#this was more exhausting then I was prepared for

[hypnagogics]

have the teensiest blurb ever i wrote as a writing warm-up ♡ fluffy nonsense! i know we're all in an arcane mood, but i can't forget about my girl. (i promise real writing is coming LMAOO im workin on it)

a cozy night in with ellie williams is more healing than the most researched of therapies. full of love, care, fun, relaxation, they were your favorite nights of the week.

at the end of a long, hard week, ellie knows just what you need. she starts of by preparing you a soulful dinner in advance before you get back—a warm and hearty stew. she sets the table, lights a handful of candles, and makes the atmosphere soothing.

when she hears you trudge inside with a groan of exhaustion, she's by your side within milliseconds, removing your coat and taking your heavy bag off your shoulders, finishing off with a heart-to-heart embrace and a kiss on your forehead.

she's intuitive enough to register your energy levels too, without you having to tell her how you're feeling. the smallest markers on your face set off alarms in her head, and she knows that today is a quiet kind of day. she lowers her tone of voice to a whisper, does not inquire excessively about your day, but just leads you to the dining room where you're greeted by the steaming bowl and elegantly set table.

when you sit down you beam at her, internally pinching yourself at her generosity and wondering what you could have done to deserve her, she was sweeter than honey, truly. your smile is infectious, and her familiar toothy grin plays upon her delicate features. she keeps you company while you both have your meal, then she follows you to the living room, already calculating what she can do for you next.

you slump into the silken cushions of the couch, your voice crackling, “els, could you play something for me?”

you nod at the guitar in the corner of the room, covered in wear and tear but housing a sound that felt like home.

she grabs it and plops down next to you, clearing her throat.

slender fingers creating magic on the steel strings, downy voice caressing your ears, you were enveloped in a momentary calmness.

her husky voice, and the lyrics and melody of a-ha's take on me never fail to woo you, she plays it perfectly. you curl up with a blanket, and close your eyes to intensify the experience.

now in darkness, her music caused shapes and colors to form in your minds eye, you could even hear her love-filled smile.

a lullaby in your favorite place, with your favorite person playing it just for you, you were at ease. your heart felt as if it was about to burst with adoration for the girl on the couch next to you, and you were lulled into a restful state, her music painting a mural in your shallow dreams.

rest up, you deserve it.

taglist: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @wilddrown @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @funclebunni @infiniteinquiries @mimasroom2 @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @autisticintr0vert @mellifluousgirll @uhhscarr @sozvuchiy @kaykeryyy @zzombiegirl @jbimsorry @dearangxl @spncrrdlvr @thatgyalfisher

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a Franco colapinto x indy car driver reader because I really need to see both obsecions combined:)

Miles apart — Franco colapinto x Indy car driver reader

Word count— 1056

Fluff/angst

The sound of Formula 1 cars whizzing by filled the air as Franco Colapinto wiped the sweat from his forehead, the hot sun beating down on the paddock in the middle of the summer season. The thrill of the race was always there, but today, a small weight settled on his shoulders. He adjusted his race suit, the fabric clinging to his body, soaked with the tension of the weekend. This race was critical—not just for his rookie status in Formula 1, but for his future, and the pressure of expectation was hard to ignore.

His gaze flicked to his phone, almost instinctively, though he knew he shouldn’t. He hadn’t heard from you since the morning. Every time he checked, his heart would skip at the thought of hearing your voice, reading your words.

“Good luck, baby. I know you’ve got this. I’ll be cheering from the other side of the world!”

Your words felt like a lifeline. They were the quiet anchor that grounded him in the chaos of race day. He had never felt the weight of the distance between them more than he did today. You, his partner, were miles away—fighting your own battles in the high-speed world of IndyCar, tackling different tracks, different challenges. Your race weekends were never in sync. His F1 schedule rarely aligned with your IndyCar races, and when it did, the time zone difference only added to the difficulty.

But you were always there in his thoughts. Whether it was a text during a break, a late-night phone call after a tough practice, or a simple good luck message before the race, it was these moments that kept him tethered. He could almost feel the pull of your presence, despite the miles between them.

Franco glanced at his phone again, but before he could tap the screen to reply, his engineer’s voice crackled over the radio. It was time. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and tightened his gloves. He was here to race. He couldn’t let distractions pull him away from what he needed to focus on.

As he made his way to the grid, the noise of the crowd and the roar of the engines overwhelmed him, but his thoughts were still with you. He imagined you in your own world, preparing for your race at the IndyCar circuit. Your steely focus, the way you slipped into your zone the moment you climbed into your car. He admired you for it, respected it, and couldn’t help but wish you were here, beside him.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Y/N L/N was gearing up for her own race. The track was a familiar stretch of asphalt that felt like home. Her engine purred beneath her, and the cars around her blazed ahead, each lap pushing her harder. But as she navigated the oval, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Franco.

She checked her phone after the first stint of her race, a short break in the action. “Nervous, but I know I’ll get through it. Wish you were here to keep me calm.”

“Just remember, you’re always good enough. You’ve got this. I’ll be cheering for you, even if it’s from the other side of the world. Same as always.”

Your words always had a way of settling the chaos in her mind. It wasn’t just your support—it was your understanding. You knew exactly what it was like to race under pressure, to be constantly pushing, battling for every position. And despite the hectic schedules, despite the exhausting travel, you always made sure to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

But still, the longing was there. The absence of Franco in the moments she needed him the most, the quiet yearning for his presence. You’d seen him in the cockpit, his focus razor-sharp, his drive unmatched. And you knew that no matter how successful you were, the distance between you both felt impossibly wide at times.

After her race was over, Y/N headed back to her hotel room. She hadn’t won—again—but she had placed well, and in this series, that was something to be proud of. Her mind, however, wasn’t on the results. It was on Franco. The feeling of loneliness, of missing someone who truly understood the weight of what it meant to race in the spotlight, weighed heavy on her.

Her phone buzzed, a notification flashing on the screen. Franco.

“Hey, I made it through,” Franco’s voice crackled, slightly muffled from the noise in the paddock. The background buzzed with engines and reporters. “It wasn’t easy. I could’ve used you here to calm me down.”

Y/N couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. She had become so used to his voice, even through the static of race weekends. It was grounding. Real. “You didn’t need me, Franco. You’ve got this.”

“I know,” he said, a light chuckle following his words. “But it’s different when you’re not around. I always do better when you’re here, even if you’re just in the stands cheering.”

The honesty in his voice made her heart ache. “I miss you too,” she whispered, not wanting to admit it aloud but knowing he felt the same way. “I wish I could be there. You know I’d be with you in a second.”

“I know,” he replied softly, the sound of distant voices filtering in through the line. “But you’re doing your own thing, and you’re killing it, Y/N. I’m proud of you. Always.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his voice wash over her. “We’ll figure it out. Next time we’ll find a way to be at each other’s races. I can’t wait to see you race in person again.”

Franco’s voice held a note of quiet resolve. “We will. I promise.”

The connection felt different now. Less of a struggle, more of a shared understanding. Yes, the distance still hurt, but the bond between them was unwavering. Their careers were taking them to different places, but they would always find a way to bridge the gap.

“I’m just one race away from seeing you again, Y/N,” Franco said with a soft laugh. “Just wait.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle into her chest. “I’ll be here. Waiting.”

[dsireland86]

Requesting Noah x reader where the reader experiences post partum depression after giving birth to their newborn baby girl.

