#idk man i kind of feel like too much and yet i'm doing nothing???

[naffeclipse]

do you ever sit and think about everything that is happening to you and what you need to do and what you want to do and you're sitting motionless completely locked into your brain and it all goes nowhere but it's filling you to the point of overload

yeah anyways

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 4 :)

[wonton4rang]

can you do riize bf hcs? 💗💗

hiii, ofc!!! my first riize request/ drabble/ thought, oh my :')

btw, guys, i wanted to make something clear with my riize content, for me riize is 7. i understand that some might be mad at seunghan for having a normal life and dating before he was even an idol, or smoking like he's harming your lungs or something, but i don't really mind. he worked hard to get here and even though he might have come across as someone problematic, i believe we should never mix the idol's personal life with their job (in this case, as it's not something that bad, it's not seungri y'all iykyk). they are people, you talk shit behind someone's back too and you don't get fired for it so please understand this and respect my point of view <3 if you feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to stop reading my riize content and live your life.

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

Can I be your boyfriend?

pairing: riize x reader.

warnings: +18, mentions of smut.

summary: how i think riize would be as boyfriends (two povs - daily life + intimacy)

note: i had like over 3-4 weeks with this in drafts because i couldn't finish the maknae line (han, hee & ton) but here it is, hope y'all enjoy !! my first riize post <33 pd. i did NOT read this again so it might contain typos, i will try to correct it asap :')

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shotaro;

daily life: he would be a really funny and nice boyfriend to be around. being so kind and his eye smile being so dreamy that you could literally feel your knees getting weak and that fervent desire of pinching his cheeks. he would definitely selfie text you every time he can, "how you doing, baby?" *insert selca*, "did you eat something already?" *insert mirror selfie*. plus, i also think that he would be the type to like to have you on his lap. idk, it just feels right and natural to me.

intimacy: i have been seeing taro since nct and tbh the amount of sex this dude likes to have is insane. like i just see him fucking you three times a day like a fucking meal. he would be fast yet precise, nothing sloppy or out of place, he would whisper in your ear how much he likes you and would give you a reassuring smile when you were about to come that just melted your heart over and over again.

eunseok;

daily life: contrary to his usual behaviour and demeanour, i do think he would be very touchy. probably not really bubbly or acting all cutesy but he is for sure having an arm around you at all times, acting like it's the most natural and normal thing and like he isn't thinking about the way you breath under his touch with every second that goes by. he would also be the type to stare at you all lovingly when you are saying something and then nod with that "i love you so much i'm going crazy" smile on his pretty lips.

intimacy: i have two things for this one, or he is very dominant or he is a lay back type of person. let me elaborate, in both of them he is dominant but the first one is him actually taking control of your movements, physically manipulating you during sex to get you where he wants, when he wants it. on the second one, is more like he layed back and told you to ride him or something but his face has that smug look that you loved-hated because it meant that he was not touching you and you had to do all the work today. but honestly, i feel like he could also have his lovey dovey days and just make love to you!! also, the way this man loves to receive head has to be studied. it came to me in a vision and i actually can give testimony of it :p

sungchan:

daily life: do you guys know this stereotype of the typical sporty, extroverted, funny, tall, handsome and very loving and centered boyfriend? well, meet sungchan. he would video call you at any time, during his morning lecture at college, during his workout session at the gym, while he was waiting for the showers to empty on the changin room. always, everywhere. he would drop by your house almost every night to check up on you since your job and his daily schedule at college wouldn't allow you guys to meet. he would be the type to be so offended if you ever think he would cheat because he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you !!

intimacy: mr. i'll make love to you on weekdays and get freaky on the weekends fr. he would usually fuck you missionary, looking into your eyes and kissing your lips like a starved man while his dick reached so deep inside of you that your legs would shake. but when the time came, he would also get creative, bending you over the dining table and fucking you raw before pulling out and coming in your ass, ruining your pajamas but making your night the best :((

wonbin:

daily life: princess treatment type of boyfriend. but not just towards you, he is expecting the princess treatment right back. he would dress up so nicely to go and see you, expecting to find you on your best fit too! he would like to help you choose your clothes and even go shopping, getting you both matching jackets and jewelry. idk why but i also see him as the type to like to cuddle at home with you while watching a movie over going outdoors.

intimacy: he has the strength and the body the fuck you senseless but hear me out when i say this man is more of a sub that you could ever imagine. he would try to play it nice and not be so obvious about the fact that he is creaming his pants when you start to move while sitting on his lap, he would hold his soft whines in by biting his bottom lip and then lowering his head to hide the blush across his cheeks. and it doesn't take you a minute to notice and drop to your knees so you can suck him off, feeling his delicated hands tangle in your hair and press you down so he can slowly fuck your throat. just have in mind that your pussy it's next and wonbin has one of the best staminas i've seen in a dancer.

seunghan:

daily life: i personally see seunghan as an energetic person, always trying to be cheerful and thinking of a joke that matches the current vibe, or just laugh along, but i also feel like he'd be a very romantic boy. really into this gentleman persona that would have you weak on your knees and giggling all day, he would take to you to sweet dates, matching couple sweaters and bracelets, long walks at night while you just hold hands and then end up kissing in the entrance of your apartment before trying to say goodbye because he would push you inside and cuddle you all night whenever he has the chance </3

intimacy: yeah i guess we all know where i'm going with this but lord have mercy on you when he decides to show up and say it's time to get naughty. he would start with soft touches, kisses that would slowly get longer and deeper, and a long forgotten movie on your living room while he undressed you on your room. he would be rougher than sungchan but relatively slower, fucking you nice and deep rather than fast and sharp.

sohee:

daily life: pookie. the pookiest pookie of all. but heads up, he might be really cute, his smile might look so innocent that would make you second guess when you said something with a slight double sense and he just look at you like 🫣 he would try to make you food, try to help you around in the house, try to even help you with your homework but would only end up sitting by your side, caressing your frame, your arms and hair, while he made you one or two jokes and sang some lovey dovey tune to your ear.

intimacy: contrary to popular thought, i don't think he is THAT much of a sub. he mainly is, yes, but i also feel like he would be a great dom. like, picture sohee, nicely built body, sharp eyes, playful smirk, freaky hands and sweet yet masculine voice tone whispering in your ear how good your pussy tightens around of his dick, his hands holding your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair... yeah, we need more dom sohee content :')

anton:

daily life: i've always thought that he would be the messiest boyfie ever. he would try to impress you by doing or saying stuff you really didn't care about but you found it so adorable and endearing that you eventually had interest for all the stuff he showed you, because he wanted you to know you had a great and knowledgeable boyfie!! but on the other side, he would just be himself, turning into this boyfriend-best friend kinda thing that you both loved.

intimacy: idk why i feel like he would be a little shy. maybe not shy shy but like he would hesitate at first, not knowing if you'd like this or that and doing none because he didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. however, when he finally gets a hold of you??? gurllll you better be ready. i feel like he's the type to slowly fuck you so good you would end up edging most of the times because he would just be so patient, so precise and yet lacking velocity, but it was on purpose because he would bring your orgasm in a silver plate when he thrusts so fast into you you actually think the bed would crack.

[melrosing]

so stuff I’ve not liked about the finale and S2 more generally…. unfortunately it’s a lot and i'm thinking i might need to say this in several parts but first and foremost: the pacing really was shit and i don't just mean there weren't enough action scenes i mean the whole season they've had almost nothing to say about these characters and have just been making us think they do by having them repeat the same ham-fisted monologues about power and peace and the cost of war and whatever whilst moving at a glacial pace from one minor plot point to another and by the end of it most of these characters STILL haven't changed, and where they have it feels undeserved, and yes they really are at roughly the place they started so what have they even got to show for these eight hours of TV?? like damn

and I do get that the writer's strike has really effected them here and HBO hacking two eps off their season affected them too and that really can't be helped. but the pacing has been pretty poor from kick off and I can't just put it down to this being a more 'internal' season. i do not care about big battles. it's fine to have a season of a show that’s more about the characters’ interiority rather than plot action. that’s the exact reason why I like AFFC so much.

but these characters barely have interiority like idk what to say. some like Rhaenyra, Jace and Alicent have been spouting the same monologues every episode about wanting peace/wanting agency/wanting peace again etc etc, and the more interesting moments like Alicent's apparent suicide attempts, Rhaenyra's butchering of the dragonseeds etc... I mean where IS the interiority here?? unless they are spelling out a character's thoughts in the most literal way they can (as per Jace's diatribes about the dragonseeds), they leave their audience to do absolutely all the work by showing us nothing, and just leaving us to figure that the characters must be having some kind of thoughts but y'all can decide what they are.

and even Daemon, whose entire ARC was about his interiority.... like look I was so so ready to love this arc. i love fucked up little dream sequences. i love harrenhal. i was really enjoying the angle they took with alys. i was here for it. but now we've seen the whole of his S2 arc, im going to say yes, it was intended as a redemption adjacent kind of arc, and it isn't a very good one. Daemon has a handful of weird dreams, gets shouted at by some Riverlands folk, and he's a changed man.

consider the character everyone compares Daemon to (and who I'm always more than happy to talk about) and that's Jaime. and look at the sheer ground covered in ASOS: Jaime breaks out of a dungeon, Jaime meets a younger version of himself, Jaime gets his hand hacked off, Jaime reveals his anime villain backstory in the bath, Jaime deals with Roose Bolton, Jaime has a weird weirwood dream, Jaime fights a fucking bear - and at this point we're still only about halfway through.

now in contrast, what have they actually managed to do with Daemon this season. where has that finale moment with Rhaenyra been earned. this is not slow pacing for the sake of powerful character development, it's slow because they don't have anything else to say.

and also look at the state of characters like Aemond who seemed really promising in S1, yet in this season he barely reflects on the fact that he hadn't meant to kill Luke, and this war is an accident that he started, etc etc - he's just a killing machine lol. there were some nice touches in there, like i say i enjoyed Helaena telling Aemond how he'll die in the finale. but I no longer trust these writers to do anything with their more inspired ideas because they just consistently fail to do so.

