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devotedfem · 30 days ago

Note

Hello, lovely !

If you're taking requests, i would like to ask if you could do something with a plot similar to Mulan ?

Maybe Yandere Colonel Jungkook is upset with reader being a male and is really mean to her, that is until he discovers that she took her brother's place to join the army.

I love your writting, you're amazing 🥰

Also feel free to ignore this if you don't like it.

Mulan - J. JK x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry for dissapearing for like three weeks😭, i've been through a lot of bad things lately in my life but now i'm back. Tomorrow I'll post something on my Patreon! I haven't forget abt u guys.

Tags: yander-ish, period typical sexism, mulan au, enemies to lovers, mean Jungkook, smut.

3k words.

Permanent taglist | patreon.

You were the only child of the Liu Family, raised and trained to be the perfect bride to wed an honorable man who could bring grace and honor to your family. Your mother took very seriously her duty of turning you into the perfect wife that any man would desire. After all, in your village the sole purpose and worth of a woman is based on how desirable she is for men.

How boring. That’s why you wanted to be a boy so bad, they have way more fun than girls, and they could do and be anything they want without worrying how desirable they are for the opposite sex. When you realize how differently the world treats girls compared to boys, it’s when you knew you were doomed since your birth. Your fate consists in being owned by a high-ranking man if you’re lucky, trapped in a house to serve him, just like your mother. And you loved your dad with all your heart, but he was so controlling and possessive over your mother, treating her as if she isn’t capable of looking for herself.

He was a retired general because of his disability and age. People say that the men from the imperial army are ruthless and cold-blooded, but your father is none of that, he’s just protective of his family.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror chewing your bottom lip with anxiety sinking heavy in your stomach. Today you have to make a good impression on the matchmaker of the village so she could marry you off with a wealthy and honorable man.

This is why you trained all of your life, for this exact day to be perfect, to be chosen. You were so worried of fucking up this day, you just wanted to make your parents proud of you. They made a lot of sacrifices to raise you with comfort and love, the least you can do for them is being wed to a good man.

Easy peasy, isn’t it?

Well, it isn’t.

Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. And it was all your fault, no one else. You were so nervous and clumsy that you throwed by accident the potful of tea on the matchmaker, burning her skin. Her next words sank deep within you; You may be beautiful and look like the perfect bride, but you’re not! You are a disgrace to your family, you’re worthless!

And with those words being yell at you, she turned around leaving you with tears streaming from your eyes, humiliating you in front of the village people. Everyone leaved, except your mother. Her crestfallen and disappointed face was enough to break your heart.

You felt like a disgrace. But even though you weren’t the perfect bride and daughter, your father was there to comfort you, hugging you with love and telling you that everything will be okay.

But that didn’t happen, because the next day the imperial soldiers came to your village with dreadful news; the country was being attacked by the enemy, and the emperor ordered his soldiers to recruit one man from every family to serve in the army.

But you were the only child of your parents, and your father was too weak to fight in the army, he already did in the past, so there was no need to recruit him again when it will get him killed.

So, when the soldier read from the list your family’s last name, you stopped your father from stepping forward, looking at the soldier with pleading eyes; “Please don’t take my father, he already fought in the army honorably in the past. He’s too weak to fight now,” you begged with a trembling voice, but the soldier look down at you with contempt. “Silence woman! These matters are none of your concern, you better hold your tongue in a man’s presence,” he barked with anger at your audacity, but you didn’t care, you were too worried for your father’s wellbeing to care about your place.

But when you turned around and noticed your father’s embarrassed face, you shut your mouth up, not wanting to dishonor him any further. Watching with a clenching heart how he was listed to serve the emperor.

That night you bickered with him, begging him to not go to the army, but he lashed out at you, telling you to know your place as a woman. That broke your heart, and his face fell with regret immediately after. He never said such things to you before, but you supposed that’s what he really thought of you as a person.

But at midnight, you planned something; you will dress up as a man to take your father’s place in the army. You will not let him die pointlessly when there are plenty of young men that can fight for your country, and if that mean risking your own life to protect your father’s, so it be.

You sewed your father’s old military uniform to adjust it to your size, and then you wore it, looking at your reflection in the mirror with curled lips, tying your long hair in a manly bun, like the men of the army. You might be too skinny and short for a man, but with your father’s clothes you could pass as a young boy.

You hope they don’t bully you too much, men are very mean, even more with the weak ones, you will try to go unnoticed until you finish your duty.

You practice your “manly” voice a few times in front of your mirror, mimicking some of the mannerism that the boys from your village use. When you were satisfied enough with your cheap performance, you grabbed your things to get out of your home, glancing back at it for the last time with a clenching heart; you’re doing this for your father, because deep down you knew he always wanted a son to bring honor to the family, not a clumsy daughter that embarrassed him with the matchmaker, that’s why you will make it up for him.

You walked into the army camp drawing the attention of few of the men, but they looked away uninterested. Your back was straight and your steps long, you tried so hard to walk manly and nonchalant, you just hope you’re not making a fool of yourself and draw unnecessarily attention. When they listed you to join them in the training quarters, they barely glance at you, looking at your body with contempt and saying things like; “you need heavy training for that scrawny weak ass body.”

But you took no offense, feeling relieved that at least they didn’t notice you were a woman, otherwise you couldn’t imagine your punishment if they did, feeling a shiver running down your spine.

Your happiness was short-lived when you bump into a man so hard that you fell on your ass, you blushed by how handsome the man was; tall, buff, manly with a stern gaze and an intimidating aura, but his doe eyes made a contrast of his looks. It was a shame that the moment he opened his pretty lips the spell was broken.

“Watch where you’re walking or I’ll break your legs the next time you get an inch close to me,” he snarled at you with anger flashing his eyes. He took a silent look at you from head to toe, curling his lips with contempt and watching you now with a sneer. “What do we have here, did you already grow hair down there? Such a sissy boy shouldn’t be fighting along with men, but I guess the emperor must be desperate.” His mocking words made everyone else laugh at you, making you feel exposed and humiliated. Your worst fear came true, now you’re the target of dumb men thanks to this asshole.

“Why so curious about if I have hair in my balls, do you want to see? Is that it?” You couldn’t help but smirk at his widened eyes and the group of men erupting into laughs, they didn’t expect you to have a comeback. But you never were the type to back down in an argument.

“Silence!” Everyone shut their mouth up immediately after his violent and strident order, almost as if they were scared of him. You flinched a little at his murderous gaze, clenched jaw and flared nostrils. You felt like a prey about to getting killed by its predator. “Everyone is punished with 5 more hours of heavy training. You can thank your little new friend here. This clown better join a circus after the battle, if he survived of course, but we all know that won’t happen.” You felt dread sinking in your stomach at his mocking and cruel words, nauseous at the implication of dying.

He grinned like the devil when he noticed your fearful expression, walking away with a sneer, leaving you with a spiral of catastrophic thoughts.

But a question crossed your mind; who was him to order the other soldiers around?

“You’re so fucked up mate, you just got under the skin of our general. That man will eat you alive, I can’t even be mad at you when you’re the target of Jungkook. Good luck.” Some guy said to you with genuine pity written on his eyes.

Fucking amazing, that was what you needed; being the target of your superior. Good fucking job y/n.

But at least they believe you’re a man, not everything is bad, isn’t it?

Everything is in fact, very bad. It was a living hell for you everyday thanks to Jungkook, your general. He verbally abused you; mocking your weak appearance, calling you names like pussy and little princess, giving you more labor than the others, humiliating you each time he could in front of the other soldiers, making you the target of their laughers. He also gave you the worst duties like cleaning the bathrooms, dooming you to gag with disgust at how dirty men are. You were deprived of important information the others were given, making you feel lost and fail in your tasks and training, all thanks to that son of a bitch that’s obsessed with ruining your life. At this point you prefer to die in the battle rather than to endure another day with him.

You always cried every night, missing your mom and dad, feeling useless and hurt. You couldn’t bond with the group because they were too scared to talk to you and being the target of Jungkook’s wrath. You felt isolated and hurt.

It was a lot, you weren’t used to heavy training under the sun, physical labor and getting bullied from men. You were a spoiled girl that was always treated with care by your family and friends. But you were doing this for a greater cause. For your father.

You never showered with the other men, too scared of them finding out your secret. And of course, Jungkook noticed, mocking you about you being afraid that everyone will notice your lack of pubic hair and small dick.

But you didn’t let him get under your skin, that’s why one night you sneak away from the quarters to go to the nearest pond of water, taking with you a change of clothes and your chamomile shampoo. Your hair was matted and disgusting.

You took off your clothes, sinking your legs in the water, hugging yourself when the cold water embraced you, you sink down to wet your hair, closing your eyes in pleasure at the sweet aroma of your shampoo cleaning your greasy hair. You hummed watching the stars above you, feeling for the first time in a week completely relax and unbothered.

But you felt watched, that’s why you look at your surroundings with a frown, finding no one.

Until you heard steps, and your heart stops.

Jungkook was standing at the edge of the large pond, looking shocked, tense and furious all at once. You shriek covering your chest with your arms, and his heavy and dark gaze fell to it, clenching his jaw and fists.

“Why are you in the army?” he chastised, with genuine curiosity and anger flashing his dark eyes. His gaze was fixed on you, not looking away even once, and not blinking at all. That frightened you, making you sink until the water reached your neck.

“I’m doing this for my dad, he-he’s sick and too old to join the army, he already did in the past! I just don’t want him to die,” you blurted out with a trembling voice and pounding heart, averting your gaze towards your hands under the water, too scared to look into Jungkook’s eyes.

He said nothing for a couple of seconds, until you heard something heavy drop to the floor, widening your eyes when you noticed it was Jungkook’s clothes.

“What-“

“Do you mind if I get into the water? I haven’t showered either.” You saw the mischievousness flashing his predatory eyes. But you shook your head anyway, after all he was your superior and you can’t tell him to not wash in the pond. No one else besides him knows that you’re a woman, so you’re in a position of disadvantage right now.

You turned around to give him privacy even though you knew deep down that that’s the last thing he want. You’re not an idiot, you can tell when a man’s gaze fills with lust, like a predator finding a good prey to devour. Sometimes, men can be very scary.

“This explains a lot, why you look so fragile, why you didn’t fit in at all, and why you’re so pretty for a man,” you heard him approaching you from behind. “You should be wed to a man, carrying his kids, making him good meals and warming his bed every night instead of wasting your beauty away. This is no place for a woman, but still, you’re here, aren’t you?” His voice dropped an octave, and you can feel him being inches away from your back, but you didn’t dare to turn back.

“Won’t you look at me pretty thing, are you scared?” his voice softens faking a concern tone. You felt him on your back, not touching but ghosting above your skin. His hot breath was closer to your ear, whispering something near to it; “I can help your daddy to not get punished for letting his daughter fight for him, believe me, that won’t look very good to the emperor.” His lips brushed your earlobe, and dread sink to your stomach at his sugar-coated threat. You were so fucked up, of all men it has to be Jungkook the one who finds out your secret.

You turned around with your eyes blurred by tears, he was mocking you and using your dad to take advantage of you.

