If you want to let me know what you think about it I'd be glad to read you.

No offence pls, if you dislike it go away :)

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

You always dreamed of doing something special, of being the person who would make a difference in the world….

So you hoped.

You hoped to become a great writer of romance novels, and you hoped to instill hope in the hearts of young people not to give up in the face of love and the possible obstacles that may arise.

But not all dreams come true.

In fact, you ended up working in a small bar on the outskirts of your town, surrounded by the many stories of the many diners who populate the place during the daytime or evening hours--depending on the shifts. These stories are the most different, and cannot help but feed your wild imagination.

In the evening, when you are not on shift, you write dozens and dozens of stories on your computer: some are shorts, some are very long and have happy endings, some less. It depends on your mood and how you imagine certain events you've witnessed or heard will end.

"I'm home!"

Your mother has just returned from a nearly seventy-two-hour shift at the hospital, she works in emergency medicine, and - since your father died (or at least she always said) - when she's not at home, you have to do everything, housework and bar work, grocery shopping, paying bills.

"Hi, Mom."

You absentmindedly greet her by putting down your computer glasses and crinkling your eyes in exhaustion.

"Did you buy groceries?"

The usual string of questions starts, to which you always answer with a distracted yes. You are almost 30 years old, but sometimes you feel like you are 40s or even 50s. Sometimes you think you would just like to enjoy youth, to be carefree, light-hearted, you would like to be free even to make mistakes, and instead you feel caged in this life. In a life where the only rule is you must.

"So you're okay with that?" your mother suddenly asks, making you get your feet back on the ground.

"What?" you ask confused.

"You might even listen to me for once!" blurts out Mom.

"I just got distracted for a second!" you exclaim trying to catch up.

Mom snorts, "I asked you if you were free tomorrow for your guitar lesson."

Ah yes, the exhilarating guitar lessons!

Mom, ever since Dad left (but she always said it was as if he was dead), has demanded that you take piano lessons first and guitar lessons later, like your father. You can't understand your mother, sometimes she seems to hate your father, sometimes she doesn't.

About love, you've always wanted it to be forever. Maybe it's just some romantic bullshit you always watched in movies or read in books, but you want to believe that there really exists out there for you, someone who is willing to love you for a lifetime. Too bad you haven't found anyone so far who is willing to love you the same way you love, to want you the way you want!

Going back to your guitar lessons, your teacher is a bit of a peculiar guy, a bit of a loner, a lover of many things and one opposed to the other. He's -- you don't know exactly how to define him. You've never been able to decipher him. He seems gruff, but at the same time he has a good side and probably deep down sweet.

Very deep down.

"Yes, don't worry." Mom, ever since he left, has become overprotective in some ways with you, has demanded to control you even though you are not so young anymore, wants to know what you read, what you see, what you do. It may seem normal, perhaps, for a mom to try to get to know what her child does, but not the way she does. If you are evasive for one reason for another, she becomes a hound, suffocating almost. Once she even demanded to read a chat you created with friends fearing that you might be in touch with a man much older than you, and instead she found herself a chat where you were exchanging sometimes funny and sometimes even private messages with some of your close friends from school, which even embarrassed you, but mom justified herself by saying she was doing it for you. She even banned you from driving for fear that you might have a car accident! You have a driver's license, but your mother won't even let you drive around town. She always has to be the one to drive you. These manias of hers are suffocating!

"Good. Do you have money to pay for it?" she asks you.

"Yes, don't worry," you reply, going to prepare dinner.

"We have to be very punctual or I'll be late for the hospital," she informs you.

"Do you have another night?" you ask her "It will be the fifth time in a month! But didn't there used to be shifts once even in the hospital?" you ask again as you prepare some pasta.

"Yes, but -- you know, there are only a few of us and then there are even more emergencies than usual."

You follow your mother with your eyes as you see her typing on her cell phone. Your mother sometimes looks like the young woman and you look like the mom.

What an unfair life!

The next day your life flows as usual, you get up very early, make coffee bringing it also to your mother, go to shower, get dressed and go to work.

At the café there is the usual hustle and bustle, who wants coffee, who wants a croissant, who wants a slice of pizza, who wants something else. You don't have a moment to yourself. Only when it's almost lunchtime now, you stop and go to the back of the store to eat your sandwich and smoke. Yes, you smoke. The only real transgression in your life. If your mother found out she would probably kill you, but you don't care smoking makes you feel good and maybe it makes you feel good because it's a decision you made, not because it was forced on you.