look at Baela!!! like my god, has Baela had the opportunity to do anything except A) what she's told and B) counsel men on their feelings. she has like one moment looking at Daemon and you feel like the series is going to explore how complex it is to be Daemon Targaryen's daughter.... but my god they never do!! so where IS this interiority we've spent eight episodes on! what have they got to show for it!!

and i talked more weeks back about how frustrating i've found the writing of women more generally in this series and as of the finale I am finding it so egregious and so condescending. women want peace. women want to protect their children. women are tired of men. women are tired of war. women are trying to end this war peacefully. women are pacifists. women hate violence. and so on and so on and so on like jesus christ who am i even talking about here. even i don't know. it's so boring. it's so dry. and it requires female characters to always be the paragons of virtue, never do anything truly condemnable, never be unlikeable, never fucking anything except stand around saying how much they hate this. im bored of it and it makes me angry that they would do this in a series that specifically seeks to make everyone grey and everyone complex - they keep suggesting that might extend to the women before abruptly shutting it down again. see Alicent and Rhaenyra even STILL, after EVERYTHING, trying to peacefully shut down the war for the sake of love and friendship in the goddamn finale. I don't believe it anymore!! it's not cute! it's just dull!!!

and finally that just kind of brings me to how shortsighted a lot of the plot developments seem, when you see how the characters fail to reckon with their pasts or shit that just happened. Rhaenyra and Mysaria make out, and then that's never mentioned again and the tone never changes between them. Rhaenyra is done thinking about Luke. Helaena is done thinking about Jaehaerys. Aegon actually didn't mention Jaehaerys in the list of things he's 'lost' in that finale. Alicent's relationship w Viserys was just now condensed to 'we were fond of each other but he always liked your mum better'

like idk it's just. if this season's pacing is all about giving characters the chance to change and grow into the people they'll be when this war REALLY kicks off.... do it. write it. do not just write the same monologue a dozen times and hope it'll hit harder with each. doesn't work like that. sorry.

[skywerse]

AVA FERIN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS IN GENERAL

HEAR ME OUT, READ BELOW THE CUT AND TELL ME IF IT'S SOMETHING OR IF I'M SIMPLY LOOSING MY SHIT OVER NOTHING... BECAUSE IT MAKES SENSE TO ME—

Fey Ferin wants R.A.F.T to seize control over the world, and there's nothing that can stand in her way, not even her own family.

There might have been a time when Jayson Ferin was a good man. Based on what May says about him and glimpses we get from Jay's early memories (I recall one with the pin), it appears he once was. Perhaps Jayson desired change for the navy too, but that would be such a pain for Fey to deal with. So, she seems to have brainwashed him for months, possibly years by now (ep 79, Gilly detects corruption in him mixed with good energy), molding him into the perfect soldier who doesn't question orders and neglects his family for the sake of helping his mother to carry out this great fucking world domination plan.

Fey likely harbors resentment towards Drey for not being obedient like his brother, opting for a pirate's life over being loyal to his family and their ideals. Yet, Fey can't bring herself to kill him, so she puts him in a top security prison to let him rot instead.

Ava was the ideal soldier—strong, brave, and revered by all. However, for Fey, Ava's kindness, compassion, and desire for change is simply another pain to deal with. But of course, she would not kill her own family. And she couldn't let her just vanish either.

Perhaps Fey suspected that Ava had a soft spot for pirates, given her upbringing in Eagle's Den and being raised by such a softhearted daughter-in-law. But perhaps, on one occasion, someone witnessed Ava together with a pirate, and somehow that information reached Fey. And after learning that her granddaughter, her esteemed captain, had feelings for a pirate from the crew of the last remaining pirate lord she aimed to get rid of, Fey simply couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

Maybe Ava cooperated willingly, fought like hell, or simply was faced with a deal she couldn't refuse. R.A.F.T. wouldn't just eliminate their top captain, such a vital asset for the upcoming war. Instead, they created a doppelgänger, and chucked the real Ava into some top-notch secret confinement. Letting the dopple to become their pawn. A perfect martyred hero to be killed by those bad bad pirates. A perfect excuse to wage a war over.

But the doppelgängers aren't perfect. So when Lizzie tells Ava about a pirate who is like a father to her, Ava doesn't remember. And when Lizzie begs her not to fight, Ava doesn't listen because she doesn't remember the numerous times they sneaked out together to simply talk like normal people do. And when there's an order to shoot, Ava doesn't move away, as she remembers she was only created to destroy and to be destroyed.

Would Jayson know? Probably not. His hatered toward the pirates responsible for his daughter's death would likely fuel his brainwashed self even more. Very convenient for the long run.

Fey might permit her youngest granddaughter to infiltrate the pirates, banking on her own hatered over her sister's death to maybe one day make her an even better soldier than Ava ever was.

But maybe Fey was wrong.

And she knows it when she receives news of her son's escape from prison, and when her other son suddenly takes leave, or perhaps when a navy base on the Black Sea is breached.

So, when her promising soldier begins to rebel, it might be time to reveal the secret that she's been keping. Maybe it will help her granddaughter decide which side to choose in the end.

me rn:

But idk, that's just my speculation. If it turns out to be a load of bullshit you can point and laugh, but at this point it makes so much sense in that smooth brain of mine as I'm writing this at 7am after getting no sleep whatsoever.

ALSO, just something fun to think over:

In the rolled for 114, Grizz mentioned that the doppel/brainwashing machine had buttons with dates on them. And if pressed, it would display the people who had previously used it. I can't help but wonder if my theory about Ava is true if she might have showed up there. Or maybe it could have shown Jayson getting his fucking brain blasted. BUT WELP, someone rolled like shit (pointsatgillionpointsatgillion) and we'll never know now—

[recreationalfanfics]

Hello, I really love how you seem to have such a good read on RoR characters! Kinda shy asking this because I swore I read Record of Ragnarok for the action and backstories but it’s hard to contain my simping…. (๑꒪̇⌄꒪̇๑)

May I request some headcanons for Poseidon x a shy but kind human fem!MC? The idea I had in mind was that some thousands of years ago, Aphrodite, annoyed with Poseidon’s indifference to her charms, “cursed” him with a soulmate. This soulmate turned out to be MC who wasn’t even born yet back then. The plot will take place sometime before the actual human vs. gods battles start, so maybe during some preparation period where they’re setting up the stadium and all that? During this period, the human audience had already been “teleported” there (I don’t think they ever elaborated on how the humans all just end up watching the ragnarok) MC is one of these humans and coincidentally happened upon Poseidon during her stay. Of course, the soulmate stuff won’t magically make Poseidon have a complete change on humankind, but I was hoping he’d gradually soften up to her even if he won’t admit it.

As for what kind of soulmate AU, maybe the type where the first words your soulmate says to you is inscribed somewhere on your body? I think it’ll be fun to have her say something to him, he realizes but doesn’t say anything back so she just doesn’t know until much later.

Hopefully this isn’t too detailed or convoluted (๑•́‧̫•̀๑) And thank you so much in advance if you decide to write this! And if it’s not too much to ask, please don’t kill off Poseidon, but I also don’t want Sasaki to die either… maybe Poseidon will choose to forfeit (after fighting at first) because his soulmate is amongst the humans that will be eliminated if gods win? •ू(ᵒ̴̶̷᷄ωᵒ̴̶̷᷅*•ू) )੭ु⁾⁾

THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE OMG!? I'M MORE THAN HAPPY TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU BUT ALSO, UR SO VALID FOR WANTING NIETHER OF THEM TO DIE, IDK WHY BUT THIS ANIME MAKES ME ATTATCHED TO BOTH THE GODS AND THE HUMANS-

Either way, I hope I did well, this was my first time writing for Poseidon!

- Consider how vain these two can be sometimes, it's only natural that they would butt heads often but when Poseidon dared to claim that Aphrodite truth wasn't as fair as she claimed herself- no, that she KNEW herself to be- she just couldn't allow this injustice to stand.

- He cherished absolutely nothing, he appreciated absolutely nothing. So she took it upon herself to change that. After all, it was HER who was the Goddess of Love. So she decided to pull a little trick

- Now, lets flashforward (to modern? ancient? Idk, man, heaven time??) and Poseidon has been summoned to his match. A match he felt was pointless but, whatever, who was he to deny his brother?

- Gracing the God's hall and going to his room to prepare and shield himself from sharing the same air as humans; imagine his surprise when he sees you.

- You're pathetic. Skittish, looking around like a confused mutt, and looking as disgusting as the rest of your kind. He knows your human alone and he's offended that you had the AUDACTIY to walk INTO THE AREA WHERE THE GOD'S RESIDE, AND EVEN STAND IN FRONT OF HIS DOOR.

- In reality, you weren't trying to piss anyone off. You had gotten separated from the rest of the humans and accidentally found yourself in a part of the arena you weren't familiar with.

- You were so relieved when you looked and saw another person in the hallway with you! Maybe you could ask them for directions. Poseidon did not know why you were approaching him so casually but he did NOT like it, like, AT ALL.

- Since your soulmates, maybe the reason why you don't feel his threatening aura like other gods and humans do is because some part of you just can't find it in you to fear him. He takes this as a sign of disrespect.

- You do feel anxious, however, he was such an attractive man but he absolutely did not look pleased to see you and you assumed he was just having a bad day.

- "H-Hello, I don't mean to trouble you!" You call out, your voice quiet and filled with uncertainty.

- He narrows his eyes at you, absolutely enraged by the idea of you approaching him so casually. You filthy little worm, he should destroy right-

- But then he takes a look at his wrist, he doesn't know why he does, a subconscious decision perhaps. But he side eyes you...odd, he makes sure to check his wrist. Oh well, he may as well grant you a few seconds of life.

- Then he checks his wrist and sees that the very first words you said to him...were on it. He looks from his wrist to you, who has no idea what's going on and honestly just wanted to find a way out of this big hallway.

- "U-Um, sir? I-I'm sorry, but do you know the way out?"