“What do you want!? Leave my dad out of this, I came here willingly, he has nothing to do with my choice. If you and your emperor want to hurt and punish someone, that should be me and no one else,” you fumed with a single silent tear dropping from your eye, Jungkook wiped it away with his thumb.

“I won’t hurt a woman, I’m not that pathetic. It’s your father’s job to control his daughter and to make you learn your place, so he’ll bear his punishment.” Your stomach churned at his words, scared and worried of getting your dad hurt because of you. You knew Jungkook has power over you right know, but you can use the burning desire on his eyes to your advantage.

“Please, don’t hurt him, I’ll do anything,” you pleaded with a soft voice and watery eyes. You two were inches apart, and you noticed Jungkook inhaling sharp, affected by your words and doe eyes. His gaze darkened and flashed with desire.

He gripped tightly your waist, pulling your body against his, feeling your breasts brushing his skin. You felt aroused by his desperation, by his need and thirst for your body. You squirm into his grasp when he started to kiss and licked your neck slowly, like a starve dog devouring its food. His hands wander to your bottom, holding and lifting your body making you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling his hard cock brush your folds, making you whine. He growled at your sounds, tightening even more his grip on your body. His mouth devoured yours, kissing you with force and need, eating your lips like a starve man and drinking all of your sweet sounds, chasing your lips even when you broke the kiss. But then you cried in pain when he shoved slowly his cock into your folds, making you whimper and wrap your arms around his neck to ground yourself, feeling small under his dark and intense gaze.

His jaw was clenched and his face slightly scrunched up in pleasure, almost as if he was restraining himself from ramming into you sharply, and then when you tell him to move, it was like unleashing a beast, splitting you open and thrusting into you with force, making you sob into his neck, crying and holding onto him.

You came first, bearing the erratic and strong rolls of his hips against yours, ignoring your overstimulation until he came too, filling you up to the brim.

That night he took you to his private quarter, fucking you again in your sleep. You thought you were just being used for one night, but then when you wake up, you found yourself with the news that you were kicked off the army thanks to Jungkook revealing your identity. You were about to break down and feel used and betrayed, until he told you that you're going to be wed to him whether you like it or not. At least if you marry Jungkook your dad won’t be punished, but you’ll be his wife without your consent.

And as he said, you ended under his care, cooking meals for him, warming his bed every night, and carrying his children.

But at least your dad was safe? Not everything is bad, isn’t it?

Taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @deluluisdasolulu @uniquecutie-puffs @Marrylouise @livingformintyoongi @captainhoook @asillysimp @devilzliaison @zephyrdawn @kvstjwonnie @yoongilovescats @bammbi-jeon127 @jerdafuck @Holy_Hobi_water8

#bangtan fanfic #bts x reader #yandere bts #bts imagines #bts x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook smut

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pampushky · 8 months ago

Text

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

next part | masterlist | series masterlist

Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet.

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication.

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again.

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack.

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps.

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him.

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands.

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer.

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup.

“It’s time to go, Logan,”

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American.

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming.

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant.

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves.

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.”

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond.

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed.

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him.

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues.

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve.

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over.

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself.

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking.

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together.

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack.

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning.

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips.

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different.

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges.

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando.

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face.

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted.

So you at least had morals.

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.”

“I’m actually quite good, normally.”

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?”

“Hilarious.”

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver.

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid.

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you.

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush.

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin.

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you.

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.”

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again.

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,”

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking.

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.”

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know.

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails.

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are.

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear.

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced.

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns.

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board.

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing.

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.”

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue.

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food.

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.”

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone.

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are.

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed.

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer.

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again.

“Then we’re fixing it.”

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks.

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?”

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated.

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else.

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm.

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth.

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him.

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.”

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

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thought--bubble · 1 year ago

Text

Fear is a game for children

Aemond X Aemond Wife Reader X Daemon

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,716

Canon Aemond Master List

Daemon Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Written for the Dragon friends period smut collab. Based on an ask received by the wonderful @lady-phasma that she so kindly invited us to participate in!

Header by @zaldritzosrose

Please click HERE for the masterlist for this Collab

Warnings:: Mentions of menstruation, Some sexism, Dubious consent, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Multiple partners. (P in V Sex *Brief mention*)

Being married to a Targaryen prince wasn't half as bad as you had initially expected.

Your husband wasn't exactly warm and loving, but he was respectful, performed his marital duty, and made sure that you were comfortable throughout the process.

Yet you yearned for something more. Something other women spoke about. Not just comfort during the act but actual pleasure. The idea is that you did not need to simply be grateful that the act does not hurt but that you could derive actual pleasure from it.

You had brought this topic up to your husband multiple times. Trying to address what you were sure was a sensitive subject with the utmost gentleness.

At first, Aemond would hear nothing of it, only chastising you for your lewdness. But true to form for Aemond, being told that he was inadequate in anything would motivate him, and try he did, and he improved trying difference postions and pacing, preening at your positive encouragement. That came to an abrupt halt once your moonblood reared its head.

You had heard from your mother and other ladies of the court about the benefits of intimate connection with your husband even at this time, yet Aemond was entirely averse to the idea. Unsanitary and of no purpose being his selected terms. You took no offense to this. You knew how stubborn to change Aemond is. His ability to try something new is limited to the training yard or on the back of Vhagar. He had already done more than you had expected.

You learned quickly that the best time to get things from your husband was when he has had some wine. He is much more...... agreeable, in this state.

Viserys' big birthday feast tonight would be the perfect venue. Everyone knew it would most likely be his last so it was expected to be a grand affair, and a grand affair is was.

So, partway through the evening festivities, you find yourself sitting alone with a slightly wine soaked version of your husband. Your fingertips gently tapping on the table. You knew this may be your moment. Your moment to explain to him why this would be a positive for you both and your growing connection.

"Husband," you open conversation gently, your voice soft as snow.

"Wife?" He turns his head toward you, a small wrinkle creasing his forehead.

You love that little wrinkle. The wrinkle that tells you he is listening, that you have his attention even though his eye is not on you.

"Do you remember the conversation we had this morning?"

Aemonds back stiffens slightly, and he turns his head back to facing forward.

"I do. My opinion on the matter has not changed, " he replies dryly. His fingers lightly tapping on the smooth wooden table they rested upon.

"There are benefits, husband." You lower your voice as much as possible,"others have told me....."

He whips his head toward you, bringing his mouth close to the side of your head. "Do not tell me of your lecherous conversations with the dim-witted ladies of this court." He hisses between clenched teeth "it is beneath your station"

You open your mouth to retort but are cut short by a dark chuckle emanating from behind you.

Daemon Targaryen leans against the wall, his frame tall, his shoulders broad. His short white hair slicked back, with a smile that creeps up his face before settling behind his sharp lilac eyes.

"Oh dear nephew! Must you be such a prude? Must be the Hightower in you." Daemon swirls his wine around his goblet, his eyes trained on you, but his words meant for your husband.

"I find myself quite intrigued by your wife's lascivious conversations and would be quite pleased to hear more." he pushes himself off the wall, bringing his free hand to your shoulder, "do continue, princess."

Your words catch in your throat as heat rises to your face. Your husband and his uncle exchange some choice words in hushed tones, but you can't hear them over the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

You are finally torn from your mental whirlwind when your husband abruptly grips your hand pulling you harshly to your feet.

"My wife and I wish to retire. As always, it has been the utmost pleasure to speak with you, uncle. " Aemonds words are polite, yet the venom in his tone could not be clearer.

As your husband pulls you out of the banquet hall and through the corridors of the redkeep, your stomach is doing somersaults. It is not easy to provoke the wrath of your husband. As his wife, he has always used gentle hands with you, though embarrassment is not something he takes lightly.

You try not to imagine the fate that awaits you behind your chamber door, where Aemond will be free to let you know exactly how he feels about the shame you have clearly brought upon him.

The tapping of your feet against the stone floor echoes through the corridors. Your soft steps, your husband's harsh steps, and a third set of steps heavier than yours yet lighter than your husband's and trailing behind you

You audibly gulp before turning your head to glance behind you but before you can fully turn your head your husband yanks you forward.

"Dear uncle. Your accommodations are back towards the hall. I fear you may not be headed in the right direction. " Aemond attempts to exude an air of confidence, but the gentle shake to his voice is unmistakable, especially to a predator like the rogue prince himself.

"You fear a lot of things, sweet nephew, if I am to understand our previous conversation" Daemon continues following you and Aemond through the corridors, even as Aemond increases his pace nearly dragging you along the floor.

"Dragons fly! They do not run!" Daemon chuckles heartily as he picks up his pace as well. You can't help but admire the confidence in his voice, in his swagger. It's something you see Aemond becoming once time has had a chance to mature him.

When you reach your chambers, Aemond practically shoves you through the door. Turning his body hastily in an attempt to get the door shut. Just as the door is near to close in slips, the tip of a boot.

"Uncle," Aemond growls his hands grip the door tightly, his arm muscles flexing.

"Yes, it is me," Daemon chuckles as he pushes through the door as if Aemond is a mere fly he was swatting from his face.

"The hour has grown quite late. My lady wife and I wish to retire... tis hardly the time for company" Aemond holds his arm out towards his uncle in an attempt to corral him back out the open door.

"Oh, but I have been left unsatisfied by our earlier conversation and a dragon...... well, we simply can not go unsatisfied. " Daemon feigns a smile toward Aemond before setting his sights on you.

"Now princess, if you wish for me to take my leave, I will. Just as soon as you tell me the subject of these conversations with the ladies of the court. The conversations that serve to upset my nephew so much." Daemon wiggles his eyebrows at you before settling himself in one of the chairs placed before the hearth in your marriage chambers.

"Well......" You trail off unsure of what you should do. You're placed in a room with two quarreling dragons, and you feel the fire breathing down your neck. You look toward your husband for some guidance, but he simply looks down.

"We speak about girlish things. Things I am sure would bore you greatly, my prince."

"Hmmm...." Daemon scratches his chin, his smirk returning to his face when he sees how uncomfortable Aemond is.

"What kind of girlish things was my dear nephew chastising you for? For I am sure it was not because you spoke of gowns, balls, or childbearing. " Daemon starts to tap his foot, and your stomach curls.

You know the situation you are in. You refuse Daemon and meet his wrath now, or you appease Daemon and meet Aemond's wrath later. You decide you are better off calming your husband then to attempt to avoid the questions asked by the elder dragon prince.

"We spoke of benefits." You clear your throat and pull and the neckline of your gown, the material suddenly tight around your neck and heavy upon your frame.

"This bores me" Daemon drawls annoyed. "What is it?"

"The benefits of...... intimate moments with one's husband... during.... well..... when a lady has her moonblood. " As the words leave your lips, you turn your head to the side in a desperate attempt to not look at your husband.

"Is that it?" Daemon laughs loudly. Though the laughter is not joyful, instead it is condescending.

