#it’s a celebration among death

[spirallingstarcases]

i wince whenever i reblog a post of a deactivated mutual because i feel like achilles with hectors body except my chariot is a volkswagen buggy and i’m deeply regretful the whole time

[lily-s-world]

2023 really has been an amazing year for fandom life and movie/tv enjoyers in general. The final seasons of “Never Have I Ever” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” were the perfect closure, the second part of “The Glory” was perfection, the new season of “Total Drama” dropped and it wasn’t awful. “XO, Kitty” straight baited people and it was great. “Celebrity” criticized the influencer culture and that was also great. "Shadow and Bone", The Crows my beloved ones!

“Honor Among Thieves” was the perfect adaptation for Dungeons & Dragons. “Across the Spider-verse” reminded me why I love animation so much. The unique experience that was seeing “Barbie” dressed in pink and in a theater full of women.

August was amazing, with the second season of “Heartstopper”, “Red, White & Royal Blue” and “Blue Beetle”. Two of them are led by Latinos!! And the new season of “Ragnarök”.

October will have “Our Flag Means Death” and “Loki”, released like one day apart. I’ll have “Dune” in November.

December is going to bring me “Percy Jackson & the Olympians”, and word can’t describe how excited I am for this series. Also, Snyder is going to drop his space opera “Rebel Moon”.

I’m pretty sure I left things outside, but in general, what a year!!

[eltheabberation]

Short little thing I typed up

“What is this?”

Yan turned over the small, see-through bag in his hands, brow furrowed as he looked at the contents.

“It’s a gift,” Houji said. “For Valentine’s Day.”

Yan looked up at him. “Isn’t that a western thing?”

“We have in Japan too.”

“Hm.” He opened the bag and pulled out a piece of chocolate. He glanced back over at Houji, eyes narrowed. “I can’t eat this.”

“It’s traditional.” Houji smiled. Yan muttered something under his breath, then sighed and put the chocolate back.

“Thank you,” he said begrudgingly.

“You have to pay me back next month.”

“Or I could kill you right here and now,” he said. Houji chuckled.

“Oh, could you?”

In response, he brought a hand up to Houji’s head and ruffled his hair. Houji narrowed his eyes.

“You are terrible,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, trying to brush the loose strands back into place.

“I’d have to be” — Yan smiled — “to put up with you.”

Houji paused for a moment. Finally, he pressed a kiss to Yan’s cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. Yan turned away and closed his eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[sereniv]

Now again, im saying this from a pretty detached place

as in its not me who is theoretically in danger in this specific sense

but the whole israel brainwashing narrative like whats taught in their schools is basically "palestinians are literally the equivalent to nazis and want to do everything the nazis want to do" etc etc.

So when getting in to the israeli zionist jewish mindset, one should be seeing it as Jews fighting nazis. Thats how supposedly they are brought up believing.

But idk. again it can be because i wasnt brought up with the same fears and stories of actual nazism and everything that would cause someone to hate with such...palpability?

But for me, as much as i hate fascism and nazis and bigots and the like, when i see a baby, a child, even one being brought up in a literal neonazi household, as in homeschooled on nazi values

I dont feel hate towards the child. i dont see them as not human. i wouldnt cheer for their death or even seek to kill them

at most, and generally, i would wish that baby being taken away from proven-to-be nazi indoctrination (as oppose to the supposed view israeli zionists have on palestinians)

But I see so many videos and writings of Israeli zionists (jewish specifically) that cheer for palestinian babies dying, that brag about killing toddlers or children.

And its not like they dont have access to other view points, to videos.

I just dont think its based in any type of fear like they like to claim. I think some yes, just like not all israelis are jewish nor zionist nor anti palestinian.

But from what ive seen i just dont buy that the zionist cilvilians are driven by fear that which they grew up being taught to feel- as is claimed

I think for a lot its an illusion of fear? Like theres the genuine fear of antisimetism which is true and real and as jewish people even zionists have every right to have that fear.

And then theres the fear they say they have of palestinians (and those fighting for palestine) that they say is nazi/antisemitism and THAT is where i think a lot of them are lying.

I think they accept that narrative but dont actually feel it. I dont think most feel the same fear they feel with real antisemitism.