- He merely narrows his eyes at you before summoning his trident into his hands and thats when you realize; you're standing before a God. He says nothing to you and you instantly want to apologize but before you could, he just points in his trident into the direction he came from.

- You look at him, scared and confused, and he continues to stare at you with cold eyes. When he doesn't say or do anything for a few minutes you finally realized he was pointing the direction out.

- You apologize for the trouble and run like hell, his gaze following you.

- He observes you closely after that, believing this may be some kind of mistake. Thats why he didn't say anything to you, because a part of him was nervous. But he was mostly angry.

- It showed by when he barged into Aphrodite's room to DEMAND her what trickery she had stuped too and to undo it, she just smiles slyly and asks him: "What trickery?~"

- After some frustrating interrogation that goes NOWHERE...he finds himself staring at you quiet often, the mortals all cowering in fear when they feel his divine prescence. Not you, though, you never seem to notice him until you follow their stares and see his cold eyes, staring you down like you were gum under his new shoes.

- It's a very odd exchange, overall. Everyday, he'd show up at the most random of times and causing a stir among everyone else but yourself. Sometimes it'd even be multiple visits a day. Either way it confused you because the matches hadn't even started and already, you had somehow invoked a God's wrath.

- At least, that's what you thought at first until you noticed that he never did anything to really threaten your safety. Yes, watching you was a bit odd, but you find that you aren't really all that nervous about it anymore. Especially since with every visit, you believe that his gaze softens when they're set upon you.

- He kept his distance at first but then, once you started to take notice of him, you'd offer him to sit next to you as you sat in the beautiful fields that surrounded the arena or would be reading in one of the vast nearby libraries. Originally he would just walk away and as time went on he slowly began to warm up to you.

- Like a cat. tbh.

- He couldn't help it, at least, it FELT like he couldn't help it. He didn't know if it was your bond as soulmates, the unyielding kindness that he originally saw as foolish and niave, or overall just your quiet nature until you saw your friends.

- Either way, the more he began to see you, the more he could look past your flaws (which was being a human) and start to appreciate the things about you the made you beautiful.

- Don't get me wrong, he was definetly in denial for the longest time so he would kinda start off with small things. Like it goes from: "Oh, at least they bowed their head to my statue, thats a redeemable quality, at least." to "She is the epitome of perfection♡"

- You wouldn't really ever know that Poseidon's feelings towards you have grown, he hides it very well behind that stoic face that he wears and he hasn't even really spoken to you, yet. He doesn't know why but he feels like...the time isn't right. Despite his growing feelings, he truly isn't ready to accept a human as his soulmate yet.

- You just assumed he didn't talk much so you never pushed him too. Yeah, it mightve been a bit awkward at first but you appreciated his prescence, it brought you a new sense of comfort and peace that you never felt, not even when you were alive.

- When you made flower crowns in the gardens, you'd ask if you could decorate his trident for him and he gave you a deadpan stare before nodding his head in approval. He'd silently gesture you to follow him and show you a private pool whenever a say seemed a bit too hot for you and watch as you played in it, a soft smile growing on his face.

- He would even feel a bit of anger when he was with his fellow gods, listening to them generalize their hatred towards humanity. Usually Poseidon would join them but he couldn't bring himself too. After all, humanity was pesky and troublesome but some of them weren't that bad.

- They could be sweet, they could be unfailingly kindhearted and empathetic...They could be you. So he'd just glare distastefully but never say anything, but he didn't need to as everyone slowly stopped talking after sensing they somehow upset him.

- He spent a lot of his time with you during the days that led up to his match, you were unsure of who to root for; since it's true that humanity would be wiped out if the God's continued to win but at the same time, you didn't want to see Poseidon get hurt.

- He picked you out from the crowd immediately and made eye contact with you, not even acknowledging his opponent as he stepped into the ring.

- Did he still look down on humanity? Yes. But...he supposed there were some good aspects to it. Good aspects like you.

- As the mythical creatures and gods from his side cheered him on, shouting insults towards the humans, and telling him to destroy them like the ants they were: his eyes were locked on your (e/c) eyes before he finally made a decision. Internally, he had just lost a battle within himself in that moment...but he wasn't upset about it.

- So he interrupts Heimdall's introduction speeches as he addresses the whole crowd, "I FORFIET THIS MATCH!"

- Shock and bafflement was all that could be heard from both sides of the arena. They couldn't have possibly heard him right, though, after all: He was Poseidon, the beautiful God of the Sea, there was no way he would just-

- Then he looked at you and your heart leapt at hearing his voice for the first time. His eyes became gentle as they stared into yours, "I will fight for humanity. For some of you are worthy yet."

- You didn't respond for a bit, not noticing how the words "I will fight for humanity" appeared on your wrist, but he did. And he knew that even if Aphrodite had "cursed" him, that it truly didn't bother him. You were made for him. His perfect mortal♡

- This was only proven when you broke out of your shocked trance faster than anyone and cheered his name happily, your shyness lost as you joyfully cheered his name, causing him to visibly smile in front of everyone.

[boiohboii]

The surprising match

(Max Verstappen x Korean actress reader)

SOULMATE AU

N.B: this is just an idea that came to mind cause I am a hoe for soulmate aus, so if you know any f1 soulmate aus please tell me! WARNINGS: ONLINE HATE, THE WORDS WHORE, SLUT AND DICK ARE USED. SWEAR WORDS LIKE FUCK AND ASSHOLE ARE ALSO USED, if I missed anything please let me know! And obviously some spelling mistakes.... might do a part 2 idk yet

Faceclaim: Han so hee

SKENTNEWS.COM

Liked by doO_nct, realstraykids, maxverstappen1 and 4.8M others

YN99LN: had too much fun this week, thank you everyone for showing my new drama this much love

username: BOY IF YOU DON'T STOP

username: Max really has no idea what being slick is huh.

username: I hate you

username: slut

username: I really hope this fun didn't involve the vroom vroom boy

username: vroom vroom boy 💀😂

username: ikr, can't believe we might lose our queen

username: I'm in Spain without the s

username: low quality picture, high quality woman

username: show off

username: when you're YN LN but still take 144p pictures

username: the struggle is real

Liked by agustd, saythename_17, danielricciardo and 6.8M others

YN99LN: Canada, you are so kind to me. I want to stay with you

username: so who is Canada?

username: you know who else is in Canada? MAX FUCKING VERSTAPPEN

username: this is definitely about Max

username: DANNY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username: no because if this is about max and she's happy about the fact that he's nice it's too sad cause wtf has she been through

username: you really don't wanna know

username: all my homies hate what people in SK did to her

username: oh my god, stop showing off you bitch

username: I hope you die

username: I feel like a victorian man seeing collar bones for the first time

username: IKR!! something about her collar bones!

username: as an f1 fan this community is so weird

username: collar bones? Really?

username: I feel like I entered another universe

username: is she drunk in the first pic?

username: yes, this whore just gets drunk and has tattoos and smokes, she's the worst

username: I was gonna say that it's so hot of her to post a pic like that

username: stay pressed you asshole

username: the second and last pictures tho

username: I am just a hole yn

username: bend me over your knee and slapp my cheeks ma'am

username: the leather pants and glasses are so 🔥

username: it gave me a boner and I don't even have a dick

username: I have a dick and now I am in the shower

username: everyone horny for yn

username: good for nothing pampered slut

username: I hope max leaves you

username: I hope he hates her

username: I read that she smokes as well and while I am against the action and stand by the fact that it's not cool to smoke seeing a South Korean famous person do that shit is so wild for me and turns me on

username: I want to chock on her boot's heel

username: yn please spit in my throat

username: wikihow please tell me how to give head

username: the 2nd picture makes me want to give her hickeys all over her back and shoulder

username: step on me

username: you f1 fans are wild

username: this comment section passed the vibe check

~this post has been removed~

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Mito

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 848 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: DID, Mito, depression, hurt comfort, idk man I'm stoned as shit

----------------------------

The bed felt cold and empty, so much so that it woke you up. You felt around with your eyes closed, grunting when you found nothing. You forced your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness. You could hear the pitter patter of rain against the large windows that encompassed one entire wall of the bedroom. A crackle of thunder and burst of lightning showed you where Christian was. He was looking out the window at the city below. 

“Baby?” You called out to him, but he didn’t answer.

You threw the blankets back, shivering slightly when your feet met the cold floor. You walked over to him, he looked far away. 

“Christian?” you said again in a soft voice. He turned to look at you. His face was tense, the bags under his eyes were heavy, he looked… sad. You had never seen him go through a low in the few months you had been together but you recognized the signs he had told you about. 

“Mito?” you questioned.

His lips twitched up slightly but his eyes dropped, “Ever so perceptive.” he turned back to the window watching the rain.

“Are you alright?” you ask. You wanted to hold him but you weren’t sure if Mito would like that so you decided against it. 

“He has no idea the hole you’ll leave behind…” he whispered to himself.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, “”Leave? What do you mean?” you watched the rain with him so he didn’t feel like he was being observed.

“Everyone leaves eventually. Mito, Christian, Mr. Insanity. We’re all too much. And when you leave… which you will… the hole you’ll leave inside Christian… inside all of us…” he spoke clearly but you could hear the sadness and disappointment in his voice.

Your heart cracked, “Mito, I’m never leaving. I… I love Christian… I love all of you even if I don’t know you or Mr. Insanity the way I know Christian. You’re not too much, you just need a little extra care in different areas and that’s ok. It’s ok to ask for help and it’s ok to feel shitty. I’ll always be here as long as you’ll all have me.” you said, turning to look at him. There was no room to question your words, your voice holding every bit of sincerity they could. You reached for his hand slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. You held him gently, thumb smoothing over his knuckles. 

“Promise?” he whispered, you heard the sniffle he tried to stifle.  

You smiled up at him, “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” you said as you drew an “X” over your heart. Mito gave a small smile. “You smile differently than Christian.” you said, gently tracing a finger over his bottom lip. 

“How so?” he said, his eyes holding fear, wondering if he had done something wrong. 

“Yours is softer. Less toothy. Gentle, kind.” you held his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheek bone hypnotically. 

