#it makes us feel powerless and frustrated

[aardappel-van-mijn-oog]

Kamala is doing everything she can lads.

Try and grasp the situation here: she is the presumptive nominee of a party that is comprised of both staunch Israëli opponents and hard line Israëli supporters. She also is going up against a party of exclusively the latter, and wants to try and convince as many people deciding between the Democrats and Republicans to vote for her in November. She cannot afford to lose because if she does, America will turn into a fascist theocracy for the foreseeable future, and then we will all be fucked because America is the most influential country upon global politics.

So Kamala Harris CANNOT AFFORD to say any more than she is saying about the war in Palestine right now, because if she does, she risks losing the support of a large and potentially election-deciding group of swing voters.

I am a supporter of a free and prosperous Palestine. I believe that Israël has no right to exist as a country, and that it is an apartheid state. But I also have some amount of common sense, and I see that there has to be a compromise here. As, it seems, does Kamala Harris. Watch the video above to see what I mean.

I am not a resident of the United States. I live in the Netherlands, where in the last election, the party with the most votes was the party who wants to ban the Qur’ān and close all mosques, advocates for increased and more violent policing, wants to retract the official apologies made for the Netherlands’ involvement in the Slave Trade, and ban puberty blockers. That’s not because most people want to do those things. It’s because people didn’t fucking vote. Well there are more reasons than that but that’s one of the main ones.

So, Americans. From your friends over in Europe. We like you. We don’t want you to live under a fascist theocracy. However, we don’t have the power to stop that. Only you do, and you can do it by putting aside your grievances and seeing the big picture here. In other words,

VOTE FOR KAMALA HARRIS.

I’m not gonna go into all the rest of her policies, but coming from a gay genderqueer socialist I think she’s pretty solid. Obviously she and I don’t agree on everything, but that’s because we’re unique individuals with different personalities, upbringings and backgrounds. Yknow, like how normal society is? I’ve been hearing so much discourse on this kut website and most of it boils down to “she’s not a carbon copy of me so I won’t vote for her”.

Guys, what the fuck happened to the tolerant left? What happened to the people who welcomed different ideas and beliefs? Are they in the room with us now??? Grow up. Go to your silly little American voting website and register to vote. I don’t know which website it is but someone can link it in a reblog or something idk.

And for my European friends. I know we all dislike how much influence American politics has on our lives. I fucking hate it. But we live in a globalised world, for better or worse, so try as best you can to make as many Americans that you know and love vote for Kamala Harris - or whoever it ends up being - come November. That’s the most we can do to ensure the right wing parties of our own countries don’t see Trump and follow in their footsteps. It’s happening in the Netherlands and we are already seeing the consequences over here. I’d talk about them but this post is too long.

TLDR: OI AMERICANS, VOTE BLUE

(pwease :3)

[illycanary]

Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident

I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.

For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel. 

We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future. 

And we saw ourselves in Katara. 

Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood. 

Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes. 

Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.

Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?

Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers. 

After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better. 

And do better he does not.

The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.

Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.

Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it. 

Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.

I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.

I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.

[daemonsversion]

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

[alltimefail]

Random thought that could could absolutely be nothing, an over-analyzation of sorts even, but I have always found it interesting that in the Devlin house episode Charles gets sucked into the loop starting from the point he snaps at Edwin about him "Not being the all-knowing expert on all things." It's especially interesting to me because after he does so, Edwin tells Charles that he's "...Not acting like himself at all."

In theory, Charles could have just reappeared when Mr. Devlin turns the corner or when he approaches Mr. Devlin here:

because if the point of repetition here is to show us that the abuse Charles suffered at the hands of his own father is what causes him to get trapped in the loop, either of those moments would have been sufficient in supporting that idea. The dialogue shared beforehand between him and Edwin has little to do with the point at hand...unless...

Charles feeling pain about his own father isn't the whole sum of why he gets trapped in the loop; his fear that he's just LIKE his father, that he's not a good person, that he's "Cruel for the shits," and capable of hurting the people he loves (and thus undeserving of their love) is also what traps him in the loop, and that's why his "loop" starts with him snapping at Edwin.

Even though we as viewers can empathize with and understand why Charles snaps at Edwin given the circumstances, it's very unlikely that Charles extends that same grace to himself. I would argue that we see the multi-faceted layers of his trauma explored in various ways from this moment on. Charles himself even later admits that all he feels is anger despite the fact that he wants to be "a good guy." Charles has yet to understand that it's possible to be good and feel anger, that anger in and of itself is not bad, and that feeling strong negative emotions like grief or anger does not make a person dangerous or abusive like his father was...nor does it guarantee that he would use his anger to harm others. So, with that in mind, of course Charles' loop would start with him lashing out at Edwin, as opposed to it just starting with him lashing out at Brandon Devlin; it's not just about feeling powerless to stop the abuse, it's about feeling like you play a role in it. It's about the deep-rooted fear that maybe you actually deserved the abuse you suffered because you are not good, and just by being related to an abuser you are damned to be just like them, or worse. Charles worries about who he truly is, deep down, and that maybe Edwin is wrong when he says that Charles isn't acting like himself: maybe the darkest parts that he works so hard to bury are actually who he truly is, and his ability to throw careless, harmful, biting words at someone he loves deeper than anyone else may be a reflection of this. After all, his father loved his mother, he loved Charles, and look what he did to them... how he hurt them beyond repair. What if he is the same?

OR: the trauma Charles deals with isn't only the violence his father enacted on him (shown through what Brandon Devlin does to his family), but it's also the violence he feels capable of enacting himself (shown through his ability to throw harsh words toward Edwin who Charles openly claims is the "most important person in the world" to him).

What furthered this idea even more for me (and added a bit of salt to the wound frankly) was Crystal and Edwin's reactions to Charles being pulled into the loop. Out of shock, confusion, and frustration Crystal immediately turns to Edwin for answers but for a moment he is just frantic and uncharacteristically frazzled, only able to say, "Charles was right, I don't know everything..." and OUCH, right? But it emphasizes that 1) what Charles said to Edwin was quite hurtful, 2) that it did have an (unintentional) impact on Edwin, and 3) that Charles himself very well might have realized it was hurtful as soon as it left his mouth thus, again, why it would make sense that his loop began there.

It takes a strong emotional reaction to be pulled into a loop; the possibly that this moment was written to work on two levels of Charles' inner turmoil is quite clever (and extremely heartbreaking).

Again, it could absolutely be nothing... but it's worth pondering!!

[imsilay]

VENOR

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: stalking, stalker!König (idk lol lmk id i have to add anything)

word count: 1.3k

summary: His obsession for you was overwhelming. So yours too.

pt.2 posted! here

cr: dwisesz on twt (sir is that seat taken?)

There was something about the way you talk, move, look, glance at him; and he was enhanced by you. That was why he wanted to watch you all the time. You were his only entertainment, his deep desire and obsession. His obsession was too strong and he was powerless against it. He just couldn’t resist the craving he had for you. So he was ignoring all your personal boundaries just to keep observing you.

He watched you in awe as you walked around your home where you're the most relaxed and vulnerable. The black, silky nightgown you were wearing was making his head spin. The way the dress moved along with your body as you got ready for your night routine was impressive. First, you'd make a cozy spot for yourself. Then, you'd put on some music to play in the background while you read and drink some tea.

He watched you carry the absurdly large pillows to your nest. Your petite form was sinking into the couch that was filled with pillows and blankets. He crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair. He was glad that he had enough time to set multiple cameras in your house when you were at work. The perfect angle to see you was the camera on your bookshelf. Your body was directly towards it and the nightgown slid up to your thighs. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it. But he had a problem, a huge problem. He had a fetish for the delicate skin of your thighs. He wanted to mark them so bad. The bite marks he’d leave on your thighs would make them look more gorgeous. But it’d make him look like a madman, right?

He continued to observe you but it was hard to pry his eyes off your thighs. The next stop was your breasts. He felt his cock throb at the sight. Your nipples were noticeable thanks to the thin fabric and you, for not wearing any bra at home. He swallowed thickly and his arms tensed against his chest. How he wanted to bury his head between your soft breasts… Using your chest as a pillow after a horrible nightmare would heal him. You were his only remedy.

Then his gaze shifted to your neck, which he wanted to kiss and suck hickeys on. A soft sigh drew his focus on your neck and his shoulders stretched. What happened? Were you not feeling good? Were you cold? Concern gnawed at his heart as his whole body tensed. But it was nothing he was expecting. Your bottom lip was captured by your pearly teeth and your legs now crossed. Your thighs pressed together and rubbing slowly. He narrowed his eyes trying to process what you’re up to.

“Verdammt.” he hissed as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with frustration. His mask was hiding his flushed face but nothing could hide the massive bulge on his pants. “Bitte Liebling, tu es nicht.” (Please darling, don’t do it.) he mumbled and looked back at the big screen in front of him. How could you be so cruel? Teasing him like that… Your body squirming as you stubbornly continued to read that book. Was that the reason you were pulling down your panties and spread opening your legs? “So hübsch.” (So pretty.) he mumbled at the sight of your wet cunt.

You must feeling so comfortable with satisfying yourself in the living room because you had no problem letting out loud moans as your fingers rubbed at your clit. He couldn’t resist his painful arousal anymore. It was okay if he satisfy himself along with you, right? It wouldn’t harm anyone. He unbuckled his belt swiftly and unzipped his pants. His cock spung free and hit against his stomach when he pulled down his boxers. The tip of his cock was red and dripping precum from all the time he was holding back. He groaned and tipped his head back as he fisted his fat cock with his large hand. That man was big. From head to toe, everything about him was big.

Your desperate and needy whimpers were filling his room as he jerked off the perfect view of your pussy. “I bet your small fingers can’t even reach the spots that make you squirm.” he mumbled a he focused on how desperately you fingered your greedy cunt. “I could do that for you, Maus. I’d finger your pretty pussy until you can’t cum.” he mumbled between his whimper and groans. His thumb drawing circles on the sensitive tip of his cock while fantasizing about what he’d do to your pussy. When your moans turned into cries he knew you were close. Your hips twitching and your head pressed to pillows. He was also close and he cum along with you imagining how good it’d feel like cumming inside you.

You stayed there for three more minutes before getting up and taking a cold shower. He cursed himself for not being able to put a damn camera in your bathroom. He waited until you get out, trying not to break his own neck for that great mistake. He finally took a deep breath when you got out of shower but he chocked on his breath when he saw you in only a short towel wrapped around your body. That fucking towel wasn’t even covering the half of your body.

“Mein Gott.” he breathed. The towel dropped when you stood in front of your closet to pick up your pjs. His cock got rock hard instantly. He didn’t even tried to convince himself to stop. It was all your fault for being so hot when you bend over to pick your panties up. His hand stroking his thick cock as he watched you get dressed. You liked to watch yourself from the mirror as you get dressed. It tortured him the most. The way your underwear clinged to your hips making them look harder to resist.