And this is exluding actual antisemitism coming from pro palestine side which is definitely happening, and also excluding any true misinterpretation (which that sounds confusing but idk how to explain it. theres layers)

its like so much other evidence ive seen where its one sided attacks and hate in like, Jerusalem where settlers will attack anyone not jewish (like that video of the Christian being spat on which i dont believe was palestinian?)

bottom line, majority of zionists know what they are doing to a degree and dont care bc they have grown up as bigots.

Like white supremacists who "fear" for the white decline, who grow up as a bigot. They dont fear in the way one would actually fear oppression and eradication.

Does this make sense? can someone say it better

Also to be clear This blog is Pro Jewish, Israel is Antisimetic and doesnt speak for all Jews etc

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Friday, January 6th, the 6th day of 2023. There are 359 days left in the year.

Today’s Highlight in History:

786: Martyrdom of St. Abo in Tsibili, Georgia. A Muslim perfumer from Baghdad, he had become a Christian and attempted to strengthen Christians and win Muslims to Christ.

1088: Theophylact delivers a flattering address in Constantinople before Emperor Alexius that results in an unwelcome “promotion” to the position of archbishop of Ohrid, Bulgaria (now in Macedonia). Homesick, he will write obscure letters to distract his mind.

1374: Death of Andreas Corsini, Italian bishop of Fiesole. After a reckless youth, he converted and became a strict Carmelite, and was credited with being a prophet and miracle-worker. (Under the Florentine calendar his death is given in 1373.)

1422: Jan Ziska, blind Hussite general and master tactician, defeats Sigsimund of Bohemia at Nebovidy, one of many defeats he will inflict on Bohemia’s enemies.

1494: Columbus and his men celebrate the first mass in the Americas, on Isabelle Island, Haiti.

1628: Bribed by Roman Catholics, Turks in Constantinople seize a press that is preparing to print a small catechism written by Eastern Orthodox Patriarch Cyril Lukaris. Jesuits had already maneuvered to exile Lukaris for several months.

1771: First baptism takes place among the Moravian converts of the Saramaccas people, near where the Senthea River empties into the Surinam River. Chief Arabina, the mission’s first convert is baptized.

1772: Death of Samuel Johnson, a New England clergyman, educator, and philosopher. In 1724 he had opened the first Anglican church built in Connecticut, after which he had served as a missionary for the Anglican Church, and played an important role in setting the standards and curriculum for King’s College, New York, (later known as Columbia University).

1829: The Indiana State Legislature incorporates Hanover Academy, begun two years ealier with six students by Presbyterian minister John Finley Crowe. The school sits on land donated by Presbyterian Elder, Williamson Dunn, who becomes one of the trustees.

1835: Businessmen operating in China circulate a paper among themselves, calling for a “Morrison Education Society” to bring the gospel to China. The society is named for pioneer missionary Robert Morrison who had died a year earlier. They raise several thousand pounds to support the mission and offer the post of missionary to Samuel Robbins Brown.

The Swedish Mission Society is founded.

1844: Hermann Anandarao Kaundinya is baptized in Mangalore, India, with two other young Brahmans. He becomes a notable educator, pastor, and Bible translator in the Kanarese district.

1850: Conversion of Charles Spurgeon who will become one of the most notable pastors of all time. He had entered a little Methodist church because of cold and snow where a deacon told him to look to Christ. “I can never tell you how it was but I no sooner saw whom I was to believe than I also understood what it was to believe and I did believe in one moment.”

1852: Death in Paris, France, of Louis Braille, developer of the reading system of raised dots for the blind which bears his name. He is just forty-three years old.

1884: Death in Brno (in modern Czechoslovakia) of Gregor Mendel, a monk who through persistent experimentation had discovered the laws of genetics.

1894: Death of Theophan the Recluse, a Russian Orthodox author, priest, and bishop. He had written several works, among them a translation of the Philokalia, a famous collection of the church fathers. Typical of his sayings was, “Attention to that which transpires in the heart and proceeds from it—this is the chief activity of the proper Christian life.”

1902: Edith Warner, a Presbyterian missionary, sets out from Asaba, Nigeria, to become the first white woman to visit the East Niger.

1921: Death of Alexander Whyte, regarded as the finest preacher of the Free Church of Scotland. He had also served as professor of New Testament Literature at New College, Edinburgh, and wrote the popular Bible Characters.

