#love it for her love it for everyone else but at some point we have GOT to get to the farewell part of this era | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 3 days ago

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you get me. you GET me. you get me so much i screamed when you laid down what you got. UGHHH. literally i hope to write more fics that will interest you because UGHHHHH you just get meeeeeeee its sooo goodddd

i also i too use girl as gender neutral sLAYYY.

I'm so happy you love the cargyll twins 🥺��🫶

The way we always see her as *herself*, beyond her ailment, beyond her concerns of putting up an act, both as a Hightower daughter and/or a Targaryen wife. She's just herself, without being worried that she's disappointing Otto or Daemon.

this is it. this is literally how i envisioned their dynamic to be yknow. when you commented on this once before i leapedddddd for joy it LEAPED really. you get me. you get meeee.

she's just a girl when she's with them. just a girl who loves to swim and pick flowers. did you actually sob cos of the scene with erryk? 🫂🫂🫂 but also... love that for me HAHAHAH.

(I don't even want to think about the fact that the last time she experienced something like this was probably in old town w gwayne when they were children)

dw. i like to think the sibs snuck out to go for a swim for the last time before she was married to daemon. to cheer her up yknow. alicent was there too <3

I love the way you portray Otto's relationship [...]

THISSSSSSSS. THISSSS. YOU JUST GET MEEEE T_T SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. I literally JUST ranted about this to my friend that everyone is like 'daemon is trying' WHAT ABOUT OTTO I WROTE HIM THAT WAY TOO AND YOU JUST 😫😫😫😫😫 FUCKK YOU GETTT MEEEEEe

[...] with the reader because he's not black and white with his motives, only using his daughter to raise his House's standing. Rather, he's a complex character with layers, he's still a father - albeit a shitty one at that.

YOURE SOOOOOO ON POINT WITH EVERYTHING LITERALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY i thought it was really important to expound on this because DAEMON IS LITERALLY OTTO TO HER!!! BUT IN A WAY BETTER BECAUSE AT LEAST DAEMON IS CAPABLE OF SOME SORT OF AFFECTION. she's like 'ok my dad treats me this way, ergo my husband treating me this way is fine' !!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is so important fr fr because we accept the love we think we deserve.

He loves his daughter, in his own twisted way. How he ensures that she's not having a fit before dropping the baby bomb on her. He worries for her, knows her ticks.

💯 no notes

But it's the way he uses his love and knowledge regarding her to get his own way and to get the reaction he wants out of her that's the most twisted.

THIS!!!!!! ok im so fucking excited i just want to tell you BUT ALL WILL BE REVEALED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER IVE BEEN BUILDING THIS SHIT UP FOR SO LONG IM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU CAUGHT ON IM GOING TO FUCKING CRY.

Also, I love how we're seeing mc slowly but surely starting to stand up for herself. WE LOVE GROWTH IM SO PROUD OF HER, I COULD CRY.

<3 but also..... who's gonna tell her (not me)

Day 173822 of begging daemon to just be normal for once in his life.

ur so me fr bestie

Honestly speaking, I was one of the few that voted for reader to prioritise herself and not go after either gwayne or daemon but ohh!!! I loved loved loved this scene.

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯 AS YOU SHOULD. AS YOU FUCKING SHOULD. I WAS AND AM STILL ACTUALLY VERY GAGGED THAT THAT POLL WOUND UP THAT WAY. SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING TOTALITARIANISM BECAUSE THIS DEMOCRACY AINT WORKING FOR ME CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN COMFORT DAD BOI DAEMON???????? YUCKKK i mean i get it but DAMNNNN?????

her whole arc with gwayne was rough. spolier? i dont plan on bringing him back at all so </3 if he comes back well 😬😬 shits about to go down

ALSO DAEMON YOU LITTLE RAT,

HAHAHHAHAHHAHAH YOU LIKE ME FR FR FR I TOO CALL HIM RAT HAHAHAHAH AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT FUCKING PISSES ME OFF

YOU HAVE NO RIGHT BEING MAD AT MY GIRL FOR NOT BEING THERE WHEN YOU DEGRADED HER THE LAST TIME AND NOT IN THE SEXY WAY!!!!

😬 yeesh fr.

Her telling him to speak what he wants and not twist his words is soooo real. YES GIRLL SET IT STRAIGHT WE DONT WANT EXTRA HEADACHES IN OUR LIVES!!

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯 AGAIN AND AGAIN YOU GET ME YOU DONT MISSSSSSSS

I just remembered that she still thinks that night was a dream and I'm heartbroken again </3

dw. she'll find out it wasnt a dream.............. eventually

Pls daemon why do you have to choose aggression and rage every fucking time. Just be cute for once ugghhh.

UR LITERALLY ME FRRR HAHAHHAHHAHA

EVEN THE LINE YOU QUOTEDDDD i feared people might overlook it BUT YOU SAW. YOU GET ME. AND THATS MORE THAN ENOUGH.

I am so honored to have gotten your lovely reblog. i will 100% tag you my love. i'm glad you like my fic and my brain and my words. i love you so much. literally if there is something you want to see in this fic, just tell me and i'll make it happen for you fr fr.

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

#prettybiching cutie #prettybiching my beloved #tormented spirit #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon smut #you can have my heart #n my kidney

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daryltwdixon · 2 days ago

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Hi! I saw your request for some drabbles and was wondering if you could do a fluff Daryl x Fem Reader set in S2 Ep7 where she comes to Daryl's defense (maybe a slap to the face 😆) after Shane's rant about how Sophia would run away if she saw him.

Daryl x Reader requested

author's notes: helloooo!! I loved this and I was cracking up rewatching the scene. Thank you for the request!!

Not much of a sweet fluff but still a fun fluff

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea's voice is insistent as Shane paces, pushing his hat harshly onto his head. The blue brim shades his angry eyes as he steels over the group. The sun beats down on all of you as you stand in front of the large dilapidated barn. Snarling echoes in the barn ahead, making your skin crawl. Glenn had been acting antsy all morning, finally announcing to the group that Hershel and his family have walkers locked in their barn like they’re just sick relatives waiting to get better.

"It ain't right," T-Dog says flippantly, crossing his arms. "Not remotely."

"Okay," Shane sighs, loud and impatient. "We either gotta go in there, we gotta make things right, or we just gotta go." He adjusts the brim of his hat as he looks at Rick. "Now, we’ve been talkin’ about Fort Banning for a long time."

You roll your eyes. Shane had been running his mouth about Fort Banning since the second you met him, and it was exhausting. He just would not shut the hell up.

"We can't go," Rick hisses, holding up a hand to silence Shane, but of course, Shane doesn’t stop.

"Why, Rick? Why?"

Carol’s small voice trembles as she steps up. "’Cause my daughter’s still out there."

Shane’s face shifts, softening into a strained mask of patience. His eyes close for a brief second, like he’s trying to summon every ounce of strength before speaking again. "Okay," he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. "Carol, I think it’s time we all start considerin’ the other possibility."

"Shane—" you bark, but Rick cuts you off.

"We’re not leavin’ Sophia behind," he says firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Daryl, still battered from his fall down the ravine, steps forward. His voice is rough, but there’s conviction in every word. "I’m close to findin’ this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!"

"You found her doll, Daryl, that's what you did. You found a doll." Shane says incredulously.

There’s a beat of silence before Daryl’s voice rises to a roar, his arms swinging out as if daring Shane to keep going. "Man, you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about!"

"Look, I’m just sayin’ what needs to be said!" Shane shouts back, voice booming. "You get a good lead, it’s in the first 48 hours—after that—"

"Shane, shut up!" you shout, your frustration boiling over, the barn of walkers becoming more and more riled as voices continue to climb.

"Let me tell you somethin' else, man!" Shane barks with a humorless laugh, "If she was alive out there and she saw you comin'—all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction, man!" he says, pointing across the farm.

Rick is in between them in an instant, Daryl lunging at Shane, his arms swinging in anger, but it's your temper that gets the better of you, and no one stops you as you stalk over in front of Shane.

A loud smack rents the air, your palm stinging on impact as it hits Shane's face. Suddenly, everyone goes still and very, very quiet.

"You," you hiss, jabbing a finger into Shane’s chest. "You shut your damn mouth, asshole. If you’d done half the work Daryl’s done for that little girl, we might’ve actually found her by now. But instead, you’re worried about what, exactly? Fort Banning? Give it a rest. We’re not leavin’ without Sophia. End of. Until you’ve got something useful to say, keep your damn mouth shut."

Your seething breaths come out heavy and hot as you look at the man whose skin is hot pink where you slapped him across his face.

The barn seems quieter now, the walkers’ snarls muffled compared to the buzzing tension in the group. Shane stands dumbfounded, but there's anger and disbelief rising behind his eyes as he takes you in.

You feel a hand on your shoulder from behind you—gentle, trying to ground you—but you shove it off and turn on your heel, storming away toward the camp.

જ⁀➴

Later, you’re at the campfire, your temper still simmering like the embers in front of you. You hold a stick of spam over the flame, your grip tense. Most of the others have scattered to chores or hushed conversations, but the sound of boots crunching on dirt draws your attention.