He felt like a pervert when he released another load of cum. His hips bucking up to fuck his fist. The comfort of being home allowed him to whimper and moan as loud as he wanted. He watched as you climbed on the bed and covered your body with blankets. His hand was still his twitching cock, watching you as you got ready for sleep. Now it was his problem that he was still rock hard… He got up and kicked his pants out, removing layers as he walked to bathroom. A cold shower was what he needed to suppress his animalistic urges now.

You smirked when the notification sound came from your phone. Your back was turned to the camera so he couldn’t see what you were doing. “How cute.” you murmured. The camera that you placed on his bathroom was working perfectly, providing you the most mouth watering view. He was showering, and he was moaning your name as he fucked his palm. Your finger brushed against the screen of your phone. Did he know you were a sucker for him? Did he know the necklace you bought for him came along with a tracker? How would he feel about you stealing the keys of his room? Which he never let you in. The curiosity was eating you alive. So you'd find out what he was hiding tomorrow. You continued to watch him shower until you fell asleep.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

yes, i finally did it :> imma post it now but i’m not satisfied with it. so i might delete sorry (:

tag:

@entityunkown @elichisstuff @mikisworls

for some content: You two are close friends so you got keys to his house and he do too. You know he’s in love with you -not that he’s too obsessed- but he doesn’t knows. The said room is that he keeps locked is the room he watched your home and was filled with your belongings, photos, videos etc…

taglist?

[just-some-user-hunny]

Platonic yandere Rhaenyra as your mother...

~ The moment she laid eyes upon you, she helplessly fell in love. All the anger and shock towards Daemon took a backseat to her emotions the moment she saw you- her breath stuttering in her throat as her own amethyst eyes settled upon the wailing girl in the mad prince's arms. No woman is keen upon the idea of their other half returning with a child that they've had behind their back, but the sight of a girl- a daughter, for her, settled her decision at once. It's unlikely for her to take out her frustrations out on you, and something about your tearful little face and upset cries for your mother made her want to take you into her arms at once to soothe you. She didn't care at all about you being a bastard, all she could see was a daughter. Hers.

~ Rhaenyra would spoil you. Gifting you dresses and jewellery and books and fine silk threads, and always wearing an adoring twinkle in her eyes whenever she sees you. Rhaenyra herself loves her precious gems and fine luxurious dresses, and now with her own little girl, you bet you're getting spoiled. She'd also love seeing her dear boys get along with you, further fueling her delusions that you're her own child. She'll call her 'my dearest love' and 'sweet girl' , a cautious protective arm always within reaching distance of you if things get heated at the dining table during rowdy family dinners.

~ she's often the one to smoothe your anger and sadness over when it comes to your conflict with Daemon, your father. He is always the one to dish out punishments and restrictions, and in his stead, she'll be the one to lather you with comfort and alternatives. As a child she'd carry you in her arms, wiping away your tearfulness and promising you a ride with Syrax after Daemon forbids you from riding your own dragon for a week. That dynamic fits well with them. Essentially, Daemon is The bad cop, and she is the good cop.

~ as a child, you were very against this woman mothering you when you missed your one mother at home. However you may eventually grow soft to Rhaenyra, even if it's unintentionally done. She's so attentive and gentle towards you, it's hard not to seek out her comfort- even if most of it is dismissive and performative to keep you calm. She'd happily braid your hair if you wish to go riding upon horse or dragon-back, and always with a smile upon her face.

~ Rhaenyra soothing you whenever you fights with her father, Daemon. She is firm, but gentle, the perfect salve to Daemons cruelty and coldness. He has always stood strong and confident, and the powerlessness you'd feel around him would both infuriate you, and make you feel hopeless. Rhaenyra is always there for the aftermath, to distract you from the sadness brewing in your chest. Squeezing your hand beneath the table as you all eat your meals together, your presence always insisted upon by Viserys and Daemon.

~ she'd be a fiercely protective mother. As you grow older, transitioning from her little girl to a young woman, she'd be very against any arranged marriages. If she could, she'd keep you at home forever, single and happy- or free to love whoever you like as long as they are approved by her and Daemon and that you remain at home with them.

Thankfully, due to your bastard heritage, you have no political duty to marry, and are therefore free from being wed for gain. (Sure, you'll never seat the iron throne, but as a woman in those times everything was cut-throat. You may as well have a taste of freedom)

~ Syrax is just as doting. You're her riders little girl, and that maternal feeling would come through both Rhaenary, and syrax. The large golden dragon will chirp and purr in your presence, bowing her head to sniff and gently prod at you- like a doting mother.

"Darling, are you joining us for lunch?"

"For the afternoon".

Rhae smiled warmly, watching you pet Syrax- who gazed upon the princess with passive golden eyes. Crooning gently into your touch, before retreating softly. Rhaenyra approaches soon after- peeling her riding gloves off before taking your face within the cradle of your palms and kissing your brow. 1...2...3, a mantra of soft kisses laid upon your face before she steps back to look at you. Her smile is genuine and warm.

~ As the dance of the dragon approaches, the more protective and demanding she becomes. Suddenly your dragon riding time is limited, especially after Luke's death :( the moment you even suggested leaving upon dragon-back to get some fresh air in the clouds she snaps almost tearfully, composing herself shortly afterwards, and then sending you outside upon the balcony with a guard. A pleading look in her eyes begging you not to disobey her, for her sake, please. She cannot lose you as well.

~ She becomes especially paranoid about team green snatching you away, as both teams are obsessed with keeping you on their sides amidst the approach of war. The amount of kingsguard that stand position outside your chambers every night, hell, even accompanying you around the castle increases. You seldom have a moment to yourself without a lady in waiting heel-to-heel with you, or a towering armoured knight breathing down your neck.

Even with Daemon gone, you're still trapped within the castle.

~ Bastard!princess reader wants nothing to do with this war, and although she may have created a connection to Rhaenyra and Jace and her twin sisters, she may see this as an opportunity to finally leave. Escape would be difficult, near impossible, but not out of the question. You still have your dragon at your call, so you may find a way to slip away and find a way to get to your dragon to escape.

Everyone would go mad however, almost putting a pause on the conflict to go out and find you. Be warned that Daemon and Rhaenyra would immediately go seek your hometown and mother and brothers (that is, if they are still alive), so you'd have to be smart with slipping from their grasps.

~ To the end Rhaenyra will hold onto you dearly like her life-line, committed to being your mother, regardless of your feelings or circumstance. Even as she is burnt, she will not cry or scream- only thinking of everything that she has lost. How she failed you, and everyone she ever held close.

(under the scenario that in the end you did leave and vanish, or worse, got killed in the conflict).

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! How are you?

May I request how the batboys would react to reader losing their job unfairly? I just lost my job for no reason after only working there for 2 weeks. I could really use some comfort rn 😭😭

Sweetheart, I know your pain in loosing a job unfairly, I’ve been there before and funnily enough they’re suffering to this day with ppl wanting to leave and or leaving. Karma is truly a bitch. I’m sending all the virtual hugs I can.

Jason

Livid isn’t even close in describing how he felt upon hearing the news but it was the closest word for how he was feeling right now. The fact that you had been let go and unfairly too after a short period of time was enough to make his blood boil.

No explanation just ‘yeah we’re letting you go for no real reason cuz we’re tight fisted cunts who can’t be bothered with bettering ourselves for our staff, and would much rather let them go without prior warning because we’re just that shitty of an employment.’

In Jason’s opinion you were the only one who actually knew how to do to do your job and will remind you of this constantly because it was the truth. You worked your ass off at that place and this was the thanks you get? Fuck that!

Jason was more then ready to let the piece of shit who made the call to drop you have a piece of his mind but you had to calm him down and tell him it wasn’t worth the anger and frustration. However to Jason it was more than worth the anger and frustration, his sweetheart lost their job because of some fucking corporate lapdog!

‘They fucked up babe, big time. They lost one of their best and I hope they fucking go bankrupt and loose everything they’re worth because of it.’ Jason would tell you as he presses kisses against your head as you played with his fingers before intertwining them with yours.

‘I hope so too.’ You muttered against his chest and Jason could only tighten his hold on you as he continued to shower you in praise, kisses and utter adoration in hopes of ridding the god awful taste that place left in your mouth and your self esteem. Jason’s as about to let you drown because of them, he’d gladly keep you afloat however he can because you deserve it and so much more than they ever gave you in two weeks.

Dick

‘They’ve lost out on the best thing going sweetheart, they’ll come to regret it sooner or later but you’ll be in a better position when they do.’ He’d whisper reassuringly as he held you close to his chest, his heart breaking when hearing your sobs.

He hated how affected you were by their decision and he hated how powerless he was to stop you from getting hurt by stupid employments like this one. They obviously didn’t see what he saw in you and that was their loss and his gain. You were dedicated, loyal, hardworking but apparently that wasn’t enough for them and so without much thought they dropped you.

So Dick, with the help of Hayley, would try his best to provide you with happier times to drown out the pain that came with reminiscing the shittier times.

They would try their hardest to make you cry tears of joy rather then sadness from their goofiness alone as both Dick and Hayley would rather see you happy then sulk over the decisions of some stupid employment. They -the employment- fucked up with you and Dick wasn’t about to let it be your problem to deal with alone because it wasn’t your problem to deal with in the first place. It was theirs.

So you spent the rest of your days with Dick trying his best in making you happy and smile more then you’ve ever have, that place was poison for you and he’ll try and be your antidote.

Tim would absolutely do everything in his power to ruin your old workplaces reputation out of sheer pettiness, whether it be digging up some dark/ shady stuff that they’ve tried sweeping under the rug or spreading their tendencies to mistreat their staff on a daily basis, Tim would single-handedly destroy their reputation by leaving it in complete shambles.

He was smart enough to do so and could do so if you were to ever say the word, he was more then ready with documents filled with evidence to back up his claims, all he needed was you to give him the go ahead.

Tim could be petty but his petty was unlike anyone else’s and could cause mass damage to corporate assholes, especially those who thought it was completely justifiable to release someone after two weeks of working there.

Give him 5 minutes and the workplace will have collapsed from the information he had released to the general public. That’ll teach them a lesson for certain for messing with you.

However you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you and would much rather cuddle with him in bed as you watched a movie on his laptop in your pj’s as you both shared some ice cream. That’s all you needed and Tim was more than willing to comply as he told you how stupid of a decision it was of them to let you go, they were only shooting themselves in the foot and digging their grave simultaneously.

[jujubabesblog]

🩰🌸My first manifestation success story🌸🩰

I really want to thank @pinkchrissysposts , I took her advice of affirming and her tips for affirming is really amazing too it's been about a week we last texted I send her ask but she left😔.

Also her tip for affirming is pretty amazing I'm gonna copy paste what she recommended me.

"OK here when we get random negative thought we start believing in which cause us to get in the negative state,we are not looking for the proof in the 3D,it's just a random thought we unconsciously start to dwell on by re affirming it,you might notice that when we are ina negative state,we also get positive thought like "no it's not true I'm just overthinking" but again you start negatively thinking despite the fact that everything is OK because you choose to believe in that random thought that's trying to scare you.