He leaned into your palm, kissing it softly. He tentatively reached out to you, pulling you closer so you were pressed against each other. 

Your arms draped themselves around his neck. “Your eyes are different too.” you whispered.

“Oh yeah?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Mhm… subtle, sleepy… a little scared, quite cautious…” you said, gazing into his brown eyes. 

He looked down, you had seen him, truly seen him and he didn’t know what to do or how to feel.

You tilted his chin up with your finger, “You didn’t let me finish… I see darkness yet resilience that shines through… I see tenderness and passion. And I love everything I see in you. You matter to me Mito. I want you to know that, I need you to know that.” 

Mito leaned down, stealing your breath before he connected his lips to yours. It was cautious but you felt the sentiment behind it. He pulled away after a moment, eyes quickly finding yours and searching them.

“I hope that was alright?” he asked, worried he might have crossed a boundary.

“That was lovely… I kinda want to do it again.” you said with a slight tease in your voice as you smiled at him.

Even in the darkness you could see Mito blush, he leaned down and captured your lips once again. Delightfully soft, but this held more intention, more comfortability. He pulled away when he could no longer stand the air loss. You both panted a bit as you caught your breaths. 

“We should go to bed, we have to be up soon if were going to make it to Jeju Island by noon.” you said gently leading him back to bed. 

He nodded, shuffling behind you before crawling back inside the warm little cocoon you had made yourselves. He laid his head on your chest, holding you close. You tangle your hand in his hair, gently massaging him as he dozed off. 

“Love you…” he mumbled.

You smiled, “Love you…” you kissed his head, falling asleep when his breathing evened out. 

-----------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hey girly pops! First fic outside of the BG3 universe. So down bad for this man. Wrote this high so if there are mistakes that's my alibi. Love ya'll, thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! XOXOXOXOXO!!!!!

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hii! I feel like I’ve been loving angst and smut all being put in one fanfic as of recently, so I thought about heartbreaker Johnny because we all know he’s not the most loyal man 🌚 so I was wondering if like it could be the sort of where the reader was basically taken by the slaughter family and instead of killing her they kept her as bate for more victims like she’s very attractive and they use her whenever they go out to hunt, (I hope that makes sense but I figured that would prob be the only reason they kept someone alive 😭) but ok so one day basically she and sissy are sitting on the couch watching Tv in their free time , and Johnny walks into the house with yet another girl, like the 3rd girl of the week, and like the reader rolls her eyes and sighs a little too loud out of jealousy and I guess Johnny notices, so later on he like teases her about it and she pretends to hate him when in reality he was one of the things she looked forward to when they first kept her alive, so they kind of like hate fuck? Or jealousy fuck idk, but she ends up riding him at some point,

(also I’m sorry this is so long, I had this whole long elaborate idea in my head 😭)

I finished 😈

Johnny Slaughter x reader

MINORS DNI this is fairly fucked up please spare yourselves

Contains: abuse, angst, blood, degradation, humiliation, knifeplay, mentions of self-harm, implied cannibalism, jealousy, fingering, hate-fucking, and breeding

(Sorry for double spacing, I still don't know how to format on mobile)

Eight months ago, Johnny Slaughter brought you home for dinner. 

Well, he brought you after a full night of fucking you out of your senses in a seedy hotel room. And it was thanks to your chemistry with him that—when he made clear that you were to be the family's next meal—you were able to talk your way out of it. 

"Johnny, you don't have to kill me," you pleaded.

"Well I can't let you go, doll," he said, looking down at you with a predatory gaze. You were in the gruesome basement with the scent of death flooding your nostrils, but nothing felt so visceral as the blade of his Bowie knife at your neck, one wrist flick from ending your life. 

"You don't have to. I can help you." 

He barked a laugh. "Yeah? How so?"

You'd swallowed hard, then placed your hands on his firm chest. He'd raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away. "I'll do what you did to me: lure people back to the house. I'll bring in five times my weight in the first month, I swear."

"You do have a certain," Johnny's eyes flicked down to your breasts, "charm. But how can I trust you?"

"Come with me. If you see me doing anything against you, you can claim to be my caretaker. Say I'm mentally unwell."

"How exactly are people gonna believe me if I say that?" He asked, his head cocked. 

You held out your arm somberly, self-harm scars littering your wrists. "It won't take much convincing, Johnny."

Rather than the usual looks you received when people noticed your scars, Johnny's face lit up. 

"You like the pain, huh?" He'd said in a low tone. 

"Proves I'm still alive, doesn't it?" You responded, a strange sort of calm flooding you at his reaction. You tried to lower your wrist, but Johnny caught it with his free hand. 

He removed the blade from your neck, then brought it to your wrist, making a quick, shallow cut. He then brought the blade to his wrist and made an identical cut. Finally, he brought his wrist to yours and pressed the cuts together, mingling your blood with his.

"Blood oath. If you break my trust, I'll know."

You nodded, adrenaline lighting up every inch of your body, especially the cut.

"Oh, and," his eyes narrowed, and he reached a gloved hand down, cupping you through your shorts, "this pussy is mine. If I hear you slept with another man, I'll kill you both myself."

Once again, you nodded, and watched entranced as he brought your wrist to his lips and licked it, humming contentedly at the back of his throat. 

"Let's see how long you can last, sugar."

—

Now, you and Sissy sat on the couch, watching the only TV channel available when Johnny kicked the front door open. He had a screaming young woman thrown over his shoulder, pounding his back with her fists.

Johnny locked eyes with you, wearing that same predatory smile he often had. Ever since you'd shown an aptitude for luring people back home for slaughter, you and Johnny had become quite competitive. It didn't take long for him to recognize that you had fully assimilated into the family, and he'd allowed you to hunt on your own.

This month, Johnny had been far more successful than you – three kills to your zero. His cockiness was becoming unbearable, and that smug look on his face stirred up a now-familiar ache in your gut.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turned away from Johnny, sinking deeper into the couch. Sissy looked at you and shook her head as Johnny slammed the door to the basement behind him.

"How you feelin', girly?" Sissy asked, patting your forearm.

You shrugged. "I don't like it when he does better than I do at bringing people home."

Sissy stroked your arm as she leaned closer. "Hon, I don't think that's your problem." She smiled, revealing her tooth gap as she caught your eye. "You wishin' Johnny was the type to settle down, hm?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No!" You responded a little too quickly. "I just... I wish he wouldn't sleep with them," you added in a low whisper.

"Well, don't you sleep with those guys you bring home sometimes?" Sissy asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, I..." The oath you made to Johnny flashed in your mind. "I don't."

Sissy giggled. "I'll get grandpa to bed and take Bubba out tonight. Sounds like you and Johnny need to talk."

–

You remained on the couch until the door to the basement clanged open. Johnny had been down there for a while, and by this point, your jealousy had you seeing red. You stood up from the couch and turned to face Johnny in the narrow hallway by the stairs. He wiped his blade off on his bloody shirt and locked eyes with you.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, you haven't been pullin' nearly as many people as I have. Losin' your touch, sugar?" He taunted, leaning against the staircase and toying with his knife.

You put your hands on your hips. "Some months I got more than you did!"

"Yeah, like that month you brought in those slimy truckers. I couldn't even stomach their rancid, fatty meat." He spat in the corner by the door. "But it figures. You have lower standards than I do."

"'Cause I'm not sleeping with them!" You yelled, your fists trembling at your side.

Johnny's smile grew so wide it reminded you of a great white shark.

"Jealous?" He purred.

Your face heated, and you sputtered. "No, I fucking hate your guts, you piece of shit! Why would I be jealous?"

He pushed off the staircase and approached you slowly, a dangerous sway to his step.

"Needin' some attention? Has mean ole Johnny been denying you?" His tone was sickeningly sweet as he stopped in front of you, making your rage feel small and insignificant in his overwhelming presence.

It was true. When you were first brought home, Johnny had fucked you and only you daily for two straight months. He was the only thing you ever looked forward to in this hellhole, but in the last few months, Johnny had been using you less and less.

And you couldn't deny the anger that swirled in your gut whenever he brought a girl home. You knew how he was; you remembered how he'd hooked you that first night, and some of those girls he brought home had that same cock-drunk look in their eyes, some even willingly descending into the basement before realizing their fate.

It ate you up inside. Johnny had sworn you to him, but he took whoever he pleased, and the jealousy was making you more irritable than usual. You probably would have brought at least two men home this past month if it weren't for your overly-aggressive demeanor scaring them off.

But you couldn't help yourself. When you got horny, you were straightforward about it. Johnny had gotten you used to being with him, and without him to satisfy your urges, you were becoming more unhinged.

So now that Johnny was inches from you, admitting he was neglecting your needs with that cocky grin on his face, you couldn't believe the surge of desire that coursed through you. You hated how your body reacted, despised the urge to close the gap between your bodies, and grab him by his slicked-back hair, mashing your lips onto his. Damn it.

Johnny leaned even closer, whispering against your ear. "I can smell your cunt, you little slut."

Your face flushed deep red, and you pushed Johnny away as hard as you could. He took two staggered steps back, which gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

That was until his predatory eyes narrowed, sending a shiver down your spine. He closed the distance between you two in one stride and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled against the wall, cracking the drywall under the force of his kiss. Johnny couldn't care less.

His hands found your shorts, practically tearing them off your body to plunge his thick fingers into your needy core. You gasped and blushed harder as you heard the sound of your wetness squelching around his digits.

"You fucking brat," he growled low in his throat, biting your lip. You whimpered in response as he withdrew from you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You parted them, sucking yourself off him greedily, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When he removed his fingers, he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been a real bitch lately. Are you in heat or something?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, Johnny," you panted.

He ignored you entirely, turning your chin from side to side. "You need fucked, don't cha?" A slow grin formed on his handsome face. "Beg me for it."

Blood flooded to your core at his words, but you tore your chin from his grip. The words 'I'd rather die' welled up in your throat, but you realized Johnny might take you up on that offer, so instead, you glared at him.

"I'm waiting, darlin'," he drawled.