"Oh, nephew! You are supposed to be a dragon! Yet you fear a little blood?" Daemon stands up hastily from his chair. He casts a sideways look towards Aemond before smirking and making his way to you swiftly, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Uncle......" Aemond voice is a low growl and he stands with his legs spread slightly apart.

"It is wholly unsurprising that you have yet to...... bloody your blade. " Daemon snickers his back, turned away from Aemond, his arm still around your waist. "Such a fearful boy. Now pay attention. I am about to teach you a lesson you would be wise to learn...."

With that, Daemon tightens his grip around your waist, walking you backward toward the bed you share with your husband, pushing you gently until you land softly on your back.

"Nephew. As a dragon....." Daemon leans down, pushing your dress up your legs and around your hips. "Blood is not something we fear." He deftly wraps his fingers around the band of your small clothes, quickly pulling them down your legs before discarding them.

"Come" Daemon beckons Aemond to stand behind him, Aemond stays rooted in place at first but after a sharp look of annoyance from Daemon he slowly walks over until he is behind him.

Daemon brings his hand to your heat opening you up with his fingers. His hands are cold, sending a shiver up your spine.

"Are you sore princess?" Daemon's question pours over you like warm water, the chill running down your spine replaced with a heat.

"Why would she be?" Aemond's voice cuts through your haze briefly.

Daemon pinches his nose before turning to look at Aemond. "Because, ladies can be sore during this time. you tout around all of your knowledge yet do not know this?"

Aemond scoffs and turns his head. "The affairs of women are hardly my concern"

You try to keep the thoughts in your head from displaying on your face.

"The comfort of your wife should be your concern Aemond" Daemon runs his fingers through your folds swiping the pads of his middle and forefinger over your pearl. "however do you cope princess?"

Your back arches slightly at the touch, a soft sigh slipping out from between your lips.

"Such a responsive thing. You are a man of good fortune Aemond. Unfortunate that you have squandered it until now."

Daemon brings his head down between your thighs rolling his tongue over your clit, humming as he goes.

Your reaction is instant. Aemond has never gone down on you at all let alone during your cycle. Your hands quickly find their way into Daemon's hair pulling him closer.

Your eyes shoot open as his slides one cold long finger into your heat, crooking it upwards and exploring your insides. You look for Aemond, slightly raising your head and find him frozen. His one pupil blown and taking in the sight before him.

You moan loudly as the lewd wet sounds of Daemon's mouth sucking and licking at your heat ring loud around the room. You feel that pressure that you have experienced very few times start to build in your lower stomach, tightening like a coil, ready to pop loose at any moment.

Daemon lifts his head from you, your juices and moonblood are a cloudy mixture that drip down his chin.

"Give in for me sweet girl, show your husband what you look like when a man does as he should" Daemon growls as he brings his face back down to your heat, biting gently and sucking harshly on your swollen nub.

The pleasure that had been building in your lower stomach reaches a pinnacle and crashes over you like a wave, your back arching off the bed, nothing else exists for you in this moment aside from your pleasure and the momentary relief you feel from you feminine aches.

The noises you make are unbecoming for a lady of your standing but not even the 7 could keep you quiet now.

Daemon leans back on his haunches, a sly smirk on his face clearly pleased with himself. "And that, dear nephew, is what a satisfied woman looks like, a new view for you, of that i am sure."

Aemond angrily shoves Daemon to the side causing him to lose his balance temporarily.

"You are most welcome princess" Daemon taunts haughtily, he makes no moves to clean off his face instead focused on Aemond who has now lowered his own face to your heat desperately attempting to recreate the scene he just witnessed.

"Slower nephew. There is a build up that must be done"

Aemond slows his movements suddenly, the overstimulation you were feeling calms to a gentle wave of pleasure as your husband flicks his tongue across your sweet pearl.

Daemon gets up and crawls onto the bed kneeling beside you.

"Princess..." He coos directly into your ear while pushing your hair back. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Y-Yes" your breaths are short and broken, each stroke of Aemond tongue across you overstimulated clit cause a small twitch.

"That is good." Daemon brings his lips to yours pushing his tongue into your mouth, the taste of wine and copper fills your mouth heightening your pleasure as it once again builds.

You bring your hands down to Aemond's hair using it as an anchor to hold him in place as you take your pleasure from him rubbing yourself against his prominent nose as he shoves his tongue into your clenching entrance.

Your hips roll as you move climbing up that wall of pleasure once again, Daemon trails bloody kisses down your neck and over your cleavage, before grasping your left breast, kneading the fatty flesh beneath his palm.

"You are taking much longer than I did nephew" He taunts his mouth up against the side of your throat, biting a nibbling at the sensitive flesh there.

Aemond takes this taunt as a challenge pressing two fingers into your core and flattening his tongue against your pearl. His fingers digging into the fatty flesh of your thighs.

The stimulation of your core, mixed with Daemon's tight grip of your breast and needy kisses sends you hurtling back towards your peak.

"Aemond... please Aemond" you gasp as you feel your body tense, a small tremble spreading throughout your entire frame.

"Hmmmm" Aemond hums applying more pressure to your pearl and pushing his fingers into your body at an accelerated pace.

"One more time for us princess" Daemon whispers into your ear, gently biting at the lobe.

"One more!" You gasp out before succumbing to your orgasm.

You gasp loudly, feeling as if you could take all the air in the room into your lungs and it still wouldn't be enough.

Aemond raises his head slowly from between your legs the same mixture dripping down his face and covering the tips of his white hair.

His eye connects with yours as he stands and starts to loosen the laces of his trousers.

Daemon pulls away from your neck and watches Aemond as he pushes himself into your core in one swift motion, his face and hair still covered in your blood, his ravenous eye upon you and his fingers digging so deeply into your thighs you are sure he will soon break skin.

"And now nephew....." Daemon chuckles and slightly pushes back his hair. "you finally look like a dragon"

To be added to taglists click HERE

#aemond x reader #daemon x reader #aemond fanfiction #daemon targeryan #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell verse #daemon fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfic #matt smith fanfiction #jess fics

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 3 months ago

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Yearning

The sequel to part two: Feasting on You

This part contains no smut, but does continue the story of Eris and the Reader yearning for a babe. (You can skip it if you just want to banging, but I needed to give myself a LITTLE BIT OF CONTEXT.)

Contains: Fluff, loss of a partner, sexism, Beron Vanserra making me want to commit anarchy, hope of pregnancy, crying children, a female being made to feel small, jealousy, class discrimination.

Word Count: 3,495

Summary: As you continue to work through the quiet reality that you may not be able to have a child with your mate, Eris Vanserra, you are still required to continue your duties as second to the High Lord. You are holding court with your mate and council when a female comes with a request for aid, bringing her own children with her and causing you to ache for a babe of your own to hold in your arms.

Writing:

A few days slipped by, and while the persistent anxiety of not producing an heir gnawed at the edges of your mind, you hesitated to bring it up to Eris. What was the point? You questioned yourself. Yet, the nagging thought kept returning—unrelenting. The Healers had reassured you during your last consultation that conception required nothing more but time and patience, and there was no precise science to guarantee success. Much of it relied on the stars aligning, just right, and the coincidence of perfect time. You had hoped that by creating ample opportunities for coincidences might increase the odds. But it appeared that fate preferred to mock you with its own cruel designs.

Moreover, bringing it up with Eris might only burden him with distractions from the litany of other responsibilities he had before him. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to comfort you over something you felt shouldn’t have been a problem to begin with. Still, you found yourself lying awake late into the night, trapped in the swirl of thoughts. It clung to you like a dense fog, unwilling to lift. One moment, you seemed resolved to let it go and let nature take it’s course, but the next had the heavy weight of uncertainty pressing down harder.

Among your myriad of duties was holding court with Eris. The Autumn Court, rich with deep-rooted traditions, convened every few weeks for this purpose. These sessions were open, designed to allow the citizens direct access to the High Lord with their grievances and requests. Though Eris often found himself unable to resolve many of these issues, he cherished this time as a vital opportunity to connect with all the beings he governed. He believed it was crucial to uphold the tradition where those residing within his borders would have their voices heard.

Unlike his father, Eris had wanted his mate present at these gatherings. He hoped that having a female presence in the room, attentive to the requests presented, might inspire some of the court’s females to bring forth their own matters. His intuition seemed to have borne fruit, as more females seemed willing to engage.

Eris leaned forward in his intricately carved, high-backed throne, his eyes narrowing with intense focus as the male standing before him detailed the problems caused by a persistent drought in the southern region. He spoke of the desperate hope for relief from the poor crop yields. You maintained a carefully crafted facade of attentiveness, lightly nodding along as Eris asked probing questions, questions to which the male eagerly responded, eager to explain his plight. Finally, Eris clapped his hand against his thigh with a decisive smack. “Wonderful! We shall continue to monitor the rainfall levels, and until they have increased, your production quota will be reduced by twenty-five percent.”

The male before you beamed with gratitude, his smile wide and genuine. “Thank you, my lord and lady, you cannot understand how much weight this lifts from our shoulders.”

Eris returned the smile, his expression warm and reassuring. “It’s no trouble at all. I am grateful you made the journey here to discuss it, and I wish you the safest return home.”

The male offered Eris a light, grateful smile before turning. His footsteps echoed softly in the grand room as he exited, the heavy doors swinging closed behind him with a resonant thud.

Eris turned to his right, speaking to the council seated beside him. This was yet another aspect of holding court that you despised; it was one of the few responsibilities that forced you into the proximity of Eris’s father. You did your utmost to avoid meeting his gaze, pretending as if he were absent entirely.

At the far end of the room, the announcer cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the air as he introduced the next audience. “Lady Sibel of the Northern Forests.”

The grand doors swung open, their hinges creaking with age, revealing a petite female dressed in a rather plain garment. She stood hesitantly in the threshold, accompanied by a smaller figure—a little boy, no more than four years old, with a mop of curly brown hair and a smudged face peeking out from behind her skirts. His tiny fingers clutched the fabric tightly as he gazed curiously down the hall.

“Let’s go, Peter,” the woman beckoned softly. She reached behind her, gently taking the child’s hand, and began walking down the center of the hall. Her initial nervousness was evident, but as you offered her a polite, reassuring smile, her tension seemed to ease. She came to a halt before you, licking her lips nervously and fidgeting slightly as she prepared to speak.

It wasn’t until she stood directly in front of you that you noticed the tiny bundle snugly strapped to her chest, adjusting ever so slightly beneath the soft folds of fabric that nearly blended into the drape of her gown. Your heart caught in your throat as you heard the delicate, melodic coos emanating from the bundle.

“My lord,” the woman addressed Eris with a respectful nod before turning her gaze to you, “My lady.”

Eris inclined his head in a gesture of polite acknowledgment as she continued speaking. “I apologize for any inconvenience, but I have come today to seek assistance for myself and my children.”

You swallowed with difficulty as you noticed the little boy shyly retreating behind her flowing skirts once more.