Post partum depression is no joke and something so many women, including myself, have had to deal with. I wish it on no new mom. But, when you have a good partner who supports you entirely, it makes all the difference🥰

PostPartum

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human

@into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

I held her in my arms like she was the most valuable thing in the world. To me she was. She was my daughter. She was the best part of me and her mother put together, a treasure created out of pure love.

I looked over at my wife, watching as she delivered the remaining proof of her pregnancy, feeling nothing but pride and respect for her. What I had just witnessed in the last thirteen hours was nothing short of an absolute miracle.

I had no idea how difficult it was for a woman to give birth until now. The strength and resilience I saw in her made me see her and all women in a whole new light. It was an indescribable yet incredible feeling.

She looked up at me, smiling her beautiful yet exhausted smile. She looked completely different now; she was a mother. I grinned back, offering her our daughter and gently laid her on her chest when she said yes.

"Noah, she has your nose and your eyes," my wife gushed, kissing our little girl's rosy forehead.

"She really does, doesn't she?" I marveled, unable to hide my grin. I kissed my wife's forehead, praising her over and over for what she went through for us. I had what I'd always wanted. I had my family.

Days after we came home were a struggle. The nights were sleepless, the days exhausting. The constant feeding and changing diapers was a lot of work I wasn't prepared for. But neither was my wife.

She started crying more than usual. At first, it was simple little tears, but then there were days where those tears lingered all day and sometimes into the night, too. They would lead into spurts of her doubting her ability to be a mother and caring for our baby the way she needed to be cared for.

That's when she would say things like, "Our daughter does better when I'm not around. Maybe it's for the best", or "I just want to disappear. All of this is too much."

I knew she was exhausted, not mentally prepared for any of this, so I did my best to help take the burden off her shoulders, hoping it would help. Sometimes it did, but most of the time I think it only made things worse.

A few weeks went by, and things began to mellow out some; with our daughter at least. We got into a routine and a schedule of sleep, making the nights more bearable.

But my wife would still have her spouts of irritability, sometimes waking up and starting things for no reason. It was usually over little things like dishes or clothes, but then it started to become bigger. She accused me of not being home enough and not helping out enough which would always end with her falling apart and crying again. It broke me.

I didn't know what to do, except hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though I wasn't so sure.

I would watch her during feedings and how she seemed distant from our baby, looking away, never making that mother to baby eye contact I read about in the "What to Expect When Your Wife is Expanding" book Jolly bought me for my first "father's day". She was physically there, but not mentally.

Days after our daughter turned a month old, I came home to find her sitting on the couch in the living room, staring into nothing. She had the most distant spaced out look on her face, her eyes completely void of anything.

"Baby, are you alright?" I gently shook her. She finally snapped out of whatever daze she was in, shaking her head.

"Noah," smiling weakly at me.

"Baby, I'm really worried about you. You're not looking or acting like yourself," I finally admitted to her.

"I feel okay," she said weakly.

"When was the last time you ate?" I brushed some loose hair out of her eyes, running my hand down her cheek.

She thought for a moment then shrugged.

"Come on, I sighed, taking her hand and pulling her towards the kitchen. That's when the baby monitor went off, signaling our little girl was awake.

"Why don't you go get her, and I'll make us something to eat." My wife shook her head.

"No, you get her. She wants her daddy."

Letting go of my hand she made her way into the kitchen, leaving me in a bit of shock. I thought this was the worst of it, but I didn't know how much worse it could get.

Sex was out of the question. Not just for the first six weeks of course, but even past that. She closed herself off to me, not wanting me to touch her or be around her. It got to the point that she was sleeping on the couch and whenever I came into the room she would leave. I didn't understand any of it.

I eventually had to stay home from the studio and recording with the guys, having everyone bring everything to my house because I was too scared to leave her and the baby alone. Something was off with my wife, and I couldn't figure it out. I was taking it personally, thinking that the end of us had come and what was meant to be the happiest time in our lives was now becoming the hardest and most hurtful. I was done. I couldn't go through with it anymore.

One night, after our little one fell asleep after her feeding, my wife laid her in her bassinet then turned to leave the room.

"Don't leave. Please. Just stay with me for a minute," I asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

She turned and looked at me with tears in her eyes.

All the color was gone from her beautiful face, her complexion dull. Her hair, normally shiny and in her wavy ponytail, was unkept, piled high on the top of her head in a messy bun. Her sleep clothes were the same ones she'd worn for almost a week.

This was nothing but a shell of my wife and it killed me seeing her this way.

"Come sit with me, baby, please," patting the bed next to me. At first she hesitated, but then, surprisingly, she came and partially sat on the bed.

I tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling at her when she looked at me so sadly. I leaned in to kiss her, slowly so as to not startle her, and felt relieved when she kissed me back. Her hands found the back of my neck, twisting the longer pieces of hair at the nape of it. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. I was longing for her in ways I didn't even realize.

"I miss you," I confessed, placing my forehead to hers and holding her head between my hands.

"I know," she sniffed and I wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

"I miss you, too, Noah."

"Then talk to me," I whispered, "tell me what you're feeling. Even if you can't make sense out of it. Just tell me anyway. I'll listen."

And she did.

I ran a hot bubble bath and for the first time in months I held my wife's beautiful naked body against mine, listening as she told me everything she had been going through.

I washed her hair, scrubbed her back, and helped her shave her legs, and in return, she gave me the best sex I'd had in a while.

Watching her face as she came on my cock buried up inside her made me cum, the feeling taking us both to a higher place we hadn't been in a while. It was euphoric.

Once out of the bath and fully dressed, she checked on our little angel still fast asleep, and for the first time since we brought her home, I watched the brightest, sweetest smile grace my wife's face as she looked down on her. It made my heart swell with joy.

We discovered that night, after some slight research that what she was experiencing was called postpartum depression.

It's something most new mother's get, some more extreme than others. We weren't throwing all our eggs into the basket of self diagnosis, but she promised to call her doctor the next morning and schedule an appointment.

Seven months old. Time flies when you're having fun. I watched my wife as she attempted to feed our angel sweet potatoes for the first time. Surprisingly, she liked them. A quarter of the jar later and we had a happy, sleepy little baby.

I cleaned her up and handed her to mama as she willingly and lovingly took her and cradled her just the way she liked it. With some warm milk, a soft blanket, and mama's arms, our little girl was out like a light.

My wife looked up at me, smiling brightly. She was herself again and there was no better feeling than to see her return. With a mild medication and a little therapy, postpartum depression slowly made its way out of our lives, restoring to me the woman I loved.

She apologized, over and over, time and time again, but I always reminded her there was nothing to apologize for. None of it was ever her fault.

"Thank you for sticking it out with me, Noah. Thank you for not running away."

I took her hand and kissed it, rubbing her growing belly carrying baby Davis number two. Now that we knew what to mostly expect, this little gem would be easier to handle.

"For better or for worse, Princess. You've got me and them, forever."

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing the Tartaros Devils to Your Plushies

The Tartaros Devils deciding to show up to your room for sex end up getting met with you deciding to sit down and show them all your plushies!!

Notes: mildly sexual content, nothing too crazy. Gender neutral reader!

Find Mammon's and others reactions here !

Bimet

He doesn't exactly see the appeal. They clearly weren't anything expensive. Just cheap stuffed creatures. What they could they possibly offer that he couldn't offer tenfold and then some?