Your eyes unwillingly traversed his body, and you thought about how good that muscular form under his bloodied clothes felt against you. The thirst was truly getting to you, and he looked like a tall glass of red-tinted water.

Shame flooded you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please, Johnny," you mumbled.

"What's that, doll? Please, what?" He asked, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

You gave him a spiteful look, hoping that your hate might set him on fire. "Please, fuck me," you said through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, there's my little kitten. You'll need to do something for me first, though," he said.

"Oh, come on!" You spat. "What could you need from me that you don't already get from your sluts? I'm the one who isn't getting any!"

Johnny couldn't have looked more pleased. "Jealous AND possessive. How pathetic."

Your anger grew white-hot, and you slapped him. Hard.

The instant your hand made contact with his chiseled jaw, you knew you'd made a grave mistake. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed you against the wall by the throat. You felt his blade against your collarbone, digging in, rivulets of blood rapidly staining your shirt.

"I'm sorry!" You squeaked out from between already-bruised lips, memories of the first time you'd begged for your life flooding your senses. He tightened his grip.

"Remember who you owe your life to, dollface," he snarled, pressing the knife deeper. "I like that bitchy mouth of yours, but if you ever try to hit me again, I'll end you. Understand?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks, unable to muster more than the tiniest of breaths. Yet, even as your life balanced on a knife's edge, your desire dripped down your thighs.

Johnny loved a fight, but when he fought, he always had to win. In Johnny's mind, the only true victory was taking his opponent's life. His demand meant he didn't want to kill you, you realized. He was holding himself back because... some part of him wanted you around.

Johnny's eyes moved from yours to your cheeks where tears formed salty streams that raced down to your chin, slipping down your neck and pooling against his grip.

You always knew Johnny loved tears; be they from fear or ecstasy. As light began to prick at the corners of your vision, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far.

All at once, he released you, and you fell to your knees, choking on air.

"Suck my fucking cock," he commanded. He gave you next to no time to recover before his thick length was in your face, stiff and upward-curved. 

Your throat was already aching, and you could barely breathe, but you complied, taking his flushed tip into your warm mouth. 

His cock was salty and musky, and your envy flared. Johnny was never yours, was never going to be yours, but you had grown to crave him, and the fact you were likely tasting another woman on his cock made you livid. 

There was no woman in the world who wanted to please him more than you did, and you were going to show him that he needed you at least half as badly as you needed him. 

You poured all your hate, anger, and devotion to him into sucking his cock. Johnny was a narcissist through and through, and for some fucking reason, you reveled in it. The higher you put him, the higher he brought you with him, and the harder you fell when he spurned you. 

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as you forced yourself to deep-throat all of him. He let out a delicious groan. "Fuck yeah baby, take it!"

You gagged and sputtered, saliva gushing from your lips when he grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you as far as you possibly could go. He held you there, choking on spit and pre-cum, until you couldn't take it anymore and pushed off his muscular thighs, stumbling backward onto your ass.

Johnny took this as an open invitation. He knelt down in front of you and grabbed your knees, pushing them apart and slotting himself between them. 

"You need this cock, don't you?" He said, using one hand to tease your clit with the slick head. 

"I need it," you respond, your voice raspy.

Johnny grinned wickedly before he plunged into you, making your back arch off the floor and your legs tremble. 

"Knew you were too proud to ask me on your own," he said as he gripped your hair and thrust so deeply into you that you saw stars, "so I wanted to see how long you could hold out. After all, it ain't like I wasn't getting any."

Jealousy bubbled up yet again from your core, and turned those stars in your eyes green. You needed him to know those sluts had nothing on you. They weren't form-fitted to his cock, they weren't so rabidly in… 

Your mind drew a blank. In love?

No! You hate Johnny. He's your captor.  Your judge, jury, and executioner. 

You love him?

You really were pathetic. Tears bloomed in your eyes again, and as Johnny sunk his teeth into your already-bleeding collarbone, you sobbed out loud.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock completely filling you. "There's my girl," he rumbled against your bloody skin. You practically melted. His girl. His. But he wasn't yours. Even though the two of you were clearly sexually compatible, and you couldn't do much more in his personal life for him than you already were, he still remained out of reach.

Then, it hit you. 

"Cum inside me, Johnny," you begged.

His harsh thrusts slowed. "What?" He pulled back and looked down at your tear-swollen eyes gazing back up at him so desperately. "You're joking."

You shook your head.

"Then you're a fucking idiot," he muttered, returning his attention to your neck and rocking his hips so that you felt him at every angle. 

"No, I'm not!" You protested, and you felt his smirk against your neck before he gripped your hips and pulled you closer. 

"You are, but I'll humor you. Why?" 

He wasn't moving, he was just holding you impossibly close, planting small, bruising bites up and down your neck. You felt every inch of him viscerally, and lust clouded your mind as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. 

"I- I want-" you moaned, writhing in his grasp. 

"Speak up, sugar," he chided, digging his fingernails into your hips.

Fuck. Your vision was spinning, and you let your head fall back and hit the hardwood floor. Johnny didn't allow you to rest long; he took one powerful hand and gripped the back of your hair, pulling you to face him. 

"I already know, so why don't ya just admit it?" He whispered, his lips inches from yours. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips. "I want your baby, alright?" You admitted, humiliation mixing ice with the fire in your core. 

"Honey, there've been more women than you who've wanted that. What makes you think you're so special?"

Shame and desire in equal measure painted your cheeks, but you finally knew what to say. 

"I'm the only one you kept." 

He hummed against your pulse point. "You already kinda act like a mama; cleaning the house and makin' my favorites for dinner." Johnny's lips, which had traced a path along your neck, paused for a moment. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "But I thought you hated me."

"Hate you so much it reached the end and flipped to the other side, I guess," you conceded.

Johnny rewarded you by slowly resuming his thrusts, giving you the cock you craved so primally. "I hate you too, baby. I hate how every damn thing you do drives me crazy, how you make me lose control then force me to keep you safe from me." 

He leaned close, fire burning in his gaze. "I hate that I can't kill you 'cause I can't imagine my life without you in it." 

In that moment, as your lips met again, it was a collision of contradictions—the fierce passion that had grown in the midst of hate and chaos.

Johnny was on a mission now, and you felt it in every fiber of your being. He sat up on his knees and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss, pistoning his cock so deeply you felt the head bruising your cervix. 

But you didn't care, you reveled in the pain. Johnny was claiming you, finally. All those women, and none had him like this—breeding them like the bitch in heat that you were. You moaned so loud Johnny broke the kiss with a cruel laugh. 

"You hopeless little slut," he chided as he moved one hand to your back and bent toward your chest. He licked at the still fresh blood before reaching your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sending shockwaves through you. 

You gripped his shoulders and rode him harder. A low groan escaped his lips, and you felt his length somehow become even more hard before a warmth spread through your core as his cum shot deep inside you. The sensation was too much to bear and you came as well, holding onto him for dear life as you rode out your orgasms together. 

When he was done, he laid you back down on the floor and stood, leaning against the wall and gazing down at you, the girl he'd chosen to claim entirely. 

You laid spread-eagle on the floor, your chest caked in blood, wanting to meet his eyes but unable to move as his precious cum seeped from your abused pussy. 

"Get used to this," Johnny said, as he grabbed a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit up, "you want my baby, you're gonna get it."

[creedslove]

idk if you’re taking requests rn but i need to ask!

I would like to read something about Javi and F!reader where they lost their baby cuz reader had a miscarriage💔 ik is soooo horrible and heartbreaking but there’s no one i would like to write it but you, bc i know you can take the topic very respectfully and also i love how you write angst…

nothing explicit btw, just the angst and Javi comforting reader, that’s all

just if you’re ok with it, if not there’s no problem, darling🙏🏻

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: Hi anon, I'm sorry it took me long to do this, I hope you haven't gone through this situation yourself honey, but in case you have, I'm sure you'll overcome things because you are strong 🙏❤️

• You and Javi had been dating for some time when the news of baby Peña arriving caught you two by surprise

• it wasn't that much of a surprise in fact, not with how much you and Javi had sex, and well, you didn't actually think of preventing any pregnancies whenever you were too busy with your handsome boyfriend

• so when the first symptoms got to you, you and Javi were already suspicious and only after the confirmation with the test was it sank in

• you and Javi would have a baby

• and you two were really scared; Javi hadn't really thought of being a dad nor thought he would be a good one at that matter

• but at the same time, you also felt an excitement, you two sharing such a special moment

• so slowly the fear became excitement, love, happiness, both you and Javi went quickly from tense to over the moon

• and that idea of becoming a dad was kind of appealing to him after all, he was becoming more and more into it, every time he was out, he would come back home with a small gift for you and the baby

• Javi got also extremely affectionate, even more so now that you had his tiny little baby Peña inside, he would just wrap his arms around your body, kiss you all over, rub your tummy and peck it very softly

• he also took you to all the doctors appointment you had

• Javier Peña was becoming a responsible man and it was because of the family he was building with you

• so when he got home and was welcomed by nothing but silence, he immediately tensed up, feeling in his heart something wasn't right

• when he found you curled up on the couch, crying and gripping your stomach a red stain on your jeans, he just knew it

• and yet he acted strongly for you, picking you up and taking you to the hospital

• when the doctors broke the news to you, he kept strong, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down

• Javi was also broken, but he needed to show you he could handle it, so he didn't say much, he only held you the entire time

• it killed him to see you so broken, he was also so hurt to know your beloved baby Peña was gone and even if he was sure you two would be able to overcome and be happy, but at that moment it just hurt

• it was such a sad moment, but he knew you two would be together and mend your broken hearts 💔

____

[ssahotchnerr]

hey lovely, do u have any hcs about how hotch falls in love? like how is the process for him, how it happens... idk🥺 just aaron being in love

cw; description of sex- minors dni

so i see aaron being the kind of person who doesn't realize he's falling in love, until he's actually fully completely in love.

like there wasn't a point where he was like- "oh i'm falling for you," but rather, "i'm already in love with you."