You rub one temple and look toward the road covered with a hint of snow. You wonder what you would have been doing by now if you had not been there with your mother, if maybe you were busy in college or maybe in pursuing some master's degree, you wonder who you might have been if you had dared to live your life to the fullest.

In the afternoon, your mother - after making sure you are dressed appropriately, that you have sheet music and whatnot - drops you off in front of your teacher's building.

The latter lives on the top of seven floors, it's practically a penthouse, it's beautiful place. Being with him -- a little less so.

When you knock, you are about to greet him, but a completely different man from your teacher appears in front of you. He is tall, much taller than your teacher and you, curly brown hair, dark eyes, a look that is at first grim, then curious, defined jaw line and curved nose. He is perhaps 40 years old.

You stand open-mouthed, thinking you had the wrong house for a moment, then realizing it's the right address.

"I was looking for Mr. Miller," you say.

"In person." he replies.

"Tommy Miller," you say.

"I'm his brother." he says again.

You are about to say something, but he is the one who interrupts you by asking if you are his student and calling your name, you nod in confusion.

"My brother had to leave yesterday morning. He told me you were coming and to wait for you to let you know." he clarifies by placing his hands on his hips.

He is incredibly muscular; you have never seen a man like him. He hits you right away.

"I see. Then -- I'll go." ready to leave.

You make to turn your back to him "Did Mommy tell you not to talk to strangers?" he asks making you turn back to him "I saw you get out of your mother's car." he adds noticing your confused look.

"What did you say?" you ask in annoyance.

You see him smirking and cross his arms "Are you afraid the big bad wolf will eat you?"

You wrinkle your forehead "First, I don't even know who you are." you say moving a couple of steps closer to him "And second…"

"Joel." he introduces himself by extending his hand.

"You're creepy -- Joel," you say looking first at his hand and then at his face.

"You, on the other hand, are shy." he notes looking at you and running his gaze over your figure. No one has ever looked at you like this. Making your skin warmed. "Yes, you are a shy little one." he adds, smiling and making wrinkles appear on the sides of his eyes.

"Your brother is definitely nicer," you say.

Lie. Tommy has always been very much on his own.

He just bends his head to the side, "Funny, people always told me I'm the nice one of the Miller brothers."

Gotcha.

"Well, maybe they never really knew you!"

"And you in less than a minute figured out who am I?" he asks, leaving you speechless.

No, you know very well that you cannot judge anyone in less than a minute. If someone had judged you in less than a minute they probably would have dismissed you as an ordinary young woman, lacking dreams of her own, trivial.

Perhaps the same thing applies to the man in front of you, Joel Miller.

[aliceisathome]

Was busy over the weekend so am only now catching up with My Stand In. Honestly, why do people make me be sociable? I'd much rather stay in and watch BLs ffs.

So... JOE wtf are you doing? Wut has offered help and nope, you're going to take the job as Tong's stunt man because you're too proud to accept his offer. Grr. You are your own worst enemy (not that we didn't know this already).

The bar scene was so tense - when the guy, the almost stand in for Ming wearing the same jacket, approached Joe my shoulders were up around my ears. Up is so good at looking completely contemptuous btw - if anyone ever looked at me like that I would just shrivel and die.

Jim, your 'Khun Ming doesn't drink' line would be a lot more convincing if we hadn't just seen him sippng from a glass of booze. Just saying. And I can't believe you (literally) ran away and left Joe to his fate with your drunk boss. Tut. When do we get to see Mike again? I've missed Inntouch's little face - the new haircut suits him.

I gasped when Joe nearly smashed the couple mugs.

Why did you turn down all the help from nice people Joe? First Wut now Sol Is it because, despite everything, you still want Ming? (hint: yes) And so Ming wants Joe to be a stand in for himself but Joe thinks he wants a stand in for Tong (again). And next week Ming will discover that it wasn't Tong's back at all so he was always a stand in for Joe. Gah.

The layers are layering.

I can't WAIT to see Ming lose it when he finds out the back he fell for was Joe's all along. His meltdown will be epic and I am here for it. But the thing I want the most (other than his utter humiliation and loss of all he holds dear naturally) is Tong's reaction when Ming discards him. This is a man who's been stringing Ming along for years. YEARS. He drops crumbs, is jealous when Ming pays attention to anyone else etc so what is his reaction to Ming coming to his senses and pulling away from his manipulative arse going to be?