Daryl approaches, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Hey," he mutters, his voice rough and low.

You grunt in greeting, not trusting yourself to speak yet without snapping.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The fire crackles between you, and Daryl shifts his weight, chewing on his bottom lip as he fiddles with an arrow in his hands. You steal a glance at him—his bruised face contemplative—and something softens in your chest. You hand't really gotten to know Daryl in the past few weeks you'd come to know the rest of them. He had a temper, much like you, and wasn't necessarily the most friendly of the bunch. He kept to himself, especially since his brother went missing and you didn't want to bother him, knowing how easily he could be set off these days. But there was something about him, you had to admit to yourself when you glanced at him now. He was handsome, under all the ruggedness and sweaty dirt-smudged skin. He had a tender heart too, and that was something that surprised you most when Sophia had first gone missing. He was the leader of every search party, spent almost every day out looking for her or coming up with plans, and you felt like he deserved so much more recognition than he got. The others chalked him up to a dirty, no good redneck. But you see more than that, especially now. He’s the only one who’s been fighting as hard as you for Sophia, and it feels like no one else recognizes it.

“Didn’t have t’ do that,” he says finally, his southern accent thick as he mumbles.

“Do what?” you ask, though you already know.

He shrugs one shoulder, his eyes still locked on the flames. “Smack ‘im like that. Standin’ up for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shane pisses me off, that’s all. Asshole thinks he runs the place.”

Daryl nods faintly, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a smile. “Still,” he says, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. “Kinda hot.”

The words catch you completely off guard. Your cheeks heat instantly, and you finally turn to face him, blinking and startled. “Hot?” you repeat, your voice incredulous.

He doesn’t look at you, his mouth tugging into a sheepish smirk as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Ain’t no one ever done somethin’ like that for me before.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head as you look away. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, though a small, embarrassed smile tugs at your lips.

Daryl shrugs again, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Guess I owe ya."

“Nah,” you say, the grin lingering on your face despite yourself. “Just... keep doin’ what you’re doin’. That’s enough.”

He hesitates, looking down at the arrow in his hands before glancing back at you. “Come with me next time,” he offers, his voice softer now, like gravel under tires, “I’ll show ya how...to track n' all.”

Your smile widens, a shy warmth blooming between you as you nod. “Alright,” you agree, the tension easing into something lighter.

He nods, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips as the two of you settle into a companionable silence by the fire.

#ask daryltwdixon #requests #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine

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wildsaltair · 2 days ago

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This will be my single controversial rant about Gladiator and its sequel (specifically my thoughts on Maximus being retconned as Lucius' father), and then I will be silent on the matter because this blog is meant to be A Good Time and I just enjoy sharing my love for Gladiator with everyone on here :)

KIND OF SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR AND THE SEQUEL (BUT NOT REALLY) BELOW

As everyone knows, Ridley Scott made the choice to reveal in Gladiator 2 that Lucius is actually the son of Maximus from a secret affair with Lucilla. In G2, it's apparently implied that Lucilla was trapped in a bad marriage, fell in love with Maximus, and kept the truth about Lucius' father a secret. Lots of viewers have been split about this, with some thinking that plot point was implied in Gladiator and others feeling that it contradicts what was established in Gladiator.

I am strongly of the opinion that this choice was a bad one, that it does interfere with the integrity of the original film, and that Gladiator 2 would have been much better without that change. I'll give my reasons below.

1. Yes, rewriting Maximus as a cheater does destroy his entire character arc in Gladiator.

We've all seen Gladiator, right? The one where the hero has everything life can offer but longs only to return home to be with his beloved wife and son? Carries their figurines with him into battle, cares only for them when his own life is threatened, lays down to die by their graves after he finds them dead? Spends the whole movie only wanting to meet them again in the afterlife and only gets peace once he's there.

Yeah. Apparently that guy cheated on his wife with a princess. His son and Lucilla's sons are the same age, which means Maximus would have to have been married to his wife while also sleeping with Lucilla.

Maximus' entire character arc relies on his pure, unconditional, self-sacrificial love for his family. Take that away, and you have a generic action movie about a guy who wants revenge because the Emperor tried to kill him once. Even when Maximus has lost everything inside himself and cares about nothing else, he still honors the memory of his family and fights to avenge them as well as join them. He is shown still talking to his wife in the afterlife through prayer and believing she can hear him. As @streets-in-paradise pointed out, it's the equivalent of having Aragon or Hector of Troy cheat on their wives — it's just painfully out of character for them.

There's also an element of Maximus' love and respect for his Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, another driving force in his characterization. I think Maximus has too much respect for Marcus to have had an affair with Marcus' married daughter, even if he knew Marcus maybe would have wished Maximus had married Lucilla. We never get much insight into that part of the past, but if we go by the virtues Maximus upholds throughout the movie, I just don't think Maximus would have considered sneaking behind Marcus' back to sleep with his daughter.

Either way, the emotional heart of Maximus' character is his love for his family, and retconning that so your sequel has a "bigger emotional impact" is nothing short of undignified and sloppy.

2. All the conversations between Maximus and Lucilla in Gladiator imply that they did have a romantic relationship — but that it was public (not clandestine) and took place before either of them were married.

Yes, Maximus and Lucilla definitely were in love at some point. Russell Crowe and Connie Nielsen have great chemistry, and their conversations (both of them) hold so much weight with "what could have been." Lucilla talks about how she wounded Maximus deeply as he did her, and their conversations are full of things like, "Is it so terrible seeing me again?" The weight of their previous emotional attachment pervades the movie in a way that is inextricable from the plot.

BUT. Maximus and Lucilla had their relationship A LONG TIME AGO. This is very clearly established by the way they talk to each other. Maximus has been in Germania for twelve years (taking breaks only to go home, but NEVER to visit Rome). He and Lucilla presumably met sometime before that, probably while the royal family was visiting some city where Maximus was serving in / commanding the army. The details are never established.

However, Maximus and Lucilla clearly had a public enough relationship that Marcus and Commodus knew about it, but there is never the slightest mention in Gladiator that Lucius might be Maximus' son — something Commodus surely would have exploited had he known it was a possibility.

Maximus and Lucilla were in love, but it was before they married other people. They were probably teenagers or young adults who fell madly in love, wanted to marry, but were stopped for whatever reason (probably Maximus not wanting to play politician's games, as he implies). Maximus met the woman he eventually married, Lucilla married Lucius Verus, and they carried on with their lives until they met again at the beginning of Gladiator.

Also, Maximus talks about the respect he had for Lucilla's husband (a far cry from what Gladiator 2 implies about Lucius Verus), and she talks about how she mourned Maximus' family. Sure, you can read into the script and find stuff about how Maximus could have been Lucius' father, but it explicitly goes against the values and implications of the overall acript.

Connie Nielsen stated that she played her scenes thinking that Maximus was Lucius' father. She's an actress, and she plays Lucilla brilliantly. But she's not the scriptwriter, and no matter what her intentions were, the script implies that their relationship took place much longer ago, before either of them were married. @becomelions made a great post about how Lucilla, too, can wish as much as she wants that Maximus was Lucius' father, but he couldn't have been. Not unless you retcon all of Gladiator as fanfiction.

3. Maximus' relationships with Lucilla and Lucius are not meant to replace those he had with his wife and son — they are meant to be reflections of some of the bigger themes of the film.

With all that said, this is not a hate post about how Gladiator should have been about Maximus and his wife and son, and how I hate Lucilla and Lucius' story and think it contradicts that blah blah blah. NO. The storyline with Lucilla, Lucius, and Maximus is one of the strong points of the whole movie — but not as a replacement for the family he has lost.

In a lot of ways, Lucilla represents Rome as the ideal Maximus always believed in: beautiful, noble, and proud. When he becomes disillusioned with Rome, he becomes disillusioned with Lucilla; when he starts to believe in the hope of Rome again, he starts to believe in Lucilla again. They're always linked. Lucilla is not the woman he wants to start over with and marry now that his wife is gone. She is an old friend and ally whom he eventually learns to trust again.

Lucius, on the other hand, represents what Rome can be again. Lucius is the grandson of Marcus Aurelius, and I think Maximus longs to honor his mentor by preserving the life of his last living heir. Lucius reminds Maximus of his son, yes, and he brings out the protectiveness and the desire to do for Lucius what he couldn't do for his own son. But that doesn't mean Lucius has to be his son for that relationship to have emotional impact, as I will explain further in point 5.

4. Maximus' relationships with Lucilla and Lucius are genuinely integral to the film, but as they are — not as what they could be.

Again, I absolutely love the dynamics between Maximus, Lucilla, and Lucius throughout Gladiator. Russell and Connie play off each other so well with those "I remember how you used to be but that was a long time ago" vibes. Russell and Spencer Treat Clark only share one scene, but it's one of the film's most memorable scenes.

However, we are not meant to question those relationships as "oooooh but what if Lucius is actually Maximus' son????" Maybe Ridley left that door open for the audience to consider, but again, I feel like the film contradicts that by implying that Lucilla and Maximus loved each other much longer ago.