aaron is overlooked a lot :( he's seen as the big stern man who doesn't smile, doesn't display emotions- so others wonder if he even has them to begin with, and it gets to a point where he even starts to believe it himself :( that he can be seen as nothing more, so he tends to get stuck in that ideology and mindset. that's who he is, and there's not much he can do to alter the idea- so he doesn't bother trying- it's easier to give into.

so when you come along, everything changes.

it's the little things that speak the most volume. most days, he would enter the bullpen, and as he's walking to his office, no one bats an eye in his direction. no greetings, and if they do happen to notice him passing, no one dares to say anything to him. he's the most invisible yet most uninvisible person there is; he's known, but yet no one wants to know him.

but when you join the team? he's taking the same route to his office but instead, you brightly smile and tell him good morning- and it's a daily occurrence. hehe that's the first time you ever made his heart flutter <3

and you don't stop there- you always ask him how his day is going, how jack is, show concern for him if he's in a dangerous situation, or you go out of your way to simply spend time with him. hehe you get teased by the others that you might as well move your desk up into his office, because more often than not that's where you're completing your work- all while spending time with aaron. you make him feel so special, and he can't remember the last time someone made him feel so important.

and if you have free time? - you spend it with him. and he wants to spend all his time with you. it's definitely a friends to lovers situation <3 the two of you get so close, it can't help but develop into something more.

just all of that makes him fall in love with you so easily- note previously again- he's already in love before the realization he's falling for you has hit him.

and aaron being in love <33333333 there's absolutely nothing he wouldn't do for you. you've made him feel important, you've changed his mind that he doesn't deserve to be hidden in the shadows, so you can bet he's going to stop at nothing to repay the favor.

if he loves you, he's going to make you feel loved.

he's the kind of partner who knows you better than you know yourself, he's able to key in on all your tells and read you like a book. he's knows the situations you get anxious in, so if you happen to enter one, he's practically attached to your hip- a hand on the small of your back, always leaning in to whisper into your ear to ask if you're okay, if you need to exit the situation, etc.. he'll always always always protect you.

and he spoils you endlessly <3333 whether it's sweet words, kisses, loving glances, surprise flowers <333 UGH he's constantly in awe of you, like he can't believe you exist, or that you're his to begin with <3 and he just loves touching you, he prefers to be maintaining some form of contact with you at all times <3. and when the two of you are having some intimate time, he's more focused on you than himself- he gets pleasure by pleasuring you. he loves love loves being in between your legs, and he gets so vocal about too hehe <333 he's constantly praising you, telling you how good you are for him. and as he's thrusting into you, he's just saying over and over again how much he loves you and how you were made just for him <333333 he literally worships you <333

there's nothing more special than a love with aaron hotchner <3

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Breakup smut pt 1 🫶🏾🥲

Poseidon x Fem Reader || NSFW || Warnings: body worship (hopefully lol), evil princess esque reader, but really youre just traumtized lol, repeated mentions of human sacrifice and the like, porn interlaced with plot, and kind of established relationship? Idk bro I obviously know nothing of relationships 🫠💔

A/N: I may have outdone myself

Your body is a temple, and Poseidon, the greatest of your devotees.

You are quite used to being worshipped. Back in the human world, your skin was kissed by peasants for good luck, and a strand of your hair was said to bring wealth upon families for generations. There was no shortage of adoration, for you were the blessed child, the one born to bare the gods' wrath like fine silks.

A very long and tedious way to say you were raised to be the human sacrifice, but you can't deny that it sounds better.

When the knife was raised, you knew at once you would not die. And when it lowered, you found yourself unsurprised that your skin stood strong as steel. The gods' wrath was not something that could be bested by mortal weaponry, it'd seem.

The resulting flash from impact left much of the happenings after as naught but a blur; how you got to Valhalla, and what happened to the villagers.

But it wasn't important to you anymore. You were no longer a scapegoat people could simply pin their fates on, a body to be slaughtered so others may live. Now, you were a true God, and the way the haughtiest of them all was gazing at you from his place at your feet proved it.

Eyes as cold and blue as a glacier were clouded with something akin to delusion. Obsession, perhaps. The way he couldn't keep his hands off you yet fought to follow your every order certainly lined up with such a trait.

As big a man as he is, even on his knees he'd dwarf you easily. Which is why you sat on a big throne- his throne, in fact. You find the sapphires and white gold compliment you quite nicely.

"May I taste you again?"

It made your head spin, the power you had in your lap. Your ascension to Godhood was accompanied by no powers; no super strength, no mental magic. All you had was your tongue, your body and your face. And with that alone, you've defeated one amongst the greatest of foes.

Your eyes are lowered to mere slits, a cocky sort of mischief darkening your irises and contorting your face.

"Do you truly believe you deserve a second taste?" The words slide off your tongue far too easily. If only you'd known the many ways you could use your power before... if only you'd always been a nasty bitch, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Oh well.

"Allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you, Princess. I will make you feel good."

You knew he would. He'd done it before. You'd seen stars when you came, felt muscles you've never used contract. It was pleasure so intense it almost pained you. You'd been quite vulnerable then.

But it was the sudden loss of control that put you on guard. For those moments, you were a weak human girl again, molden entirely by the people around you. If they wanted you happy, then you were. If they were scared, you were the brave one. If they needed a human sacrifice, you were it. If Poseidon wanted to make you cum, then you'd let him.

In the back of your mind, you knew that didn't make sense. But an emotion you didn't want to name pushed you to push him even harder.

"You will? Really? So much confidence... After your rather lackluster performance earlier, I can't quite say I'm ready and willing for you."

Poseidon was, at his core, a prideful God. For him to lower himself to his knees was already a great feat. But to gaze up at another? As they fix him with a disgust that was a cheap copy of his own? It was tearing apart the very foundations he'd built his persona around.

Poseidon was perfect. Everyone knew that. Perfect beings didnt bow to others– yet "may I's" left his throat in shards, like so much broken glass. And his knees were not used to such a position. The slow-creeping ache was deeply discomforting.

But your insult to his performance struck deep. A being incapable of subparness, being told he was a failure. Pride wasn't the only thing on the line here. It was his identity as a God itself that you've challenged.

"Watch, Princess. I shall wield your body as though you were waves at sea, and soon, you will know."

The sudden poetry left you speechless for once, allowing your legs to be spread as his lips crept up and over faded scars you still got insecure about. They were just slightly darker than your skin tone, and to you, stuck out like so many sore thumbs. They were ugly. But he kissed them with a reverence saved for something beautiful.

You hated this part; when his hands start to roam, and your mind, once so clear and your thoughts once so calculated, become muggy and muddled. He touched you with a gentleness you didn't think him capable of, as though you were something- someone -precious.

It's embarrassing to admit, but you're still quite new to the many facets of pleasure. Lust was never something you had a chance to indulge in. And now, under the slightest of pressure, you're left sensitive and open, your moans as common as flowers in the spring.

"P- Poseidon. Slow down..."

He was already going quite slow, and you realize that making him go slower was worse. His tongue dragged up your torso at a most agonizing pace, and the seconds it took him to slip your gown above your head felt like hours.

Now bare, the coldness of the room latched to your skin. You started to tremble, just slightly. If you'd been a bit more clear-headed, you would have forced yourself to stop. But Poseidon's mouth has found your tit, and he's got both hands at your hips kneading the skin like it'd make him cum. You never stood a chance.

You flinch, head thrown hard into the cushioned back of the throne as his tongue sucks on your nipple. He twirls it in his mouth, savoring the way your whimpers change in pitch when he runs his teeth over it. Part of him wants to bite hard, hear you squeal as pleasure mixes with the pain. He wants to feel your whole body jerk into his embrace, and hold you there while you suffer through it.

But the part that knows you knows you'd never recover from such a move. It'd be no fun to torture you if you'd become pliant after. He'd simply have to make you twitch in other ways.

His hands take more direct action as he lifts you up and into the air. You're balanced on his chest, and find yourself shy to be fully naked in front of him. You've had to bare yourself before crowds before, of course. But he was just one man, one God. You couldn't run from his eyes, from his hands, from his tongue. His attention was all on you, and you were far too aware of that fact.

Gosh, it made it no better that you were the only one naked.

"I-I demand you take your clothes off!" You meant to sound powerful, commanding, like earlier. But your voice broke and watered and you stuttered over your words and your face was getting hot and you couldn't look him in his eyes and holy hell. You weren't sure you could take much more of this.

"You demand me...?" You can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. However, it's rather inconvenient that your cunt is pressed so tightly to it. You almost sob out a moan at how good it feels. Your arousal was surely soaking through his robes, and you fear you'll pass out if you so much as glance at the stain you've made.

His deep voice has gained a tone of authority, much like the Poseidon everyone was used to. But it didn't thicken the air with his anger, like when he spoke to his brothers. It was cold and calm and calculated.

Where your authority faltered, his bloomed. It came naturally to him, of course. It made quite the farce out of your earlier bravado.

"Yes? I, I do. I do demand you!" You sound like a little kid. This is going terribly for you.

Poseidon doesn't answer you. He's still staring. His hands mold themselves into the fat of your ass, and the sensations leave you gripping his shoulders till the fabric rips, arching into his hold with full confidence he wouldn't let you fall.

You can't help but grind against his chest, just a little bit. It's muscular, but his pecs are soft like your own chest, and meld to your cunt so perfectly you can't help but chase the feeling. The thought to be embarrassed doesn't have time to cross your mind, as you're already long gone, riding the waves of pleasure to wherever they take you.

You're jostled suddenly, and you realize your eyes are closed when you open them and find Poseidon has retaken his rightful seat. You'd react, but he moves first. You're set down in his lap, all contact discontinued.

You feel... small. You now look up at him. And being that the chair was made for him, you find he looks far more regal than you ever could've. In seconds, you're transported back to that night. Being woken up from your bed in the middle of the night. Full restrained, your screams drowned out by the prayers they chanted as you were walked up the stairs towards the alter. Being laid flat along it, seeing the dried blood in the dim firelight. The way the knife gleamed under it.