Don't clock him on being jealous because you cherish your plushies so deeply, or do clock him on it if you wanna work him up even worse.

He glares your plushies are you introduce them. Not only are they taking up his valuable time that he was meant to spend sleeping with you, they're taking up your attention too. And they aren't even a valuable object!! At least in his eyes.

He voices his thoughts, he can't help himself. Call him out. Tease him a little. It's fine, Mammon would do the same.

Unfortunately unlike with Mammon he can and will cut you off. With a kiss or pushing you against the wall or something else along those lines.

Point is you can call it out but it changes nothing. Bimet still gets what he wants in the end. Just tease him more afterwards it's fine.

Yeah, he's not really taking in. Well. Any information about your plushies but it's fine! You can always just repeat the lesson later!

Valefor

Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing for him? Absolutely adorable.

He can't help but entertain this. He'll let you ramble on for as long as you want.

Of course, there is something in it for him. And he does make this clear to you from go.

The longer you keep talking for, the longer he gets to fuck you for. The times are definitely not equal to the amount of length you end up talking for, he's just making up shit as he goes along.

You know this, but what are you gonna do? Protest? Good luck that's gonna add more time for him !

That being said he's also making it worse by squishing your cheeks while you're talking, but he just can't help himself!

Either way, he knows this is gonna end in sex. And you also know this is gonna end in sex. Prepare to be completely exhausted and ready to pass out by the time he's done with you.

That being said, he definitely memorized everything you tell him about your plushies. Of course he'd do that for you.

Eligos

On one hand, he loves how excited you are and how cute you look while rambling on about your plushies. It makes him so so happy to see how happy you are!!!

On the other hand, he's supposed to be the cutest thing in this room and supposed to be getting all the attention. What the hell.

Why is your focus not entirely on him and instead these plush objects you adore so much?

He gets pouty and kinda jealous pretty fast! I can't even lie. He will require your attention soon.

Because of the way he is, he's not exactly memorizing a lot of what you tell him, but he is happy that you have something you love so much.

However, you also need to love him that much!! So you better get ready to focus all your attention on him!!!

Suddenly he remembers the exact reason why he came to you, and he will be getting the attention he craves so much after all.

[miaoua3]

(pairing: hoshi x f!reader)

sitting on the couch in the living room while reading a book to pass the time, you hear the door open and close, meaning that your boyfriend is finally home.

already smiling, you sit and wait to hear with what pickup line you will be greeted with today.

it has become sort of a tradition for soonyoung to say some flirty and silly pickup line upon entering your shared apartment instead of a plain “i’m home.”. yesterday for example, he greeted you with a “what’s brewing, my hot caramel and chocolate latte macchiato?”. they didn’t even make sense, but they were your favourite part of the day.

so, after 15 second of silence after he has entered, you knew immediately that something was wrong.

getting up, you call out “baby? is that you?”.

rounding up the corner, you see him clumsily trying to take off his chunky boots. upon noticing your presence, he mumbles “hm? oh yeah, hi.”.

oh-uh.

you immediately walk towards him, grabbing his round cheeks in your hands gently. directly his face so you can look at him, you coo through a pout. “what’s wrong, baby? did something happen? can i help you somehow?”.

noticing his red eyes slowly blinking at you, your heart breaks just a bit more.

through a quiet mumble, he said “just…it was a long say today. bad and long.”

rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs, you whisper just as quietly as he did “can i do something for you, baby?”.

his shoulder slightly drop in exhaustion as he closes his eyes.

“just hug me…and please don’t let go.”

immediately getting to it, you pull his head down so it rests on your shoulder before pulling the rest of him towards you. his arms immediately snake around your waist while he rubs his face (and all of his makeup) on your shoulder.

the entire time you just let your hands run up and down his back and head, shushing him whenever you feel his shoulder unconsciously tense up, probably because his mind can’t stop thinking about whatever things happened to him today and that got him feeling this stressed.

after what must’ve felt like half an hour (when in reality it was just 10 minutes) of hugging, you mumble against his ear “do you want me to prepare you something to eat? i went to your parents’ today, your mom gave me some kimchi to bring you, i could maybe make something with it while you take a shower?”.

upon you mentioning shower and insinuating for you two to separate, you feel his whole body tense up again, his head shaking ‘no’ firmly.

sensing that he will get upset again, you just say “okay, let’s just go to bed then, hm?”.

with a curt nod from him, you waddle to your room awkwardly while still holding him to yourself.

helping him change out of his clothes and into his pyjamas, you quickly help him take his makeup off and wash his face, never straying too far away and always keeping at least one hand on any part of his body.

finally, as you two lay down on your bed, he immediately crawls on top of you, forgetting that he’s a bit heavy and that he is definitely cutting off your breathing for the moment because of his weight on top of your chest.

but you ignore it, for the moment. because your soonyoungie, the love of your life, is seeking out your affection in hopes that his bad day can at least end on somewhat of a positive note.

you don’t even realise when he fell asleep until you hear low snoring from him, totally concentrated on playing with his short blonde hair.

feeling the dreamland calling for your name too, you kiss the top of his head before you close your eyes too.

“sweet dreams, my sweet boy.”

[howi99]

Prince of Vale 10

(back to more serious matter)

5 am, cafeteria

Jaune: *sitting down in front of Ren, looking exhausted*

Ren: Jaune, are you ok?

Jaune: *looking back at his friend, a tired smile on his face* Never better. *Yawn* The splitting up of the SDC and Vacuan's demands of reparations are a nightmare to deal with, faunus activists are mad at my decision with Blake and the coffee machine broke.

Ren: ... Strangely enough, i feel as if the last part is what's really breaking the camel's back.

Jaune: *sigh* No coffee equals Ozpin not being able to work at all. *Rubbing his eyes* The damn fool is an addict. So i had to take care of most of the paperwork by myself.

Ren: *taking his eyes off Jaune, looking at Oobleck still being as quick as ever while preparing the schoolwork for the day* Are you sure there isn't a second machine?

Jaune: *shaking his head* Oobleck is naturally this energetic. Besides, his thermos is full of hot cocoa, not coff- *sees an energy drink in front of him* -ee. *Perplexed, looking at Ren* You brought this?

Ren: *also perplexed* No? I don't drink that, it's bad for the heart.

Jaune: *looking around, seeing nobody beside them* ... *Shaking his head* I must have bought it then. Guess i'm soo tired, i'm getting memory loss.

Meanwhile

Cinder: *looking down at Trivia* You gave him the drink?

Trivia: 👍

Cinder: *nodding* Good. *Sigh* It was hard enough to see him work all night without being able to help... *Pensively* Do you think we should assassinate Jacques? It would fix a lot of problems.

Trivia: 🤔 🙅

Cinder: *sigh* Figured as much.

[elryuse]

Hotel del Luna jang man wal x malereader who agrees to be her husband please

FINDING YOU, IN ANOTHER LIFE

JANG MAN WAL X MALE READER

The wind howled, mirroring the tempest raging within Jang Man-wol’s heart. News of Edo’s demise, a casualty of a senseless war, had shattered her world. The man who had painted her life with hues of love and joy was gone, leaving behind an eternal void.

Grief consumed her, a relentless tide that threatened to drown her soul. She retreated into the solitude of the Hotel del Luna, a sanctuary shrouded in mystery. The hotel, a timeless haven for lost souls, became her prison, a reflection of her own eternal sorrow.