So when you are affirming for your desire example 'good skin' even if the 3d is showing you something else ignore it and rather embrace the positive thought/affirmation,believe in the affirmation. When we focus on believing the affirmation rather then looking proof you will realize what wish fulfilled really mean,you can try out a small or even big desire but remember manifestation should be fun,take it as a fun challenge and affirm for whatever you want and remember what I said not for 3d but to just believe it as a fact."

I'm so thankful for her advice,she recommended me to take a break and calmly decide what I truly want,and I finally decided to affirm just as she recommended and I notice so much changes after a day of robotically affirming.

Basically what happens is when you are more focus on trying to believe the affirmation rather then making it 3D,the 3d does start to feel useless or powerless,even when I was sweating,I wasn't worried about it,the affirmation "I never sweat" start to feel more powerful then the 3D. I just affirmed it for fun robotically not to see it in 3D but to believe in it AS A FACT and that lead me in the state of wish fulfilled.

From my very own experience what I think happens is that when we affirm and put our whole attention on just believing the affirmation instead of paying attention to the 3D and looking for results,we detach from our desires or you can say outcome all we want is indeed just the feeling of having the desires. When I did what she suggested I stopped getting doubt because all I had to do was believe that I have my desires,even if I don't have it in the 3D,my subconscious got fooled because it doesn't have any eyes and I got my desire in 4 days I haven't sweat in a week and everyone keep asking what perfume i use:).

As someone who have aphantasia this was such a 360° for me,when I was in was practicing states it was really hard when bloggers would tell me even with aphantasia people can manifest,I would get frustrated and cuss at their text,and my faith and trust on loa was starting to fade but i decided to give affirmation a chance and i read many a +p posts but no one ever recommended and motivated me to affirm like how chrissy did. I'm gonna be starting my void/shifting journey since I now know exactly what to do.

I will be post my void progress on my main account @jujubaaevoid

Xoxo <3

[novlr]

How do I describe a character when they’re angry and just “so done”? How would they act?

A Quick Guide to Writing Anger

It’s the hot-blooded, ever-challenging, angry character that often steals a scene and captivates readers’ hearts. From the brooding protagonist to the volatile villain, anger introduces a heightened element of emotive dynamism. Anger is a powerful emotion that can define a character's behaviour, interactions, body language, and attitude.

How Do They Behave?

Make impulsive decisions

Have a short fuse and react explosively

Hold grudges

Be physically aggressive

Be motivated by revenge

Exhibit self-destructive tendencies

Speak at an increased volume

Speak unexpectedly fast or slow

How Do They Interact?

Have issues with authority

Struggle to follow orders or instructions

Confrontational or verbally abusive

Overuse of swear words or insults

Struggle to focus or listen to others

Dominate conversations and interrupt often

Become isolationist

Short-tempered and accusatory

Describe Their Body Language

Clenched fists and tight jaw

Rigid and defensive posture

Maintained eye contact

Pacing or fidgeting

Aggressive movements

Increased muscle tension

Point and jab when speaking

Invade others’ personal space

Describe Their Attitude

A sense of dissatisfaction and frustration

Overly sceptical and distrustful of others

Impatient and easily annoyed

Confrontational and arrogant

Feelings of powerlessness

Motivated by vengeance or justice

Hostile and irritable

Blunt, direct, and stubborn

A lack of empathy

Positive Outcomes

Be a motivator for change

Inspire others with their passion for justice

Can be a motivator for personal growth

Learn to articulate their needs and set boundaries

Develop resilience and strength by managing their anger

Increased assertiveness

Experience catharsis and emotional release

Improved problem-solving skills

Negative Outcomes

Damaging to their relationship with others

Can lead to chronic stress or health issues

Become isolated, leading to loneliness and depression

Develop a reputation for being difficult or aggressive

Can cause legal troubles or social rejection

Lower self-esteem and sense of self-worth

Become violent or cause physical harm

Exhibit impaired judgement or decision-making

Useful synonyms

Furious

Enraged

Wrathful

Incensed

Infuriated

Livid

Raging

Fuming

Irate

Outraged

Vexed

Irritated

Resentful

Indignant

Seething

Mad

Hostile

Incensed

Cross

Huffy

[pupyuj]

Dub-con eheh. . . anyway, g!p Yujin who befriends a naive virgin loser just so she can use them as her own personal fuck toy ><

Like imagine having a studying sesh with her and it ends with her just taking your virginity. You're crying and trying so hard to resist, but it's just so hard when she's whispering the most unpure shit in your ear that you can't help but slowly submit.

"you're complaining and trying to resist, yet your moaning like a bitch in heat."

"Shut up and take it like the good girl you are."

"You're not going to tell anyone right? No one is going to believe you, and it's your fault for dressing like a slut and provoking me."

"Gonna mold you into my pretty little pet."

"You love it when I take advantage of your tight little virgin cunt, don't you?."

You're not a slut, right? You're not enjoying this at all

Right?

You can't help but believe every little word she says. Eventually you just give up and take it like the good girl you are, because maybe she is right. Yujin is your friend and friends don't lie to each other, right?

Aaah, manipulative Yujin absolutely has my heart. . . Anyway, can I be 🎀 anon? ^_^

once again i am fashionably late to an ask!! 😭 apologies 🎀 anon, but here you go!!

[cw: dubcon, breeding.]

anything with toxic!yujin in it, i'm on board IDCCCC 🤤🤤 i'd love to think of her as a mean girl in this scenario too! she just wants an innocent little lamb to corrupt and unfortunately you were perfect for it! she's so happy that you were dumb enough to fall for her friendly act, it was too easy! yujinnie totally daydreams about completely destroying your cunt and having you cry out her name for everybody to hear... but she'll start small!

gosh, you were so stupid to not recognize her advances. yujin's touching your ass, practically groping your boobs, and she's always checking you out! but she was surprised at how willing you were to let her do whatever she wanted.. coming up behind you, whispering nasty things to your ear while unbuttoning your shirt.. no resistance at all! yujin always knew there could be this kind of side to you 🫣 you were a virgin in an all-girls university no fucking duh your mind has gone off the edge sometime and looked at some girls a little closer than one should 😙😙

but you see.. you wouldn’t feel too good on the inside about what yujin was doing! :(( every single touch that came from her was out of pure lust, not a single sign of care and intimacy… so you’d try and take her hands off of your tits but she’d only push you down on the bed with your top and bra haphazardly thrown to some corner of the room… yujinnie thinks you look so pretty with your eyes all glossy w tears, she couldn’t help but kiss you! at least she was soft with that! you wouldn’t say the same for the way she treated you after… feeling up your soaked panties from underneath her skirt with her fingers and laughing mockingly… berating you so much bcs here you were, powerless under her, trying to push her away, but you were so wet! and your body completely ignored what you wanted… slightly grinding against yujin’s hand just to feel something more down there.. yujin loved seeing that 😋😋

“this skirt is too cute on you… let’s leave it as it is, hm?” and then she pulls off your panties, not wasting another second before pressing her thumb against your clit just to make you whine loudly for her 🥰 yujinnie’s the one that decides whether you’re ready or not :(( you’re moaning in both pain and pleasure as she inserts two digits inside you so slowly… having to grip her arm bcs you don’t know where to put your hands :(( gosh you were adorable! and ofc yujin fucks you like she fucks any other girl that are stupid enough to get involved with a psychopath like her! rough and so painfully fast! “mm… good girl! you’re getting used to this quickly, huh?” you really weren’t though :((

it was frustrating… bcs it both hurt and felt so good! 😵‍💫 you didn’t know how to feel, let alone think! not a single coherent word left your mouth while yujin busied hers with licking and sucking on your nipples.. your arms wrapped all around her, pushing her closer to you bcs this was the one good thing that she’s done… having to bite onto her shirt just to conceal your noises but she didn’t like that! 🫣 she’d push you back, glaring down at you while she abused your pussy harder than ever if that was even possible! ah, but if you think you were done after cumming on her fingers... well, you were dumber than you actually were 🤭

her being even more unforgiving with her cock :(( just completely disregarding your pained cries and your pleads for her to slow down.. feeling the tip of her cock ram into unknown places inside you, her thickness being such a perfect fit in your tight cunt... yujin was completely addicted! she should've been quicker and fucked you way before if your pussy felt this good around her dick 😳😳 she fucks you with a mocking grin, knowing you were completely powerless to do anything against her.. eventually you just laid there, shaking and moaning her name as she uses you...

"you wanna.. ah, fuck... you wanna know how it feels to be bred full, princess?" oh, come on, this is yujin! ofc she doesn't wait for an answer! you couldn't utter a word that wasn't her name and a bunch of nonsense anyway! laying there as yujin dumped every single drop of her cum inside you.. feeling the warm fluid seep inside your walls while yujin stared at you with only filthy obsession in her eyes... you just looked way too pretty under her, you can't blame her for fucking and breeding you that entire afternoon! 💕

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

The only relationship I've watched in anime that has absolutely convinced me that big age gaps can work out romantically is the one between Barnaby Brooks Jr and Kotetsu T Kaburagi in Tiger and Bunny.

12 years age gap. Barnaby is 23 and Kotetsu is 35. They're literally the newest rookie and the oldest veteran in the hero scene. And you can say "they are not canon" as if the creators hadn't gone out of their way to state that they pretty much don't care how you interpret it, a romantic reading of their relationship is as valid as anything else.

Their respect for each other? Their partnership? They're both treated as grown ass men on the same level.

Somehow Kotetsu can call Barnaby a "cute little bunny" and still he never reduces Barnaby to a naive child who doesn't know a thing about life. Kotetsu treats Barnaby like a man, a professional. He never infantilizes Barnaby for his trauma or his past. He helped Bunny as much as he can, goes beyond his limits to help him reaffirm himself and recover his independence. Kotetsu wants Barnaby to be respected, to not feel powerless, helpless, he wants his partner to stop being manipulated. Bunny's whole arc is that he wants to stop having decisions made for him!!!! Kotetsu knows it!!

On the other hand, Barnaby jokes all the time that Kotetsu is old, calls him grampa, that he should retire, the complete dance. Yet, Barnaby has never seen Kotetsu as a father figure. Kotetsu is Bunny's hero partner, not his superior. Thanks to Kotetsu's respectful treatment, they're friends. Hell, Bunny treats Kotetsu like a man. He doesn't pity Kotetsu for having lost his wife. He doesn't treat Kotetsu any differently when he meets Kaede, Kotetsu's daughter. There are moments when you forget the age gap because the story focuses on them being equals!!! They can take care of each other, they can share their burdens, they talk it out if they are frustrated, they communicate with full responsibility, etc etc etc.

Normally I don't like big age gaps at all. It's more of a personal preference, since those dynamics make me uncomfortable.

Kotetsu and Barnaby are the exception and the standard. God bless the Tiger and Bunny creators.

* also it has some of the best treatments of a teen girl having a crush on an older man I've ever seen. It's nothing predatory 'cause Kotetsu completely respects Karina and never takes advantage of her, also completely healthy because Karina uses that to sort out her teenage conflicts and figure out how she wants to be treated, how she deserves to be treated, what he's looking for in a relationship, how older people should approach her, etc.