“My husband,” she gulped as though holding back tears, “Was lost to an accident on the famr, and despite my efforts to maintain our land, it has become overwhelming for me to manage alone. Especially with the little one,” her hand gently reached behind her skirts, tenderly tousling the little boy’s unruly mop of hair, “and the newborn,” she glanced down with a soft, protective gaze at the precious life cradled close to her heart, “I’m just not able to care for the land like my husband was.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eris offered, his voice laced with genuine empathy and shared sadness. The female merely nodded, her eyes glistening slightly as she swallowed hard.

“He was a good husband,” she observed slightly.

The small bundle issued another coo, though this time it seemed tinged with a hint of irritation as it’s mother lifted her hand to the babe. Her fingers tenderly patted it’s tiny back while she softly swayed to soothe it.

From the place beside Eris, Beron’s voice cut through the quiet, cold and unfeeling. “What are you here to ask for?” he demanded.

The female’s eyes flicked nervously toward Beron, and before she could muster a reply, Eris interjected, “What can we provide to ease your burden?” His words were carefully chosen and soft in delivery.

Collecting herself, the female took a quick breath and steadied her gaze. “I was going to ask if there’s any possibility of selling a portion of my land back to the court, so that I might have more time to care for my children,” she explained. Her voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Eris and his father.

Beron let out a cruel, lifeless laugh that slithered into your bones, igniting a furious blaze within you. “You’d rather squander the property your husband left you in death than secure another male to shield your estate?” he spat, each word dripping with disdain and venomous mockery.

The female’s eyes filled with terror and disbelief, her fragile features—etched by years of sorrow—now laid bare as you could see memories of endless, tear-stained nights in a home meant for her families own growth, now empty and dark. “No, my lord. I cannot just recklessly give away this land without weighing the cost. If only I had more time beyond the tending, I could properly care for my children—” she began, her voice trembling, only to be brutally cut off.

“Countless females had lost their husbands to accidents and still clawed their way to survival—by finding another male to shoulder their burdens and entrusting him with their wealth,” Beron snapped.

Shaken, the female stuttered as her small babe emitted another disgruntled squeal. “I understand, my lord. But my husband was my—and my children’s—entire world—I cannot just replace him with another,” she pleaded, her voice quivering.

Beron’s lips curled into a sneer of scorn as he retorted, “Clearly you’re more than capable of bearing more children. With such fertile allure, I imagine you’d easily lure another male eager to impregnate you again—to secure his own lineage. And more children mean’s more hands on the farmlands.”

As his voice thundered louder, the little babe’s cried echoed ominously around the courtroom. “It seems you have no genuine desire to change your lot when you were born with every advantage to rise above. Instead, here you stand, clawing for handouts instead of doing what females have always done, which is to use their sex to their advantage.”

The babe erupted into wails as the small boy sought refuge beneath his mother’s skirts while the sorrow-stricken widow let silent tears trace down her cheeks. She tried desperate to interrupt the tirade, but Beron’s relentless mockery drowned out her please.

Finally, Eris intervened, his voice crashing over his father’s like a raging storm, “Enough!” he declared, and you could swear the light along the walls trembled in response.

The courtroom was flooded with silence that pounded in your ears other than the wailing screams of the babe. The mother’s tears came more heavily now as she turned her face down to look at the tiny bundle that squirmed angrily in their sling. She pat at the babe, shushing it, trying to soothe them but her own despair seemed to only make the babe more irate.

“I will remind you that you are no longer the High Lord, and have no right to make such statements in the presence of my court.” Eris hissed towards his father.

But as your mate unleashed a torrent of scolding upon his father, struggling to wrangle the court back into submission, you sprang to your feet, urgency propelling you down the stairs of the platform toward the distraught female.

She was consumed by hot, wrenching sobs, desperately attempting to soothe her screaming babe, her voice trembling as she shushed it. The small boy clinging to her skirts had joined the chorus of cries, his tiny hands clawing up at his mother for solace.

The guards that flanked the walls stepped forwards, readying themselves to intervene, but you waved them back, your focus laser-sharp on the sorrowful creature before you. The heated argument between Beron and Eris faded into irrelevance, your entire being centered on the female.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as she lifted her tear-streaked face to meet your gaze. She recoiled slightly, as if fearing your approach would only bring further reprimand. You slowed your pace, softening your demeanor. “I’m so, so sorry,” you repeated with a fervent sincerity.

She shook her head, her voice trembling, “He’s right,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here asking for help.” Her sobs deepened as she jostled the babe.

“No, no—” you interjected, stepping in front of her with determination, positioning yourself like a shield against the oppressive council of males seated before her. “You came to us for help, and we will help you. Regardless of what one member of the council may think.” You vowed it to her.

The babe emitted another piercing wail, the small boy in his mother’s skirts crying out, pleading for her. You extended two hands towards the infant, urgency in your gesture. “May I?” you asked, your voice resolute.

The female looked down at her screaming infant, then to her son, grappling with the impossible task of soothing them both while negotiating her livelihood. Her eyes flickered with hesitation before she nodded.

The female gently supported the babe from below, her hands steadied as you reached into the swaddled sling. Your fingers wrapped around the warm, wriggling body of the tiny being, feeling its softness and fragility. It let out a series of piercing screams as you lifted it, bridging the space between you and its mother. You pulled the babe closer to your chest, your hand cradling them under their rear, while nestling their tiny head with a delicate smattering of brown curls in the crook of your elbow.

The little one continued to wail, its gummy mouth opening wide in protest as you gazed down at it, your heart instantly clenching. You began to rock them gently, feeling the weight of their small form in your arms. They couldn’t have been more than a few months old, barely able to hold their own head up as they kicked and squirmed in fear. Another wail escaped their lips, tiny arms flailing upwards as you shifted your weight from one foot for the other, soothing them with a soft, rhythmic shushing.

The mother leaned down towards her toddler, lifting him onto her hip. She held him close, whispering quiet reassurances that only a mother could offer.

As you looked down at the infant, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The cries grew softer, transforming into more discontented grunts, as you gently patted their rear through the soft, protective layers of blankets they were swaddled in.

“Shhh, little on,” you whispered. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The babe finally opened their eyes, and you were met with brilliant blue pools peering back at you, even as tears streamed down their pudgy cheeks. “Hello sweetheart,” you cooed. “There you are. It’s all okay. It’s alright.” The little one sniffled lightly, their tiny hiccups and grunts punctuating their squirms. You leaned down, pressing your lips gently to the small babe’s forehead, your eyes closing as your inhaled the deep, intoxicating scent of the newborn. It was an enchanting aroma, fresh and new, a blend of clean linens and warm milk.

You pressed a gentle kiss into the velvety softness of their forehead, your body swaying slightly as you hummed against the babes skin. The babe, once restless and protesting with indignant squawks, now seemed to nestle into you, emitting sniffles and coos.

You placed another gentle kiss before leaning back, allowing the little one to faze up at you with wide, curious eyes.

A soft smile spread across your face as you murmured, “I know, sweet thing. I’m not mama.” You carefully lifted the babe, slightly turning them toward the female who was wiping away the tears of her toddler. “But mama’s right there; she’s okay. I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

The babe’s eyes, still shimmering with unshed tears, began to soften as their tiny hands unclenched from the tight fists they had been balled into. “Look at you,” you whispered, “you’re so beautiful. Look at your little nose and lips.” With tender care, you brought your hand up to gently wipe away to hot, shiny tears that streaked down the infant’s reddened cheeks. “I promise, we’re going to get it all figured out.” You leaned down to meet the curious gaze of the little one. The babe’s eyes were wide with wonder, fixated on your face as if drinking in every detail. You lingered there, lost in the mesmerizing, tiny expression that danced across that small face.

Then, a deep male voice broke through and your gaze shot upward to where the tall figures sat, looking down on you and the female. Your eyes met your mates—a quiet smile dancing on his lips—his eyes softening as he watched you rock back and forth, cradling the little one securely in your arms. With a warm, knowing smile, you returned his glance.

“Lady Sibel,” Eris began, pivoting to face the female who still held her toddle close against her hip, “we want nothing more than to ensure the continued prosperity of your family. And when the time comes for you to expand into the farmlands once more, we are committed to preserving that opportunity for you.”

The female shifted slightly as she swallowed. The babe let out another gentle coo, and you looked over with an affectionate smile, exaggerating your expressions slightly to coax a smile from the infant.

“That being said,” Eris continued, “we would be honored to tend the land on your behalf, to nurture its fertility. And when you feel either ready to bind yourself to another partner, or one of your children matures enough to work the fields themselves, we will restore the land to your family name.”

The female’s voice wavered as she stammered in shock, “My—my lord—that’s incredibly generous of you.”

Eris raised his hand slowly and gently shook his head. “Your husband cared for the land for generation. It would be wholly unjust for your to lose it merely because of the tragic circumstances you have had to bear. Removed that burden means your children can flourish and thrive.”

Tears welled in the females eyes, shimmering with both sorrow and relief, as a small, hopeful smile broke through as she finally spoke, “My lord, I truly cannot thank you enough for this—and I swear, I will find another companion as soon as I can.”

This time, you interjected softly, your hand resting lightly on the female’s shoulder. “There’s no need,” you said. “Take all the time to grieve the loss of your husband, and if you find someone wonderful, we will rejoice with you. But if your future unfolds in the warm embrace of your children alone, rest assured we will be just as content. It is your life to live and your path to choose.”

She nodded, her lip quivering as she turned once more to Eris. “My lord, my lady, you are too kind.”

“We are here to care for you,” Eris replied with sincerity. “It is the sole purpose of our duty—to ensure that you not only survive, but live.”

The toddler nestled his soft, curled hair into the crook of his mother’s neck, finding comfort in the warmth of her skin as she tenderly pressed a kiss into the curly brown mop atop his head.

“We will have a contract drawn up for your signature and brought to your home as soon as possible,” Eris continued, his voice steady and reassuring.

The mother nodded gently, whispering soothing words into her son's ear, “Alright my darling, it’s all okay.” With a gentle motion, she let him slip down from her arms to the floor, where the boy immediately sought refuge behind her legs once more. Eris continued to relay the intricate details of the plan as the mother approached you, arms outstretched to reclaim her infant.

Your heart ached with the impending loss of the small, perfect being, the sweetness of their scent lingering in your senses, a fragrance you wished could envelop you all day. But the child wasn’t yours to keep. They belonged to another. Reluctantly, you allowed the mother to take her baby back, and as she did, your arms felt suddenly empty, a hollowness settling deep in the pit of your stomach.

The mother offered her thanks once more before making her way toward the hall, her toddler’s small hand securely clasped in hers, the baby snugly swaddled in the sling against her chest. As the doors closed behind her, you turned to face Eris, feeling the sting of tears pricking at your eyes as you began to ascend the steps. You forced the tears back, choosing to ignore whatever derision Beron might throw your way as you resumed your place on the throne.