Subconsciously, your hand moves above your heart, as if protecting it. The knife never struck home. But you're feeling pains as if it did.

Soft lips along your cheeks make you realize you're crying.

The stoicism hasn't left his features, but deep in his eyes you notice something deeper than admiration. Something that far surpassed the superficial love a devotee has for a God. This was a love for equals. For people who have seen each other, known each other's souls like they know each other's skin, who's loyalty isn't out of duty or convenience, but out of the most genuine of cares.

You find yourself standing up and leading him to the bedroom.

On the mattress, you see eye to eye. He's bared his skin for you. You got to watch as he did it. Waning candle light flickered across pale skin as he slowly loosened his fabrics. He enjoyed the hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed feeling hungry. It'd felt forbidden to want for yourself. But now, you let your greed consume you. And consume it did.

You basically drooled as the folds slid down his hips. His cock was soon exposed, and the red, throbbing tip made your mouth water. His thighs were sticky with precum, and now that you look, you weren't the only one leaving stains on clothes.

You found him gorgeous. Ever last inch of him was pure and perfect, the very image of Godhood. From his perfect golden curls to the deepness of his gaze and the stony expression on his face to match.

You wished you could tell him all this and more. Instead, when he approaches you, you kiss it into his skin.

You're maneuvered slowly onto your back. Kisses that felt like prayers rained down by the dozens. Open mouthed, wet, messy. His love for your body was so strong it seeped into you. Suddenly, you loved the skin you were in, loved it for everything its lasted through, loved it for being the temple he prayed at. His reverence was a clear sign he intended to finish what you started earlier- showing you how a perfect God pleases his partner.

All at once you were eaten. The teeth of desire are sunken deep into your flesh, your arousal drunken like water in a desert of lust. He was everywhere and you were nowhere, you were a map, and him a traveler determined to explore every corner. You never knew you could feel so many sensations at once. It was wonderful and terrifying and your hips were moving on their own and you could barely hear your thoughts over your own moans and-

"Ohhh..."

His tongue is inside you and his thumb is at your clit. His other hand palms your breast. Whatever spot he just hit triggered something to explode deep inside you, and you were cumming across his tongue before even you knew it.

You trembled hard, but his hands held you steady at the waist. If you saw stars last time, the whole universe has now spread itself out before you. Galaxies boasted a beauty you couldn't comprehend for mere seconds before you were dropped back on Earth, panting and sweating and surely out of your mind.

Your lover rises, and you find he looks rather good with your cum running down his chin. His whole chest was wet, and not long ago at all that would have left you feeling embarrassed. But right now, all you felt was a sense of rightness.

Pride bloomed alongside it when you see he'd blown his load all over his own thighs and the bed. He came untouched. And that was your doing. ♥︎

He hadn't softened even a bit though. He was looking at you like you were some kind of savior, and it made your cunt throb that much harder in anticipation.

"Poseidon...My love?"

Your tone was innocent, but one look at your face revealed the act for what it was. Your intentions were unholy despite the obvious irony of that, but as long he'd indulge, you could care less.

"I may not bend oceans to my will, nor be experienced in the wielding of the skin nor the sword..."

"But I find you've broken a spell over me tonight. The shackles of my past shan't hold me anymore. For the first time since that night, I have left the altar. I have left the false throne I'd known most of my life, and come to you not as a figurehead, nor a Princess, but as myself. I do not order, but ask: allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you. I, too, will make you feel good."

Your question is not answered with words, but a kiss. One as soft as a feather, and as sweet as freedom.

-------------

A/N: This came to me in a wretched vision this very night, believe me or not. Will I spellcheck this? I'll see after I add tags. Will I edit and sharpen this? I'll see when I'm spellchecking. Enjoy.

[sapphicseasapphire]

I apologize in advance but I'm going to ramble incoherently for way too long in this ask.

I just got caught up on a lot of cryptid AU stuff and Sky and Groose's relationship is very interesting to me. At first I was like, "????" but then you explained in the post and now it makes sooo much sense and I actually really really like it. I have DID and his whole situation with two halves of a whole becoming one is so fascinating. (I went through something similar so I'm very interested in this kind of stuff.) I love the birb boi very much and I'm happy he's your fav 'cause he's mine too. :3

(The alt who went through, essentially the same thing as Sky, may or may not let me write fanfic of the two meeting & him helping Sky adjust, would that be okay?) Wild. Can I talk about Wild? I've been dying to talk about Wild. Cryptid Wild touches something in my soul. Just. The silence. The curiosity. The innocence. The tragedy. The wanderer. The watching from afar. The Lost Boy. I just. Ajkhshtrsj. He makes me feel deep and profound things and I adore him for that.

I want to give him a giant hug and just hold him for a while and tell him he's not alone and that it'll be okay but I get the sense that he would NOT vibe with hugs or contact out of the blue. (You can't stop me from hugging Sky though, birb boy's getting tackled off a cliff. HE HAS WINGS IT'S FINE. :D)

... Has Sun ever ridden on Sky's back before? How would Sky feel about that?

I want my favs (Sky & Wild) to interact but idk how close you plan on them being or how much interaction you plan on having between the two of them. I don't even know what kind of dynamic they'd have in your AU if any, they both seem kinda lost in their own heads/situations.

They're kind-of inverses of each other, now that I think about it: Wild's trying to grapple with being someone he can't remember, and Sky's trying to grapple with being TWO "people" he CAN remember! A memory vacuum and memory overload... man now I want to see them talk about that.

How much does Wild think about who he was before? Sky's kinda smacked in the face with it, but Wild seems (fittingly) very distracted by the moment. But is it distraction, avoidance, or both? He still has the soul of Link (... right?), but he no longer remembers what that means. Does he want to? Does he feel overwhelmed even thinking about trying? adkutfkuvluyvlig. Too many Wild thoughts. ♥

Also why doesn't Legend like Wind turning into his water form (I forget what it's called)? He looked freaked out by it and asked him to not do that; why? Did I miss something? /gen, I don't think I've caught up on everything yet.

Anyway thanks for this AU sorry for the novel-length ask I just had a Lot of Thoughts. :)

Bro all I ever do is ramble too long, don’t even worry about it. I love getting asks like this.

LONG ONE, under the cut!

Okay I’ll try to break this up to answer all of your questions and ramble a bit haha!

SKY AND GROOSE! Yeah, there’s a lot of tension there. Sky is… an entirely new person. He has the memories of both Link and Aepon, but he interprets those experiences differently than either of them would. Link and Aepon both had entirely different mindsets, so of course the result of their fusion would be left to interpret things on his own.

Link never cared enough about himself to care about what Groose said to him/did to him. Self sacrificing to a fault and very forgiving. (Kind of by design, too. Hylia needed her Hero to be willing to risk his life for the good of others). Aepon was Link’s other half, his Goddess given protector, and thus he had the traits that Link lacked. He was a strong, proud bird. He cared enough about Link to care what Groose had to say about him. And then he was kidnapped! And Groose just kept hurting Link! And Aepon’s!!! Not!!! Having!!! That!!!

And so Sky was very conflicted about Groose. His Link half wanted to be friends! His Aepon half wanted nothing to do with him! And then Groose… said some very unkind things. I think that Groose is a very defensive person. When he feels hurts or threatened in any way, he lashes out. He had been at a point with Link where they were close! They were friends! They faced the end of the world together! And then suddenly all of that changed and Groose doesn’t understand why. Just. Suddenly Sky started giving him the cold shoulder. And that… hurt. And when Groose is hurt? His first instinct is to punch back.

So Sky was on the fence and Groose started falling back into old habits, just being so so rude. He called Sky a monster, treated him like he was just some thing that had stolen his friend away from him. And if Sky was undecided before, that pushed him right over the edge. Sky is not fond of Groose.

And you’re more than welcome to make any kind of fanart or fanfics! Just so long as you tag me so that I can see them!!

(Sun has not ridden on Sky’s back, but he wouldn’t be opposed! He loves taking people on flights! It’s just that he was only home for three days after Demise and he hasn’t been to his era in so long. Kind of tragic that Sky’s spent more of his existence away from home than he has actually on Skyloft or even in his own era. But in the future! After the Cryptid Adventure is done! Sky will fly with Sun! Now, Sun does still have Aria, but they’ll take turns haha!)

WILD!!! He does not vibe with hugs. Pretty much ever. Anyone who grabs him, he will immediately take that as being restrained and he will run away. He is a FREE SPIRIT!!! He’d like to keep it that way.

Sky and Wild do interact! Like, a lot! I think there’s this misconception going around that the Cryptids don’t like Wild? Particularly I’ve seen it with Legend haha! But no!! Wild is so loved! The others are annoyed by his constant thievery but to be honest, it’s kind of endearing! When Wild is focused on one of the members of my Chain, he’s SO focused on them. He’s caring, he’s genuinely very sweet. AND he can be bribed with cool rocks and colorful leaves so. Winning.

Sky and Wild have this whole arc surrounding the Master Sword. Sky’s inseparable from the blade but Wild… he knows something’s not right. He wants to see what will happen if he takes it away. (Sky will not let him steal it).

And… okay. So. Wild struggles so much with the whole being Link thing. He is definitely 100% avoiding it. He spends all of his time running away from Flora, but he’s really running away from who he used to be. He has no memory of ever being mortal- his life is completely irrelevant. Link and the Child of the Mountains are separate. WILD WOULD LIKE TO KEEP IT THAT WAY. He does not want to remember. He does feel overwhelmed.

Still… there are certain things that he cannot run from. And that bothers him SO MUCH.

LEGEND AND WIND!!! What’s Legend’s issue with Wind’s natural form? Please don’t hate me, but Legend is being racist. I have a lot of lore written out about their dynamic and the circumstances that led them to this point. Here’s a post about the War! And here’s a post more specifically about Wind!