Kotetsu is a gentleman through and through. An absolute must watch if you want to learn how to write those types of characters and relationships.

[halfmoonaria]

medicine

pairing: jenna ortega & reader

summary: jenna watches from afar as you sink deeper and deeper into addiction.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: drug abuse, drug addiction, sensitive topics.

author’s note: this is based on medicine by daughter.

Jenna couldn’t get herself to understand.

She didn't understand why you wouldn't pick it up.

Why you wouldn't pick your life up again. Pick up all the fallen pieces and start all over again.

She didn't understand why you didn't want to start all over again.

But of course she didn't get it. Jenna had never been so deeply consumed in something like you were. Addicted to something like you were.

Jenna had never tried drugs, never planned on doing it either. Therefore she couldn't understand anything that was going on in your life.

She did understand that you had tried all kinds of drugs you'd gotten your hands on. Although she could not comprehend why. Why you had ruined your life like that. Why you had ruined her life.

You had a second chance. Jenna had told you so multiple times. Almost too many to count.

You never listened.

She told you that you could just go home. To your real home. To the warmth of your loving family and the support of your friends.

Escape it all. Escape the drugs and the constant need for it. Obtain sobriety and start over again. With your second chance. Escape the grip of substance dependency.

It would all be irrelevant if you did it successfully.

Jenna had told you that every day. Every day when you'd gotten home with constricted pupils and bloodshot eyes, or slurred speech.

Until she had enough. Until she couldn't take it anymore.

"It's just medicine." Is what you had said in the beginning. Which it was.

It had started off as painkillers to help with your arthritis. You took too many one time without noticing, and when you sensed that your body reacted exquisitely; your pain fully disappeared and you had felt as if you were floating on clouds.

The euphoric feeling, the sense of intense pleasure.

You became obsessed with it. The way your mind felt like it was asleep, yet your body was still able to move.

You finally got a break from everything.

Eventually you had found your way to other stuff. Cocaine. Morphine. Heroin. The real deal as you called it. Everything.

Everything you could get your hands on, you took.

Jenna had been completely clueless about what you were up to whenever she was away for work.

So by the time Jenna noticed something was up with you. It was too late to stop you.

It wasn't 'just medicine' anymore, in fact it never was at all when you used it for other purposes. Yet you continued to claim it was. And you continued to take heavier things.

Jenna felt defeated knowing that all she could do was stand by, watching from a distance. It killed her.

She felt powerless, confined to watch as you ruined your life, sinking deeper day after day.

However, she had chosen to watch you from afar. She was the one that chose to end things. And it hurt her to bits.

Despite her best efforts to support you through your struggles, Jenna found herself at loss. She had exhausted every avenue, from offering help and encouragement to practically dragging you into therapy sessions.

But despite her unwavering determination, nothing seemed to make a difference. It became increasingly clear that saving you was impossible when you didn't want to be saved.

Which was why, after countless of sleepless nights and endless tears shed in the name of love, Jenna reached her breaking point.

The final straw for an argument to break out came when you arrived home yet another night, way too late and way too affected by God knows what.

The heated argument erupted between you was fueled by frustration and pent-up emotions. And in the heat of the moment, Jenna's words became daggers, cutting deep with their sharpness and venom. She had said things she didn't want, called you things she didn't mean.

Hurling hurtful accusations and insults had left her mouth in a desperate attempt for you to understand what you were doing to her, and to yourself.

Jenna realized with a sinking heart that she had reached the end of the rope. She had given her all, poured every ounce of love and effort into trying to fix what was broken. Which was you.

But in the end, it was clear that she couldn't save someone who didn't want it.

She could no longer bear the weight of your shared struggle alone.

Which was why that night, Jenna made the agonizing decision to break things. And with a heavy heart and tears streaming down her face, she had done just that.

"I can't do this anymore."

"I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

Her own words echoed in her mind every time she thought about you. Every time she tried to sleep, sometimes when she just closed her eyes.

Jenna hated herself for leaving you.

Hated.

She should've fought harder, for you. She could've won over the drugs.

Yet amidst her self blame, she couldn't shake the worry in her heart. It was the fear that you might have abandoned your dreams, lost in the struggle with addiction.

Just the thought made her ache inside, knowing how much you once wanted to achieve.

She held onto hope that deep down, your dreams still mattered to you.

Jenna knew that if you ever overcame the drugs and started anew, you could pursue any career you desired. You could still achieve your dreams.

When you first met, you had confided in Jenna about your lifelong dream of becoming a writer, expressing unwavering determination to overcome any obstacles in your path to become one.

There was no doubt in Jenna's mind that you would have succeeded in that role. Your passion and clarity of purpose were undeniable, and she was consistently impressed by your captivating writing skills.

If you were to begin anew, you could still fulfill your dream aspirations of becoming a writer. You could reclaim the dreams you shared when you first met Jenna. When she first met you.

You could still be what you wanted to.

Jenna just hoped that whatever path you chose, the warmth of your heart and the brilliance of your mind would shine through. Even as the drugs threatened to disintegrate the person she once knew, she hoped that the essence of who you were would prevail.

You could still be what you wanted to be, she thought, in whatever form that might take.

The memory of you haunted her, lingering in the corners of her mind like a ghost she couldn't shake.

Jenna thought about you all the time. You were always present in her thoughts. Whether it was at work, during press or in her sleep. She searched for you in big crowds of people and felt like you were near as soon as she saw someone with your hair color.

She searched for people that looked like you before it all started, before it all went down.

She found herself catching glimpses of strangers who bore striking resemblance to you. But then, amidst the sea of familiar faces, she encountered someone who was markedly different; someone who didn't resemble you at all.

It was you.

Although changed in ways she could scarcely recognize. Even worse than the last time she saw you. The transformation was jarring, a stark reminder of how much you had deteriorated.

You were now a shadow of your former self, lost in a haze of addiction and despair. Jenna's heart had ached as she took in the sight, the guilt weighing heavily upon her shoulders.

She had walked away, believing it was for the best, but now she couldn't help but wonder if she had made a mistake.

Tears welled up in Jenna's eyes as she struggled to come to terms with the choices she had made. She wanted to reach out, to offer a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded you, but she knew it was too late.

You were on your own path now, a path that you had chosen, and Jenna could only watch from a distance, her heart breaking with every step you took further away from the person you once were.

All because of the 'medicine'.

[anqelically]

TILL DEATH DO US PART 𖤐 SAMURAI!YUTA OKKOTSU

ii. WISHING ON YOU

SUMMARY. Even when separated, both you and Yuta couldn’t help but long for each other. After all the time spent apart, you could no longer resist your temptations

WORD COUNT. 6.8k

SERIES SUMMARY. Set in Edo Japan, you, daughter of the L/N Clan’s head, are left powerless while your clan is on the brink of a war with the Zenin. In order to protect the clan’s future leader, your father assigned a samurai to remain by your side. Although his duty is only to protect you, Yuta Okkotsu couldn’t help the feelings that developed along the way

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

After Yuta switched guarding duties with another samurai, you realized how much you had taken him for granted. Behind his stoic face was a soft, kind-hearted boy that you grew too comfortable around. You missed him, terribly so. And combined with your confusion, you felt a bit lost without him if anything.

You had less privacy than you wanted. Masuro Tashiro was the name of your new guard, and he took watching your every move seriously. Even as you attempted to sleep, he stood guard, watching like a hawk. Not even Yuta did that, and he kept you safe (excluding when you didn't cooperate). The thought of Tashiro keeping guard creeped you out.

You were deprived of entertainment. You no longer received any gifts or trinkets from Yuta to take up your time, and you definitely never left the estate. You would attempt to take up painting when you had absolutely nothing else to do, yet your artwork wasn't even good enough to be considered mediocre.

You no longer had a friend by your side. When you were in the same room as Yuta, he avoided your gaze. You'd stare, boring your eyes into his figure as if it would make him finally face you. You wanted to meet his eyes, even if it was only for a brief second. It never happened.

After all the time you spent frustrated with his determination to ignore you, you eventually became devoid of hope for him. He told you he was sorry, yet he didn't seem to be. Months of no communication made you think that maybe letting him go would be for the better. But even when you've tried, you couldn't help but think about him in your free time, which was practically all the time.

It was almost as if... No— it couldn't be that.

One day, 9 months after Yuta switched duties, you found yourself seated on the engawa near the estate's garden. Since it was early winter, there weren't any flowers in sight. A frozen pond and large piles of snow were all you could see.

You sat by the irori, warmth seeping through your clothes and to your body. In front of you was a half-painted canvas of the scene in front of you. Your paints and brushes, which were gifts months old that Yuta bought you, sat by your side. Despite how nice the materials were, your artistic abilities couldn't keep up.

A sigh escaped your mouth, and your eyes traveled to the door. Tashiro stood there, his hands at his sides as he talked to a few other samurai. He was not looking at you, nor were the people he was speaking to. You stood up without any noise, waiting to see if they'd notice. They didn't.

Your heart hammered against your chest as you backed further, eyes still set on them. Once you were hidden by the wall, you lightly speed-walked away. You repeatedly checked behind you to see if any of the guards had followed, but they failed to.

When you got further away, you had made a run for it. Your steps thudded against the wooden floor as you made your way towards the back of the estate in the direction of the nearest town. With the occasional samurai roaming around, you made sure to avoid them easily.

You took a moment to catch your breath as one of the men was walking nearby. Since your hand was over where your heart resided, you felt your family's pin beneath your fingers. Without even looking, you ripped it off and threw it near one of the bushes.

After the man passed, you walked in the opposite direction. The clothes you wore weren't the warmest, so you shivered slightly as the wind blew. You only got so close to the woods when a hand grabbed your arm. In fear, you turned around, expecting a threat, only to find that it was no threat at all.

"Tashiro-san is looking for you," Yuta's gentle voice reached your ears. You noticed his voice was deeper than when you last heard it. Although he was nearing 19 years old, it still seemed like he was still growing, even if in the smallest ways.

Months of not speaking, of Yuta ignoring you to the best of his capabilities, and those were his first words to you. You've wanted him to talk to you for months, yet you couldn't be any more disappointed. A part of you wanted to laugh, but you were too shocked to do that.

"He is looking for me, so why are you pulling me away? He can come to find me himself," you responded, releasing your arm from his grip.

Yuta seemed a bit surprised, but he returned to his normal expression quickly. He answered, "It could've been me or someone else. I'll just make the excuse that we were only catching up compared to another guard saying you were running away."

"No need," you dismissed him with a wave of your arm. "I'm leaving now."

"But you'll get in trouble-"

"I don't care, and neither should you."

The man frowned at you, "Why are you being difficult, Y/N? You know it's not safe out there. You're also not dressed appropriately."

'Why am I being difficult?'

You turned back to Yuta, hurt flashing your eyes. He worked so hard to ignore your existence, disregarding all your attempts at communication. Did he think you'd forget that so easily? Yes, you missed him, but you weren't so blind as to forgive him immediately.

Before you could criticize him, Yuta's red scarf was wrapped around your neck comfortably. He tied a soft knot before propping it up to cover the lower half of your face, effectively keeping your teeth from chattering any longer.