Eris glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his hand extending out to rest gently on your knee. He squeezed lightly, offering a touch of reassurance as you continued to hold back the tears pressing insistently at your lids. He knew. He knew how hard it was for you to let go of the babe, to watch another cradle their own child, what you longed for with every fiber of your being.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turned to face Eris, locking eyes with him as he peeled back the raw layers of vulnerability. His gaze held a fierce tenderness, an intense longing that mirrored your own burning desire. In that fleeting, electrifying moment, amidst the imposing grandeur of the hall and the crushing weight of the responsibilities on both your shoulders, you were stripped down to your most essential selves. Two souls intertwined by a love so profound, it defied all boundaries, yearning desperately to bring forth a child to share in that love. In that instant, you were not the High Lord and his Mate, but simply a mother and father, consumed by an unyielding hunger like thousands of others across the country, aching for a tiny babe to cradle and cherish. Parents with a relentless longing for an unborn child.

Part 4: Red to Entice You

#eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris and reader #eris and you #eris vanserra and reader #eris vanserra and you #eris vanserra smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut fanfiction #acotar fic #eris fic #eris vandaddy #acotar pregnancy fic #acotar pregnant

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lovebvni · 10 months ago

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repetition (a pick-a-pile)

in honor of my friends kai ( @klxudykai )and nile (who doesn’t want to be tagged), i want to do a little pap! this will be black white and purple themed for them too (their pfp colours)

i know both of them are going through cycles of repeating their actions over and over, and it is hard for them. i know it’s frustrating — hell i hate repetition. but you find peace in it.

this pick-a-pile is just advice for your manifesting and/or shifting journey. there is no real theme, but i asked spirit to bring up something you need to repeat for each pile.

this pap is intuition and shufflemancy-based. i am not using tarot nor cards at all for this. this is also for entertainment purposes. take my words with a grain of salt AND please do not use this as legal or life advice.

now, inhale and exhale. believe in your intuition, and pick a picture.

[1 ; 2

3 ; 4]

pile 1 the spiral.

hi pile 1! here’s confirmation for your pile : cycles, crying, cynical, the letter c (in your name of in the name of your significant other. casey and clark stand out.), puns, clairaudience, crown, clowns, (a lot of words w the letter c jesus christ..), underwater, drowning, sinking, the sea, oceans, water (s), fix your face, black, sexism, activist, reality shifter, cyclones, spirals, “i feel like im not seeing any signs/progress”

well pile one, you could feel like you are stuck in a cycle. just a torpedo and you’re getting hit with the same things over and over. you’re wondering why things aren’t changing, why this won’t end, but it’s because YOU won’t change. this is the harshest i think i have ever been in a pick a card, but you really need to get over yourself. realize you aren’t the person you should be, throw that person away and reinvent yourself. you want a lot in life, and you aren’t going to get it if you don’t decide to change yourself. the universe chose you for a reason, but if you keep having your own pity party, you aren’t gonna get anywhere. stop getting mad when you’re being told the truth. it isn’t there to hurt you. it’s there to help you. the truth is a tool. and as long as you keep ignoring it, you keep hiding from the monster inside your closet, it’s never gonna leave. it’s gonna haunt you. it’s like a negative spirit. lure it out and keep it coming. it is gonna hurt, but it’s worth it.

your required repetition is “continue to listen and change yourself. transformation.”

the waiting season is one where you need to work, don’t keep sulking.

now to interpreting your song, her by poppy. you have been trying to be someone else that you are not, for someone else. the chorus

“I'm getting to know her And all of her anger You won't recognize her If you encountered I'm getting to know her And all of her anger Picked herself up Put her back together”

you need to change and you know it, and you don’t know how. start with your anger, your sadness, a strong emotion and unravel it. unwrap it like a gift. keep pulling to you get to the root of the cause — hold it.. nurture it… and get the mud off it.

see this as a new start, pile one. i love you. you need to know you’re strong, and you can do this. don’t get annoyed, because i know you’ve been told this before. fix your face.

pile 2 ghouls

hello pile 2! here’s confirmation this is your pile!!: fairies, love, purple, green, heart chakra and third eye chakra, shadows, “on a silver platter”, polite, scars, romance, sacred, girl blogger, skull and bones, doja cat, fear of success, screaming, pink, sexuality, white, sensuality, fire and ice, opposites, blood, self sabotage, royalty, alternative, goth, knight, disability, multilingual, this specific dynamic, vampire

simplicity. simplify everything. that’s all spirit is saying. don’t over complicate things. that’s like all spirit is saying u guys 😭😭

they r literally saying clear your mind, just be the person you are meant to be. listen to your intuition, be creative, have love in your heart, even when times are hard, and let emotions flow.

spirit told me your manifestations are actively coming in 😭😭 idek why you’re reading this pac! like there are no notes, nothing else you need to do. just listen to your intuition and be in tune with yourself. god i love this pile bc yall r js so sweet and light hearted — like there’s so much hidden positivity here that’s waiting to come out.

good job on how far you’ve come, and hav fun where you’re going! love you pile 2!

pile 3 — unclear memory

hi pile 3! here’s your confirmation: “even a worm will turn”, disappointment, ditsy, protector, big eyes, proposal, hobbit core, hermitcraft, minecraft, silence, under another’s control, blush, light colours (pastels), resting, new opportunities, distractions, distant, chapell roan, wlw.

you’re over possessive but you cut out your heart. or someone else cut it out. you need to get your priorities straight. there’s so much going on in your brain. they all lead to the same thing, don’t they? like how a spider web meets in the middle.

you’re sad, i can tell, but you won’t let anyone know. you think you’ve done enough, or even too much, but in reality you’ve been distracted. you’re trying to hide your main in overworking. doing too much.

your repeating advice is “get back on track and focus on your morals”.

but dont become some else. become yourself. stop holding grudges. get yourself back.

pile 4 — kisses

hi pile 4! here’s confirmation this is your pile: shadow work, brooklyn nine-nine, wolf pack, furry, july, suicidal but continuing, height difference, jumbled thoughts, flowers, blue and pink, wash off the makeup, ombré, counting crows poem.

this is my dogs favorite song 😭😭

pile four, you have been looking for outer validation when you don’t need it. you’re searching for signs, for love, for confirmation you’re on the right path when you really jay need yourself. you’re putting yourself down and other people/the universe on a pedestal. YOU ARE THE UNIVERSE!! REALIZE THAT!

what you say goes. what you want will happen. and that’s that.

your advice is as follows ; “you need to just rest.”

and i think that’s great advice. sit down and relax. listen to music, meditate, be at peace. work on yourself. try journaling too!! it will help.

thank yall for reading!! <3 i hope this helps someone. finishing this at 5:55 pm btw!!

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urban-mutt · 23 days ago

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So... Here's Lalo's whole life story!! All of this is projection and headcanons, but it's obviously not ooc. I wanted him to be fleshed out and authentic, as one does when making up something to fit in with the existing lore (usually).

It doesn't have many details on purpose. You don't need to know how when and where exactly, just that it happened and what it does for the character.

Massive content warnings for rape, all sots of abuse, colorism, sexism, suicidal thoughts, homophobia and more. It's a really heavy backstory, which is appropriate for a cartel member with notoriously fucked up family.

Now we can begin.

Lalo is the only child in his family. His dad married a colorist's dream of a woman. White, blond, green-eyed beauty. Not everyone approved of it. White women are toys, not marriage material. You can shag whoever, but you have to marry a local woman. But Lalo's dad was deeply in love. Didn't care much about what others would say.

Lalo's father didn't shy away from killing in front of him as soon as Lalo could crawl. Something so normalized in this family, it seems appropriate to kill men who you lose poker to. Even if they're friends, and it's your home and your wife yells at you for it and your kid cries from the loud noise of a gunshot.

Lalo didn't go to school in Mexico, he lived in the US most of his life. Which some members of his family also didn't like. "Lalo will be too American! With his white mom and stupid 'merica education." Others thought Lalo might actually have a chance at being smart if he was away from Hector and his other relatives. They weren't wrong.

Being away from many relatives led to Lalo quickly figuring out what he wants. Older boys in his school looked cute. He knows it's wrong, but he can't help it. If his dad nor mom can control themselves, why would he?

His parents didn't really love each other. His mom was miserable with such an abusive and demanding man. So she fell for a man from a rivaling cartel. She told the man everything, betrayed her family for a promise of a better life, and you can't blame her.

Lalo's father and multiple uncles and grandfathers died in the resulting ambush.

Lalo's mother was executed.

"This is why you don't trust a white bitch." Tio Hector said.

Lalo never felt more wronged. How could she betray them? Hector has to be right! All women have to be like this. Thank God Lalo is a faggot! He wouldn't have to deal with this shit when he grows up!

Lalo finished middle and high school in Mexico, close to his remaining relatives and Hector.

By the time Lalo is around 16 he killed and saw people die quite a lot. He was taught how to butcher pigs as soon as he was strong enough to hold a knife. And after you kill it and prepare it, you have to cook it. Because every man must know how to care for himself.

Hector already knew Lalo was gay. He never saw kid be interested in any women, and even if he was, it was obviously a pretend. Hector knew. Everyone knew. Not like Lalo hid it well or tried to hide it at all. Hector was very disappointed.

The night Lalo dared to bring a man home, thinking Hector wouldn't notice. Hector killed the man in front of Lalo, teaching Lalo a lesson. He beat Lalo so bad, broken rib, punctured lung, lost teeth.

Lalo didn't give up, though. He kept seeking connections and Salamanca's people would always report on it and Lalo would get beaten again.

Nothing he isn't used to! His dad beat him for broken vases and stuff, or throw him outside to spend the night in the cold. His mom would always tend his wounds and let him back in while his father can't see.

He was still bitter about her betrayal, he always will be. He loved her a lot.

Lalo was growing up fast, he was an adorable kid, it's evident he's a lucky one among his cousins. Pretty one. And Salamanca family had issues with money for a while now. Hector got an idea. Don Eladio is also a faggot. (Bisexual, but who cares, to Hector it's all the same.) So what can be a better gift than his cute little nephew?

They made a meeting. Lalo knew what will happen. Hector said, "You're a useless faggot, this is your only chance to redeem yourself, be helpful to your family." Lalo can't say no to this. No matter how much, he doesn't want to fuck a man so much older. He has to. It's for the family.

After the deal went through, after it was done, Lalo sat there in this big opulent bed. He wanted to die. He always kinda wished he was with his dad when they got ambushed. Wished to die with his father instead of living and suffering consequences of his mother's actions. He didn't do anything to deserve this. He's not even 18 yet.

Eladio kept seeing Lalo often, Lalo tried to stay positive, knowing he has to do it for his family. This is when he picked up Taoism. Read few books on it. Honestly, anything that could keep his mind off the old hands on his hips worked.

Lalo cared less and less with each time, starting to enjoy it more. It won't be long until Lalo snaps.

Time passed and now Lalo has to go to college, back to the USA, Texas. It seemed like a salvation. Finally, freedom. But Hector decided he won't give Lalo any money. Lalo will have to find a job in the US and work while studying, so Lalo can learn to be useful beyond being a hole for their boss to fuck.

Lalo was mad, Hector has nobody but Lalo to rely on, he hurts Lalo and for what? But still, Lalo was rather live among poor people for a few years than be here. In wealth and misery.

His college years were a blur. Lalo was so broken. He didn't study, he didn't get a job. He lived off of cash he got from prostitution and spent it all on drugs. Homeless and always high, trying to kill himself.