Decades passed, each day a monotonous cycle of longing and despair. The hotel, once a place of vibrant life, now echoed with the silence of the departed. But one day, a disturbance broke the tranquility. A young man, Y/n, appeared at the hotel’s threshold, his presence as unexpected as it was intriguing.

Man-wol, drawn by an inexplicable curiosity, approached the newcomer. As she got closer, she couldn’t shake off the strange sense of familiarity. His features, his aura, reminded her of someone from the past.

"You... you remind me of someone," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/n, with a gentle smile, replied, "Perhaps, we're connected in ways we don't yet understand."

As days turned into nights, Man-wol found herself drawn to Y/n. His kindness, his empathy, awakened a part of her that had long been dormant. She saw in him a reflection of Edo, a glimmer of hope in the darkness of her eternal existence.

"You remind me of him," she confessed, her voice trembling. "Someone I once loved, someone I lost."

Y/n listened intently, his heart aching for her. "Perhaps," he said, "our souls are intertwined, bound by a love that transcends time and space."

Man-wol, caught in a moment of romantic reverie, went a step further. "Perhaps we are lovers from another life, destined to find each other again, no matter the time or place," she mused.

Y/n, startled by her declaration, chuckled. "Well, that's quite a theory," he said, a playful glint in his eye. "But for now, I think I'll just settle for a room for the night."

Man-wol, a bit taken aback by his casual response, quickly composed herself. "Of course," she replied, "I'll prepare the best room for you."

Little did Y/n know, the room he was assigned to was Man-wol's personal suite, a place filled with memories, both joyful and sorrowful. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by a luxurious interior, adorned with exquisite furnishings and strange artifacts.

"This is... quite something," he muttered, his eyes wide with surprise.

Man-wol watched him with a knowing smile. "Rest well, young man," she said, her voice filled with a hint of mischief. "You've a long night ahead of you."

Y/n, exhausted from his travels, drifted off to sleep, the soft glow of the room lulling him into a peaceful slumber. However, his tranquility was shattered by a loud crash. Startled, he sat up, his heart pounding.

He heard a rustling sound, followed by a soft, almost ethereal voice. “You’re awake,” a familiar voice purred.

Y/n turned to see Man-wol, looking more enchanting than ever, standing by the window. The moonlit night cast an ethereal glow upon her, making her appear almost otherworldly.

“What was that noise?” Y/n asked, his voice filled with confusion.

Man-wol smiled mysteriously. “Oh, just a little late-night snack,” she replied, gesturing towards a shadowy corner of the room.

Y/n's eyes followed her gaze, and he saw a strange creature, half-human, half-beast, cowering in the corner. It was a gumiho, a legendary nine-tailed fox, and it was terrified of Man-wol.

“Don’t worry,” Man-wol assured the creature, her voice soothing. “He won’t hurt you.”

The gumiho let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” it whispered, its voice barely audible.

Y/n was stunned. He had just witnessed a creature from Korean folklore, a creature that was supposed to be myth and legend.

“What is going on here?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Man-wol smiled. “Welcome to the Hotel del Luna,” she replied. “A place where the extraordinary is ordinary.”

As the night wore on, Y/n learned more about the hotel and its mysterious inhabitants. He discovered that the hotel was not just a place to stay, but a sanctuary for lost souls. Man-wol, as the eternal mistress of the hotel, had the power to help these souls find peace.

Y/n was drawn into this strange, magical world, his heart filled with wonder and curiosity. He realized that his encounter with Man-wol was no mere coincidence. It was fate, a destiny that had been written in the stars.

As days turned into nights, Y/n found himself increasingly drawn to Man-wol and the enigmatic world of the Hotel del Luna. He was fascinated by the stories of the spirits who resided there, each with their own unique tale of love, loss, and longing.

Man-wol, in turn, found solace in Y/n's company. His empathy and understanding helped her to heal the wounds of her past. She began to open up to him, sharing her deepest secrets and fears.

One night, as they sat together on the rooftop of the hotel, watching the stars, Man-wol revealed a shocking truth. "You're not human, Y/n," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "You're a spirit, trapped in this world, just like me."

Y/n was stunned. He had never considered such a possibility. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

Man-wol explained that he had been caught between worlds, a soul tethered to the mortal realm. He was neither living nor dead, a ghost in the machine of time.

Y/n was overwhelmed by this revelation. He had always felt like an outsider, a misfit. Now, he finally understood why. He was a spirit, a wanderer, forever searching for a place to belong.

"Why am I here?" he asked, his voice filled with despair.

Man-wol sighed. "Fate, destiny, call it what you will. You were meant to be here, to find me."

Y/n was silent, processing the information. The world as he knew it had been shattered. He was no longer human, but something else, something beyond his comprehension.

Despite the shock, Y/n found a strange sense of peace. He was no longer alone. He had found someone who understood him, someone who shared his burden. And as he looked into Man-wol's eyes, he knew that together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Y/n was stunned, his mind reeling from the revelation. He was a spirit, trapped in a timeless existence, bound to the Hotel del Luna. As he processed this newfound reality, a wave of emotions washed over him, a mix of confusion, fear, and a strange sense of peace.

Before he could fully comprehend the situation, Man-wol leaned in and kissed him. In that moment, a flood of memories washed over him, a glimpse into a life he had never lived. He saw himself as a young man, falling in love with a beautiful woman, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Man-wol. He witnessed their love blossom, their laughter echoing through the ages. But then, the scene shifted, and he saw the woman, heartbroken, mourning the loss of her beloved.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that he was living someone else's life, a life filled with love and loss. Man-wol pulled away, her gaze filled with both sorrow and hope. "I've missed you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/n was bewildered. He didn't understand the depth of his feelings for Man-wol, nor did he comprehend the strange connection between them. But one thing was certain: he was drawn to her, inexplicably and intensely.

As he looked into her eyes, he saw a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured for centuries. And in that moment, he began to understand the true meaning of eternity.

The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the ancient cathedral, a place untouched by time. Man-wol, resplendent in a flowing white gown, stood at the altar, her beauty both timeless and ethereal. Beside her stood Y/n, a man caught in the whirlwind of a love story that transcended time and space.

She took his hand, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. "Will you marry me, Y/n?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Y/n was stunned. The question, though unexpected, resonated with a strange familiarity. He thought back to the visions, the fragments of a life he had never lived. A life filled with love, loss, and eternal longing.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Man-wol smiled, a serene expression on her face. She placed a delicate veil over his head, an heirloom from her past. As he donned the wedding suit, once worn by Edo, a sense of destiny washed over him.

The ceremony was a breathtaking spectacle, a fusion of the ethereal and the earthly. The hotel's resident spirits, each with their own unique story, gathered to witness the union of two souls bound by an ancient love.

As they exchanged vows, the air was filled with a palpable sense of love and longing. Man-wol's eyes, filled with a thousand years of sorrow and joy, met Y/n's, a mirror of her own emotions.

"I love you, Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Y/n, his heart overflowing with love, responded, "I love you too, Man-wol."

And then, they kissed. It was a kiss that transcended time, a kiss that sealed their eternal bond. As they embraced, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment.

The moon shone brightly, illuminating the sacred space. The wind whispered through the ancient trees, carrying with it the echoes of their love story. And as the night deepened, the Hotel del Luna, bathed in a celestial glow, witnessed the birth of a love that would last for eternity.