When you make Lucius Maximus' son, Lucilla's seeking out of Maximus as his savior becomes less interesting. It becomes "I'm calling on you to save your son even though you don't know he's your son" instead of "I'm asking you to act out of the goodness inside you to save a boy who doesn't deserve to die any more than your own son did." The version we see in Gladiator is so much more impactful.

It also cheapens what Lucius' journey could have been in Gladiator 2! Again, @streets-in-paradise pointed out how much better the sequel could have been if Lucius had been acting in the shadow of a brilliant man who captivated the city of Rome but also was his friend for a little while. As I'll discuss in point 6, having the reveal of Lucius as Maximus' son is just the laziest possible route for a sequel, and it certainly drags down the dignity of the relationships we see in Gladiator.

5. One of the strengths of Maximus' choice to fight for Lucius' survival in Gladiator lies in the fact that he doesn't have any familial obligation to him.

This is one of my favorite points, because I do love the dynamics between Maximus and little Lucius! Maximus has a bone-deep obligation to save his family — he rides for days and nights to get home and save them, but he misses them by a matter of hours. He wrestles with guilt and misery because he feels like he failed them. He was supposed to be their protector, and he couldn't save them.

BUT. Maximus has no such blood ties to Lucius. This kid is the son of Maximus' ex, the grandson of Maximus' dead mentor, and the nephew of his most hated enemy. Maximus doesn't have an obligation to Lucius as his father: he doesn't even know him until Lucius approaches him in the arena.

And that's what makes his decision to fight for Lucius so powerful. Maximus sees Lucius as the hope of Rome, and he decides that's still worth fighting for — something he had given up on before. Even though he has no obligation to save Lucius as his son, he wants to save him as an innocent young boy caught in political matters over his head.

Again, making Lucius Maximus' son cheapens the impact of that decision. Ridley Scott built up so many amazing plot points and relationships, and it really disappoints me that he just cast them aside to make some easy money by relying on the success of the original.

6. Relying on such a trite, overused plot point to make up the emotional foundation of your sequel can only weaken your sequel and ruin the dignity of your original film.

My final point is simply that Gladiator 2 could have been really well done. They could have done something original with it (or something totally off-the-wall like Russell Crowe's vision LOL). But I think Ridley Scott was banking on that nostalgia factor, and he chose a plot point that he knew would be easily marketable — the hero of the second film is the hero of the first film.

We've seen it done literally hundreds of times, from Star Wars to Superman to Toy Story, and having that be the big reveal of Gladiator 2 is just lazy writing. To have Lucius trying to live up to the legacy of Maximus the hero would have been interesting. To have Lucius discover that he's the son of literally anyone else would have been interesting. To have Lucius discover that he's the son of Maximus is an eye-roll-inducing move that should have been trailer bait and nothing more.

Primarily! Because it can't be the emotional foundation of the movie! Lucius has to have his own journey if it's his movie; he can't just walk in Maximus' footsteps and be like, "Father, speak to me," if he's not going on his own individual emotional journey. We as the audience have to relate to our hero because he's our hero, not because he's the son of our hero.

I'll be honest — I probably wouldn't go see a sequel to Gladiator no matter what it was about because I think Gladiator is a perfect standalone movie and should have stayed that way. I just don't think you can recreate the scale and impact and simplicity of Gladiator in today's film industry.

However, I could at least have had respect for a sequel to Gladiator if Ridley Scott had shown some respect for his own movie. I just hate the fact that Maximus' noble, honorable character is reduced to a cheating husband whose only character trait of note is that he served Rome. Maximus is one of the best characters of the 21st century, and I love him too much to support a movie that trashes that legacy (as well as tries to replicate the beauty of my favorite film of all time).

Final thoughts:

Gladiator is a movie. You can read into it whatever you want, and it doesn't hurt anyone.

I love Gladiator more than I can say, and it's really important to me not just as a cultural icon but on a personal level as well.

Anyone who knows this blog knows how much I love Maximus Decimus Meridius, and Ridley's choice to change Maximus' character so drastically is one that really just ticks me off.

To me personally, Gladiator 2 is not canon, and I will never consider it so on this blog.

#i woke up this morning and chose literary analysis #i've been drafting this forever but now it's coming to your dashboard #enjoy my passionate defense of gladiator and maximus #as always this is not a hate post for anyone who enjoyed gladiator 2 #this is my reasoning for why i won't consider it canon #but like i said this is my one contoversial post and i'm now done talking about it #except maybe in a few tags if i'm in a feisty mood #this is a happy blog where i come to obsess over maximus and gladiator and russell crowe's other movies #anyway thanks for reading if you read it #it's a monster of an analysis and i wrote it in an hour #probably not gonna look at it again either because i don't want to think about it #gladiator #text posts #maximus #maximus decimus meridius #gladiator 2000 #russell crowe #connie nielsen #lucilla #lucius verus #ridley scott

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lara4eclipze · 23 hours ago

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›› there must be a good reason that you're gone

sypnosis -» we don't talk anymore like we used to do , what was all of it for?

beware -» angst , nasty break up , going against girl code(?) , twice mentioned, lara x reader mentioned

talks -» for my anon 🫢!! hi missed you soo much

taglist (open) : @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

you don't know where you went wrong — did you give too little love? did you not give her enough attention? yet as much as you asked yourself nothing came up nothing answered you

moments that lingered in your mind made it seem like you were the problem yet you never were , sophia has never been loyal as much as you tried to make it seem like , she's always behind your back talking to a new woman

you only reached your breaking point when she started forgetting important dates such as your birthday, your anniversary and the day you both made it official

"now the maknae! hello y/n , the question for you is , have you ever broken up with someone and how did it go" the interviewer asks as he approached you

"이 질문에 대답할 수 있나요? (can we answer this)" nayeon asks looking behind the cameras towards their manager who just nods

"ohh , well uhm I have had one and it really was a bit messy , yet I think that was a very good lesson for me" you answer recalling everything that happened during that night , "우리 막내가 다 컸네요! (our maknae is all grown up)" jihyo says giggling as the rest say all their memories when you first debuted

"that sums it up, again twice everyone!" the host says before you and your group bid goodbye , " one in a million! we are twice!" the group says "우리 새 노래를 들어주세요 Strategy! (please listen to our new song strategy)" momo says before the cameras cut

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

after the program you secretly went out to meet your now girlfriend lara , after the break up you didn't really know what to do but good thing she was there and from that point forward you both started dating

"hi love!" you said hugging lara as she ran up to you to hug you as well , "I missed you! , anyways let's go?" lara asks leading you inside the kats dorm

inside the dorm you were greeted by manon who was sitting down watching some tiktoks "hey" you greet

finally making it to lara's room she sits you down on her bed as she takes a seat on your lap, "so you miss me?" you ask cocky about her missing you , "obviously miss y/n" she replied

just before both your lips touch the door opens with sophia oblivious that you were here , "lara have you seen my- oh sorry" she says looking at the scene before her you and lara just being lovey dovey , suddenly the whole mood changed lara was now on the bed next to you sensing the unease , as sophia exits you two let out a heavy sigh

"baby I feel guilty, I mean she's my friend and I date her ex?" lara admits you look at the frown on her lips you held her face with your hands making her look at you "baby I understand , but know that she did something I probably won't forgive her for"

"ill never do that to you" lara says

"I hope not , that's the exact words sophia said" you chuckle remembering the countless lies she told you

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

it was late yet you couldn't sleep so you left lara on the bed to get some water , at the kitchen was her , sophia

"hey" she greets , you took note of how she was still wearing the bracelet you gave her for your first monthsary

"hello , just need some water" you replied awkwardly , you get to the fridge and take out lara's water bottle and drink out of it

you were walking back by this point , but you hear sophia mutter something , "I'm sorry , could you maybe give me a second chance?"