1934: Peter Deyneka and four other men meet to form the Russian Gospel Association.

1948: Janani Luwum converts to Christianity in Uganda. He immediately asks his family to pray that he won’t backslide, but rather lead a godly life. Eventually he will become an archbishop and will be executed by the brutal dictator Idi Amin.

1973: Death in California of Pentecostal evangelist Tommy Hicks, allegedly of alcoholism. Nineteen years earlier he had packed stadiums in Argentina, winning thousands to follow Christ.

1986: Death in Grand Rapids, Michigan, of Elsie Rebekah Ahlwen. She had served as an evangelist among America’s Swedes and wrote the hymn “He the Pearly Gates Will Open.”

1992: Naimat Ahmer, a Christian educator and poet in Pakistan, is stabbed seventeen times in earshot of students by a Muslim who claims Ahmer has insulted Mohammad. Ahmer taught that Christ is the only way to salvation.

[imperiuswrecked]

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

[the-hot-zone]

hi i just read ur poem abt love and the meanings of each word and i almost cried. usually poems don’t do it for me and i find them boring and sometimes the writers just try too hard to get across their point (no offense to any poem writers it’s just not my cup of tea ❤️) but the way you wrote abt love and finding it in everyday things really struck a cord in me. not to mention ur wording and phrasing which just adds to whole vibe of it. anyways this was one of the few poems that i feel like i can read over and over again because of how good it is and how much thought and feeling was put into it without being overbearing. much love and keep finding love in the small things ❤️❤️❤️

Hello anon, you are incredibly kind. I hope you are well.

That poem is now very old (by my standards), but your appreciation of it allows me to look kindly back on it. Here are some recommendations for you, if you are interested, of poems that have been in my mind as of late:

>Watching my Friend Pretend Her Heart Isn’t Breaking by Rosemerry Trommer

>How to Write a Poem in a Time of War by Joy Harjo

>Running Orders by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha

>Marie Howe's For Three Days

>My Father by Ollie Schminsky:

>First Writing Since by Suheir Hammad

>Moving towards Home by June Jordan

>"Who Remembers the Armenians?" by Najwan Darwish

And, if you are interested perhaps in why poets make the choices they do, I suggest the book Why Poetry by Matthew Zapruder. It has been influential on my style as a poet.

Most of all, I hope that you, too, can continue to find love in the small things. Much love, anon. Be well.

[esyra]

Haven't heard from family in days. I feel like it's time to accept they're gone. I know in my heart Palestine will, one day, be free, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

We feared another Nakba, and it happened. 700,000 pushed out of their homes in 1948 to 1 million being forced to leave their homes in 2023.

We thought it couldn't get worse or more deadly than the Israeli invasion in 2014, and it happened. We lost 2,251 people in 50 days then. Now we're past 2,300 in one week.

What I heard most from my grandmother the first days it's that "this time is different". And I feel like a rock is crushing my heart in pieces because i've been hoping that speaking out, teaching people about the historical oppresion of Palestine would help but it's not helping. Nothing is changing.

I feel like I'm screaming into a void. There's some sympathy from people online, until I see content documenting Palestinian oppresion being flagged as 'hate speech' or check the comments of any updates on Gaza and it's: "blame it on hamas", "tell them to give up hamas", "the hamas asked for it". They're not even among civilians!!!!!

My heart feels full seeing the manifestations in favor of Palestine, then I see police forces breaking protests apart and remember that the people that can actually save Gaza don't care.

If there's nothing left to do but to watch the extermination of my people, then I'm going to beg for anyone reading this to please don't forget. Please.

Israel is hiding behind Judaism to commit genocide against Gaza. Netanyahu supported the Hamas militant group to prevent the establishment of the Palestine State, and now he's using them to justify his agenda of ethnic cleansing. He abandoned Israelis and left them to die because he cares more about seeing Gazans dead!

Every single person and institution supporting and financing Israel is complicit. I hope the deaths of every Palestinian haunts you for the rest of your lives and that you never find an ounce of forgiveness, for you do not deserve it.