- To Be Continued -

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Since I didn’t want to set the kitchen on fire two days in a row, Lilac was on cooking. Mister knows what's up - he woke early and went downstairs to keep her company and enjoy some one-on-one time while everyone else slumbered.

Upstairs Forest awakes, promptly judges my decor. Listen, I promised you an authentic farmhouse experience, and an authentic farmhouse experience is what you got.

Lee with his choice of sleepwear clearly said “sun’s out, bum’s out.”

Lilac, look at your life. Look at your choices. And so once again it’s time for chore montage hour. Which we won't show because Tumblr's stingy on pictures.

Looks like it was good for… one of them?

And so we're off to fair Sulani. Forest Baywatches out, while Tiago attempts to embrace Lilac and is rebuffed 😥 She gains a sentiment from him, however? Tiago, you're too pure.

Mister and Lilac sit at the chessboard, looking for all the world like some exhausted couple who have had it with their wayward sprogs and are taking everyone to let loose in Central Park (probably not too inaccurate a descriptor). Lilac is flirting hard, but Mister is too full of secondhand embarrassment at Tiago's CRINGE to notice.

Eventually Lilac takes up the guitar, only to be laughed at by Sage. Lee and Tiago react a little more kindly.

No one’s watching me, thinks Sage the KLEPTOMANIAC as she prepares to make her move.

(Spoiler alert - they’re all watching you.)

Lee mouths off at Giovanna, and is busted accordingly.

You should never have done it, says Forest, never have done it - tsk tsk Lee!

And then Forest and Lee start to argue. This seems to be too much for Lilac’s little pixel mind - between Mean and Evil, who should you vouch for - so she wanders off to flirt with Mister instead. Good call.

She then invites him to... do an activity together with her upstairs. Even better call. We'll turn our attention back to everyone else.

Downstairs Lee is too hangry to interact with any of the skill building objects (all exactly according to Forest’s plan…), so he goes and confesses his woes to Tiago - all while Forest rubs salt in his wounds by using the punching bag behind him. 

Sage and Giovanna decide to leave the boys to their nonsense - they are making good use of the skill building objects, and building up a sweet sweet friendship besides. But we all know that femme sims can multitask.

Who, me? Giovanna is almost as good as Forest at hiding her more dastardly impulses.

Lilac and Mister continue their flirtations upstairs, aaaand Lee and Forest now pretty much hate each other.

(I had too many photos for one post, but not quite enough for two, so there will be a smol 'post credits' update eventually.)

@riverofjazzsims @ravingsockmonkey @fl0pera

@igglemouse @panicsimss @simsfvr

[urwritethanks]

Someone said that if this was just a Netflix show he would have ate her out at the ending of EP 2. And let's just say that's what inspired this.

Anyway, hello 👋🏾 Yes I am shamelessly joining everyone in the excitement for this show. Did I start the show at 11pm? Yes. Did I then proceed to immediately start writing this at 2am? Yes. And you know what? I have no regrets (it's now basically 5am).

This is obviously an interpretation in an alternate timeline/universe. Dont get your panties in a bunch. Also my writing is not perfect. This ended up being longer than anticipated but apparently thats my m.o. I rarely get inspired to write so I wanted to just get it all out. Enjoy!

The glass shattered as it hit the floor.

Hee Joo could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands were clammy and she felt out of breath.

How could she be so silly? How had she walked into this mess? 'A fire .. my god' she thought. 'Was he hurt?' What if at this very moment he was in the hospital? She'd known since last night something was wrong. She'd felt it in her gut.  That was why she had waited for him. Only exhaustion had allowed her to sleep. Now hours later she wished she had done something, anything. But what could she have done? Everyone saw her as useless. What could she do now? She needed to-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the door lock. 'He's here!?' She thought in equal parts shock and relief.

The news in the background continued as he came into view. She was expecting him to be disheveled but she still was not prepared.

His shirt had soot and dirt. His hair looked as though he had been running his hand through it all night. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep. But more than that, they were filled with emotion. She had never seen him.. so affected.

He stalked toward her. Instinctively she stepped back only to come in contact with the table. She almost gasped when his hands found her waist and lifted her to the table. He must have lost his mind last night. In all their years of marriage she could count on one hand the number of times he'd touched her this way.

Her breath was caught in her throat. She stared at him stunned.

"Lately, nothing makes sense" Sa Eon said.

"There can't be a Hong Hee Joo I don't know about."

Hee Joo's brain was not working. She couldn't think straight with him this close. What did he mean?

"I need to find out" he continued, eyes shifting to her skirt "which one is the real one".

She knew. She knew before he moved what he was going to do.

"Right now, you're my only lead. So cooperate."

He reached for her skirt. Lifting it two inches before instinct had her stopping him.

He was really going to do it! Oh my, why had she gotten herself into this situation? How would she keep him from doing this now? When he was so determined. And why was she..getting turned on. Maybe it was how close he was to her. Maybe it was because it had been years since she had been with someone. But she knew the truth was it was his eyes. The way they seemed to be staring into her soul. The way they were showing so many emotions. Anger, confusion, frustration ...lust.

Was she imagining that last one?

"Do you want to take it off, or should I?". He had fisted her skirt. She stared at him chest rising and falling as though all the oxygen was gone from the room.

She didn't know what came over her. Before she could think about it her hand continued where he had left off.

His eyes never left hers the entire time. While a moment ago he was almost desperate, now it seemed as though he had all the time in the world.

She lifted it just enough to reveal what she knew he wanted to see. The material bunching in her lap but still covering her under garment. Slowly his eyes shifted down. Where ever his eyes touched felt like fire on her skin. She saw the moment he found her mole. His jaw clenched  and when she looked down his hand which had fallen beside her leg on the table was balled into a fist.

He exhaled loudly "I see.. so this is the real Hee Joo." His hand lifted. Finger tracing a circle around the mold. She felt that movement deep, her stomach clenching.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until his commanding voice said "Breathe". Before she could think she breathe in and out in a huff . God why did she always listen to everything he said?

As she continued to breathe the circles seemed to be getting larger. Covering more area on her thigh. Was she dreaming? She must be because he reached to lift the skirt higher revealing more and more skin. This is exactly what dream Sa Eon would do. Only in her dreams, dreams buried deep down could this be happening.

He only stopped once her centre was exposed. The skin tone underwear was now clearly visible to him. She watched him as his eyes feasted on her. She saw him swallow and he murmured something that even her fine tuned ears did not pick up.

When he reached for her she came back to herself and grabbed his wrist. His eyes found hers. Searching. She must have been doing a terrible job of hiding how much this was affecting her because whatever he saw in her eyes had him smirking and then he leaned forward and captured her mouth.

She gasped into the kiss. Then it was a flash of tongues and breathe. Her mind was spiraling not able to keep up or put into perspective what was happening. Sa Eon kissed exactly how she expected him to.  He directed and she was more than happy to follow his lead. One of his hands found her jaw and he maneuvered her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands found their way around his neck and into his already messy hair. This man was talented. He kissed her as though he was thirsty and she was the last drink of water on earth. He kissed her as though he had been wanting to do this for the last three years. He kissed her as though she was his.

When she broke the kiss, breathing heavy he simply shifted to her neck, her clavicle. The low vee of her shirt allowing him access. Her head fell back as she gave him more room.