"no soph , I'm tired plus me and lara are together , I've never felt any better with anyone else" you replied trying your best not to look at her , and just continue walking

"how is that okay? — we break up and you get with my friend? , how fucked up is that?" she reasons as you hear her sniffle

"soph , you cannot be talking about what's fucked up when you cheated on me , fuck I'm not gonna have this conversation again, goodnight" you replied mad at her audacity to get upset over you picking lara , yet you didn't mention that instead going inside the girls room

"babe? — where'd you go?" lara asks in a groggy voice as she opens her eyes , you're so glad you chose the woman who knows how to treat you

"just drank some water love" you replied trying not to sound like you just finished crying , you both lay down with her in the crook of your neck as she hums a gentle tune

"I love you so much" you whisper as you place a kiss on her head

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #lara katseye #sophia katseye #sophia x reader #lara x reader #lara raj imagines #lara raj #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza imagines

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neyafromfrance95 · 1 day ago

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i don't get involved in discourse, but i feel like i need to talk about this (for the first and the last time) since i saw a few haladriels say that they were made to feel dumb for thinking haladriel is real.

generally speaking, when we have a piece of media and we try to explain this piece of media through analysis, OF COURSE we are going to come off like we think our interpretation is the right one... bc that is the whole point of having a take. we are trying to explain the source material, not personal hcs.

no, this doesn't mean that different interpretations aren't valid. this doesn't mean that the same thing can't signify smtng different to different people. but this does mean that when people write analysis and metas, they try to figure out the actual intention of the material, and evaluate it, smtms considering the contexts existing beyond it.

my point is that it is silly to get offended at someone's meta not capitulating or leaving space to your own interpretations. there is no need to take these disagreements personally and demand people to be less set on their reading. that is the real "let there be different interpretations". you must be okay with someone's interpretation disregarding your own.

there is, of course, the difference between the interpretations based on the "vibes" and the interpretations based on the actual media analysis...

for example, we can say that sauron and galadriel's feelings are ambiguous, so we are going to define those feelings based on our guesses and theories, mostly.

but there is no ambiguity in the fact that sauron and galadriel's bond is the most special, significant and above all other connections they have. this is what the text and the subtext and the framing and all those storytelling elements tell us. their dynamic being a metaphor for the push-pull between the dark & the light underlines their bond being eternal.

another thing, whether or not their feeling are romantic or antagonistic or soulmatistic, a basic media literacy makes us recognize that the framing and the formula of their dynamic is romantic.

and same goes with the characters individually. is galadriel happy to go to valinor or is she sad to be leaving the middle-earth by the end of the 3rd age? well, i'd say it's ambiguous, especially considering how inconsistent her lore is with tolkien, so i think we are free to interpret it in different ways.

but tradwife!galadriel? that's straight up mischaracterization. one thing that has always been consistent with her is that she is a leader. there is no ambiguity in her defining trait.

so, yeah. haladriel is very real, so is their bond, and their relationship is the center of trop story. and as much as i love ambiguity and subtlety, i hope for more clarity in s3 since some people seem to need everything spelled out for them and they make their media illiteracy everyone else's problem.

#haladriel #saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #the rings of power #rings of power #sauron #galadriel #trop #galadriel x halbrand #rop

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guksvault · 2 days ago

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HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

03- Loft Music

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew.

w/c: 3.3k

warnings: partying (ofc), drug/alcohol mentions & usage, tae makes an appearance, reader makes jk almost smile?? gasp, hobi being yummy, jk has a boner, so does hobi, light foreplay?, make out sesh, cockblocking :(, think thats it???

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Waking up at 2:30 in the afternoon by your mother telling you to get your shit together and put on a face was not exactly the wake up you had planned.

Also didn't plan to spend the rest of the afternoon having to sit next to Taehyung at the dinner table as both your parents tried their hardest to convince you that you two looked like a match made in heaven.

"Oh the grandchildren you two could create. Models. Would be models" Taehyung's mother rambled on, glass of red in her hand never empty.

Taehyung's hand had found its home on your lower back, tracing small circles with his thumb. You would have found it comforting, endearing even if your father hadn't told you the day prior that he wants to marry you to ensure the safety of his future.

The glass of Chateau d'Yquem becoming increasingly harder to swallow. Think it would be easier downing a shot of whatever the fuck they poured into the Grey Goose bottle at the House Of Balloons.

So that's what you tell yourself when you excuse yourself from the table and retreat back upstairs to your room and change into something more, you.

Of course I would rather be anywhere else, could be anywhere else. Only going to escape the reality of this mess. Isn't that the whole point of their parties anyways? Everyone there is running from something.

"Going out?" Taehyung spoke with curiosity, leaning against the frame of your double doors, his eyes on you through the reflection of your mirror as you adjusted your dress.

"Looks like it, no?"

He let out a small laugh, no emotion behind it. Took a few steps into your room and stood behind you in the mirror.

"They were right, you know. We would make pretty offspring" He smiled, placed his glass down on your vanity and returned behind you, moving some of the hair over your shoulder and gently brushing it down your back.

"Mm, the prettiest. Too bad they would come from a home with no real love or respect" You spit, moving away from Taehyung's proximity.

"No real love? You know that's not true"

Taehyung has supposedly been in love with you since he was 16. He hasn't been, you just took his virginity one spring night whilst both your parents were downstairs striking up a business deal.

The idea of you and Taehyung ending up together had been a never-ending conversation since you guys were kids. He doesn't love you, just thinks he's supposed to.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

So, rightfully so, after the evening you've had. You've ended back at the House Of Balloons. Swapped the wine glass for a red solo cup. The Chateau d'Yquem for Smirnoff lemonades.

You had only been there for approximately 7 minutes before a little teary eyed pocket rocket of a woman dressed in a short black bodycon dress had snatched the vodka from your hand and ran off to cry off the clumpy mascara coating her eyes.

Approximately 9 minutes in, Jungkook had stormed past you. If you hadn't seen the cigarette between his fingers you would have believed the cloud of smoke following him was coming from his ears.

Face like a slapped ass.

Yoongi had shrugged when you asked who pissed in his cereal, "Who hasn't."

As far as you were concerned, Jungkook walking out of the party was only a benefit for you. If he wasn't inside, it was one less pair of daggers being shot your way.

Which is why you want to knock yourself out when Yoongi excuses himself for five minutes and you end up right in-front of Jungkook. Pretty baby blue pumps shining in-between his worn out converse.

Half think you should turn around, take the bottle of Smirnoff and down it whole. Would probably do less damage than whatever choice words Jungkook will have for you.

He looks up, his eyes round and glassy for half a second before they are narrowed, brows pinched together.

"Yes?" His tone was laced with disgust, no effort put behind his words.

"You look like shit." You take a seat beside him on the bricks that line the side of the garage. Unevenly laid, empty wine bottles with plants growing inside them sitting along the bricks that Joon had planted.

"You look like a fuckin' moron" he hangs his head again, slightly kicking up the dirt with top of his converse.

You let out a small laugh. Reach into your YSL purse and grab your own cigarette.

Jungkook watches you from the corner of his eye, not surprised that even the packet of cigarettes you own look like it would take half his paycheck. A sleek black and gold pack of 20s.

You look at Jungkook, hold the open packet towards him. "Sobraine. My father gets them imported from Russia, try it."

He takes one. Definitely not because he's curious if it tastes like money and power. Just has never been one to turn down a freebie, even if the one giving it was an insufferable spoilt bitch.

He brings the flame from his lighter to the end of the cancer stick and drops it on the bricks beside you.

Inhales. Inspects the cigarette. Exhales with a scoff.

"You pay a shit ton of fuckin' cash to have a shitty cig imported. Eat the rich." Shakes his head, inspects the cigarette again, keeps smoking it anyways.

"You snort your cash" you retort.

Jungkook lets out a small scoff again, more air behind it this time. Lighter. Kinder. "Didn't take you for a smoker."

"Mm, and what did you take me as then?"

Jungkook turns his head, looks at you. Pushes the locks of hair back that have fallen over his forehead and lets out a somewhat condescending chuckle.

"Spoilt. Annoying. Immature. Inexperienced. Conceited." Each word spoken a tad harsher than the last, followed with a slight shrug.

You flick the cigarette with your thumb onto the ground, stand to your feet and look at Jungkook.

"It's cute, really." You smile, your words spoken so softly.

"What? Whats fuckin' cute?"

"You." You tilt your head slightly, "You're cute. Thinking of me so often. Very cute." your words are teasing, a pretty smile on your lips. Want to rile him up, know it's not a fair shot to come for his background like he does you. It's not hard to spot that Jungkook holds up a hard front, will make him question it.

"Yeah, fuck off, you were tolerable for all of two seconds. Fuck off." His expression looks like you've just told him he's got 7 minutes left to live. Absolutely bewildered.

You smile, walk backwards towards the house, "Don't want you staring at my insufferable ass."

Jungkook wedges the butt of his cigarette between his teeth, sticks each of his middle fingers up at you.

If you hadn't already made your way inside Jungkook would have yelled out that he was a titty guy anyways, and your tits may have just made his cock twitch- No. No they did not. Repulsive. Horrible tits. Bad, bad, bad tits.

You spot Yoongi back inside sat on the same ugly, worn and torn brown couch as last night. Grab a new drink and make your way to sit beside him.

He's on his phone texting, said something about his dropper fucking around, wouldn't be here on time.

A petite, long legged brunette sits beside you. Dressed in some black ripped up skinny jeans with an oversized band tee that she had DIY'd into a crop, more bra on display than shirt.

"You're Bee, yeah?"

You nod slightly, her tone was polite, her lips coated in crimson red in a small smile.

"Valerie." She extends her hand, shakes yours, comments on the pretty quartz stone ring decorating your index finger.

Her brunette bob was slightly messy, chipped red nail polish matching her lips. Eyeliner in a sharp wing. Pretty. High cheekbones, a small button nose. Could have been a Runway Model you think.

Yoongi had left upstairs to handle whoever had been fucking him around with his order of drugs. Would hate to be on the receiving end of that call.

Jungkook had returned, sat opposite to you in the middle of the couch. His face had relaxed slightly, no more crease between his brows, his shoulders relaxed.

Joon was sat on the couch to your left again, the same girl as last night under his arm. He had taken a much kinder approach in talking to you tonight, had asked you about your hobbies, if you had a private car to drop you where you desire, asked you if you had any fancy champagne bottles he could use for his bottle-garden.