Just as in the Iraq War, the US government is financing and cheering for the slaughter of millions of innocent Arab lives. The media is complicit by engaging in biased propaganda and other nuclear powers, such as the UK and Germany, are complicit too. You are fascists and war criminals and every drop of Palestinian blood is in your hands. I hope every single day, for the rest of your lives, you look in the mirror and see nothing but the blood you've helped spill.

This serves as yet another proof that not a single Western in a position of power, be it in the media or in government, sees Arabs as humans beings.

For decades, the US has comitted terrorism and crimes against humanity in the Middle East and has NEVER been held accountable. Over one million in Iraq; over 150,000 in Afghanistan; and now they'll turn Gaza into a graveyard. Punishing selected soldiers over the years does not erase the fact that the American military and its government validates their crimes during execution and are never punished for it.

Please never forget: Joe Biden is a genocidal terrorist, Rishi Sunak is a genocidal terrorist, the American Democrat Party and UK's Labour Party are led by genocidal terrorists, the European Union is led by genocidal terrorists, fuckass Walt Disney Company is led by genocidal terrorists; every celebrity that called for Palestinian death or stood by silently while ignoring our suffering is a genocidal terrorist.

May Allah protect the people in Palestine and grant the martyrs the highest level of Jannah. Wallah what keeps me here is knowing that the Akhirah is theirs. May Almighty Allah grant us imaan and Taqwa as high as the people of Gaza. Ameen.

[hannieehaee]

SERENDIPITY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.

content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, side character deaths, mentions of attempted suicide, the dialogue is not super fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 841 (teaser); 8.6k (full fic)

release date: may 3rd

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: i decided to do my first jungkook full fic in celebration for hitting 4k followers!! i hope u guys enjoy<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Why did you call for me, again?"

"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."

"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."

"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."

"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.

Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.

"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."

"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.

Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.

Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow., and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."

With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.

"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.

"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."

"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.

It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.

Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.

It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.

...

please reply if u would like to be tagged when the fic is released!!

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[orcbara]

"twink death" - also known as a person's "bearginning" - is a highly celebrated occasion among orcs, with the new bear's friends, family, and lover(s) preparing a hearty feast to help them settle into their new role

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[andreawritesit]

hello love can i request cregan with reader who’s like his opposite, she hates seeing animals hurt, can’t stand the sight of blood stuff like that. maybe he doesn’t know how to handle her at first

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x Wife! Reader Warnings: Mentions of hunting, blood, dead animals, Cregan being the best Words: 1,240

You stood at the window of your chambers, letting the crisp and cold wind hit you. It was a sharp contrast to the life you were used to as the Lady of a Southern house. Just a few moons ago, you were basking in the warmth of the Southern sun and now here you stood, in the heart of the North, married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Your marriage was one of alliance rather than love—a union forged to strengthen ties between your houses. You were known for your gentle nature and had always been uncomfortable with violence and bloodshed. Your heart ached at the sight of suffering, be it human or animal. Cregan, on the other hand, was a seasoned warrior, a man hardened by the cold and the responsibilities that came with his title. He was a leader who had seen his share of battle, a man of few words but much action.

The first few weeks of your marriage had been, interesting to say the least. The Northerners had their own customs and their own ways of living. And unfortunately for you, they proved to be completely opposite to yours. Cregan, used to the harsh ways of the North, found it difficult to understand your sensitivity. He respected your kindness but was baffled by your inability to handle the realities of the world.

As the wind got harsher, you pulled the furs on closer, a shiver running down your spine. Even though you had come a long way in your marriage, your mind often replayed that one incident you wished you could erase from existence. You cursed inwardly as your mind went straight to that day again.

It was a cold morning when Cregan decided to take you on a hunt with him. You wanted to tell him no, to tell him how much you hated seeing animals get hurt but your mother's advice rang in your ears of "never disobeying your husband". So you nodded and went with him. Somehow, you had managed to stay away from the hunting party, instead sitting on a boulder nearby under the watchful eye of your husband's loyal guards. After some time, the hunting party returned. Among the game they had caught was a wounded deer, still alive and struggling. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you rushed to the animal, ignoring the blood that stained the snow. You knelt beside the creature, your hands shaking as you tried to soothe it.

Cregan watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. He had been raised to respect the necessity of hunting, understanding that survival often required hard choices. As he approached, he saw the distress in your eyes and felt a pang of guilt. Kneeling beside you, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"My Lady," he began softly, "this is the way of life here. The deer is suffering; it would be kinder to end its pain."