Suddenly she felt his fingers on the outer edge of her panties. At the same moment his mouth was doing magical things to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. She shifted on the table humming as his fingers made their way to her entrance.

"I haven't heard this much sound from you in a long time" he paused whatever he was doing to her neck to say. "Maybe I should have done this sooner".

His finger was now working circles around her clit. Rather than go back to kissing her neck his eyes found hers as she slowly began to lose herself to the sensations. They were having a conversation without words. When his finger entered her she gasped and closed her eyes.

"Look at me" he said. Her eyes fluttered open to find his lit and studying her. He began to move his finger in and out. She bit her lip and her head fell back.

"Look at me" he reiterated. And his commanding tone coupled with a second finger joining the first had her head snapping back up.

"You will watch."

Suddenly his fingers left her and in a swift move he grabbed the waistband of her panties and ripped. Then before she could recover from that his hands moved her thighs further apart and his mouth found her, his tongue hot on her most private place. She was so stunned she didn't have a moment to feel exposed. Then sensation began traveling through her body.

She was getting more and more wet as he continued. His tongue feasting on her sensitive clit then moving to her entrance. The more wet she got the more he lapped, groaning and tightening his grip on her waist. Her thighs began to tremble and with each lap of his tongue she fell a little further under his spell. When his tongue entered her, her hands gave out and she fell to her elbows. Her eyes almost closed until she remembered what he had said. When she looked down she found him watching her as his tongue continued to torture her. She couldn't believe this was happening. How had they got here? Watching her watch him seemed to do something to him, as his onslaught became more ferocious she could only hold on for the ride.

He knew everything about her. He made it his job. Nothing could put all his skills to better use than his wife. And maybe that is why finding out he may not know her like he thought he did these last few days was driving him crazy.

All he could think about was her safety. But more than anything he was angry. Angry that this stranger who had no right to had seen her. Taken her hostage! Had her photo to leer over! It made him feral.

All he had wanted to do after last night's events was set eyes on her. Make sure she was safe. But when he'd seen her all his plans flew out the window. Suddenly he needed to know,  was she his Hee Joo?

Now with his head between her thighs, her hand fisting his hair and those breathy noices she was making (which were quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds) he knew she was.

He loved her taste and the more wet she got, the happier he was. He watched as her eyes glazed over as she gave in to everything he was giving her.  She began to shift her hips now, unconsciously chasing her orgasm. What she didn't know is he would give her anything she wanted.

Now as he watched her, her eyes seemed to be begging him, a tiny furrow in her brows and he was more than willing to oblige. He shifted, his mouth again finding her clit while his fingers entered her again. He pulled, hard with his mouth and thrust his fingers at the same time. Her thighs tightened around his head. He sweeped his tongue from her clit to her entrance a satisfied groan low in his throat. That also seemed to have an effect on her. He picked up the pace his eyes finding her again. Not wanting to miss a moment of her pleasure. He felt and heard the moment she came. Her core quivered and released a rush of moisture. At the same time she gasped loudly and bucked her hips. He knew it was with difficulty that she kept her eyes trained on him. He could swear he saw them get two shades darker.

For several moments she didn't breathe, suspended in the pleasure her body was giving her. He continued his onslaught until she came down. The hand in his hair going slack and a rush of breath finally expended from her. She seemed to sag onto the table. As much as she could anyway as she tried to keep her eyes on him.

He kissed her one last time reverently. When he glanced up he could see the panic and confusion beginning on her face. Her hands went up to cover her face and she laid on the table.

He adjusted her skirt back down to cover her. "Get cleaned up" he said. Knowing if he even tried to talk about or explain this it would go in one ear and out the other.

"I'm going to take a shower; then I'll make you breakfast and we can talk".

She was shaking her head before he was finished.  Her fingers shifting so she could peek through.

He left her like that, making his way to his room to shower. He knew she was even now probably trying to find a way to get out of speaking to him. But make no mistake, he had gotten a taste and he was far from satisfied.

[alexanderwales]

Save the Cat! chapter 5 is about "The Board" and his method of rigidly planning out a story by having a grid with all the acts laid out and placing little notecards on that board until there's not a huge pileup of cards in one section and a drought in another.

I ... kind of think that this is good advice? Not necessarily the rigidity of it all, but as a method of laying out a story before you write it, because you're not going to write it on notecards, and you can move the scenes around, and you can sit there and justify every scene. To his way of thinking, every scene should have some kind of emotional movement, from positive to negative or negative to positive, and every scene should have a conflict that gets resolved within it, and this seems like 1) good advice that 2) you shouldn't be too rigid about.

Sometimes a scene is about characterization more than conflict or emotion. Sometimes a scene is there to set the scene, to inform you about the world or the people within it. Anchoring every single scene to emotional movement and conflict seems exhausting to me, in a way that I associate with bad storytelling. A good author/writer knows when to have a scene that just lets us take a break, or a scene that's there to balance out something.

But for all his rigidity and formula, Snyder says something unexpected: that this is all a way of preparing for the battlefield, and once you're in the trenches (or doing your deep sea dive, in another metaphor), once you're writing the screenplay, that's when you deviate. You know the beats, the scenes, the characters, the motion of the story, and that's what allows you to successfully deviate, to have a minor character become elevated to a major character. All this work with the Board is a way to get into a position where you can improvise and change things.

So he seems, on the face of it, like a very structurally rigid plotter, but most of this is in service of getting things done, making sure that this saves time for later and ensures that he can deviate, that he can do some of the free-wheeling improv stuff. It's getting the basics down and understanding the story so he can be sure that he's not just doing things "because".

And this is more endearing to me than basically anything in the last few chapters, a much more reasonable reason to do things this way.

I am not immediately going to start using a Board, especially because novels are different from movies, but I've never tried using index cards, and maybe this is something to try putting into practice.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Why do you think Catherine is not attending the banquet part of the visit? Is it a stamina situation? I know those things usually go on for several hours and not to mention the time it takes to get ready. I’m just upset at not getting to see her rock another tiara!

The state banquets happen late in the evening and they tend to go on for a long time (not to mention all the prep time). She probably wants to conserve her energy for the “Together at Christmas” service.

I can hear the naysayers now: “It’s just one day, how can she be so fatigued after one day?” Listen, I have to go into the office once a month. It’s an office job so nothing particularly strenuous or manual, but the mental energy and the mental workload and the mental lift of preparing to go into the office and of being in the office is enormous, so much more than working from home - having to be “on,” having to remember your people skills, making small talk, minding your appearance, having to fit lunch and breaks into tight schedules instead of eating at my leisure - on top of a 40-minute commute in the morning and an hour-long commute in the afternoon. It’s just one day out of a 5-day workweek, but it’s an exhausting day and it throws me off for the rest of the week. And the absolute last thing I want after that kind of day is to put on very formal evening wear to entertain people at a dinner that’s an hour’s drive away.

Now put all of that in Kate’s shoes - she’s recovering from a six-month chemotherapy treatment, she has kids and pets to take care of, and her job requires her to be on display for the press, public consumption, and universal judgement.

So if Kate wants to be fully present for “Together at Christmas” on Friday, she has to cut her schedule somewhere and unfortunately, it’s the dinner. Otherwise, the only probable alternative to get the full rest she needs is to completely crash out on Wednesday for a recovery day and Kate had made it clear through past action that checking out from her children isn’t an option.

(Also, everyone, please be nice about their tiara comment. Yes, it’s a bit tone-deaf but we don’t need to dogpile her for it. I’ve been in that spot and it’s a horrible feeling.)