Jimin was out of sight, Hoseok in his usual place behind his decks.

The conversation was light, mostly engaging with Valerie. She was kind, each taking turns to refill each other's cups. She had told you she had been coming to these parties for around a year, and had gotten friendly with the guys. Hasn't missed a weekend here since she first came.

Yoongi had returned, repeated the same actions of last night, dumped the black bag holding the tiny bags of snow and then retreated upstairs with a different girl.

You watched as he led the girl upstairs, hand on the small of her back and guiding her to his bedroom, assuming he was going to get high and fuck through his high.

You would be wrong though, he just didn't want you seeing him snort a line. Felt wrong. Knows you wouldn't judge him for it, but a part of him is still scared of letting someone from his past down.

Jungkook had wasted no time in getting his nose to the bill. Two lines snorted clean. Leans his head back, smiles. The ring at the end of his lip flips as the corners of his mouth lifts..

He looked at Valerie, gestured towards the coke, was met with a shake of her head. He turns to you, "not even gonna bother asking you."

"Don't be such a prick Jungkook" Valerie spoke up, offered you a smile. "Don't let him get to you, he's a dick."

You laughed softly, shrugged slightly.

Valerie was up onto her black glossy heels, holding her hand out for you to take. "C'mon. Need to dance."

You took her hand, a little hesitation, eased when she gave you a smile. She leads you through the crowd of Hoseok's makeshift boiler room. Found the perfect place just in-front of where Hoseok was set up.

She grabbed the bottle of vodka Hoseok keeps beside his set up, took a swig and held it out to you.

You were buzzed now, no, drunk. You were drunk. The champagne from lunch that you kept refilling, the countless vodka lemonades and cheap Jelly shots had definitely settled into you now.

Valerie's hands were holding yours, her back pressed against your front as you both moved to the music.

You can't actually remember the last time you had felt this carefree. Sure, you had been to your fair share of parties, had ran your hands over countless bodies as you danced, drank yourself sick. But, you had always remained in control, alert, aware. Would have never risked someone snapping a photo of you with your head in a toilet bowl or your tongue down an elite's throat just to end up with a scandal.

Have never felt this feeling before. Carefree. You didn't care who was watching, you didn't care that people kept accidentally spilling their drink of choice down your legs as they bumped into you and definitely didn't care if Jungkook was shooting lasers from his eyes towards you.

This is why people came here. To escape. To live. To express themselves.

Valerie's arms were hooked around your neck, your bodies moving together almost as one. Your eyes move around the room, countless people moving just like you, hands touching themselves or whoever was pressing their bodies against theirs.

Until your eyes found Hoseok.

He had been watching you with a half smirk as soon as you started moving your body, missed a transition or two as he did. He saw the way you had eased into the movements of your body. How your dress hiked up ever so slightly every time you lowered your body to grind against Valerie's.

Your eyes locked onto his, your movements becoming more deliberately sinister. Your hands roaming down Valerie's sides as you danced. Watched as his adams apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

Only took two more songs for him to knock his head towards the back sliding door and ask his friend to spin his decks for him. Grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd and out to the garage.

Pressed in the code that locked the door, ushered you inside.

He was dressed in a pair of blue baggy jeans, an oversized black hoodie, shut the door and pressed you against it.

Wasting no time, you crashed your lips against his, grabbed his hoodie and pulled him against you.

His tongue met yours, said hello, decided not to be friends and fought for dominance against yours. A soft grunt into your mouth when yours fought just as excitedly.

He pulled away just barely, took his lower lip between his teeth, moved his hand from your waist to the side of your neck, eyes drinking you in.

"Fuck." Starts to pull his hoodie over his head, gets stuck from moving too fast, succeeds and wiggles his eyebrows at you, "Meant to do that."

He cuts off the small giggle that leaves your lips by pressing his back against yours. Your hands trail down his chest slowly, no need to rush. Want to feel this reckless and carefree forever.

His hand palms at your tit, kisses down your neck, pouts when you tell him not to leave marks.

His other hand slides up your thigh, lifts your leg slightly to his hip, his fingers just barely under the hem of your dress. Looks up at you, looks for any signs of you wanting to back out, watches as you nod and push his hand a little further up your leg.

His hand traces your slit over your panties, lets out a moan of approval at the feeling of the lace. "Fuck, so fucking wet."

Your eyes are half lidded, looking down at him as he kisses down your chest, lips parted, "More."

He leans up, kisses you hungrily, leans his forehead against yours, presses his thumb against your clothed clit, smirks when you let out a sharp breath.

His finger moves slowly in circles over yours clit, lets out a moan of his own as your hand starts to palm him over his jeans. Thinks he would be happy to cum just from this. Never leaves his sets to enjoy in his own pleasures. Wants to enjoy this.

"Fuck, yeah, feels good. So pretty," He kisses you, fastens the pace of his thumb, watches as your lips part further, "Want you cumming on my fingers, hm?"

"Fuck- Just touch me, more. Please." Your eyes are locked on his, your hand moving over his own hardened cock. Can feel his cock twitching every time you move it upwards.

His hands push the bottom of your dress up, your black laced panties on full display for him now, "Mm, care if I rip em'?".

You shake your head, please. Touch me. His fingers trace lightly over the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours, starts to inch lower.

Your back presses against the door, pushing your hips closer towards him, your body begging for him to hurry the fuck up and finger you.

"Fuck, Hoseok!"

The words he wanted to hear from you so badly echo.

Except, they aren't your words. Their Jungkooks, from the opposite side of their door you're pressed against.

Hoseok fucking groans, "Busy, piss off."

"Open the fucking door, I'm not fucking playing with you." Jungkook barks, his fist pounding against the door.

"Fuckin' bit busy right now." His fingers are still hooked under your waistband, his jaw clenched, mouthes a 'sorry' to you.

"Fuckin' cops are here man, sure you can get your dick wet at a later fuckin' time."

Hoseok's fingers fucking fly out of your panties, the waistband smacking against your skin, pushes your dress down and moves you by your shoulders from the door.

He opens the door, Jungkook stood on the other side with a black backpack pressed to his chest. Looks at Hoseok then at you, cocks his eyebrow and rolls his eyes.

You can see the lights on in the house now, 4 cops in view from the back sliding door, ushering people out, all holding torches, hands on their duty belt.

"Fuckin' cock blocks!" Hoseok yells out to them.

"Yeah, fuckin have about 2 minutes until they make their way out here, needa hide the stash." Jungkook mumbles, lets himself into the garage, barges your shoulder as he does.

Cops are rarely a problem for the House of Balloons. They had tried to shut down the parties when the boys first started hosting, and quickly realised that if the people were here, they weren't causing issues on the streets. Had organised a deal with them, as long as there were no drugs, they could continue on with the parties.

Idiots.

The only reason they had been called in tonight was because someone made an anonymous call that people were smoking crack and overdosing.

"Crack? Who fuckin' does crack these days? Ain't no fuckin' crackheads here" Yoongi had argued with the constable as he said he needed to do a search.

"Nowhere to fuckin' hide it. We're fuckin' screwed." Jungkook was pacing now, he and Hoseok eyeballing the room for any potential places.

"Give it to me." You turn to Jungkook, holding your hand out.

"Yeah, fuckin' right" Jungkook spat at you. Give it to you? He'd may as-well go empty the bag out in front of the pigs and dob himself in.

"Seriously. I'll take it, leave with the crowd. Will bring it back when everything's cooled down."

Jungkook and Hoseok look at eachother, Hoseok's eyes screaming 'Hand her the fucking bag', Jungkook's 'Are you fucking insane?'.

"Or don't," you shrug as you turn around and head towards the door, "Have fun sober in a cell. You will make a pretty bitch boy in there.”

"Fuck- Here." He throws the bag towards you, tells you to not fuck it up and fuck off.

You throw the bag over your shoulder, slip out the door and right into the middle of a group leaving down the side of the house.

You make your way down to the front, two extra cops stood outside, ushering people away, waving off the people who piss and moan at them for the shut down.

As naturally as you can, you start to pass them. Have no idea where the fuck you're gonna go, tell yourself you'll order a driver in the street over.

"Hey, you. Stop". The voice came from behind you, a slightly older cop looks at you, gives you a once over and tilts his head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They know. They know I would never possibly carry an ugly bulky black bag with this dress. Or maybe Joon was right and I do look like a hooker. I'm done. Off to prison I go, Possession Of Drug Paraphernalia, definitely going to be somebody's bitch, will make a lovely trade for a coffee stick.

“Nevermind, looked familiar. Keep walkin’.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As you step back into the familiar setting of your bedroom, you can still feel your legs shaking from the adrenaline. Stuffing the backpack to the very back of the top of your closet, you lay on your bed and send Yoongi a text.

| 5:57am

You: ur drugs are safe and sound

| 6:00am

Yoongles: Owe u big time Bee.

Thanks again x

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook ff #jungkook and reader #jungkook series

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sorrelchestnut · 18 hours ago

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Birds on a Wire, Lucanis/f!Rook, 1/?