He got a chance to try everything. Kill people himself, without someone telling him who to shoot. Try about every available drug. Once, using a dirty needle, because he needed it so bad. Getting a tattoo. Going to jail, even if for a tiny bit, and somehow avoiding major trouble. He had so much sex and tried so much fucked up shit, he really was living to the max. Burning himself. Trying to end his life on this high.

He didn't die. He didn't get any disease. He didn't go to prison. He is one lucky son of a bitch.

Malnourished and fucked up in the head more than ever before, he returns home.

To Hectors disappointment, Lalo didn't learn shit. He's a fag as he was. Big disappointment. They argued a lot while trying to find Lalo a place in the cartel, he's still young, going to be 30 soon.

Nothing came out of it. Well, if Lalo is insisting on being a fag, why doesn't he do something all faggots do? Rape a kid!

Hector is smart, but his anger and impatience always gets in the way. Tonight, he put something special in everyone's food. Tonight, Lalo will fuck Tuco and twins will watch. Good plan. Make Lalo hate himself so much he will or kill himself or start to act normally. That will be a lesson for all of them. Even if twins are too little to understand and Tuco and Lalo didn't do anything to deserve this...

Lalo snapped. This was the last thing he ever had any real feelings about. Now his smile never genuine, his eyes always dead and empty. He always thinks if his dad raped him, he would turn for the better. If tio raped him too, maybe he would be better. Anything bad happening in his life is now such a common thing, he can't help but laugh at it. He doesn't hurt as much anymore. He doesn't feel anymore. The only thing that is always at the back of his head is all those intrusive thoughts and crippling loneliness. He sleeps less and less. Getting addicted to coke and being more paranoid than ever.

Now, Lalo is at this awkward stage when he slowly turns from a twink to a DILF, but doesn't realize it yet. Less attention from older guys fucked with him, but kids started liking him more. Weird, but he's not opposed to it.

Taking control is fun. He blooms finally. Getting to enjoy the pain and control. Fucking a trans teen until kid gets too scared and kills himself, then jerking off to the news of his passing. Animal abuse, he's used to seeing it. But getting a horse fuck a man to death with your own hands for your own amusement? Lalo never felt better.

Lalo finally feels like he fits in? All the awful things he does for fun with other Dons. He enjoys it.

Now he's 30, he does a great job with the cartel. Better than most, in fact. Hector is desperate for help, and since there's nobody else... He has to rely on Lalo. Who is more than happy to finally be loved.

Lalo is part of his family again. While having his own, at his own home. His workers, his guards. They like him, he likes them. Good.

But... What if someone takes this away?

The more known and successful Lalo got, the more paranoid he became. Scared for his family, insomniac, building a wall around his home. Trapping himself.

It will be fine, he's sure.

Now he's 44, mature, adult. Got it all figured out. He is complete.

He is not human anymore.

Humans wouldn't do this, act like this, enjoy things he does.

But it's okay. He will be okay.

And we all know what happens next! So that's about it :)

P.S. There are many details I didn't mention like, if Lalo kept being alive in canon he would imo quit coke and switched to cigarettes. Eladio doesn't fuck him anymore cause Lalo is too old now, but they still do some things time to time. And more misc stuff...

My Lalo has a lot more lore connected to my universe, but it will be in my universe lore doc when I finish it (in like 50 years lmao)

Don't worry about him, I pet him every day and tell him how we all love him very much!!!

And now that is truly all of it, thank u for ur attention🎉🎉🎉

#bcs #better call saul #lalo salamanca #my headcanons #my stuff #my thoughts

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solar-plant-princess · 1 year ago

Text

Everything I see and hear about the live action remake of Avatar is just a spit in the face. It’s so disrespectful to the characters. The writing is a mess and unfocused. And they routinely attempt to sanitize and soften all the characters, deflating the value and purpose of their character arcs.

There is nothing they can do to salvage this. The actors deserve far better than to be stuck in this poorly written disaster.

This is the end state of all soulless cash grab remakes. Gut out all the worthwhile character development in order to make room for empty set pieces and gags in a desperate attempt to replace heart with a modicum of entertainment value. They aren’t interested in telling a new or even good story, they just want to cash in on brand recognition and will take out all the worthwhile stuff and add unnecessary fluff the whole way.

Don’t give them anymore money, don’t watch the show, don’t watch the future seasons. Don’t waste your time on a show that will only ever respond to you wanting genuinely good content with a spit to the face.

Also the meta level sexism of removing ALL of Katara’s personality is just disgusting (same with literally every other named woman character, the genuine misogyny from the writers is on full display the entire time), it’s literally on par with the play episode where the actress is constantly whining about “hope” while doing nothing else, that’s legitimately where they are at.

Zuko fights back against his dad, and doesn’t even mention his honor ever, so what’s even the point of his redemption arc if he had that in him from the start?

Aang doesn’t run away from his responsibilities (or the Air Temple for that matter, he just gets caught in a storm by chance) or need to learn how to accept being the Avatar, or even feel guilt about what happened to the Air Nomads so what’s the point of his arc?

Sokka doesn’t need to unlearn his false bravado or learn how to be a real leader, literally being written out of the Jet episode where he was the starring protagonist, so what’s the point of his arc?

I’m willing to put actual money on Toph’s parents actually just letting her leave and in fact will not even condescend to her about her disability. What’s the fucking point of this show if none of the characters are allowed to have any flaws or growth or personality????

(I also simply can’t ever forgive them for the broad daylight murder and butchering of Suki. Taking a strong confident leader who humbled Sokka by force into accepting that women were just as worthy and capable as men and made him not just accept but embrace her culture. To a spoiled brat that spends her entire screen time being boy crazy, and teaches Sokka literally nothing other than some fighting moves while THANKING him for “bringing the world to me”, by which she means being a boy she can oogle at. This isn’t Suki, this isn’t Katara, the writers are beyond sexist pigs for this shit.

They wanted to improve Sokka’s reputation that wasn’t even threatened and in turn reduced every single named woman to flat-caricatures of incapable, quiet, obedient, boy obsessed little girls all of which rely entirely on the men in the show to do anything.

This is beyond the pale in overt but unacknowledged misogyny which is an insult to every member of the audience especially all the women in the audience. They make it very clear they actually just agree with not-that-covert sexism and patriarchy and it’s disgusting. Never watch this show, dear god never show this to kids who might pick up on this dogshit misogyny)

#avatar the last airbender #they did everyone so dirty it’s not even funny #if the only way to enjoy them conpletely butchering characters is to turn off your fan brain it’s just not a good show

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danieyells · 1 year ago

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I feel like bc vagastorm is mostly male (usually it's pretty even when we see female and male NPC but vagastorm we see like 4 male designs and just 1 in hotarubi or I just remember her hahahs) and he went to juvenile, Alan is accidentally sexist in the benevolent sexism way if you know what I mean?

Like it can be as small as giving the MC the last canned coffee or his jacket when it's cold to refusing to think the MC did something bad on purpose bc he believes they have a better moral compass, to even ban them from the pit bc they "shouldn't be around so much violence" and leave that to boys to fight while you read or something.

Yeah, I agree there are probably a lot more men there, or at least not a lot of feminine people. Leo is legit probably one of the most feminine people there lol

But yeah I think Alan would definitely lean into an almost 'chivalrous' set of behavior with girls, or at least with girls from outside of Vagastrom and the MC especially. He doesn't realize he's being sexist in any way, he's just trying to be helpful and do what he's been taught is the right thing, but he'll definitely treat mc a little differently than other people.

According to Leo he walks around in winter with short sleeves so he probably doesn't usually have a coat to share if it's cold but when he does he'll absolutely drape his coat over the mc if she seems cold while they're out, maybe gently chide her for not dressing warmer. Doesn't understand why he likes the sight of her in his jacket so much. He does tell the pc not to come to the Pit in the game, though! I think, as time goes on and he starts to trust her, he'd be okay with her spending more time there, but he'd assign someone to make sure nothing happens to her with all the rowdy guys around. Or he wouldn't fight/train and just be her bodyguard if she really wants/needs to be in there.

But yeah he definitely like. Tries to open doors for her or keep her out of danger and discourage her from dirty places and gets mad when men are rude to her. Always asks if she'd prefer to hang out somewhere else instead of sitting around in the garage with him, but he's never really sure where to take her. But I also feel like he's not offended or bothered or upset if she's like 'you don't have to do that' or 'i don't really like when you do that' or what have you--maybe a little surprised and embarrassed that he was doing something wrong all this time. And she has to explain no it's not wrong just, y'know, she doesn't wanna be treated differently for being a girl. Maybe she's not very strong but she's fine with getting her hands dirty or being in dangerous places if she's got backup. Yeah those are nice gestures but. . .not if it's because she's a girl, y'know?

On the other hand the mc is the usual type where she's very much just there as a view into the story and she just rolls with what comes her way--and compared to some people on campus I think Alan's Benevolent Sexism would be a breath of fresh air lmao better than everyone else who makes her do their bidding! Especially when he starts to feel comfortable around her and instead of pushing her away while he does something he thinks she shouldn't do or wouldn't want to do is like "sit here and wait for me" and he like. Brings her something to drink or apologizes for not having something to do while she waits.

(lmao now i'm imagining the pc asking him what he's doing to a car and he's like 'stay back, you'll get dirty. I don't think you'd be interested?' and she's like 'honestly i like cars i'm really curious about all the anomalous vehicles' and he pauses then he starts explaining and showing what he's doing. And over the next few days they all notice he seems a little down and finally pc asks what's wrong, he's been acting a little upset since that day and he just

Gets embarrassed and apologizes

And admits he was thinking he might have feelings for her but when she said she was interested in cars he realized she liked girls and it got him kind of down but he'd get over it and liked having her around as a friend anyway and he didn't wanna overstep by saying something

And she is BEFUDDLED AND CONFUSED and leo from wherever he's hanging out or eavesdropping just cracks tf up

And they have to explain to him that girls having "masculine" interests does not make them lesbians oh my god alan even if she does like girls it's not necessarily exclusively

And that ends up being the very awkward story of them deciding to go out, just alan being completely blockheaded)

#alan mido #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #danie yells with anons

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collectivecloseness · 1 year ago

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Steve and Robin both holding your hands at the same time, that’s all, send tweet

Absolutely you are 1000% correct and in fact I need to talk about this forever

I can’t imagine them doing it as much in public as they do in private, for fear that looks will turn into talk, but they absolutely do this when they’re finally with you. Or comfy enough with you as a friend, but I presume you meant this as a poly.

They’ll do it in public sometimes if you’re all drunk. Trying to keep each other up, which with Robin’s coordination, Steve’s strong hold pulling you both one way that he thinks is right, and you all being drunk, actually probably causes you all to be even less balanced. At least, if someone falls you’re all going down together.

Steve will try and coordinate last second so you or Robin or both fall on him, to be the selfless little martyr that he is, if you’re aimed that way. And while he swears he doesn’t mind doing so, you are giving Steve some kisses over his small bruises when you notice them when you get home (a long while later), while Robin’s throwing ice lollies at the problem (ie chucking them at Steve’s body with sentiments) since one of you forgot to refreeze the ice pack from an earlier incident.