[szoot]

Bite Back...

Daniela Dimitrescu x Reader

Your legs were giving out, exhaustion beginning to overtake your body as you quite literally ran for your life. She was teasing you, playing with you, dragging out your death simply for the fun of it. A twisted game of cat and mouse... and the youngest Dimitrescu lived for it.

You rounded another corner, desperately, helplessly sprinting as sinister laughter echoed through the halls behind you. You were fast, but Daniela was faster. Her voice, soft yet teasing, sultry yet malicious, followed you through the castle.

"Where are you going, my little lamb?" She swarmed in front of you, a wicked smile on her face as she watched you stumble in fear. Before you could even process it, she reached out, snatching a fistful of your shirt collar and dragging you face-to-face with her. The cold steel of a sickle was slowly, almost tenderly, trailed down your neck as you panted, eyes wide with fear, body limp with exhaustion. She smirked devilishly.

"Gotcha, cutie!" As she spoke, her grip on you tightened, almost dragging you up onto the very tips of your toes. Candlelight reflected in Daniela's eyes, shined on her fangs, and illuminated the scatter of freckled on her nose and cheeks. She giggled at your labored breathing and shaking body, then shoved you to the floor. Before you could attempt an escape, she stepped on you, the heel of her boot digging into your chest as she leaned over you. You gasped at the sudden pressure, and she smirked.

"P-please..." You barely managed to choke out, dread sinking into your heart as you realized there was no escaping.

"Hmm?" She hummed in a teasing tone. "What was the sweetheart? Use your words." She smurked again, high on power and hunger.

You coughed and sputtered slightly as she leaned more weight onto you. "Please... just make it quick..."

She clicked her tongue again, a soft 'tsk tsk tsk' that rejected your desperate plea all on its own. She dropped to her knees, her thighs on either side of your hips, pinning you to the cold floor. She leaned in close, tilting your chin up with the tip of her sickle, forcing your eyes to meet hers. She looked at you like she was going to eat you alive... and she probably would.

"Oh, but darling..." She leaned down until your noses almost touched, smirking as you flinched away from her. "Where's the fun in that?" She smiled again, showing off wicked fangs that put her sickle to shame. She snapped her jaws shut just centimeters from your face, giggling manically as you whimpered in fear.

"That's more like it!" Daniela let her fingers drag down your face, your jawline, and over your neck until they rested on your pulse point. She could hear the way your blood rushed through your veins and growled softly with hunger. "You smell so delicious... I couldn't resist you, sweetheart."

She leaned closer to drag her fangs across your neck, making you squirm under her grip. You tried to jerk your neck away, but her free hand found your throat, holding you still. Her breath was ragged, hungry, desperate on your skin.

"Stay still for me, lamb..." She murmured against your neck, taking a deep breath as she brushed her lips to your pulse. "I'm dying to taste you..."

She was going to dig her teeth into you and tear you apart. You were sure of it. Maybe you'd choke on your own blood, or maybe you'd bleed out before that... either way, you didn't want to find out. You needed to fight.

With Daniela's attention clouded by her deisre for your blood, you seized the opportunity to lunge forward. Your teeth found her neck, right where it met the curve of her shoulder and sank into the soft skin. Hard.

The woman gasped sharply, shakily at the sting of your bite. Her sickle dropped to the floor with a loud clatter that echoed through the halls. Her muscles tensed up, and you were sure she was preparing to smash your skull into the floor... at least it'd be a quick demise. You clenched your jaw harder on her shoulder and prepared for the killing blow, but it didn't come.

Daniela moaned this time, a low, unsteady whimper as her body relaxed, and she dropped to her forearm. You released your teeth from her skin, noticing the slight taste of blood on your tongue. Her eyes found yours as she panted, pupils dialated and lips parted. She looked hungry in a different way now.

"Sweetheart..." She breathed out, her voice soft. "I'm never letting you go now..."

[queenvidal]

Chapter 1: Flattering Of The Heart

Chapter Summary: In the Red Keep, dignitaries prepare for a big Tournament and the royal family's impending birth. The princess greets the guests dutifully, unaware of a secret guest, who is waiting for her.

Wordcount: 2056

The Red Keep is buzzing with noise. More and more lords, noblemen and other dignitaries arrive in King's Landing, preparing for the fast approaching festivals. A big tournament will be held and the King called all important houses of the realm to join the royal family in celebration of the impending birth of the son. Maids and servants bustle along the hallways, taking care of everyone's needs.

You ascend the stairs of the castle, the long skirts of your dress held in your hand, preventing you from tripping over them at your fast pace. The urgency to finally remove yourself from the chaos after the long day quickens your steps. Once at your destination, you let the dress fall and catch your breath, before opening the big wooden door.

“Mother,” you announce your presence with a bright smile, the tension off the day already easing.

Queen Aemma looks up from the book resting on her lap. Her tired eyes soften in an instant. “Y/N!” She calls you warmly. “Come, my dear. Come, sit with me.”

You’re already half across the room. With a soft smile, you carefully sink onto the plush lounger opposite her. Your eyes flicker for a brief moment to her rounded belly before swiftly focusing back on her face. With genuine concern, you ask, “How are you feeling, Mother?��

The queen exhales deeply, closing the book before shifting to get a bit more comptable. “I’ll manage, dear.” Her faint smile can’t hide the exhaustion in her voice. “But I cannot lie, I’m looking forward to the end of this most unpleasant pregnancy.” 

Your brows knit with sympathy. It has been her most difficult pregnancy by far. Everyday has been a battle with overwhelming sickness and the relentless fatigue bound her to her bed more times than not, her usual vitality sapped. You’ve tried to help where you could, though your mother’s stubborn independence often made it challenging.

“How are our guests, dear?” she asks, shifting in her chair again for comfort. “Have you greeted them?”

Now it’s your time to sigh. “Yes, mother.” Hosting guests from so many noble houses had been exhausting. The endless pleasantries had been draining. “My cheeks still ache from all the forced smiles.” This elicits a faint chuckle from the Queen. You glance at your hands, hesitantly admitting, “I wish Father had let go of the idea of the tourney.”

Aemma raises an eyebrow at that. With a teasing grin tugging at her lips, she says, “You sound like you’ve been sentenced to some dreadful punishment. This tourney is in celebration of your brother, dear. Surely you don’t begrudge him that?”

Your head snaps up at the accusation. “Mother, no. Of course not.” Leaning forward, you take her hand in yours. “I am worried, mother. My little brother has yet to be born, and with all the stress surrounding the pregnancy and the preparation for the tournament... I can't help but to worry for him but especially for you.” 

“I’m lucky to have such a devoted daughter,” she smiles warmly at you before brushing her knuckles against your cheek. Her hand moves to a loose strand of your hair hanging in front of your face, slowly her eyes wander to your hair. “Your braids are coming loose.”

“It’s been a long day,” you admit, shifting slightly to give her better access. The Queen changes sets, coming to sit next to you. She undoes one of the braids, her fingers carefully running through your hair. A soft sight escapes you. “The sons of Lord Baratheon were relentless.” You let her know, looking at your hands. “They spent the morning showering me with compliments and little gifts. If I’d taken a drink for every time one of them called me beautiful, I’d have passed out before noon.”