Your head whipped towards your husband, your expression one of disbelief. "How can you be so…cold?" you whispered. "It’s still alive. It deserves compassion, not death."

Cregan hesitated, torn between his practicality and an urge to comfort you. He understood your distress but in his world, emotions had no place in survival. He held your shoulders and helped you stand up. Without saying a word, he took you aside and nodded to one of his men who ended the deer's pain swiftly. The tears that had formed in your eyes finally started flowing, your heart aching for the poor animal.

That evening, you found yourself in the Great Hall, surrounded by the Stark family and their bannermen. A feast was being held to celebrate the successful hunt. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat, and the walls echoed with laughter and the clinking of tankards. Cregan sat beside you, a rare smile adorning his face. He didn't smile much in front of everyone. You had seen a fair share of his smile though. You felt out of place, a stranger in your own home. The conversation around you was filled with tales of battles and hunts, stories that made your stomach churn.

A loud cheer erupted from the other end of the table. A group of men had brought out a large boar, its tusks glinting in the firelight. The sight of the dead animal, its eyes still open, made you feel dizzy. You looked away, your hands trembling. Cregan noticed your state and held your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Are you alright, my love?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing. "I just…I can’t stand the sight of blood," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t have to stay," he said, his voice softening. "If this is too much for you, we can retire for the night."

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. As you both stood to leave, Cregan watched you, a sense of unease settling in his chest. He realized that he didn’t know how to handle your delicate nature, how to bridge the gap between your vastly different worlds.

A particularly strong gush of wind knocked you out of your memories. You took a deep breath and finally closed the window. After pacing around in the room in vain, you decided to visit Godswood instead. That place always brought you a sense of calm. Putting on another fur cloak over the one you were already wearing, you quietly left.

Cregan was finally done with most of his work for the day and decided to spend some time with you. Your maids let him know that you were in the Godswood so he wasted no time and came to see you.

He found you sitting beneath the heart tree, your fingers brushing over the soft, snow-covered ground. Cregan approached quietly, not wanting to disturb you. He sat down beside you, the silence between you comfortable. You glanced at him, and at the same time, he turned to look at you. You gave each other warm smiles and turned away. You watched the snowflakes fall, each lost in your thoughts.

"Do you love this place?" Cregan asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "The North, I mean. It’s so different from what you’re used to."

You smiled, a soft, wistful expression on your face. "It’s true that the North is harsh, and the people here are different from what I’m used to. But there’s a beauty in it, a purity. The snow, the silence…it feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something."

Cregan looked at you for a long moment. "I’ve been thinking," he said hesitantly. "About what you said…about the deer. You’re right. It deserved compassion, even in its last moments."

You looked at him, surprise clear on your face, and then a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "You don’t have to pretend to agree with me," you said softly.

Cregan shook his head. "I’m not pretending," he said firmly. " You’ve shown me that there’s strength in kindness and courage in compassion. Perhaps, sometimes it is better to let the ice melt."

A smile settled upon your face, a warm, radiant smile that made Cregan’s heart beat a moment quicker. He reached out and took your hand, a gesture of both apology and promise. You both sat there in the quiet of the Godswood, two souls from two different worlds, making a better one for themselves.

[luvvixu]

the end

synopsis: the end of your relationship was inevitable. that's why both of you and gojo satoru individually prepare yourselves against the pain and separation of an upcoming divorce. and when that thing came, you suddenly found yourselves trapped inside the circle of your marriage where denial is present, and acceptance is absent. let us all see how the marriage walk through the end.

tags: divorce!au, ex-husband!gojo, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentioned of death, mentioned of trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: here's an almost 8k words of oneshot about gojo marriage again. i've mentioned this before but im taking a very small break and will be back on june 5 with an update regarding to the chapter of mind over matter ff. be sure to check out the announcement!

it was a peaceful morning on your balcony with satoru gojo, your husband for almost two years. you are reading your newly purchased book with your glasses on to help you see the letters.

you take a second peek at your husband who was already gazing at you from the beginning. his gaze was painted with a mixture of sadness and adoration towards you. looks like he had something to say, and you're right, he did have something to say when he mumbles your name.

oh god, you knew where this conversation would be. keeping your eyes bore on him, you fully turned your attention to him and waited for him to speak what's on his heart and mind.