Actually Tong reminds me of Ter from Wandee Goodday - also Wal from My Dear Gangster Oppa and the 'friend' in Roommates of Poonduck 304. They're all characters who absolutely know the MC is in love with them. They accept EVERYTHING that the poor man offers and uses them, stringing them along purely for either what they can get materially or for an ego boost. Or both. I loathe this type of character. LOATHE. I want to see these emotionally manipulative bastards get their comeuppance* </rant over>

Roll on next week. Can't wait! And now I have to cleanse my palate with Saturday's Wandee Goodday

*Roommates is a great little series with some seriously good chemistry and the cafe scene where Jae Yun finally discovers that he's been used for all those years is gutting.

[novaursa]

Could you pplease write something for prime Robert Baratheon? (Like pre-got/pre-rebellion)

Something about maybe a betrothal between Robert and a targaryen reader? Like a peace treaty of sorts

The Dragon and The Stag

- Summary: You are promised to Robert to stabilize your father’s shaky reign.

- Paring: targ!reader/Robert Baratheon

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall of Storm's End is awash with noise and light, the roar of laughter and the clinking of goblets echoing off the ancient stone walls. Torches blaze along the pillars, casting shadows that dance like phantoms, while a warm breeze slips in through the open windows, bringing with it the scent of the sea. You stand near the dais, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on you. Robert had spared no expense for this celebration; it is as if he wishes to show the entire realm that he is worthy of a Targaryen bride.

He stands beside you, taller than most in the hall, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. His blue eyes, sharp and clear, find yours often, a smile lurking beneath the brash exterior he presents to his bannermen. You see the glint of pride in his gaze, as if he can hardly believe his fortune to be betrothed to a princess of the blood.

"My lords, my ladies," Robert’s voice booms, cutting through the din as he raises his cup. The room stills, all eyes turning to him, and then to you. "Tonight, we honor a union that will bind our houses and bring strength to the realm. To my betrothed, Y/N Targaryen, may our future be as bright as dragonfire!"

A cheer erupts, glasses raised in your honor. You incline your head, your heart hammering in your chest. You have grown accustomed to the court’s gaze at King’s Landing, but here in Storm’s End, the scrutiny feels different, more intense. These people are loyal to Robert, and they are assessing you, measuring whether you are worthy of their lord.

Robert’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and steady. “Don’t let them intimidate you,” he murmurs, his voice low and meant for you alone. “You’re a dragon. These storms are nothing compared to what you’ve faced.”

There is a truth in his words that makes you smile despite the tension. You’ve faced worse than a hall full of curious strangers. You’ve faced your father’s volatile moods, the cold calculation of the small council, the simmering resentment that has plagued the court for years. You’ve faced all of it with the quiet strength your mother taught you, the fierceness that comes from knowing you are the blood of Old Valyria.

“Storms can be fierce, Robert,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your voice. “But dragons thrive in the air above them.”

His laughter is loud and genuine, filling the space between you and easing the tension in your shoulders. He has that effect, this man who will one day be your husband. He can be wild and reckless, but there is a steadiness in him too, a loyalty and passion that draws you to him like a moth to flame.

As the night wears on, you move through the hall together, accepting congratulations and toasts. The lords and ladies of the Stormlands are eager to meet you, their future lady, and you do your best to remember names and faces, to smile and nod and make small talk. It is exhausting, this role you have been cast into, but you play it well. You have been trained for this, to be the daughter of a king, a sister to the crown prince, a pawn in the great game that is Westeros.

But every time you feel overwhelmed, Robert is there, a solid presence at your side. He deflects the more insistent lords, cracks jokes that make even the dour-faced knights smile, and his hand never strays far from yours. There is something comforting in his touch, in the way he seems to sense when you need a moment to breathe.

Later, when the feasting is done and the hall has begun to empty, he takes you outside, away from the noise and the heat. The air is cooler out here, the night sky vast above you, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. He leads you to a secluded spot overlooking the sea, his hand still wrapped around yours.

“Are you truly alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, the bravado stripped away. He looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter, as if he is trying to see beyond the mask you wear for the court.

“Yes,” you say, and it is the truth. “It’s just…a lot to take in. But I’m alright, Robert. Truly.”

He nods, but his thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture so tender it almost breaks your heart. “I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he murmurs. “Being sent away from King’s Landing, away from your family.”

“I’m not a child to be sent anywhere,” you counter, your chin lifting. “I chose this, Robert. For my family, for the realm.”

“And for yourself?” His gaze is searching, and you feel a strange thrill run through you at the way he looks at you, as if you are more than a pawn, more than a princess. As if you are someone he sees, truly sees.

“For myself as well,” you admit, and it is like a weight lifting from your chest. “I think I could be happy here, with you.”