A feeling of warmth spread throughout your chest at the action. His scarf smelled faintly of wood, a scent you noticed he usually smelled like.

"Why are you so confusing?" your hands dropped to your side. Yuta, who was a step away, dropped his hand from your shoulder to his waist. "I... Stop making it impossible to stay mad at you."

His eyes widened, but he never got to reply because Tashiro had shown up, his hand gripping your arm tight. Your brows furrowed in pain, and you tried to yank it out of his grip but failed. Instead, the man moved his hand to your shoulder. Yuta eyed his hand unapprovingly.

"Good job catching the runaway, Okkotsu," Tashiro praised. And despite the words he spoke, the younger man didn't listen at all.

He told himself that he'd no longer reach for you, but watch in the distance. If there was a gap between the two of you, everything would be okay. With close proximity came misfortune, so he wanted you far from him.

Yet when he saw you running across the estate in a hurry with your nose stuffy and arms shivering slightly, he couldn't help but chase after you. In the direction you were going in and the fact that Tashiro was looking for you, Okkotsu knew you were running towards the lake. In weather like this, you were bound to get hurt.

"I attract misfortune to those I love, and I'm afraid that doesn't exclude you."

So as Tashiro had walked away with you in his grasp, your eyes on Yuta, he held himself back from running to you. You'd be fine without him, he told himself. Again and again, he said the same thing in his mind, but it didn't take him long enough to give up on what he promised and give in to his desire for you.

It was two months since your last encounter when you two stood in the same room again. This time, you were accompanying your father to another clan's estate for a gathering.

Although you did not want to go, he forced you to anyway. So as people mingled amongst each other, you found yourself alone, sitting on the engawa near the estate's garden. The weather was not completely warm yet, but you chose to stay outside anyway. You preferred this over the heat of random bodies near you. And since Tashiro was talking with the other guards, you were allowed to slip away on your own.

Yuta, who only kept his eye on you, followed you to the spot you sat on. You were bored, he noticed. Your fingers tapped against the wood with no interest, and the view in front of you was not entertaining either. And if he had anything to say about your expression, it'd be that you almost seemed sad.

Carefully, Yuta took a seat 3 feet away from you. You didn't bother looking in his direction as he adjusted himself. The two of you sat in silence until you spoke up.

"Did the other samurai bore you enough to come out here and sit with me?"

"Somewhat. They're all old enough to have two children if they weren't samurai. It's rare for someone my age to be fully fledged like I am."

"Right. It's been 3 years since you've begun to serve us L/Ns."

The silence between the two of you returned. With nothing else to say, your insides swirled in discomfort. Matters between the two of you were awkward, something you never thought would happen. You were no longer angry at the black-haired man, but bitterness still gnawed at you.

With a bit of attitude in your tone, you mentioned, "You told said you'd attract bad things if you were near me, and that work and personal matters shouldn't mix. Why the sudden change?"

Yuta's eyes widened, "Are... Are you mad at me right now?"

"That's doesn't matter. I asked you first, you know," you tilted your chin. "Do you no longer care for me like you did then? Is that why you're suddenly open to talk? Or are you quitting to serve someone else?"

"That's not it at all," he replied.

"Then what is it? You've left me high and dry without an answer for a year now! Just go to my father if you want to and stop leaving me to wait for you. Your incomplete answer makes me spend hours thinking. Agh, how frustrating!"

Losing your composure, your hands grabbed at your hair and pulled slightly. Immediately, Yuta sprung up from his seated position to hold your wrists so that you'd stop pulling at your hair. You only looked at him with a frown.

"Yuta, let me-"

"I've wanted to stay by your side this entire time," Yuta heaved. "For the past year, it's all I ever wished for. I know I hurt you by pushing you away, and I'm always going to be sorry for that, but it's for the better. What my mind wants and what my heart wants are different. I didn't want to hurt you with the confusion."

"I'm afraid you already have," you exhaled, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

"I know, and I'm sorry. That's why I want to tell you it now. Although I'm still working in the estate, I'm guarding your father, not you. My mind knows this is better to avoid danger I may cause you, but what I truly want is to stay by your side, just like how it was before."

As he spoke, Yuta's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. You felt your own face warm up at his confession, letting him hold your hands as he pleased. The man's hands enclosed yours.

"Why do you think you attract misfortune?" you asked, since it seemed to be the root of the problem. "I know Rika died, but that wasn't your fault. Your whole village was under attack, so what could a child do?"

Although you were slightly lost about his guilt, you completely understood when he painted the full picture for you.

It was the middle of the night when Yuta first heard the sign of an incoming attack. The village was not densely populated and nearly 4 miles away from the main city, so they weren't given the attention they needed. The adults, as a whole, ran the village. They held their weekly meetings late at night, the time when all the children were fast asleep.

Yuta, however, was a light sleeper. His mother always kissed his forehead before they left for the meeting hall, and, without fail, the boy always woke up. This night was no different, except for the fact that he couldn't fall back asleep.

When Yuta first heard the screams while he lay in the dark, the first thing he did was light up the lantern by his bed. One scream, another, and the sound of a door slamming open.

His heart hammered against his chest as he was left scared and alone in his small house. That was, until someone slammed open the door to his bedroom. He jumped violently in fear, watching as Rika neared him with a frantic expression.

"Throw on your shoes, we have to run," she bent down to reach for Yuta's sandals underneath the bed. "Hurry!"

"W-what's going on, Rika?" he asked, slipping on the sandals and following behind the girl.

When they reached the front door, Rika looked in both directions before she took Yuta's hand in hers. They ran, the brown-haired girl leading the way further back into the village.

"Some men came and started attacking the houses up front! Nakajima-san went to get help, so we have to get as far as we can."

"But the meeting hall! It's at the front near where-"

"Most of them are dead," Rika bluntly stated. The images of his parents flashed through Yuta's mind. "My mother showed up bloody at the front door before I ran. I watched them set my home on fire as I came here."

"Are we-!" Yuta, who had been running as carefully as he could, tripped over his own feet. The lantern in his hand fell to the ground as he staggered to get up. Tears brimmed his eyes, "Are we going to die?"

"We will if we carry that lantern with us. Come on, we can go to the abandoned house near the flower garden."

The children picked up their pace as they ran further into the village. There was one home that remained unoccupied for years and for a good reason. It was run-down and unsafe to live in. Putting it to good use, the gardeners used it as a shed for their tools.

Upon arrival, Rika shut the door to the shed and held it in place using a chair. Out of breath, she grabbed one of the shovels and stood near Yuta. Even though he was the boy and he should've been protecting her, Rika was normally the one protecting Yuta.

"What if they come here?" the boy tugged on Rika's sleeping gown.

"Then I'll use this shovel and hit them on the head."

With fear brimming through their bodies, Yuta and Rika stayed in the kitchen area of the abandoned home. Every scream and noise made them jump. "It'll be over soon," they reassured each other. But being the children they were, their hopes were crushed.

The smell of burning wood eventually filled their nostrils, and the roof was burning before they knew it. The brown-haired girl ran to the front window, watching as a man laughed at her despair. Yuta took a step closer after Rika's arms fell to her side.

Once she turned around, his eyes widened at the single tear that ran down her cheek. Before he could utter a word, part of the roof collapsed right there. The little boy covered his head as he stumbled back onto his bottom.

"Yuta?" he heard her faint voice.

"Rika!?" Yuta coughed, trembling as he got up. "Rika are you okay!?"

The dust cleared and revealed Rika's figure trapped beneath a heavy pile of wooden beams. Just her luck, one of the fallen beams pierced her shoulder. The little girl hacked blood as she viewed the spreading fire.

"Y-you need to run," Rika cried at Yuta's frozen figure. He didn't move. "Yuta! Please run away!"

"I-I I can't- you-" his body trembled at Rika's spilling blood. "Rika..."

As Yuta stepped closer, Rika suddenly burst into screams. Her eyes widened and her body thrashed beneath the fallen beams as its flames burned her small figure. Her flesh melted as her eyes tearily met Yuta's.

In response to her pained cries, Yuta's feet took off without a thought. He turned around and climbed out of the window, running as fast as he could to a nearby cluster of trees. Once he was in deep enough, he climbed up one of the biggest trees and hid atop, sobbing until the sun rose.

"Rika died. My parents died. My first friend during samurai training died. It's like everyone close to me ends up dead, and it makes me fear for you. I don't want you to die, Y/N."

A gust of wind suddenly blew, yet you remained indifferent to it. Yuta uncovered his eyes and fixed his hair while you watched him.

"It's been about 3 years."

"What?"

"Since we met," you clarified. "3 years and I'm still standing, Yuta. Despite the dangers, despite everything, I'm still standing. I was close to dying at birth, I nearly drowned when I was a kid, I was close to splitting my head open after falling down stairs, and a samurai from the Zenin nearly killed me! It's somewhat concerning to say, I guess, but I'm a bit stubborn with death. I won't die, especially because of you. So please, I know it'll be difficult, but reconsider."

His lips parted, "I... You almost split your head open?"

"Is that seriously the first thing you say?" you took your hands, which were wrapped by his the whole time, and placed them on his shoulder. "Yuta, did you tell me those things because you wanted to stay beside me, or because you never wanted to ever again?" 

"Neither," he closed the distance between, placing his forehead against yours gently. "I'm not sure about being your assigned samurai again, but what I do know is that I'm tired of pretending I don't care. It's too hard to ignore you in the same room when all I want to do is stand by you. I'll start to visit you when I can, okay? That is, only if it's okay with you."

Your arms slid down from his shoulders to his biceps as your heart quickened its pace. Although your proximity made you increasingly nervous, part of you enjoyed it. Your eyes met his blue ones, longing, and Yuta resisted the urge to finally seal your lips with his.

"What I want..." you mumbled, squeezing his biceps tighter. You didn't dare to move your face closer to his, "Yeah, I'd like that; you visiting."

Yuta finally moved his body away from yours, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "I'm not sure when the next time I'll be free is, but I do hope it's soon."

As Yuta talked about other things, your shoulders relaxed. You placed a hand on top of your chest, saying nothing as you felt your heart pumping relentlessly.

—

Yuta's first visit was 3 long weeks later. You were gazing out your bedroom window when he walked into your bedroom, which surprised you considering Tashiro normally stood outside. You perked up at his presence, swinging your feet to the ground and standing to greet him.

"Sorry, am I bothering you right now?"

You waved your hand, "Not at all. I was just looking outside, but since it's only starting to warm up outside, the only interesting thing I see is the icicles melting off the trees."

"I'm afraid that isn't interesting at all."

"Tell me about it."

With a tired exhale, you retired to your bed. You sat by your pillows before you patted the space in front of you, beckoning Yuta over. He sat down without any argument. Seeing his conflicted expression, you chose to ask him what was wrong.

"I overheard a conversation your father was having, and it seems like he actually arranged a marriage for you. The boy was taken in from the Zenin clan by the Gojo clan. His name is Megumi, and he's only a year younger than we are."

"So much for freedom of choice," your face twisted at the thought.