Aemma chuckles softly, shaking her head. Her fingers weave your hair with care when she asks. “Ah, to be admired by young men. Surly it’s been flattering, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.” You shrug nonchalantly. “But their compliments felt hollow, forced. I’d prefer sincerity.”

Aemmas hands pause as she is leaning slightly to the side to see your face. “But Y/N, what makes you say that? You are beautiful.” 

You turn your head around, looking over your shoulder to meet her eyes. With a slight hint of suspicion in your voice, you tell her. “Even so. It felt like they were saying it not because they meant it, but because they had to.”

Aemma’s eyes travel through the chambers, looking at the servants walking through the room. Her attention turns back to you before speaking to you in your ancestors' tongue. “You are a smart girl, Y/N. You knew this tournament was not just for your brother.”

The weight of her words makes your shoulders sag slightly. Unable to hide the disappointment in your eyes, you look back at your hands again. “I assumed as much, but I was still hoping.”

Aemma continues with the braid, her voice soft as she says, “You’re of age, dear. In only a few moons, we will be celebrating your twentieth name day.” Your eyes fall to the ground while you force yourself to stay quiet. “Your father and I invited houses from all the Seven Kingdoms. We want your husband to be someone of your own choosing.”

A bitter snort escapes you. “So I get to pick my own cage?”

Aemma sighs deeply, her hands stilling again. When you turn to meet her gaze again, your heart clenches at the hurt you find in her eyes. “Mother, I’m sorry. I… I just wish you’d give me more time.”

Aemma ties off the braid, her fingers lingering briefly before laying it over your shoulder. “We’ve given you time, Y/N.” Her voice is gentle, almost wistful. “Nine years more than your father and I ever had.”

“I know, Mother,” You reach for her hand, holding it gently in yours. “And I’ll always be grateful for every single one of those years.”

Your mother caresses your hand, not meeting your eyes. Slowly, her knitted brows are easing as a soft grin. “Am I right to assume you haven’t greeted all of our guests yet?”

You blink at her, your brow furrowing in confusion as you quickly run through the names and houses in your head. “No, Mother. I don’t think I’ve missed anyone.”

“Oh, my dear, you most certainly have. You’d be in much higher spirits if you hadn’t.” She huffs a small laugh, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Would you do me a favor, my sweet?” 

You nod, waiting expectantly. “Of course, Mother.”

“The dragons seem rather restless today,” she says, her grin widening. “Why don’t you visit the dragonpit?”

“The dragonpit?” you repeat, puzzled. “What kind of guest would—”

But your words trail off as realization dawns.

Your mother chuckles, clearly delighted by your reaction. She gives your arm a playful tap. “Go, dear. Don’t keep him waiting.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The afternoon sun is slowly dipping behind the horizon, painting the sky bright red and orange when you are descending the Red Keeps halls. Your heart races as you hurry through the corridors. It’s been months since your uncle left for the Vale and thought he'd be gone for even longer.

Hiking up your skirts, you make your way towards the dragonpit. The guards recognize you as once and step aside, letting you through without questioning. Your heart takes on speed as you near the pit. Your ears catch Caraxes before your eyes do.

There he is.

“Daemon!” You call out, your voice ringing with joy. Ignoring all etiquette, you break into a run.

The rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen stood near his beast. His Blood Wyrm is roaring loudly, as if announcing the prince's return to the court. Daemon's hand glides along the dragon's scales, calming it. But his attention shifted immediately when he noticed someone approaching him.

When his eyes find you, his expression softens in a way reserved for no one else. With a wide grin on his face, your uncle lets go of his dragon. At once he closes the remaining distance between you. “There’s my princess.” His voice carries across the courtyard. He opens his arms just in time to catch you as you flung yourself into him.

His arms wrap tightly around you, lifting you from the ground as he’s spinning you in a wide circle. Your laughter fills the air as you cling to him. When he finally sets you down again, his hands linger on your waist. His purple eyes drink you in as if he’d spent a lifetime away.

“How is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom feeling today?” The prince asks in a playful voice.

The warmth on your cheeks spreads, your heart’s skipping a beat at the way he looks at you. With mischief in your eyes, you tell him. “Mother is doing better these days.”

Daemon arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smirk. “And what about the most beautiful princess?”

While smiling from ear to ear, you say. “You should ask that Rhaenyra.”

Daemon’s laughs loudly at your games. The sound only intensifies the fluttering in your stomach. “Well done, Y/N.” His thumbs rub small circles on your waist. “And what about you?” 

Finally you answer his question. Still holding his arms lightly, you smile softly at him. “I’m well, Uncle. Better now that you’re here.”

His expression on his face falters momentarily, the playful edge melting into something deeper. He lifts a hand to brush a strand of your hair back, his touch lingering just a moment too long. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’d hate to think I’d left you in misery for too long.”

“Oh, you overestimate your importance,” you tease, your voice carrying humor and no bite.

Daemon let out a deep chuckle, “Do I?” He asked you with amusement in his voice. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches slightly at the intensity of his gaze. Eventually releasing his arms, you clasp your hands in front of you and step back, giving yourself the space to breathe. “And what about you? How was your journey?”

Daemon shrugged his shoulders, his softened demeanor changing back into his usual confident charm. “Tedious. Dull. But all worth it to see you again.”

You roll your eyes at him, though you can't suppress the need to tease. “You’re hopeless."

“Hopelessly devoted, perhaps,” Daemon shots back, the corner of his mouth moving upward. “How was the court life during my absence?”

“Dreadful,” you admit truthfully. “If not for Lady Rhaenys Velaryons visits every now and then, I might have flung myself off the Keep.” Your eyes drift to Caraxes, the beast's eyes are also on you. His head moves closer, his snout almost nudging your arm. You accept the invitation to pet him. A low growl of approval rumbles through the air. 

“Without you stirring up chaos, it’s all pretense and pleasantries.” You recall, "The same empty conversations, the same dull faces. No scandals, no rumors, no uproar. Just endless monotony.” 

Daemon huffs a laugh. “So you missed me for keeping the court on their toes?” He holds his hand to his cest in feigning offense. “Not for my charm or my wits?” 

“Oh, of course, Uncle,” you tease him with your voice in a soft mocking tone, “The most charming prince there ever was.”

“You wounded me, dear niece,” he exclaims dramatically. “But I’ll take the compliment, even if it’s buried under mockery.” 

You two look at each other for a quiet moment. His eyes carry a softness you barely recognize. A small smile grows on your lips, you’ve truly missed him. Daemon takes a step towards you, offering you his arm and you take it without hesitation. “Come, walk with me to the Keep, princess.”

As the two of you move towards the gates of the dragonpit, the stablehands approach Caraxes with caution. They share a knowing glance, not daring to speak, saying the obvious out loud. The bond between the Rogue Prince and his niece has always been close but for a long time now, the air around them seemed even more intimate.

The rumors the princess wished for will spread faster than she anticipated. 

[spielzeugkaiser]

I drew a tiny thing! A trailer bard! Honestly I like the hair, even if I gave him slightly more fluff.

[introspectivememories]

okay so i know that dash baxter barely gets any character development in the show but like the idea that danny hates dash? boo, lame, overdone!!!! danny who can beat dash up and dash knows this and everyone knows this but by god danny needs something normal to cling on to so dash shoves him in a locker everyday?? yeah that's the good shit

[rustingcat]

After a short break, I'm finally back at animating!

Here's a short one for the weekend. Happy pride, everyone:)