"i think we should file a divorce."

his voice was monotonous and yet you knew it really wasn't, his face also did the same since you also didn't hold one either. your expression still remained calm like he was not asking for a divorce as you closed your book and then put it back on the coffee table.

meanwhile, satoru couldn't read you at this moment because you were quiet, too quiet for his liking. were you so shocked that you couldn't react to his sudden cut of ties? or was it just you already expected this the moment when you woke up?

probably, the most accurate reason and answer was the second one. satoru watches you lean on the seat with your hands clasp on your lap. he also never fails to see the neutral glaze in your eyes.

"if you are wondering why i didn't hold any emotion as you speak, that's because i already reacted a year ago." a sigh escalated from your lips as you removed your glasses also and put it on the table.

"you expected that this day would come?" he said in silence while secretly fiddling with the calluses on his hand—a hidden and canonical habit of satoru whenever he feels anxious and worried.

before this day would come, the two of you got married when both of you were twenty. a young, dumb, and somehow not stupid but definitely reckless who took a big tramp of change among themselves.

satoru was the one who asked you to get married after almost four years of being inside an on and off relationship. that was very fast and very reckless at that time—but of course you agreed because you are a fool to get yourself blinded by your love towards him.

so, the two of you got married and with only some people whom you both held close dearly attended the said wedding. it was simple and civil, but to you, it was your everything. the wedding and this marriage mean so much to you.

your marriage went pretty well in your first few months of being married. both of you got yourself a house with a nice garden that you absolutely adore, you also got yourselves a work almost instantly too. satoru got more missions since he was now a graduate, while you work in your own cafe and occasionally take jujutsu stuff.

things were really fine with heaven as the witness. until one night during your almost first anniversary, you caught him going home around three to four o'clock in the morning with a smell of alcohol and woman's perfume that's definitely not yours. he's really drunk, which was weird because he hates alcohol. you wondered what's the occasion or any celebration that should be celebrated and whatnots, but you can't think of any. so that leads you to silently crying.

you did not confront him about your first suspicion of cheating, you want him to admit it himself, but that doesn't mean you're going to tolerate that piece of shit because for god's sake! there's a fucking hickey on his neck that night, you knew it wasn't yours since you've barely had an intercourse due to both of your busy schedules.

you remember asking him about his whereabouts that night like you weren't aware, but his answer just disappoints you, he told you that he had an emergency mission and needed him in action asap at kyoto around 11pm and it took him some time to finish it. as mentioned before, his answer disappoints you, because your assumption has been partially proven.

satoru was clearly lying about his whereabouts that night but still the cheating allegations were not clear. maybe the seemingly foreign hickeys on his neck was already evidence but you're probably still in denial, so you didn't instantly conclude that he was really cheating with you.

but you still couldn't shake off his illicit affairs. why? because satoru was lying about the emergency mission on kyoto. he wasn't there, you knew that because you were the one who took the mission, not him. satoru actually rejected the mission because he's busy with other matters so you took it yourself without even telling him.

all of these things that are happening leads you back to that day when he proposed to you. it was so sudden that it made you a little bit skeptical. but when you asked him why he suddenly asked you to get married? easy, you didn't know.

however, you had your hypothesis that after geto disappeared and went on his rebellious phase, you let gojo use you to relieve his grief. that is why when you realize that this marriage is meant to not last long, you secretly cry to yourself during your first year anniversary as a married couple.

meanwhile, satoru knew to himself that he couldn't stand a long-term relationship. though he also started to feel bad for making things go very quickly with you, his love towards you is pure and genuine. in fact, he would do anything just to keep you safe and happy. but he wasn't able to do that when you're the opposite of him.

he is selfish and you are selfless.

no matter how hard he tried to change or even make things up for you, he just couldn't do it. there's this invisible dark string that pulls him inside the void of darkness. and he couldn't afford to bring you down with him. the thing that geto did really left a scar, a permanent scar to his chest that creates an inescapable hole that keeps on growing bigger and sucking his life in the process.

while you, you fully commit yourself to him. that's why everything would be pointless for satoru to let himself get hurt just to protect you. because you would literally throw yourself in the fire when he's burning.

it was like the two of you are a magnet with the same pole. you can't attract each other no matter how hard you try to let them collide.

back to reality, your head was faced downward. your husband sought for your eyes by calling your name meticulously, but you refused. an internal laugh at your pathetic figure rang through your mind, you are laughing at yourself for believing that you are already prepared for this moment, turns out, you're not—you’ll never be.

satoru mumbles your name again. and all of the sudden, you just let out a nod, followed by a small sigh. you let yourself look at him again despite the unnoticed tears in your eyes.