But it happens a lot at home too. You all live in Steve’s house, since it’s big and his parents are probably not living there long term again, and it’s nice for all of you to have a little home together. Where you all feel safe.

Forget holding hands you’ve got a leg on both Steve and Robin when you’re sat with them on the couch. That or your head is in someone’s lap and your lap is in the others, both of them holding you, and petting you, as you all watch a movie from family video together. That or they’ve pinned you there for some good old fashioned teasing.

Robin and Steve are only fake possessive over you, only when it’s funny, they are literally platonic soulmates, they get on amicably in your home and then more. They’re also experts at outbitching each other, which means no one ever really wins the war. You are caught in the no mans land of snark.

Which sometimes results in you being put in a literal tug of war between those two. Steve pulling at you with his strong grasp and giving you the big brown puppy eyes and thick lipped pout, with Robin holding her ground in a power pose and yanking on you in surprise attacks whilst telling Steve he’s homophobic if he doesn’t give in. She’ll up it to sexism too if he keeps making her grip slip.

Usually this also results in you falling on your ass.

But then Steve and Robin can both be on top of you, maybe even play doctor, so it’s a win win for those two! 😁

When you realised last time that they were faking their sass to pull you to the ground on purpose so they could dogpile you on the carpet, you wondered if it was the first time those two had conspired behind your back about you. I mean, it definitely wasn’t, they’ve both surprised you before with nice things, but how long had it taken them to realise the advantage of playing this particular game of theirs?

But it’s hard to do things with both of your hands being occupied. Your lovers say that’s why you have two hands, obviously, but you swear you’d need eight to be able to occupy them enough into blissful silence, and get on with your daily tasks.

You three did nearly piss yourselves laughing once when Robin and Steve held one hand of yours each, then took their other free hand and slid it under your pits, trying to do the dishes that were in front of you together, as if they were puppeteering you. You swear you didn’t know anyone as uncoordinated as those two when they were working together, but any bickering between Robin and Steve, about bringing a plate forward or sponge to the left, was wheezed out between tears in their eyes. Actually choking with laughter on each direction they tried to give their best friend. And the broken bowl in the end was no match for you all crying with laughter as you grip onto each other, to avoid meeting the ceramics fate on the floor.

But they love both holding your hands. They just feel right with you and being a home like this. It all feels safe. Like they truly have a home, for really, the first time in their lives.

They bring your hand up to wave at the other from the side of you, both laughing as they do so. Or use your hand to flick the other in the face, and then swear you just did it all on your own, you’re wild, and so cruel, they’d never do something like that to their best friend.

You even caught them squeezing your hand in morse code to the other, something you’d all decided to learn. Which you only noticed when you saw Steve staring at your hand Robin was periodically squeezing, with a look so puzzled he seemed almost offended, and Robin mouthing to him and giving him a look as if he was the biggest doofus on earth.

Sometimes they go to grab something but forget they’re holding your hand. Usually this ends with a couple of laughs, sometimes you grabbing the thing for them, or them letting go to move to what they were doing. Occasionally accidentally yanking you and the other person across the room because they forgot you were all linked; Robin once quickly reaching for her favourite snack she thought you two monsters had eaten, and accidentally forcing you and Steve right into her body, and thus all onto the floor.

Importantly, they looooove just being able to have your hand. To hold. To play with. To kiss.

It’s hard to escaped being tickled when one of them starts tickling your palm, and the other decides to join the team of their platonic life partner and get involved with torturing you. And then since they have both your hands in their grasp, it’s pretty easy for them to raise your arms and get in there for another tickle, if you’re so inclined to ‘let them’.

They both love playing with your fingers. Just tracing them, looking at your fingerprints, the lines in your hand. Robin once brought a palm reading book back home, which was a really cozy night on the couch as you three held each others hands, and looked to see what was in your pasts, in your futures. Also seeing if any of you had any visual hand styles in common.

That part, finding those similarities in the intricacies of your born hands, those links you held that seemed to pass superficiality and link you together from the beginning, from what you were made, not quite the scars that all of you had, but the etches of your lives, connected in such small but miraculous ways in the universe that you all knew now was so big... that part you all loved.

Even pulling on your fingers, biting them, using your hand to plop it in their hair and letting go so you knew what the job was, or keeping hold of your hand to make you stroke them. Both of them commonly like taking your hand, and moving it to press their face into your warm palm. Pressing their cheek into your cupped hand, and looking at you. Both of their hands holding your wrist gently, as they fawn up at you. You’ve spent many a night with the both of them like this.

Kissing your hand being one of the greatest prizes of them all. Of course you get them kissing your hand a bit in public, Steve slightly more than Robin, and oh is he so suave with it.

But kissing over your hands in excitement as you agree to something. Or checking in on you by taking your hand up with a soft squeeze, and kissing it as they ask how you’ve been. Or just as a romantic gesture, with sparkling eyes up at you as they press their lips down to say, hey I love you.

Then just mostly kissing all over your hand, in a loving display of their true affection. Kissing the back, your palm, your heel, your fingers, the knuckles, your finger tips, those etches you have in common, every inch. This also includes them licking your hands sometimes. Holding them in theirs and looking at you as they flatten their tongue and lick a long stripe up your hand, while maintaining eye contact. And with your fingers in their mouths? Sometimes you spend more time with your hands free than not being pressed past their lips, and resting on their tongues. Sometimes gently being sucked on, or swirled around, or lovingly lapped at, but sometimes just sitting in their mouths. Steve and Robin both enjoying the comfort of having you just be there like this, with them.

#I could actually go on about this I love them so much <33 #platonic stobin x reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Robin Buckley x reader #platonic stobin #Robin Buckley #Steve Harrington #platonic stobin fluff #Steve Harrington fluff #Robin Buckley fluff #platonic stobin thoughts #platonic stobin blurb #platonic stobin hc’s #steve harrington thoughts #Robin Buckley thoughts #stranger things #anon #ask

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horizon-verizon · 11 months ago

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You misunderstand me. I'm not saying it has no bearing on the story because it's from Yi Ti, I'm saying that since the Blood Betrayal hasn't yet been confirmed as the official reason why the Long Night began, HotD wouldn't be interested in referencing it. Also I doubt Condal and Hess read TWOIAF.

Anon speaks of this post.

Not sure why you think I misunderstood. I addressed your point about how "we can't know" that this legend explains or thematically explains the connection of misogyny to how we lose the dragons.

Rhaenyra -- Amethyst Empress --- woman who lost her throne and life to an evil younger brother through force

Aegon II -- Bloodstone Emperor --- both usurp their elder, chosen sister

Daenerys/Amethyst Empress/Rhaenyra --- women of authority and power

Viserys (III)/Aegon II/Bloodstone Emperor --- brothers who have endangered, abused, or killed their sister and meant to displce them from their own rights, innate or sociopolitical, for their own power advancement.

As for Condal and Hess, they can't do pattern recognition, now? Condal especially said he was a "fan" of this series and world. He didn't read TWoIaF and he claims to be a AsoIaF "fan"?

It is similar here, with the Bloodstone Emporer/Amethyst Empress and that particular legend's explanation for the Long Night. This legend doesn't have to be totally real, and I mean that it doesn't have to be true that there was a 1000 year old emperor as the Yi Ti are told to believe abt some of the known Emperors. These are metaphorical in the first place.

All the legend is clueing us in on is that this betrayal, whatever it was, was one between relatives, a man undoing a woman's place, and thus speaking to how it threw off the balance of the world's magic. That women are a critical part of that balance. That's the central idea being conveyed, the purpose of this legend--everything points to Dany vs the Others (yes the others of the Big Five are still relevant, but they have no chance without her).

We don't need to know the actual details of who these particular people were and what they weren't when they loved or died, just that something like this usurpation definitely happened and there was a notable affect on magic in the realm those emperors ruled over, as Yi Tish people are also very active in magic wielding...most of Essos is, unlike Westeros.

I'm going to repeat myself in this post, but: this is not a real history book where we'll likely not know much of anything...GRRM provides more answers in his fictional history than real history books do.

All this is important to the theme of F&B: greedy men sideline, abuse, uproot women they are blood connected to for power (just as the Bloodstone emperor did), the women suffer for it/lose their political authority therefore their ability to as actively direct the direction of the House, and eventually the entire house and Westeros loses dragons to use against the Others and the world's magical & biological ecosystem is totally thrown off kilter until Dany literally sets it right again by bring the dragons back. The dragonglass candles at Oldtown, they light up again when she does this. The last of AGoT:

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

So again, why do you need "more" "confirmation" when there is so much evidence, when that's not how fiction works (that you need things totally spelled out for you to be true), etc?

Honestly, this seems a literacy and latent sexism issue that causes this cognitive dissonance in fans that makes them deny these types of connections as canon, real, whatever. Bc you have people caliming Jon is Azor Ahai up the wazzo simply because he's the son of a Targ and a Stark (fire and ice), male, the "sword" of the prophecy they take as literal, etc. etc. But "song" means "war" and Jon has done nothing/nothing has happened around him to predicate a connection the Azor Ahai prophecy in-text. Yet so many people ride for this stupid idea, this stupid unsupported idea!

This idea that has never been "confirmed" and never will be bc there is and has never been evidence to how Jon Snow, a Westerosi Stark through and through, relates to an Essosi prophecy when Dany--who grew up in Essos and was born in Westeros thus is a connector of the two continents; is actively dealing with dragons and having dragons dreams; in Essos where the Azor Ahai prophecy originates; comes from a dragonriding lienage ("fire"); the enemy of "fire" has always been "cold" and Jon is more Stark than Targ, so "cold" must be the ecological and magical threat that is the Others that even GoT has had us anticipate since its very 1st episode as THE enemy before that atrocious last season!!!; when we know "prince" is a gender neutral term form High Valyrian (Prince that was Promised)--has all the evidence of being Azor Ahai.

And why does it matter they they haven't read it when they could have asked GRRM or just read F&B to properly understand the point of the Dance?

Condal can't clock that this legend is narratively important just as much that the CotF/"those who sing the song of the earth's connection to Dany and Westeros' future? Just bc a thing is in Essos, doesn't mean it will not affect Westeros just as real life Ancient Asian societies have been able to make physical trade as well as intellectual "trade" or influence on stuff in the West. He can't clock Rhaena the BB and Elissa's connection to Daenerys? Condal read how Dany is connected to Braavos and how Dreamfyre's eggs went there and didn't put 2 and 2 together?

This is why you don't bring non-fantasy readers to write a fantasy show. who then, bc of said ignorance, want to somehow "make the story better" or different...the same story they don't even understand. Also why you don't bring a marketing guy to write any adaptive as intricate and rich as ASoIaF and to not understand the depth or the patterns of magical phenomenon that good faith fantasy readers have habitually done since their childhood (most readers anyway have read fantasy since childhood and religiously so to understand its conventions) when that's not what they look out for in the first place.

The fact that Dany's eggs are Dreamfyre's also haven't been "confirmed" by GRRM or revealed in The Winds of Winter or A Dream of Spring. That doesn't make this any less true.