Experimenting once more with posting a WIP while it's still In Progress. This will probably curse me but there's only so much I can spam my friends in discord so fuck it. I'm not gonna lie, this is mostly just established relationship fluff and banter with occasional flickers of childhood trauma. For seasoning, like.

They say that bad news will cross the ocean twice before good has even gotten out of bed. Lucanis, staring down at the letter in his grandmother's sloping hand, cannot help but agree.

(Get Rook!)

Lucanis's first instinct as well, but she is working in Minrathous today, coordinating work crews as they clear Blight remnants down in the undercity. It's dirty, exhausting, thankless work, and while he knows he'd be a welcome distraction, he would be a distraction nonetheless. Instead he forces himself to spend the day taking inventory: they are going to need groceries again, and soon. He will send some from Treviso, as the markets there are starting to recover, though much of their supplies are still earmarked for relief efforts. If all else fails, he can arrange for imports from Rivain, mostly untouched by the whims of the gods.

It is sometime after sunset, Antivan time, when the eluvian's activation chimes quietly through the Lighthouse. (Rook's back!) Knowing well her opinion of damp, muddy holes in the ground, Lucanis retrieves the plate he prepared from under one of Neve's warming charms and heads below to the bathhouse, following the trail of shed clothing from the vestibule to where she is lounging in one of the heated pools. Lucanis takes care to ensure his movements are audible as he sets the plate on the table next to her discarded patch and puts his hands on his hips.

"That is terrible for your blood pressure, you know."

Rook smiles without opening her eye - or throwing a fistful of lightning at his face, so his efforts to announce his arrival did not go unappreciated. "But great for my temper."

"Guildmaster causing trouble again? There's a solution for that."

"You can't kill everyone who annoys me, Lucanis. It's just not cost-efficient."

(But fun!)

"But fun," Lucanis agrees. "Everyone needs to have a hobby."

"We really need to get you back into knitting. Hey, c'mere, you're too far away."

"If you splash me, you will regret it," he warns, even as he approaches to seat himself carefully at the edge. "Hello, mi amor."

"Hullo, love." It's a delicate maneuver, bending backwards up over the lip of the pool without unduly disturbing the water, but Rook is a consummate professional and manages it without so much as splashing his cuffs. The feel of her smiling mouth against his is familiar, now, but no less miraculous for it. "Mm, alright, now I'm feelin' better."

He laughs quietly and settles back on his heels. "Imagine how well you will feel after supper."

"Oh, shit, is it your night to cook?" She turns her best pleading expression on him. "Any chance you brought me a plate?"

He considers making some pretense to the contrary, but what would be the point? "On the chaise, if you please. Some civilities must be observed."

"Hey, you like me naked."

"I like you any way I can get you, but melted cheese on skin is not a complaint you want to bring to a medic."

"Oh fuck me, you made carbonara? That's it, I'm getting out."

"No hurry," he says, stroking one hand affectionately across her damp curls. It smells faintly of the astringent soap Emmerich makes for his workshop, so she must have scrubbed up at the pump before coming down here to boil herself like a piece of recalcitrant laundry. "It will keep a little longer."

"Mhm, well, in that case…" She tilts her neck hopefully, and he happily takes up the invitation to knead at the back of her neck with a practiced hand.

Only to hiss, a moment later, at what he finds there. "Mierda! Your neck is like iron. Have you been holding your head cocked again? You know that isn't good for you."

"...probably," she admits, then immediately goes on the defensive. "Look, 's just instinct, alright? I know my depth perception's fucked and you know it's fucked but try convincing my sodding brain. And you know the shit light down there doesn't help, had me jumpin' at fucking shadows even when I still had both eyes."

"I know, cara, but you're going to cause permanent damage to yourself if you don't break the habit."

"I know, I know. I'll work on it, alright?"

"I will make sure of it," he threatens, then remembers the letter. (Tell her, tell her!) "Well. There are exercises you could do, I think."

But she's twisting around to look at him, a faint frown marring the smooth line of her forehead. "What was that? You flinched."

Cazza. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did, you tensed up for a second. What's wrong?"

Why he thought he had a hope of concealing anything from her, Lucanis doesn't know. Always she has seen straight through him. "I had a message from my grandmother this morning."

"Ah." World of understanding in that single syllable. "I'm guessing it wasn't 'season's blessings.'"

"No, it… no."

(TELL HER)

His hand has slipped down to her shoulder, and it slips away entirely as she gracefully rolls in the water, folding her arms on the lip of the pool so she can look up at him. He no longer flinches at the ugly march of stitched tissue where her left eye used to be, but only because he knows how much it hurts her when he fails. In time, her face will once again be only her face, more familiar and dearer than his own in the mirror. Until then, the reminder of how close he came to losing her is his burden to bear.

"Talk to me, dovey. What's goin' on?"

If there was a time he could deny her anything, it has long since passed. "Caterina thinks I have dawdled enough. It's time for the First Talon to return home."

Her eye widens slightly, but otherwise does not flinch, only finds his fingers with her own wet ones and strokes gently across his knuckles. "And what does the First Talon think?"

When it comes right down to it, Lucanis has always been a coward when it matters most. He closes his eyes so he cannot see the look on her face when Spite finally says, , "That she's right."

For a long, terrible moment, there is nothing but silence. Her hand is motionless against his; there is no movement from her agile body, only the lap of the restless water against stone. She is entirely still.

Then she lets out a grunt of acknowledgement. "Alright then. When do we leave?"

His eyes snap open. She's still just looking up at him, pleasantly quizzical, head angled very slightly - cazza - to see the whole of his face. "I wasn't- You have other duties to attend to."

"No? I've just been fillin' in where I can, nothing serious. Oh. Uh. Unless-" She draws her lower lip between her teeth, a maneuver he would find distracting under less trying circumstances. "If this is your way of telling me gently, that you- I mean, I can take a hint-"

It takes a full two beats for him to understand her implication. "What? No, tesoro, luce dei miei occhi- No, never, no. I only-" (Say it right! Fix it!) Lucanis takes a deep breath and does his best: "I only mean that you have a home here, work that matters to you, people to protect. This is my burden. I would not have asked."

"Lucanis." She's giving him the same fondly exasperated look she used to sport whenever she found him in the training hall past midnight, Spite screaming a crescendo in his ears. "I walked out of a prison built for gods because I heard you calling my name. And you think I wouldn't follow you to Treviso?"

(TOLD YOU)

It's so strange to remember, now, how he used to think he wasn't built for happiness. That he was missing some essential component that everyone else was born with, that thing Illario grasped so easily, the ability to feel joy and inspire it in others. He knows better, now. It's the easiest thing in the world, when you are with the right person.

"Pulled."

"What?"

He blinks innocently, working very hard to keep his smile hidden behind his teeth. "Technically, you didn't walk out of the Fade. You were pulled. My wrist was sore for hours."

"Hours," Spite agrees loyally.

"You," she splutters, and then laughs, one of the deep belly laughs he loves so much, that makes Spite flatten and purr at the back of his skull. "You're a pair of fuckin' arseholes," she tells them, and surges up out of the pool to press her laughing mouth to his.

(He doesn't even mind the water on his cuffs.)

#dragon age #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da:tv #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #fic

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onepiecestarry · 24 hours ago

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A Different Kind of Pirate - Part 8

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, I went back to school and tbh nobody told me my second year in college or engineering would be this hard (they definitely did). But I’m making it thru! Only two more weeks T-T. But I checked on this story and saw 1.2k reads and never would’ve thought anyone would read this let alone that many of you (literally gonna cry). And I loved reading your comments. So here I am to update! I am sorry it took so long but I promise to actually finish it this time :) XOXO

Fluff, 1.7k words, lots of plot points glossed over from the manga/anime (sorry!)

Zoro x Reader

Masterlist

Part 8: A Samurai and a Florist

The next day you all convene to discuss the plan going forward. As you sit you watch Zoro making your tea, just how you like it, and coming to sit next to you, handing you your tea and placing his free arm around you. You lean into him quietly sipping on your tea while you wait for the rest of the crew. Once everyone was there Kin’emon started.

“We must go to Zou to reunite with your crew and find my friend! We will stop at Zou and continue to Wano after reuniting with everyone.” He exclaims.

The plans continue with the usual mapping and joking around. You all were not worried about getting to Zou, especially with Sanji there first to check everything out.

---- (Time skip past Zou events)

After the long process of getting to Zou, fighting, not fighting, fighting again, realizing Sanji’s gone, and finding Kin’emon’s friend was over you all realized you needed another plan.

“Alright, guys!” Nami yells at everyone sitting in a circle talking to get their attention. “Let's figure this out.” She says with a worried but determined look. “Okay we need to split up, half of us will go with Law’s crew and kin’emon and co. to Wano, and the other half will take the Sunny to Big Mom to get Sanji back, we just need to figure out who.” She explains.

“I’m going to get Sanji,” Luffy says with an unnaturally serious look on his face.

“Count me in too!” Says Brook, Chopper, Usopp, and some Minx.

“Okay, I’ll go with you guys to navigate the Sunny.