"okay, but let's spend this whole day as husband and wife for the last time. let's do the things we usually do during our free time." you said, and satoru agrees with you almost instantly. he thinks this is the least thing he could do for you before setting each other free.

everything went normal for the rest of the day. satoru takes you out for lunch, visits your favorite cafe for desserts, and even goes to the park where he asked you out to be his wife.

and right now, the two of you are in the cemetery, specifically in haibara's graveyard. the sun was proceeding to its dusk, making the place a bit solemn because of its ambience.

"do you think he'll be mad at my decision?" your soon-to-be ex-husband asked you with his small tired voice. haibara was your bestest friend of all and he actually talked to gojo when he's still alive about his relationship with you. he would like gojo to take care of you and treat you more than you deserve in your entire life.

"i don't think so. haibara only wants the best for us. he's a man of freedom, after all. and yet, how ironic because he, himself, has no freedom during his time in the jujutsu." you answered him as you watched the candle burn itself.

satoru looked at you. "how about you, y/n? are you mad at my decision?" he asked you a bit hesitant.

you just smiled at him and said, "i will answer that later, satoru." satoru nodded at your answer, he understood that you had a lot to say to him later.

after some time, you two decided to go home to your shared apartment. the journey back was fun and relaxing, it was filled with smiles and laughter that will soon vanish as the dawn is coming.

6:00 PM

both of you arrived at home. you helped satoru hang his coat on the raker like you usually do whenever he comes home during winter. this small act is something that would be definitely missed by him dearly, since you will not be around to do it.

"thanks for agreeing to go out with me." you said to him with a smile that almost reached your eyes. the only thing that stops you from giving your bestest smile was the divorce, but you subside because this is your last day as a married couple. you have to enjoy it to the extent.

"that was the least thing i could do for you before…nevermind." he said. satoru was not cheerful enough to make you smile whenever your eyes met. you also noticed that he was downhearted since you visited haibara's graveyard.

though as you were heading in your shared apartment, he was smiling and laughing. guess you didn't overlook him at all and you failed to notice his hidden pain.

you watched him lay down on the couch. "you looked bothered. was it because i didn't answer your question earlier?" you said quietly.

satoru didn't say anything, and according to his vocabulary, silence means yes. you sigh to yourself and take a seat on the same couch where your husband was lying in.

your hand reached out for his face, cupping it as satoru looked at you with his hooded eyelids. those magical six blue eyes are staring at you with known emotion, pain and agony.

"you didn't ask me why i suddenly wanted to get divorce…" he mumbles, nestling his head in your palm.

"you agreed without questioning me. i don't even see you cry about this. why y/n? are you hurting yourself by keeping your emotions inside you?" he continued. the pain in his voice breaks your heart into bits of pieces. satoru looked so vulnerable, his true emotions are showing exclusively for you.

you let out a small but bitter chuckle. "crying is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together, toru." his eyes widened at your answer. a droplet of tears slide down on your palm. satoru was crying, and you let him weep because you knew he's pent up.

"and i'm not mad at you. i also didn't ask you any questions because i know you know what you are doing and i respect your decision." you added.

"although, i admit. i want to bawl my eyes out. i want to scream because my heart is aching for believing that i was prepared for this moment." your breathings started to become shaky also just by watching satoru weep under your touch.

you refused to cry. at least not now.

"but i don't want to ruin this day by crying. i want both of us to savor this moment with smiles and laughter. so that when we part our ways, we wouldn't have any regrets to hold."

"so, satoru…let's continue to spend the rest of our night happily, hmm?" you let yourself smile for him to be motivated to stop from crying. however, he did the opposite. satoru cried even harder.

your hand is being cradled by him. you could feel his tears on your palm followed by his little hiccups. this scene alone in front of was usually enough to make you cry even harder than him. it was utterly heartbroken to see your man cry like this.