As you grew up, there were a lot of things you couldn't choose on your own. You couldn't choose what to wear, what you should eat, what instrument you wanted to learn, what friends you could make, etc. And now, sitting on your bed, you realized that you didn't even have the freedom to choose the man you'd spend the rest of your life with.

Life was unfair, but you thought that you'd at least be given the time to choose your future husband. Your father, once again, proved that he wouldn't give you a choice on such matters. As long as you lived under the same roof he did, nothing would change.

"It's like I'll never escape my father's grasp. Now, I'll be stuck with a husband I don't even love."

Yuta tried to console you, "I know it isn't ideal, but at least he isn't a bad person. Megumi-kun can be standoffish, but he really cares about the right people. I'm sure he would treat you with respect."

"Have you met him before?" you questioned.

"I have," he hummed. "I used to be trained under the Gojo clan before leaving and finding work elsewhere, which happened to be here."

"Wow, I never knew. Actually, I feel like there's a lot I don't know. You know so much about me it almost feels unfair," you brought your face closer to his. "Yuta, what's your favorite food?"

"Are we seriously doing this right now?"

"Getting to know about you will help ease my mind. So, what's your favorite food? I remember you really liking that yakitori you brought me once, and also those udon noodles with tempura we had at one of the food stalls. I don't think they're your favorites though, as good as they taste."

Yuta smiled, "You're right, they aren't. My favorite food is cabbage with salt and sesame oil."

"Wow, that really says a lot about you."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Sunrises or sunsets?"

"Sunrises. They're nice to wake up to."

"Your favorite season?"

"Spring."

"Oh wow, I thought you'd say fall."

"It was my favorite season until a few years ago."

"What made it change?"

"You did."

Your gaze, which was previously set on your bedroom window, moved to the black-haired man's. "Me?" you questioned.

"It was because of you, yeah," Yuta avoided your eyes. "We first met in the spring. I remember it was sunny that day, but the breeze prevented it from being too hot. I knocked on your door and told you what was going on, and you immediately complained to your father."

"Don't remind me," you covered your face in embarrassment. "I know now that there's no point in doing such. He won't listen to what I want and will proceed with whatever he wants. I thought I'd get the choice to marry someone I fell in love with naturally, but he proved me wrong. Again."

"Why not present Megumi-kun with a proposal? When he's alone, tell him that the two of you don't even have to bother trying to love each other. Since it's for the clans coming together, the two of you just have to keep up with appearances. I'm sure he'll understand."

You gave Yuta's idea some thought. Playing the role of a happy wife wasn't anything close to ideal, but you felt as if you could do it as long as Megumi's personality was how Yuta said it was.

"I'll try that, but I'm still scared," you admitted.

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that I'd actually fall in love with him."

It was a thought neither of you wished to become true.

—

Satoru Gojo was different than you expected him to be. You were at the Gojo estate to meet Megumi for the first time when the tall man greeted you himself and offered to walk you. You bowed at him out of respect, but he only waved you off.

"No need to be so formal, kid," he patted your shoulder. "I'm not like your dad."

In more ways than one. Not only did Gojo's attitude seem different, but his looks were very different compared to you or your father's. Gojo's eyes were a bright shade of blue, nearly crystalline, and his hair was a shade of snowy white. You wondered where he got his rare features from.

"Shall we start walking?"

"If you'd like to," you nodded.

And within a few minutes of knowing him, you realized Gojo was, indeed, very different than your father. He was laidback, cracking jokes here and there and talking to you as if you were a friend. You laughed at his words a few times, feeling at ease in the great Satoru Gojo's presence.

"Your dad told me you can be a troublemaker. That true?"

"It depends," you shrugged. "Give me a reason and I might just run away before I marry Megumi."

"I'm not the type to interfere, so any reasons you want to run away won't be on me. Are you opposed to this marriage?"

You pursed your lips and without hesitation, you replied, "I am."

Gojo's lips curved into a satisfied grin, "Oh, you kids will get along just great."

The two of you stopped at the end of a long hallway somewhere in the estate. Gojo stepped aside, gesturing for you to slide the shoji door open. You gulped, fingers pressing against the wooden indent of a handle. Behind the doors awaited your future husband who you'd, unwillingly, spend your future years with.

You took a breath before you slid the door open slowly. Your gaze traveled from the floor to the two people sitting at the room's chabudai. One, like described, was a black-haired boy with an uninterested expression. However, the brown-haired female seated in front of him wore a welcoming smile.

She was the first one to stand up, and bowed out of respect, "You must be Y/N. You can just call me Tsumiki. I'm Megumi's sister. It's our pleasure to meet you."

You reciprocated the bow, "No, the pleasure is all mine. I'm Y/N. I guess we'll be in-laws soon enough." You exchanged eye contact with Megumi, "And we'll be... husband and wife."

"Well, I should excuse myself. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I'll see you around whenever you visit."

Tsumiki smiled at you one last time before she left the room with Gojo. You awkwardly cleared your throat before you walked towards the low table. You sat across Megumi, in Tsumiki's previous spot, and rested your hands in your lap.

"So, I've heard a little about you," you started.

Megumi raised a brow, "If Gojo said anything embarrassing, just know that he was probably lying. He likes to poke at me for fun."

"Really?" you chuckled. "Actually, I didn't hear much from Gojo, but from Yuta. He works under my family, and he used to be personally assigned to me. He told me a little about you. He says you're smart, understanding too."

"You said that he used to be assigned to you. Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"He... he felt that his personal feelings and thoughts were a hindrance. He switched with one of my father's guards and has been protecting him ever since. I don't see him all that often now, unfortunately," you sighed. 

"There's no need to beat around the bush. Over a year ago, we began to exchange letters after he reached out of nowhere. He told of his feelings for you," Megumi poured some tea into both of your cups and with his same neutral expression, he took a sip.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the thought. Although he didn't say the phrase directly, what Yuta told you was close enough. You were so excited at the thought of talking with him again that you nearly forgot. And even though you didn't reciprocate his feelings back then, you knew that had changed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, "Do his feelings not matter to you? We'll be getting married and all."

"Do you want them to matter to me?"

"Well... not really."

"Then they won't. We'll be married, but neither of us exactly wants to be. I'm doing this solely for Tsumiki's protection, and you're doing it because your father left you with no choice. Although we'll be together by the law, let's just be free to do whatever we want."

At his proposal, you slowly nodded your head. The freedom to do whatever you wanted, the freedom to feel for whoever you wanted— you liked the idea. And Yuta, who you told as soon as you saw him, agreed.

"You didn't even have to propose it. He did it for you," the noirette leaned against the wall he stood by.

Sitting by your bedroom window, you smiled, "Yeah, it was like he read my mind. Neither of us asked for this marriage, so we'll be together for appearances and appearances alone."

"See, I told you he would understand."

You chuckled, "You were right. He was straightforward but still respectful. He also seemed to care a lot about his sister, Tsumiki. He said that he was only doing this for her protection. Ah, I'm afraid there's a tiny chance I might actually fall for him after marriage. He's cool and protective of his family. Ah, this is bad."

Yuta immediately stood up straight and took a step towards you, "H-Huh? I thought this would be a good thing for you.  Um... maybe you'll actually fall for him. Don't you want to be married to someone you love?"

A sigh escaped your lips, and without a word, you got up from your seat and walked towards Yuta. The two of you stood a breath's distance away when you shifted your weight onto your left foot. Tilting your head slightly, your eyes made contact with his

"Well, the person that I love isn't Megumi."

Yuta parted his lips. His brows furrowed slightly as he asked, "You're in love...? Was it the chef I saw you talking to the other day? I know he's only a few years older than us, but you shouldn't go for someone older like that. It's better if you're the same age so that-"

You laughed, "No, it's not the chef. I barely know the guy."

"Then who is it? That is- if you don't mind me asking."

"If I tell you, you have to at least hear me out."

"Of course."

"Well," you fiddled with your fingers behind your back, "he is, in fact, my age."

"Okay..."

"He's sweet and caring, not to mention adorable. I find plenty of his actions endearing, and he does it so effortlessly. It seriously frustrates me sometimes," you huffed. You watched Yuta hold his katana's handle tight, "But despite how much I love him, I'm not so sure anything will happen."

"He'd be a fool to not take the opportunity."

"I agree," you shrugged, "but who am I to tell you what to do and not to do, Yuta?"

The samurai took a moment to process your words before his eyes widened in realization. As you spoke, he tried comparing the image you were painting with people he knew and came up empty-handed. That was because of all the people he thought you'd love, he didn't think of himself.

He realized his feelings long ago, but when did they become reciprocated? Yuta first thought about the day you tried running away from Tashiro but decided that was too soon. At that point, you were still upset at him and didn't seem to realize your feelings, if any.

His mind then traveled to the moment you had towards the end of winter. Yuta's head was pressed against yours almost urgently as he held himself back from pressing his lips to yours. And your hands, firmly placed on his biceps made his skin burn.

"I'm not sure about being your assigned samurai again, but what I do know is that I'm tired of pretending I don't care. It's too hard to ignore you in the same room when all I want to do is stand by you. I'll start to visit you when I can, okay? That is, only if it's okay with you."

"What I want..." you mumbled, squeezing his biceps tighter. You didn't dare to move your face closer to his, "Yeah, I'd like that; you visiting."

Now that he thought about it, he was surprised neither of you moved any closer.

Yuta hesitated to say your name, "Y/N..."

"I know you're scared," you cut him off, taking his hand and holding it between both of yours. "People die Yuta, and the death of those you cared about was never your fault. You think that people get hurt because they're close to you, but all the time I spent with you kept me safe. The L/Ns and Zenins will battle eventually, so while we have the time, I want to spend it with you. I love you, Yuta, and if there's anyone who can keep me safe and happy, I know it's you."

A loud knock sounded at your door before Tashiro entered the room. You immediately took a step back before he announced that your father was leaving the estate and Yuta had to report back. The man left back into the hallway but left the door ajar.

"Give it a week," you told Yuta, who was biting his lip. "Switch back with Tashiro or don't. It's your choice, so I won't stop you. Though, I hope you know that I miss having you by my side. I was the happiest with you."

You made sure no one was looking before you pressed your lips against Yuta's cheek, leaving a chaste kiss. At your bedroom door, he sent you a final glance before heading towards the entrance of the estate.

Once you were sure he was far enough, you ran onto your bed and shoved your warm face onto a pillow. You had just confessed your love to someone for the first time.

—

Everyone in the estate was in a frenzy a few days later. You stood by the estate's blooming garden as samurai rushed past you and maids gossiped in worry. Apparently, your father and the samurai with him were ambushed by a group of Zenins and were left outnumbered.

At the news, you couldn't help but worry for Yuta, who was one of the ambushed. You were sure that he was not weak. After all, if he was, your father wouldn't have chosen him amongst the many people who applied to work for the L/Ns. But even so, if there were too many people for him to face at once, he really might...

You shook your head in denial.

Yuta never told you his answer, and until he did, he couldn't die. You carried yourself back to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Tashiro was one of the many samurai who left to assist, so you had no one following you around.