His smile is slow and brilliant, and for a moment, he is not the Lord of Storm’s End, not the future Warden of the South, but just Robert, the boy who had once stolen kisses from you in the halls at Dragonstone, who had laughed and made you forget, if only for a moment, the shadows that haunted your family.

“I promise you, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and earnest, “I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

And you believe him. In this moment, under the stars, with the sea wind whipping around you and his hand warm in yours, you believe him.

[bloodashre]

*Of course * Crowley couldn’t bring himself to say the actual words “I love you” to Aziraphale. He had only just realised he was in love with him. Had the feelings been there for - well, who knows how long? Certainly not him. Centuries? Longer? Likely. And there were times they'd come close, certainly.

But *knowing* it was love, being told he was in love, that what he and Aziraphale had done to Nina and Maggie was all a way to smoke and mirrors their own feelings - that was entirely different. They weren't humans. He was a demon, ffs! He wasn't supposed to love - well, anything. He wasn't even supposed to have a heart - not in the human sense. But it was there, just the same.

He had felt - *something* - when he found out God was going to make a flood and kill children. He knew anger. And when Aziraphale would get close to him - or danger - or someone tried to hurt him or insulted him. But the two of them making him aware - well he never knew anger was a secondary emotion. It *wasn't* for demons - they lived on the stuff, among other things. And he had no need for psychology. Demons and angels didn't work the same way as humans.

Yet somehow, he had become more like them. Whether that was because he'd been around them so long, or because he wasn't like other demons in that he could imagine things. Whether he'd always been this way, even before he was a demon, but just didn't know it, or because of Aziraphale himself and spending so much time with him... He honestly didn't know.

What he did know is that when Maggie said he never said what he was really thinking, it him hard, like a human falling out of a window in a tall building. That when he saw Beezlebub and Gabriel he had felt jealous, because despite all his misgivings, all his fears - because he was afraid, of this, and of being rejected, of losing him - the one thing he wanted most in his secret of secrets, was to do the same with Aziraphale.

He'd wanted to for longer than he cared to admit. He'd tried before, to get the two of them to leave together, but he'd pretended it was for simpler reasons. But even knowing how he felt was easier than saying it out loud, especially to him. Not just because of how big it was, but because he was a demon. In love.

Not to mention the fact that Aziraphale interrupted him while he had had the courage. After his revelation, he tried to put it back, but faltered when he tried to tell him he wanted to spend his life with him. He tried to tell him without saying the words - he'd never said those words.

Before the other two, no demon or angel *had* ever said those things to someone and meant them in that way, especially to each other. And maybe if he hadn't been interrupted, he might have, he really wasn't sure. There was no way to know now, though. So he'd said it the best way he could, and he'd hoped Aziraphale would understand and say it to him. He was, as they said, the one who believed in magic. He'd seemed so happy for Gabriel and Beezlebub. Surely, he would be able to say it. But he underestimated the influence Heaven still had over him. He still believed in it. And it had ruined everything.

So he put his glasses on so that Aziraphale couldn't see his heartache. But he still couldn't say it. So he did the only thing left to do in a last ditch effort out of sheer desperation. He kissed him, hoping it would convey his feelings without using words.

And he felt him kiss him back. He felt his hands on his back, making him shiver because nobody had ever touched him that way before. He poured every feeling he'd suppressed for centuries into that kiss.

And then he felt him pull away and he let go.

For a moment, he thought it might have worked. He - *his* Angel - stuttered and, just for a second, Crowley thought he would say that he loved him. *Please, please, please*, his heart had begged in that moment.

Instead, he said "I forgive you.", and Crowley felt his heart shatter into a million pieces, worse than anything he'd felt before admitting to himself that he loved him. Clearly, he thought it was just a manipulation, just the demon trying to tempt him again. So he made a snarky comment and left. There was nothing else he could do.

Aziraphale would never see. He- and Heaven - had done too good a job of convincing him he wasn't good or kind. Even if Maggie and Nina were right and Aziraphale loved him too, he would never see him as anything other than a demon. He would've only loved him in spite of that fact, instead of seeing beyond it. Maybe he could a little, because he'd called Crowley kind many times, despite Crowley telling him he was wrong, but not enough.

And then he stood there, watching the person he loved walking away, forever, hoping that somehow he was wrong. That it wasn't too late, there was still time - any moment, his Angel was going to put the pieces together and realise he was being honest, that he loved him and they.... *Belonged together.*

But he didn't.

So he got in his car and started driving. He didn't know where or have a plan, but he knew he needed to go.