“Count me out, I ain’t savin' that shitty cook’s shitty life,” Zoro says leaning back on a tree. “And y/n is coming with me, the celestial dragons can’t get to her on Wano.” You hum in agreement at his statement.

“Alright then I think Zoro, y/n, Robin, and Frankie should go with Law, and we will all meet back up in Wano,” Nami says.

Everyone agrees and we all begin to pack to leave Zou. You become uneasy as you realize you’ll have to work with Law, nervous he’ll be upset about your last conversation. But you quickly shake it off knowing it can’t be avoided.

You get to Law’s ship with everyone else, Zoro is unusually close to you. You look up at him with a confused look as if asking ‘What’s up?’. He just nods over to Law and you nod in response, understanding he’s keeping him away from you.

Bepo showed you and the rest of the strawhats to an extra room you’d be using to sleep while traveling. As you walk in you see two small twin beds and two hammocks, four places to sleep, and five people.

Robin is already making one of the small beds for herself and Frankie and Usopp are getting comfortable in the hammock, so that leaves Zoro and you to the last twin bed. He didn’t even flinch, already on the bed getting comfortable and falling asleep. You giggle to yourself as you push him over to make room for yourself.

----

The days flew by quickly on your way to Wano, Zoro made sure that Law never came close to you, not that you were worried if he did. On the last day, you finally arrived, finding a cove to hide Law’s ship in and hiking up to a remote area to discuss your next steps.

That’s when Kin’emon revealed the reason you all were there, and how he and his friends had gotten there too. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but of course, Zoro had no reaction. You look at him dumbfounded that he's not the least bit confused or surprised.

“What? We’ve heard crazier.” He says nonchalantly.

“Have we?” You cross your arms in questioning.

“No, not at all.” He says leaning back on a rock. You giggle at his demeanor.

Your attention is taken from Zoro as Kin’emon starts to describe his plan.

“We will have all of you go undercover and spread these flyers to anyone with the crescent tattoo on their ankle. This message they will understand. Frankie, you will go undercover as a craftsman apprentice, and see if you can retrieve the blueprints of Kaido’s mansion from your boss. Robin, you will go undercover as a Geisha, your mission is to get close to the Shogun. Usopp, you will be a salesman and you will spread the flyers in the capitol. Zoro and y/n, you both will go undercover together as a samurai and flower shop owner. y/n I am putting Zoro with you to ensure he will not cause trouble as a foreign swordsman.” You giggle at Kin’emon’s comment.

“Hey! I don’t get into trouble… that often” Zoro whispers the last part. You laugh at his defense.

Kin’emon begins to hand out locations of apartments and houses we may stay at as well as stacks of flyers to hand out. Kin’emon then gives you all the clothes and hairstyles to fit in.

---

As you walk through the busy streets of the flower capital you smell all the delicious food stands nearby, watching people rush from building to building, as well as others on a casual stroll. You notice Zoro is beginning to turn in the wrong direction, so to prevent him from getting lost you grab his hand.

“I am not dealing with your directionless ass right now pretty boy, stay with me for the love of-”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” he says smirking down at you, making it obvious how okay he is with holding your hand.

You both continue to walk around looking for your assigned house, eventually finding it and entering. You look around at the sad wood falling apart, and the floor with torn mats.

“I guess that’ll make do.” You sigh. “Where’s the beds?” You question looking around.

“You mean bed. And probably a futon in the closet.” Zoro says looking through the cabinets in the kitchen.

You laugh at his correction of you and go to look for the futon, eventually finding it and setting it up with fresh sheets.

“Any food in there?” you yell over to Zoro.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Zoro says back.

“Alright, I guess we’ll have to go out and get some then. You sigh.

You make your way past the kitchen heading for the front door, but before you can take another step you are grabbed by your waist and twirled facing the other direction with Zoro leaning down towards your face, with a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going.” He says teasingly.

“To the flower shop to see what I’m dealing with, and to get some food for dinner.” You lightly hit his chest, giggling.

“Hmm, I’ll come with.” He says letting you go.

---

Once you get to your stall, you realize that it's already stocked with most things you’d need thankfully. Suddenly the woman in the stall next to you comes over to speak to you.

“Hello darling, are you both new in town?” She says sweetly looking between you and Zoro.

“Yes, we are, we just got married and decided to move to the capital from our home village,” Zoro says before you could even think of responding. Realizing what he said, your cheeks flush pink at his words.

“Aw how cute, you two make a great couple, I must say. You will make beautiful children one day I’m sure.” The older woman says innocently smiling at the two of you. You nearly choke on air at her words, but Zoro hides you behind him, thanking the woman while ushering her back to her stall.

He comes back to you stuffing your face in your kimono’s sleeves hiding your bright red face. He lets out a hard laugh, grabbing your face and moving it to look at him, only making you blush harder. You lightly slap his arms away and begin to ready your flower stall as he laughs watching you.

You both decide to return home after “borrowing” some food, as Zoro calls it. You immediately begin to prep dinner when you return, making some rice and cutting some vegetables. Zoro announces he’s going to shower, you hum in response.

Suddenly, you turned around and pressed up against the counter with Zoro’s arms on either side of you. You get flustered at his actions trying to look away. Zoro leans down and whispers in your ear, “Want to join me, wife?” He asks in a deep tone. You freeze at his offer, face flushed with pink once again. He laughs at your reaction and backs off retreating to the bathroom. You quickly return to cutting vegetables to take your mind off it.

You finished making dinner as Zoro exited the bathroom. “Hey, dinner ready, go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring you a-” You stammer as you turn to look at a freshly showered Zoro with a towel barely hanging off his hips, leaving not much to the imagination. You stare for a good few seconds before you realize he’s laughing at you.

You set the small table while he changes, making sure to give him a nice large portion. As he sits down he looks at the food you made.

“Wait is this curry?” He asks excitedly.

“Yeah, I figured it would be easy and filling.” You casually say beginning to eat.

“I fucking love curry.” He says inhaling all of his food. You laugh at him, happy to know he likes the food you made.

Once you both finished, he washed the dishes while you showered. After your shower, you sat on the edge of the futon thinking about the day, when Zoro came in and practically tackled you down onto the bed. Both of you laughing as you recovered.

He grabbed onto your waist pulling you closer as you both go to bed. “Goodnight wife.” He whispers before you hear his soft snores filling the room. You melt into his touch at the thought of how much he loves to call you that, eventually allowing yourself to get lost in the comfort of sleep.

#opla zoro #one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #zoro one piece #zoro x reader #one piece #zoro smut #zoro x you #zoro #zoro x reader smut #roronazoro #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #one piece x you #one piece smut

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raayllum · 2 days ago

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This has probably been pointed out already (maybe even by you, I don't know) but I was thinking this morning about how little Claudia in Puzzle House saw sadness in Kruha when everyone else just saw a monster, and how little Ezran in Dreamer's Nightmare saw sadness in the Dream Warden when everyone else just saw a monster. And how that was how they were able to connect with them; because they saw pieces of themselves or their loved ones in these beings that everyone else feared and wanted to help them.

Anyway, just made me think Claudiez which of course made me think of you tips imaginary hat

Yes! We have Claudia and Ezran see through others being monsters in the graphic novels, and then we have Soren and Rayla doing the same in show canon (5x08, 6x05) with Elmer and Esmeray, respectively. I think a lot about how the bulk of the kids see themselves in the 'monster'—Rayla with her grief, rage, loneliness; Soren in feeling worthless / forced to obey in a verbally abusive relationship; Claudia in feeling trapped and stuck and abandoned—but Ezran even goes a step further in empathizing with the Dream Warden not because of his own pain, but because he recognizes his brother's ("You remind me of my big brother [...] I love him even when he doesn't feel like himself. I bet you don't feel like yourself anymore"). His ability to empathize beyond his own experiences is why I think he's such a compassionate character, and one of the similarities he has with Terry that I think Claudia really needs in her life in particular.

I talked about it a little bit here but I'm deeply interested in how the rest of the kids have had this moment, and Callum sort of... hasn't? Callum has had his own moment of "seeing past human hatred," he did that with the elves and Rayla specifically in S1, always believing that peace and reasoning wth them was possible (and it was). He sees past his anger and hatred towards Avizandum because "that was Zym's dad".

But it's never used the word 'monster' directly, and Callum (after Claudia and pre-redemption arc Soren) is probably the most likely to label something as a monster. It's one of the first things he does in 1x01 and he sees the corrupted soldiers as nothing more than monsters either (3x09, 5x03) despite being his own people, which Janai describes fighting against as a nightmare, and Soren has utilized the silver lining of. He trusts Rayla's intuition in 6x05, but he's the first to label Esmeray as a monster in-canon and thinks at first that she's nuts to believe otherwise. This is understandable for numerous reasons! But I do find that Callum is inclined to "I either never believe this person/thing is a monster" or "I do and never question it" is the camp that he tends to fall into, rather than going in between the way some other characters do.