1- from his website

What really happened during the Dance of the Dragons? Why did it become so deadly to visit Valyria after the Doom? What is the origin of Daenerys’s three dragon eggs? These are but a few of the questions answered in this essential chronicle, as related by a learned maester of the Citadel

2- It's pretty much fact with how these are THREE eggs that petrified when they are away from Dragonstone; IIllyrio Mopatis had them to give to Dany and she eventually awakens them; F&B takes the time to painstakingly show Rhaena the BB's conversation w/Jaehaerys abt the consequences of THREE dragon eggs going missing. What other reason was there for F&B--a text that aims to contextualize Daenerys by telling the stories of her ancestors before the loss of the dragons and a little after--to do so hard abt 3 dragon eggs stolen during Rhaena's time, from her dragon's clutch, under her watch?! A text that traces the existence of dragons and their maintenance/use by the Targs? Then there is the fact that Elissa Farman--the egg thief--sold the eggs to the Sealord of Braavos, another thing necessary to Dany's arc. None of this is an accident or a red herring, esp since there is literally nothing as damning as evidence or suggestion for the argument of Syrax being the mother...at all. Nothing in the text.

Not everything in ASoIaF is a great and complex mystery; sometimes GRRM gives you clues to a simple "mystery" to deduce the truth of, esp when we already have much evidence of Danyxher dragons being necessary and critical for the coming Long Night against the "ice/cold" others. That she/her dragons are the "fire" in the Song of Ice and Fire, a coming magical war for the world. This is the type of chain of clues that are retrospective and not anticipatory. We already have the result (Dany and the eggs); you were tasked to recognized the line of causation pretty quickly. This is still a fiction series with correct answers.

All this is evidenced just in the main series, TWoIaF acts as a support piece...Condal is a fan, but he can make deductions? Sure.

#asoiaf asks to me #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn's characterization #yi ti #agot characterization #hotd writers #ryan condal #hotd critical #defending Daenerys Stormborn Khaleesi Targaryen #awoiaf #asoiaf #agot

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kengan-daddies · 2 years ago

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I know your gonna like this one a request for saw paing x reader (your choice I just like the idea you can pick what happens if not please ignore this 😄)

You must know me well, I did like this ask the moment I saw it (😏), I just had to think of a story but then I was 'eh, I'll just guess the story as I write like I always do.'

Our Beginning Child! Saw Paing Yoroizuka x Child! Fem Reader

Anime : Kengan Ashura Character : Saw Paing Yoroizuka Warning : Fluff, Childhood, sexism

Our Beginning Child! Saw Paing Yoroizuka x Child! Fem Reader

The first time you met Saw Paing, you were a young girl in The Village of Dawn, Your parents owned a fruit stand, and once you were old enough, you were finally allowed to help. You loved the fruit stand, it granted you so much. Friends, meeting new people, sense of purpose, excitement, and good health. You were 7 when you first officially met him, the loudest boy in the village, he'd run around asking people if they needed to help with their heaviest items, and he was always determined to get stronger.

He ran up to your stand, a large smile on his dirty face. "HEY!! YOU GUYS NEED ANY HELP!!" You cringed at the loudness of his voice, your mother chuckled from behind you as she placed her hands on your shoulder. "Why yes we do, Saw Paing, we just got some new shipment crats and we need to fill them up with fruits, why don't you and Y/N go and fill them up and you can bring them back." She said. You didn't mind collecting fruits, it's what you and your father did all the time. His smile widened, and you stared at him in wonder. 'How much more can he smile?' You thought.

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA!! LET'S GET STARTED THEN!!!!" He shouted as he ran off, both you and your mother leaned over the counter as you watched him run off. You sighed. "He didn't even grab a crate and he ran off in a random direction." You said, your mother chuckled. "Oh my, just like his Mother." She said in a nostalgic voice. Your mother placed a crate in your arms. "There you are, just head on down to the fruit trees, I'll send Saw Paing your way once he comes back." She said. You stared up at her with a questioning stare. "How do you know he'll come back?" You asked.

She gave you a knowing smile. "Oh trust me, I know." She said. You stared at her a little longer before you sighed, you walked out from the stand heading towards your father who was waiting for you with a few crates in his arms. You both walked to the field of fruits, fruit trees as far as the eye could see, the trees were all free for the public to use, but many people were too lazy to walk way out just for an apple or two, so they bought them from your family instead. Your father placed the crates down, one under each tree, and you placed yours down under an orange tree.

Your father had four crates and you had one which made five in total, so five trees had a crate up against their trunk, you both climbed up a tree, going high to get the best fruits, you inhaled deeply, the scent of oranges overwhelming your senses as you smiled. You pulled at a plump orange, struggling to pluck it and once it did you smiled in victory, placing it between your legs so it wouldn't roll off and you continued to do that a few more times before you were satisfied. You looked down at the six oranges, you then looked to your side, seeing the crate at the base of your tree.

One by one, you dropped the oranges down into the crate watching as they bounced a few times before they settled. You were able to pluck 12 oranges before the sound of yelling sounded out, you looked through the leaves, trying to see what was happening. "What in the?" You questioned as you watched as Saw Paing came running at you both with three crates over his head, his ever-present smile on his face as he ran towards the field. "Wow, mom was right." You said, as you watched him stand in the clearing, your father's voice ranged out, giving Saw Paing instructions on what to do, he nodded and smiled, a gremlin-like chuckle leaving him as he raced off to a tree without a crate.

You went back to what you were doing, sitting there another 3o minutes before you sighed in accomplishment. "Finally done." You said as you leaned against the thick trunk, your legs swung as you relaxed your tired arms limply in your lap. You heard shouting and you rolled your eyes. "There he goes again." You said as you listened to Saw Paing's victory shout about filling up yet another crate. "That's his fifth one in less than 30 minutes, that's wild." You said to yourself as you shook your head. You looked down at your hands. "How is he so strong?... We're like the same age." You said as you remembered what your mother taught you.

"Children and women are naturally weaker than men, it's the flow of the earth, so never feel lesser or troubled when you can't do as much as your father. Not even I can do as much as he can, I can try but I get tired much quicker than he does, so never feel weaker or more insignificant, but you're not alone." She said. You thought over her words. "But, how come I'm weaker than you then, Mama? Aren't you a girl too?" You asked her. She chuckled. "That's just simply because your muscles aren't as developed as mine are yet, all children are like that, boys and girl, hence why they always say 'Gather the women and children.'" She explained.

You sat there, listening to him yell another victory scream, you looked up from your hands, clenching your small fists. 'I'm starting to think that not everyone follows that flow of life.' You thought.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, that's when you, your father, and Saw Paing all made your way back to the fruit stand, you didn't have a crate in your arms, they were all too heavy for you to even pick them up. You looked over at your father and Saw Paing, they were each holding some crates. Your father carried six on his shoulder with ease while Saw Paing carried two on his. You stared at Saw Paing, bewildered at how he was even strong enough to even carry the crates. It almost felt unfair, seeing how strong he was... It just wasn't right...

After that, it became an endless cycle of Saw Paing coming to help once a month, he was always so eager and ready to help, always covered in dirt from helping everyone in the village with their restocks. You would go with them, and help pluck fruits but that was about it, you were starting to feel useless, you wanted to stop tagging along, it seemed pointless. You sat in the apple tree, resting your arms after pulling 13 apples nonstop, they burned and ached but you had a job to finish. You felt your thick branch shake some and you looked around in panic. 'An earthquake?' Your frantic mind thought, but then a hand grabbed onto your branch and you relaxed some, seeing Saw Paing hoist himself up on the branch, he smiled at you as he sat on it.

His legs gaped as he faced you. "Hey!! Your dad told me to come help ya!!" He said happily. You pouted at him as you crossed your arms. "I don't need any help." You said. He kept his same smile as he stared at you. "I don't make the rules, I just follow them!!.... But you do look tired." He said. You huffed as you sat up straight proving your point by grabbing a nearby apple, by twisting it a few times before you were able to pluck it off. "I'm not tired." You said beginning on the next apple. He stared at you a little longer before his smile seemed to widen. "GREAT!! I'LL HELP THEN!!" He suddenly shouted as he turned around on the branch facing away from you and he began plucking them off like grapes on a stem.

You watched as he just plucked them without a care in the world, you watched him a little longer, trying to copy him, but finding it impossible to even snatch the fruit off without weakening the stem. You wanted to cry. It wasn't fair.

Once you all made it back to the fruit stand, Saw Paing bid you all farewell as he ran off to who knows where, you were exhausted but you swore that you hadn't done anything aside from plucking a few fruits. You helped your parents close up the stand, before retiring to bed, you plopped down on your bed, sighing as you watched your dangling feet. The sound of light knocking on your door sounded out. "Y/N, sweety, can I come in?" Came your mother's kind voice. "Yeah." You said. She came in, a small smile on her face as he stared at you. "Are you upset with Saw Paing?" She asked. You looked up at her quickly, wanting to deny her claims, but the knowing look in her eyes made you sigh.

"Yeah." You said. she chuckled lightly as she walked over to your mattress, she sat down next to you, rubbing your back gently. "Oh sweety, you shouldn't feel bad, it's only natural... When I was your age, I didn't like the fact that I was getting pushed out of the way either, My brothers would take over the tasks that I used to help with. It felt so unfair... I felt useless, so I tried to prove myself, but it never worked in the end... I'd just end up tiring myself out in the end." She explained. You cringed as you thought of how tired you were earlier.

"It's okay to be weak... It's okay to not be strong... To be honest, it's the weak that makes the world spin." She said. You looked up at her, confused. "You see, the world goes around because of weak people. We make guns, knives, and armor to protect us, we make patterns, designs, and art to keep us entertained, we make technology, tools, and clothes to help us. Weak people are some of the most important people on the earth, without us, the world would be a pretty boring place." She said. You thought over her words. 'That's pretty true, a strong person doesn't need protection, they can protect themselves already, they don't need entertainment they get that from gaining strength, and they don't need help when they don't really use the stuff.' You thought.

Your mother smiles, seeing the gears in your head turning, she gives you a kiss on your forehead and a tight hug before she stands up. "Tomorrow, how about you help me make some fruit pies? Mr. Yoroizuka is going to need some for the festival." She said, your face brightened up with a smile. "OH YEAH!!! I FORGOT ABOUT THE FESTIVAL!!" You shouted as your eyes gleamed in excitement. Your mother chuckled as she walked to the door. "Get some good sleep okay? You'll need it. Goodnight, sweety." She said. You got comfortable under your blanket. "Goodnight mom." You said. She gave you one last look before she closed the door.

You lay there, looking at the stars through your window, your mind racing with thoughts from what your mother said to the festival. The sound of an excited yell sounded out over the village and you smiled to yourself. 'Maybe being weak isn't so bad.' You thought as you listened to Saw Paing's excited screams.

#kengan ashura #kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura x y/n #kengan ashura fanfiction #kengan ashura saw paing yoroizuka #saw paing yoroizuka #saw paing x reader #saw paing x y/n

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