You frantically dug through your drawers to find an item Yuta had given you. It was one of his last gifts before he stopped guarding you. After some time, you pulled out a thin bookmark that had a ribbon tied to it.

Your fingers ran across the bumpy surface, which would've been smooth if it weren't for the flower sealed inside. You stared at the preserved plum blossom, its color still as rich as it was when you first received it.

"Plum blossoms symbolize good fortune, so I wanted to get this for you, Y/N."

Closing your eyes, you pressed the bookmark between your hands. One thought circulated in your mind, and it was for Yuta to return safely. Again and again, you repeated your wish.

You didn't know how long you were praying for when a few muffled shouts reached your ears. Some of the voices got louder, passing by your door and eventually turning back into silence. You were about to shut your eyes again when your door flew open.

"Y/N?"

Yuta's voice, unusually rough, reached your ears. The bookmark that you held onto so tightly, without you even meaning to let go of it, fell onto the ground. His clothes were stained with blood and grime, even bearing a few tears. But what had worried you the most was the cut on the right side of his forehead.

"Oh my- Yuta are you okay?" you rushed towards him without a moment's thought. "I was so worried!"

Once your feet brought you within arm's length, Yuta immediately grabbed you by your arms. You let out a sound of surprise as he pulled your body close, tilting his head slightly before moving his face towards yours. And with your eyes wide and nose right against his, Yuta pressed his lips against yours with utmost desperation.

Your hands found his waist as you shut your eyes and kissed him back. A warmth spread throughout your body as you freed yourself of Yuta's grip and threw your arms over his shoulders. Gently, he pressed his calloused hand against your cheek and pulled away, heaving.

"Yuta-"

"I've been thinking about it these past few days, and Rika crossed my mind. I often think about her dying in front of me, her teary eyes, and the pained cries she screamed. While we were ambushed, it crossed my mind again, but instead of it being Rika, I saw you in her place."

Yuta's other hand also cupped your face as he scanned your body from head to toe. While fighting, the sound of your voice screaming in pain echoed in his head, so he couldn't help but check for any injuries anyway. Finding nothing, he sighed before he tilted his head towards the ground.

"I was too weak to save Rika or anyone else, but I have the strength to protect you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you."

"Took you long enough."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

This time, you took it upon yourself to brush your lips over his before pressing them together. The noirette held your body tight as the two of you began to kiss again, his right hand traveling to your lower back. A quiet groan escaped Yuta's lips when you tugged at his hair slightly.

"If you're not sure about this," you murmured between kisses, "tell me now."

"There's plenty of things I'm not sure about, but I can't dwell on them any longer. The only thing I'm sure about is that I want you, Y/N. I, Yuta Okkotsu, promise to make you happy for as long as you live."

And with your lips smiling against his, your eyes shone, "You always have such a way with words, you know? I'll happily spend the rest of my life with you."

He gave you one last peck, "I'm looking forward to it."

—

In a certain room far away, a group of men sat in a room lit up by a single candle. Some of their katanas lay flat on the floor in front of them, taking up space for a certain someone's legs. Without a care, he stretched his legs out and crossed his fingers behind his head, leaning against the wall.

"The L/N girl is getting married," one of the men spoke, his voice gruff.

The youngest amongst them all sneered, "And that matters how? Do you think some information about the girl even matters?"

The dual-haired man raised his hands when he found a silver blade placed to his neck. The man next to him, Ogi Zenin, pressed the blade into his skin lightly, "Quit it with your attitude, Naoya."

"Sorry, sorry. Now please, Oji-san, no need to draw blood."

"Do what he says," the clan head, Naobito Zenin, waved his hand. Ogi withdrew his sword before the elder brother continued, "Did the ambush work?"

"We were able to take down most of L/N's personal samurai before more showed up. He and two others were left when we retreated," the first voice, who belonged to Jinichi Zenin, spoke again. 

Naobito took a gulp of his sake, "Good. They're bound to move the wedding date up after that. We strike during the party after the ceremony. Naoya."

"Hm?"

"When the time comes, I want to you kill the L/Ns. Don't fail."

Now interested, Naoya's lips curved into a smirk, "Oh, I won't."

NOTE. 4 months later and we did it... this is the longest chapter i've ever written in my years of writing which is acc crazy to me. i usually max out at around 3k but this series has got me going past my limits 🙂‍↕️ next chapter will be the last! i just have to figure out all the in betweens before i write because i only have the beginning and ending in mind 😭 see you guys until then 🤍

TAGLIST. @seneon @crystalcclaer @mochuchi @soleelia @little-miss-chaoss @dievia3 @diogodxlot @sorasushik1 @st4rdusttx @elliesndg @michelleeveline @brad-is-rad-blog @willowgirlmaiden @shyfurina @xil3k

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Stay

Author's Note: My period started, I had some feelings, wrote some established relationship fluff/smut; enjoy!

Content Warnings: Rhys uses his daemati powers for a quickie (because he absolutely WOULD and you cannot change my mind on that)

------

It was a mistake to go back to work this soon. My whole body aches, the newly accepted mating bond pulling on my bones like it’s a living thing crawling around beneath my skin. I can’t escape the searing heat of it, not even with the office windows thrown open, the dark lace curtains billowing in the soft autumn breeze. I should be cold enough to wear the sweater I’d stolen off the armchair this morning, but it sits draped over my desk chair instead. 

Rhys had been called back to the Hewn City two weeks before we were scheduled to return from our retreat. Or as he was so affectionately calling it “The Mating Bond Sex Romp of the Century”. We were supposed to have a whole month to ease into newly mated bliss; the extra time was supposed to help with the chafing and general irritation that would come when we inevitably had to separate and return to civilization. And of course Keir had gone and fucked that up for us. We’d flown in last night, and Rhys was gone before dawn this morning. The empty Townhouse was going to drive me insane and training with Cass and Az would have driven Rhys insane, so my only solution was to come into work and handle two weeks worth of paperwork. There’s certainly enough to keep me occupied for the day, except I can’t think straight! The words in front of me blur, the meaning of them nonsensical. I shouldn’t be here! I should be tangled up with my mate; the only thought in my head should be how much deeper I can take him. 

I lean back in my chair, palms pressing into my eyes with a groan of frustration. Stupid fucking Kier! The only sounds I should be hearing right now are my mate’s as I run my lips over his chest, tracing tattoo and muscle and that dark little patch of hair that leads me down…

“Well isn’t this a pretty little thought to walk into.” Even his mental voice is enough to make the bond shiver in delight and I throw down my shields with abandon to let him in further.

“Come here and I’ll make it more than a thought,” I return. We are beyond pretense and formality now. I want-need-him. My body feels like it might burst into flame if his hands are not roving every inch of my skin. I knew the bond would be intense, but not to this degree. I could live or die with just his touch alone.

Night chilled shadows swirl around our shared mental ground like a cat brushing up against its owner. The gesture alone makes me slump down into the seat and sigh. “All worked up, aren’t we?” He purrs, but his voice is strained. 

“I’ll rip Keir’s throat out for this. We were supposed to have more time.” I snarl.

The longer my shields are down, the better my mental view of him becomes, until it looks as if the two of us are standing on an adamant bridge, surrounded by endless starlight. Like this he has free reign to all of me, mind and soul; a brush of his fingers and he can walk into any memory he wants, a flick of his wrist and he can take complete control of my body and I’d be powerless to stop him. We are equals and he makes sure I never forget it, but like this, when there is no damper on his power, when he doesn’t have to hide behind a courtly mask, all his power untampered and wild--there are few things I love more. I love him like this. I love being able to surrender to the power of him, yield my own and let him take control so that I do not have to think beyond the pleasure he’s capable of ringing out of my body.

He reaches out and brushes his fingers over my cheek and I could scream under the heat that flares through my physical body. It’s not quite the touch I want, but it’s enough to make my blood sing.

“I know, love, and I’m sorry.”

I turn my head and press my lips into his palm, catching his wrist so I can keep him right where I need him. “Please,” I whisper, because even here in this space I can’t shake the desperation that claws its way up my throat. “Just for a few minutes. I need you.”

A growl sounds in the back of his throat as he leans in and crashes his lips against mine. It’s a flurry of tongue and teeth, his free hand threading into my hair and I drop his wrist in favor of tossing an arm around his neck. There are too many clothes between us, even here, and I claw unabashedly at his shirt until he gets the hint and magics it away.

There is no feeling like the warmth of his skin against mine. Only when we’re chest to chest, my own top disappearing, does the fire in my veins finally turn from painful to pleasurable. I am warm everywhere he touches, no longer consumed by this insistent ache. I sigh contentedly as I nip at his lower lip.

“Better?” He asks as he slides an arm beneath my ass and lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My back hits the handrails of our shared mental bridge, the cold stone biting into my flushed skin. 

“A little,” I say as I press soft kisses along his mouth and chin.

He rocks his hips against my still clothed center, the friction so heady it makes me toss my head back and moan, giving him the perfect access to nip and suck at my throat. “I only have a couple minutes, we’ll have to make this quick.”

I don’t want quick. I want that slow rhythm we’d found that first night in the cabin, his hips slowly rocking into mine, his cock dragging through my dripping folds, my nails clawing at his shoulders as he drew moan after moan out of me, until I had begged him to finish inside me. I want the lazy roll of his hips as he holds me against the mattress, taking his time, teasingly nipping at my throat as he tells me how pretty I look around his cock, as he drags out every stroke and thrust until there is not a single thought in my head but him. But the burning beneath my skin is returning, and I can feel the pull of his duties in the back of his mind as if it’s calling to me instead. This is all the time we have right now, I will have to take it.

The rest of our clothes disappear in a rush and he slides right into me, all the way down to the hilt and I let myself scream into the endless darkness of our bond. 

He presses his nose into my neck, where it meets my shoulder as he lets me adjust. Not that I truly need to here, but the gentleness of the motion, how concerned he always is for my well being, makes me want him even more. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. I promise.”

I pull him in for another searing kiss, my hands tangling in the silky strands of his hair. “Make it up to me a couple times?”

He slides almost completely out of me before thrusting back in, stealing the air from my lungs in a rush. “As many as you’d like, Darling.”

With the way I feel right now, I don’t think any amount will truly satiate me. I think I may just need him like this for the rest of my immortal existence. 

Pleasure licks up my spine as he speeds up his movements, the stones at my back biting into my skin, keeping me grounded for a few seconds longer. His hands squeeze at my ass, kneading my tender flesh as the motion spreads me open a little more for him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses into my neck. The stars overhead spin and swirl like a glittering storm, darkness leaking off his shoulders as his wings threaten to appear. I rock my hips into his, matching his pace with a swirling motion I know drives him crazy. “Maybe I really should just kill Kier.”

The sound that comes out of me as he hits a spot inside me that makes the bridge shake as my mental grip on the psychic plain slips is more moan than laugh.

“Then I could fly right home and take you like this against every surface in the house.”

I clench so tight around him at the thought that he growls and sinks his teeth into my shoulder in retaliation and I let my head fall back further to grant him more access to me. I want his mark everywhere, to the point no collar of the sweaters I’ve stolen from him can hide them. 