It's not quite the hard black-and-white thinking we see Soren ("It's nice being one of the good guys this time") and Rayla ("and find it before the bad guys too" / "evil jar of toenails") fall into, until they don't ("you have to help them" / "because it's wrong?" "because it's dangerous! because it hurts you!") but it's... adjacent, at least in my head? Something something he doesn't usually dehumanize but if he does good fucking luck getting him to change his mind and not follow through with the original intent (rip Claudia).

Which really means I'm just deeply interested for Callum to get his more formal "I see myself in you / someone I love in you, you're not a monster" moment either with someone else in future seasons, or even maybe with himself / his corrupted self in S7

#the dragon prince #tdp #characterization #tdp callum #monster motif #thanks for asking #chaoticgoodthiefling #the dragang #castle kids #plus rayla hi rayla #graphic novels #arc 2 #home is the first grave #claudiez

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trivialbob · 3 days ago

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The other day while we were running errands Sheila noticed an Eagles Lodge. I've driven by it many times yet never saw it tucked behind a large parking lot.

We like dive bars. Bonus points when they have modest food prices and meat raffles (as this place has on Tuesdays and Saturdays). We stopped in yesterday evening and weren't disappointed. Happy hour for members covers a generous time slot: weekdays, 11 AM to 7 PM. We aren't members but the regular prices for beer were close enough to those member prices that I left with a smile on my face and money in my pocket.

Nearly everyone appeared to be a regular. However we didn't feel like outsiders. A few of the women were bar characters. Their scratchy voices (heavily peppered with four-letter words) made Marge Simpson's sisters sound as mellifluous as Celine Dion. Smoking isn't allowed in bars and restaurants, but you can still enjoy some sounds associated with it.

We won one of the raffles, netting us two large, frozen meatloaves. A woman sitting next to me had an electronic bingo tablet (one of those networked games where people from all over are playing). She won $1500 making her very happy. Oh yeah? Well I have two meatloaves, lady!

Sheila and I ordered tacos (two for $4) and beer served in frozen pint glasses. I love the small bits of ice that float on top of the suds. We hung out for a bit, talking with a bartender and the bingo winner. We didn't stay for the traditional bingo session that was going to start at 6:30 PM. I plan to go back soon and try one of the burgers.

The vending machine prices were low. I'm sure a candy bar at my local grocery store costs more than a buck.

A newspaper is available in the lobby. It's free, unlike anything else related to gambling.

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apolloagain · 1 day ago

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Chapter 40.

Damn. Okay. I have thoughts and feelings. Was glad the other day to see the author thanking someone for a comment that "gets it" because my hubris makes me think that I Get It and would so prove that if I had an ao4 account yet (and yeah it was a good comment lol). But this one has challenged me!

I felt my "indignant" levels go through the ROOF this chapter. We all knew that Sarah's suffocation plan wasn't going to work, but that made it quite easy to root for her attempt. So seeing that fail - and I don't know about anyone else, but that was my last stab at a suicide plan for her - and then the doctor's "Lucky you don't have a choice" after her very sincere but pragmatic speech that could not make her wishes clearer... damn, I mean, I felt the frustration. I really really did. Like some fucked up cousin of Kafka where the system is completely built to circumvent yourself despite your best efforts, except everyone won't STOP caring and "loving" you. Notice how I put loving in quotes? I've been enjoying living through Sarah vicariously, feeling her rage and humiliation but also enjoying it, being a step above as the horny dream-god-reader I am. But this time... well, sure, still doing that a little, maybe. But feeling Sarah's nightmare quiteeee a lot this time! I FELT felt that trapped rage and humiliation and it DIDNT feel good!

First of all, like said, the lead up really has made this a claustrophobic and aggravating place. But then the punishment... okay, damn, look, the spanking before was hot, but somewhat subdued. Even the degradation seemed to end very quickly. But this... wow, jesus fucking christ. Way beyond that. I mean, whipping her BACK???? That's fucked up! That's really visceral! Jesus!!! I'm not at all surprised to hear that every other instance has been under that threshold, but wow, yeah, this one... double the threshold... I can believe that too! Sure, sure, making her say "Yes Mistress" is hot and dommy and whatever, except honestly, the actual content of the punishment is such an upsetting change of pace that I can barely take that in.

This sounds a little like a criticism - it's nothing more than my honest reaction. In reading all of these chapters, I guess I make meta-fantasies. So here's the one I realised I was having for this one: I really wanted Sarah to not back down. The glorious human spirit, I don't care what you call it. I want her to keep saying how until she's been abused to a shocking point. I want Rose to realise what she's done in a savage-hypocrisy- in claiming to love her, instead inflicted real physical damage and torture and really, really hurt Sarah. I wanted the guilt to come crashing down on her, for her to try and say sorry but know nothing can help, for to realise that she took a massive gambit and it FAILED, Sarah WON, the bluff was called and Rose went above it and is a monster for it and Sarah still didn't back down even though she's asking to die and part of Rose really now can see why, which makes her want to as well.

This sounds like a pretty morbid and sadistic fantasy. It IS morbid, but it's not sadistic- again, Sarah being whipped on the back was honestly not nice for me. It's more a fantasy of childish self-pity, like a "They'll all be sorry about how I treated me" catharsis. I don't think I'm the only one who wants it, as you can see in the comments confidently projecting their "predictions" (see: not so subtle wants) saying that Rose will soon find out that torture doesn't work. Sorry guys, but I don't think it's going to NOT not work!

Most of my fantasies have been, sans Sarah submitting and loving the affini, kind of from Rose's desires- that is to say, it's taken delight in the adored cooing and embarassment of watching Sarah play pretend on screen, even though I think that I've experienced a lot of that fantasy THROUGH the placed-perspective of Sarah (urgh, there are literary terms for what I'm trying to distinguish here, but even if I could remember them it would be muddled by me being a messy switch lol). But what happens right after Rose's eyes are glowing then? Sarah poops the party with Facts and Logic, putting what she's doing both matter of factly - Hab wouldn't make her feel "self-conscious" - and presenting it as a bad thing Rose is doing that further proves that her narrative of "love" is self-serving and illegitimate. When she does this, Sarah has to fight holding back a smirk. That's HER bratty ol' fantasy, a self-satisfied rage against the machine that's not just calling them klats and being violent to herself/rude to them, but undermining their control, shaping the narrative her way, no, fuck you, I can condescend right back because this is a disgrace, I'm indignant, I'm RIGHT, this is NOT the story you think it is, fuck you, I hate you, die. That's a cathartic fantasy in and of itself. And I've indulged in that meta before reading this... but not much. Firstly, because from the title alone we know that it's a foregone conclusion. Secondly, because the other one is hotter lol. But thirdly... well, look at how I'm feeling indulging heavily in those emotions and narrative right now. I wanted Sarah's suicide to work! Beyond that, I wanted Rose to go overboard and harm Sarah ONLY so that she can feel bad about having done so. Undermining Rose's system by undermining Sarah. It's self harm, ultimately. Sorry Sarah, but the horrible truth is that your way of life leads to harm. It's too destructive a fantasy, ultimately helping no one.

And yet... and yet this chapter did still make my indignation levels go critical. And I think that despite looking forward very much to the next few chapters, I found this one less enjoyable than maybe I was meant to. Ifelt bad for Sarah man, I just did! Am I taking it too seriously? Am I getting too wrapped up? And YET And Yet... that comment that had the author saying they "definitely get it"? Well, I take comfort from it, because I think I really DO get it- because here's part of it:

Sarah has made a lot of really good points. It does make me hope that Sarah will be able to win some sort of victory. It won’t be a total win - a total win against the Affini is impossible. But some sort of concession or something. You know?

I do know. Apparently we'll be heading to the C Chapters soon, so I have little faith in Sarah holding out for some melodramatic shadow of what my righteous justice wants here- she'll be saying Yes Mistress eventually, progress will be achieved, and I imagine the next few chapters of her Actual Punishment are going to be a lot of fun again, hopefully in a more attractive way than how genuinely shocking the back whip thing was. But overall.... well. Like I said, there are two fantasies at play here, and I believe they both need satisfaction, and I believe Ms Floss (feel like that's a good way to distinguish between character and writer lol) knows that too. I think that by the end of this story, Sarah will be sprouting by some of her own terms as well. It wouldn't be right to have her whole heartedly become a Winston Smith without any rebellion meaning anything, because I wouldn't be able to love Big Brother myself. Sarah's fire will burn, the Affini leaves will catch it somewhat, and there'll be a small mutual respect and understanding for the girl who stoked it. Even if most of said relationship is built on her being the most adorable floret the world's ever seen, who can't believe they were ever so nasty and allergic to happiness and are sure to get teased and reminded by Rose for it.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

"Every Sophont is a Seed" is a really good HDG fic. Sarah rages like a force of nature, her resistance to the Affini is incredibly strong-willed and really feels like a proper fight (despite, you know, the inevitable). There's good reason for it too- to be THAT much of a fighter, you can't just be intelligent and stubborn, but genuinely, well, mentally unwell and destructive. The arc is going to be a long and richly deserved one.

Also it's hot, also it's regularly updated.

#hdg #human domestication guide #tw suicide mention #tw self harm mention #also ill be fair to Rose sarah has been v trying lately #every sophont is a seed

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