But basically, to sum it up. There’s this big war that spans across the timelines between the Mer and Aquili. In Legend’s timeline, the Mer won and he was taught to hate “Sea Monsters.” He was chased from his home by an Aquili scavenger and was never allowed to return, and so he had a very deeply seated hatred AND FEAR of Aquili. In Wind’s timeline, the conflict is still ongoing but it’s not as extreme since Hyrule flooded. He lives on an island of refugees- Mer and Aquili who fled the ocean to find peace. Because of this, the war is distant to him. Something that he’s not connected to. Although… in loosing ties with his people, he’s lost ties with his culture.

I actually have so much more to say about Outset Island in my au! I’m planning on making another big lore post soon where I can go in detail about it!

And I promise that Legend will come to his senses! Soon!

Thanks for sending in this ask! I love rambling about my guys! I hope this helps?

[melrosing]

what do you think of the take that Cersei loves the kids as an extension of herself?

idk i think this line is a bit like 'Brienne is Sansa with a sword', in that it may have some truth to it but it's been repeated so often that I feel the nuances are kind of lost. GRRM does say this much:

[Cersei is] a character who’s very protective of her children. You can argue, well, does she genuinely love her children, or does she just love them because they’re her children? There’s certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei. She has an almost sociopathic view of the world and civilization. X

I don't always know what to do with this quote, bc to an extent.... doesn't everyone love their children because they're their children lol. but obviously here GRRM intends to suggest something akin to the 'extension of herself' phrase here, given he follows it with 'there's certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei'.

the way i see it..... how meaningfully this phrase applies I think depends on the kid. in Joffrey's case, I think it's largely true: she does genuinely love him, but that is very much based on the fact that he's practically the embodiment of Cersei's own grasping for power. he was raised to be exactly that. her feelings of love for him are still real, but that is plainly why Joffrey is the stand out favourite: Joffrey is what Cersei can never be.

she almost never mentions Myrcella besides as 'my only daughter' which tells us very little lol. in her instance I think yes, it's a kind of love, but very much the love one has for a possession. we learn things about Sansa and Arya through Cat, even if we already knew them. we don't learn shit about Myrcella through Cersei. actually we learn more about the kid through Arys Oakheart lol. so whatever love she does feel for Myrcella, true to what GRRM says, this seems to be based around the fact that Myrcella is her daughter. what does she love about Myrcella?? well. who knows

Tommen I think is the most complex, because Cersei acknowledges herself that Tommen is almost nothing like her, or indeed Joffrey, and that stirs a protectiveness in her, as well as a kind of grief that she was never like him:

I was never so sweet and innocent, Cersei thought. AFFC, CERSEI X

so she has an affection for this side of Tommen.... but ofc is seeking to basically abuse it out of him. there's a kind of protectiveness in this. but then as soon as Tommen demonstrates assertiveness, strength, and courage - but in a way that Cersei herself feels undermined by - she terrorises him. like this whole passage

"I should go to court with you every day, to listen. Margaery says—" "—a deal too much," Cersei snapped. "For half a groat I'd gladly have her tongue torn out." "Don't you say that," Tommen shouted suddenly, his round little face turning red. "You leave her tongue alone. Don't you touch her. I'm the king, not you." She stared at him, incredulous. "What did you say?" "I'm the king. I get to say who has their tongues torn out, not you. I won't let you hurt Margaery. I won't. I forbid it." Cersei took him by the ear and dragged him squealing to the door, where she found Ser Boros Blount standing guard. "Ser Boros, His Grace has forgotten himself. Kindly escort him to his bedchamber and bring up Pate. This time I want Tommen to whip the boy himself. He is to continue until the boy is bleeding from both cheeks. If His Grace refuses, or says one word of protest, summon Qyburn and tell him to remove Pate's tongue, so His Grace can learn the cost of insolence." AFFC, CERSEI VIII

like idk man. Cersei should be encouraged by everything Tommen exhibits here, but because she feels undermined by it (i.e. Tommen claiming, rightfully, that he's the King and not her, and that they shouldn't be ripping Margaery's tongue out), she exacts the worst punishment on him yet. so I'm just like. sure, she loves this kid to an extent, but does she love him more than herself?? I really don't believe that.

when Cersei says 'all I do, I do for Tommen', whilst meantime thinking how much she enjoys power, how Tommen has no business stealing this moment from her, etc etc, it should be quite clear to the reader that this is not for Tommen: this is for Cersei. I don't think Cers herself would ever be able to admit that, but it's quite obviously true. her children may bring her comfort, but she puts herself first every time.

and I think given Cersei knows Maggy's prophecy, and fears all of the time that it may come true.... it is extremely telling that rather than seek any means possible to basically break the curse, whether that meant abandoning the throne somehow to get her kids out of there, basically removing their 'crowns' from the damn prophecy altogether.... or not having three children maybe having four lol.... like anything to make untrue the things that the prophecy relies upon.... well she doesn't does she. she keeps her kids precisely in the firing line, and never even seems to consider a way out besides hording more power for herself.

which like: fine, that's Cersei's outlook. the way it came to be her outlook is incredibly complex, and comes from systems of abuse that she herself has suffered within. but we can't really ignore that Cersei is primarily concerned with self. she puts her kids in danger every single day because she can't let go of the power that endangers she and the kids in the first place. she might love her kids, she might grieve her kids, but they will always come second to her intense preoccupation with self. so that's basically how i interpret GRRM's words; it's not that that love isn't authentic, but that it regularly and detrimentally gets lost in her own self obsession

[weolucbasu]

So, @da-proti-toku-grem kind of inspired me to make a lengthy post, sharing some positive vibes across the fandom, listing the reasons why I love each member of Joker Out and why I would go full mom-mode on them and cook for them and bake them gluten-free cookies.

Anyway:

A Joker Out, brain-rot, appreciation post

(members listed in alphabetical order)

Bojan

First up - as someone who had the chance to see them live, he is an insane performer

His ability to enchant the crowd is insane and you can tell really well that he has great acting abilities too

Watched him in Gospod Profesor too, spot on for someone who is a so-called amateur

His singing voice is... amazing to say the least, it feels really unique

Also, the way he talks, the sound of his voice, the words he uses, his pronunciation, if there were awards for talking he would get one

The languages he speaks, I want to study him, linguistically, he is truly a phenomenon

We of course love a bilingual king

He looks like he has his priorities straight

I also respect him so much for how open he is about his mental illness

I might relate to him a bit too much at times whoops

And the fact that he can somehow befriend literally anyone??? Love that

His friendship with Jere is the main one of course

Oh yeah and the fact that he literally helped people who collapsed at their gigs a few times

Bless him, he deserves all the rest he is hopefully getting

Jan

First things first, I have a soft spot for math guys

And the way he talks about math is fascinating (but you still won't get me to like it Jan)

Cat dad???? We absolutely adore Igor and a man loving cats is such a green flag

I know people say he mumbles a bit and it's hard to understand him at times, but idk, he talks nice and slowly, so it's still really easy to understand him

He comes from my home region, so I am very biased haha

Also, every band needs a guitarist with luscious locks

He absolutely owns the colour red, that colour was invented specifically for him

The nose ring suits him so well too, this man KNOWS what fits him

And if that ends up being jackets with nothing underneath when he performs, THEN SO BE IT

I know people call Kris the lesbian icon, but from what I've seen lesbians are very drawn to Jan as well

Oh, and he gives me Klaus from the Umbrella Academy vibes (I blame the hair and the pink boa)

Jure

Holy shit, sunshine in human form????

The most underappreciated one in the band imo

His surname literally means 'cat' and I am so normal that Jan has called him 'muca'

He also comes from my region haha, bias again

He's really good at filming, he actually shot a few things for RTV (national TV station) and edited them as well, god, talent

Also playing drums... I have sang, I have played guitar, played bass, but drums is something I feel like I could NEVER do, so hats off to you

As @da-proti-toku-grem pointed out, THE MOLE ON HIS LIP? weak knees, yes

He also reminds me of a good friend of mine and I vibe with him so much, I feel like I would vibe with Jure as well

I really don't like the fact that drummers tend to get ignored and I just wish there was more Jure performing content

Though I love it how every time, during Novi Val, he comes to the front and hangs with the others

His hair also looks so soft and fluffy aaaaaa

Again, biased but he resembles my bf the most out of everyone so hmmmm

Kris

The baby of the band! (and the only one in the band I could actually call 'mulc')

In case you didn't know yet, he's half Dutch

And he speaks Dutch, which, as someone who speaks Dutch (in theory, not in practice) makes me really happy

I wish to study him linguistically as well

Also his parents' story feels very close to me, as I'm dating outside of my culture as well

According to him he was menace as a kid and I think we should normalise the fact that you can become a better person as you grow up

But pls don't honk at me on the road Kris, pls, I will cry

The songs he wrote??? NGVOT and Vse kar vem??? Oh boy, I love them, adore them

His holey sweaters are also a vibe

Dutch fans, if you don't shower him and the rest of the band with gifts at their Dutch concerts, I will be mad

Also gotta honorably mention Maks

They gotta be my fav nepo-but-not-really babies out there

Kinda like Maya Hawke?

I am ranting

He also looks like the only member of the band that I would fight, and idk why

Also, I must know if he supports Max Verstappen haha

Minus points for chemistry though, I cannot with that

Nace

Okay everyone

Here we go

We have reached my beloved

I love all of them, but Nace just a bit more

It was love at first sight, I cannot lie

I have a soft spot for bassists and he might actually convince me to try and play bass again

He has been playing it for so long too??? like wow

Oh and of course; THE TATTOOS, BLESSETH BE THE TATTOOS

I will always go feral about his tattoos

At every concert

I know he was the last to join the band but it looks like he fits in so nicely, it's beautiful

Strong mom-codded dad friend vibes

He kinda is the dad of the band haha

And he looks like he gives amazing hugs (lucky all of you who had managed to get one already)

A nice addition to the band

Oh and he's apparently shit at sports which is like... felt

Plus the fact that he wanted to be a vet?

Me too boo, me too, but neither of us is there now

Anway, I'll stop now. In conclusion, this band has my whole heart and they deserve every good thing that happens to them and so much more.

[icarusignite]

Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao. 

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol. 

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his.