“If you’re asking my permission,” I bite out through a gasp as his fingers slide between my legs, teasing at my clit, pushing me closer and closer to that glorious edge. “You have it.”

His thrusts grow sloppy as his speed increases, his own release barreling towards him as I slide a hand out of his hair and down between the valley of his shoulders. I’ll leave my own marks tonight, so everyone knows he is as much mine as I am his. If his wings were to make an appearance, then this would be where I would trace the thin membrane until I find that spot that drives him crazy. But he’d never bring them out for a quickie, they are too sacred for that. I will settle for his shoulders for now.

My chest brushes his as I gasp for breath, so close to the edge I can feel it in every nerve ending in my body. The bond between us glows warm and bright, filling up every bit of me as he hits that sweet little spot inside me. My eyes screw shut, thigh muscles tightening around his hips as he hits it again and again and again.

“Love you,” he murmurs in my ear. “Love you so much.”

One last thrust and I’m gone, his own release chasing mine as I whimper out his name. 

From somewhere outside of us I hear a male voice call his name, demanding to know if he’s listening. 

Rhys grumbles nonsensically into my neck as he holds me for a moment, my body trembling as it comes down from its high. This is the first time all day I feel like I can breathe and I cling to his shoulders for a moment, begging for more time.

“Better, love?”

I press my lips to the underside of his jaw. “If I say no, will you stay?”

From somewhere outside of me I hear a knock, probably the company’s billing department wanting those expense reports I was attempting to work on earlier. Seems the real world needs things from both of us, regardless of our wishes.

My heart sinks in my chest as I slowly unwind my legs from my mate’s waist and touch solid ground. He is High Lord and despite his protests, I hadn’t been ready to let go of my job, even with a title of my own to deal with, this was territory we would have to deal with eventually, even if we’d had the month we were supposed to.

I stretch up on my toes to kiss him again, gently this time, but there is no less fervor in his response than before. Perhaps that pulling beneath my skin was not just my own need, but his, calling to me from across Velaris. 

“I love you,” I say as that knock rattles the bridge, our mental grip slipping as reality beckons, louder and louder. “I can grab dinner on my way home.”

He steals another kiss like it’s his last meal. “As long as I still get you for dessert.”

And then he’s gone, nothing more than a star flecked shadow curled in the corner of my mind as reality comes crashing back in for both of us. 

I try not to fidget at the uncomfortable wetness between my legs as I straighten the papers on my desk and tell the incessant knocker to come in. I won’t be doing anyone any favors if I start dishing out the same judgment my mate is on Kier here in the office. 

“You got those papers for me?”

I leaf through the stack on the desk, using a bit of magic to hide the glaring scent of my arousal. I just have to make it a couple more hours. Then, Rhys is all mine, and I’ll have to find some creative ways to keep him in our bed until the bond finally settles.

If it ever settles.

[dipperscavern]

the ponderer returns,

i would like to think that, at first, having them sit out there to listen would be embarrassing and a bit confusing. how could cregan allow them to make such a spectacle out of your pleasure on your own wedding night instead of dismissing them? you try to muffle your sounds as to not have them hear but soon the awkwardness and shamfulness of the situation washes away when cregan asserts himself and makes it clear that the situation is in your countrol as well as his own. not theirs. he mutters all sorts of things into your ears and it numbs your brain entirely when paired with the slow, deep rolls of his hips into yours.

in between all the sweet nothings, he lets you know that at any moment you can will anything to happen. you can will them to be gone from behind that door and they will be gone in an instant. can will him to be gone and he will be not from your sight. you are now the lady of winterfell and the men behind the door are at your beck and call. you are a stark and the foundation of house stark’s future. he wishes not that you feel powerless whilst serving as his lawful wife. so you let loose and your mewls become louder, more lewd, and wanton; not a care in the world about what those lord are thinking about, the freaks. the world is your oyster 🦪. to hell with them! the whole lot of them, freaks! and all along cregan knew that this would happen. he didn’t do any of this to make a spectacle out of your pleasure, he did it to set a precedent. he has effectively made it known that questioning how he or his wife go about their marriage will only be met with their own embarrassment and shame. he knows without even seeing the lords that they have been made to look like fools, grasping at their cocks while only being able to listen to a man make love to his wife from behind his bedchamber doors.

cregan and his wife 1 | blue balled lords 0

they sit there unable to see you, unable to lay their grimy hands on you, unable to get off at the thought of your pleasured form. frustrated and dissatisfied. cregan would never let any man lay their hands on you or humiliate you for as long as he lives. and it kinda turns you on :/

he is your lovely devoted husband who just so happens to lay mindboggling dick throbbing pussy clenching pipe guys i think he could save the world i think he could do it i really believe it. SAVE US CREGAN STARK. CREGAN STARK. CREGAN STARK SAVE US. also the one liners you have provided to aid the visualization of this matter are making me lose my mind Dippy ily <33333 you get me you understand

#StarkMenAreFeminists

YES. YOU EXPLAINED THIS PERFECTLY.

because even though cregan wants to make a point, you are still (& always will be) his first priority. in no way is he trying to embarrass you, it’s the complete opposite — the lords are being ridiculed.

and YES. THE REASSURANCE DURING IT. him grinding his hips against you, reminding you that you now outrank everyone in this castle. anyone beyond that door (him included) is at your beck and call, that you only have to say the word. whisper it aloud and it shall be done.

and can i just say. he absolutely DOES lay “mindboggling dick throbbing pussy clenching” pipe. not only is he telling you all of his & swearing his devotion to you, he’s also making you cum as many times as you want while he does it. 🙂‍↕️

ilym my lovely pondering anon <333 YOU get ME. you get me SO BAD IT HURTS. i try to aid where i can w the visuals but u guys are the true genius 🫶🏻

#StarkMenAreFeminists #HappyWifeHappyLife #MeAndMyGirlDontArgue #SheTellsMeToShutUpAndIDo

[miyasturniolo]

MEMORIES | matt sturniolo

pairing: bf!matt x f!reader

summary: it has been a year since you passed away, and matt still hasn't been able to move on from his feelings for you but when he cleans his room, he stumbles upon a box filled with memories of you.

warning: use of y/n, upsetting for some people, crying, swearing, mention of overdosing

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. sorry about this one and I’m shit at making sad ones so lemme know

WORDS: 1.1k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

matt - blue | nick purple

-

The last time Matt saw you was a year ago now, when you overdosed due to the overwhelming stress in your life, feeling like it would be better to leave this world.

It pains him every time he witnesses happy couples around him, either in person or on social media, as it reminds him of the happiness he once shared with you. He longs to feel your touch again, even if it's just a hug.

His eyes always well up with tears when he thinks of you. Sometimes, he still comes across edits or photos of you, as people still associate you as his girlfriend from that time.

Each memory of you makes his heart ache more and more, knowing you're no longer here due to a senseless reason.

The idea that you overdosed because you didn't feel attractive or thought you were a bad person is something he can't comprehend, nor can others.

A tear rolls down his cheek as he reminisces about you, a small sob escaping his lips. Despite trying to appear strong by wiping away his tears and pushing away the thoughts, the pain lingers within him.

His brothers never understood why Matt couldn't move on, but they also never truly experienced the depth of love that Matt felt for you. He believed that you and him were soulmates.

Sitting alone in his room, attempting to hold back tears, Matt noticed the mess left behind from a night of gaming with his brothers.

As he surveyed the chaos, his gaze fell upon an empty soda can, a simple object that triggered memories of you, as you used to enjoy that particular drink.

A mixture of frustration and sadness overwhelmed him, leading him to groan and slap his head in an effort to suppress his emotions and prevent himself from breaking down once more.

In a moment of quiet reflection, Matt scrutinized himself, feeling foolish for being so affected by seemingly insignificant reminders of you.

These small triggers often brought him to tears, leaving him feeling vulnerable and powerless.

All that weighed heavily on his mind was the memory of the last day before you passed away. He had been recording a YouTube video and, upon finishing, he checked his phone to message you.

Instead, he found your heartfelt message expressing your love for him and bidding a final goodbye. In a rush, he drove to your place only to discover you lifeless body on the bathroom ground, having arrived too late.

"Fucking stupid, I'm- FUCK," he yelled in anguish. He often wished he could turn back time to forget filming the YouTube video that day, then potentially saving you in time.

However, he grappled with feelings of guilt for prioritizing the video over you, though deep down he knew it wasn't his fault as he was unaware of the tragedy unfolding.

The memory of your tender touch lingered in his mind – the way your lips met his in a dreamlike embrace, the security he felt in your arms, the sound of your laughter that always brought him joy.

He cherished the way you touched him, a sensation that surpassed any other. He yearned for those moments but, above all, he longed for you.

He heard a knock on the door and found his brother looking confused. As he heard his brother shout, he felt compelled to check up on him.

“Are you alright? You're crying,” Nick asked. All he had done was come to the kitchen to grab a Dr. Pepper, but he heard his brother shouting at himself.

Matt remained silent before nodding, not wanting to cry or let his voice crack. Nick simply nodded slowly and smiled gently before closing the door.

He wasn’t going to argue with Matt, especially when it was clear he was crying, even though Matt would deny it.

As time passed, Matt was on his phone. He didn’t dare go on social media, knowing he might see something that would make him cry, like a photo of you on his feed.

He then reached for his headphones and played his favorite songs from a playlist he made that wouldn't remind him of you, so he wouldn't cry.

Feeling the need to clear his mind, he started tidying up. Despite lacking motivation, he pushed himself to clear the rubbish and put things back in their place.

His knuckles bore small wounds from punching things in anger over the day you passed away. He had tried everything to save you, but the ambulance arrived too late, and you were already gone.

Glancing at his closet, he noticed a box teetering on a high shelf, out of reach due to his stature. Using a chair, he carefully retrieved it.

Upon placing the mysterious black box now on his bed, his thoughts became consumed by it, neglecting the tidying of his room.

Opening it felt like a ton of bricks, flooding him with memories that constricted his throat. He removed his headphones, allowing Kid Cudi's music to continue playing in the background faintly by how loud he has his music.

Though hesitant, he reached for a small book with his handwriting on it. It held memories of his life with you during high school, as he had stopped creating such books post graduation, yet held onto the memories of you before you died.

He began to read them, recalling the events as if they had just happened yesterday. A slight smile played on his lips as he delved deeper into the pages.

His handwriting was messy yet legible, reflecting a mix of emotions as he settled into his bed, turning the pages with care.

The small collection of books resembled a diary, filled with memories of both you and him, accompanied by numerous photos of the two of you.

Certain words struck him deeply, he had even penned down potential names for the children you both dreamt of having.

Your approval had brought him joy and he remembered it, though a hint of sadness crept in as he fought back tears, moved by the bittersweet memories.

"Please come back, y/n," a tear slid down his cheek, a yearning for your presence persisting despite knowing you had passed away in his arms a year prior.

Though he struggled to find solace in anything after your departure, he held onto the hope that you had found peace and happiness in the afterlife.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!