[stray-kaz]

Out of Bounds : a Jake Seresin x reader FF : I

Summary: Jake comes across something he can never pass up: a prize he’s been told he cannot win.

A/N: I did not plan on having this be longer than a oneshot, but the idea got more fleshed out as I thought it over, so it’s likely to be three to five chapters long instead.

Please let me know what you think so far!

Warning: A smidge of saucy language.

“Who’s the pretty little thing over there with Bob?” Jake asked Natasha, drinking you in from afar.

She raised her perfect dark eyebrows at him and shook her head.

“Nuh uh, Bagman, no way. She is majorly out of your jurisdiction.”

Jake looked away from you to stare at Natasha instead, taken aback.

“Why?” he demanded. “Is she his girlfriend? If you say she is, I’m not going to believe you.”

Natasha shook her head again and patted him with faux sympathy on the shoulder.

“Worse, much worse for you, sky cowboy. She’s his little sister.”

Bob clocked the direction of Jake’s burning gaze and moved to physically block his view, but you had already noticed.

“Who’s the golden boy keeping an eye on me?” you asked, intrigued.

“That’s Jake” your brother answered grudgingly. “He’s one of the best pilots here.”

“Huh” you muttered. “Men like him don’t usually look twice at me. Interesting.”

Bob scoffed. 

“No” he started to argue. “Not interesting. Count yourself lucky men like him don’t usually look twice at you. Stay away from him.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Man, you must really hate him to warn me off. You’ve never done that before.”

Bob sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding his glasses down a bit.

“I don’t hate him” he said, almost growling. “I’ve never had to warn you off before because no one ever turned your head.”

You smiled warmly and kissed Bob’s cheek, patting his shoulder lightly.

“Big brother, my head has been turned once or twice, you just never saw it.”

He groaned and slung an arm over your shoulders, knocking his head gently against yours.

“I still don’t need to see it, little sister. Eyes up and hands off the golden boy.”

You started to head off in the exact direction Bob didn’t want you to go, and he reached out to snatch at your wrist, loosely caging it with his fingers. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Just to say hi to Phoenix” you replied, and pulled free.

Natasha looked up at your approach and cast a quick glance at Jake, who was eyeing you as you stepped closer and closer. Finally, you reached them and hugged Natasha, propping your chin on her shoulder to meet Jake’s gaze.

“So, my brother has warned me off you” you said, arching your eyebrows at him. “Anyone know why that is?”

Natasha snorted and stepped back, briefly squeezing your hands.

“Well, for one, we call him Bagman because he always leaves us high and dry” she told you, grinning up at the man in question.

You watched Jake closely, his green eyes narrowing on you when your gaze didn’t drop, his perfect spun gold hair threatening to fall over his forehead but not quite managing.

“Well, I’d say he leaves a woman or two high, but I doubt he’s ever left one dry” you murmured wryly.

Natasha choked and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise before a well practiced smirk curled the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I sure didn’t expect that attitude from Bob’s sister” he told you, something lighting behind his eyes. “I thought you’d be quiet, like him.”

“Oh, I am, but not when it counts” you replied, flushing under his stare.

“Is that so? You can get loud, darlin’?” Jake pressed on, drawing out the teasing.

Natasha covered her ears with her hands and walked away, pulling a face. She could see Bob watching you and Jake flirting, his jaw set sharply and his eyebrows drawn together in a furious frown. She stopped in front of him with her arms folded.

“I feel for you, I really do” she said somberly. 

Bob blinked at her, puzzled.

“What?” he asked, a little blank.

“There’s no stopping that runaway train, my friend. Hangman is gonna reel that girl in like a fish and he is never gonna throw her back” she answered. 

Bob sighed heavily and nodded.

“I was worried about that�� he muttered. “What is he saying to her?”

Natasha glanced back over at where you and Jake were standing, and winced. He had stepped closer to you, his hands in his pockets, leaning in towards you slightly. Your arms were crossed over your chest, but your head was tipped back and your hips were slanted toward Jake.

She looked back at Bob.

“They are having a conversation with their body language and you don’t want to hear it.”

He groaned and turned his back, walked away a half dozen feet, and then changed direction, stormed over to stand so close to Jake they were almost touching. Your eyes widened as you stared up at your big brother, and Jake turned to meet Bob’s gaze head on with the barest flinch.

“Can I help you?” he asked pointedly.

Bob nodded abruptly and jabbed a finger in your direction.

“If you hurt her, they’ll never find your body” he promised, and left them standing there in shock.

No pressure tag : @withahappyrefrain​