"hush, my…" love, that's the word you would like to say but forbids you to do so. satoru also noticed it too and he absolutely hates the feeling of it.

"l-love. call me love. c-call me like you used to call me before. first name basis is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together." he mimicked your words earlier. though it may sound like a joke, it isn't. satoru has been dead serious since the beginning of the day.

"my love…"

"y-yes, my sweetheart?" he responded.

your lips quiver from the overflowing emotions in your chest, but you still refuse to let yourself cry even when you're all by yourself. god, you are hopeless and devastated.

but dear me, it felt so good to hear him call you with endearing words. oh how you wish this kind of moment would last forever. maybe in another life, it would be. only if fate would be kind enough to give satoru to you again, maybe it will and it would be.

8:00 PM

satoru was all alone. his eyes were puffy from crying and stuff. he was such a mess. and if anyone would see, they would probably think that he's a zombie because of how low energy he was.

it took him almost an hour to stop crying. and you declared that this is the first and would be the last time that you would see him cry very hard.

right now, he was currently packing his things as he was about to move out tonight while playing betty by taylor swift. somehow, his mood got even more affected by this song, for every lyric hits him hard and he doesn't know why.

"♪ you heard the rumors from inez, you can't believe a word she says ♪" the radio sang. a shaky sigh came out from his mouth, he felt like crying again.

“♪ most times, but this time, it was true ♪”

"let me help you pack your things." you suddenly barge inside your onced shared bedroom after cleaning up for tonight. you are also in your sleep wear when satoru looks at you.

“♪ the worst thing that i ever did, was what i did to you ♪”

you didn't fail to notice that he is listening to one of your favorite artist's songs. a flashback hits you, it was the moment where you persuade him to listen to it with you. now, he has grown invested in their songs.

he mumbles a small okay as he watches you sit down beside him and redo the messy clothes he just stuffed inside his luggage. most of his clothes were luxurious like polo shirts, slacks pants, coats, and his favorite, blindfolds.

your eyes soften when you come across a small pouch that contains hair ties and bobby pins you onced bought for him as a prank. you still remembered the moment he let you tie his messy white locks with colorful pins and he looked so incredibly pretty with it. you couldn't help but to feel yourself getting emotional again.

don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

meanwhile, satoru remained very quiet, for he was staring at the photo in his hand. it was your wedding photo where the both of you are wearing traditional japanese attire. he couldn't help but stare at your smiling face for too long. you looked so beautiful.

the wedding was very simple, but satoru describes it as one of his happiest days, and he is not lying to himself whenever he would say that. because he onced dreamed of getting married to you, and it came true. he also had the same state as you, both on the verge of crying.

"i wonder…would you get remarried someday?" he asked out of the sudden. you shifted your gaze to him and found him staring at your wedding photo. instantly, your eyes went soft.

"i am not sure." you replied silently as you closed his luggage and proceeded to the other one.

your hands momentarily stop working as you stare at them and watch it shake. "but if i do, it would probably take me a decade or so to find another husband to love." you said. but truth to be told, you had no motivation left to find another husband.

"you're twenty-two right now. so like…you'll be thirty plus by then when that happens," he calculated. "how about you? would you consider getting remarried also?" you asked him the same question.

he thinks for a moment before nodding slightly. "probably yes." your heart let out a wince but you tried your best to hide it. those words unintentionally hurt you and cut you deeper than a knife.

"w-well, i just wished good luck for both of us in the future." the crack in your voice didn't go unnoticed by satoru. he was about to reach you but then eventually dropped it. "me too…" was all he could say.

"anyway, do you mind if i ask…where are you staying after this?" you trailed off.

"i'll stay with higuruma for a day before moving out to my new apartment. speaking of that man, i told him to be here around midnight. so we still have four hours to be together." he answered

"...yeah."

10:00 PM

the two of you are sitting on the same seat just like this morning in the balcony. you are wearing your favorite cardigan as satoru was in his coat to fight the cold weather of the night.

all of his things were already packed and ready to leave. soon, you'll be alone and this house will not be lively as usual because his presence will be missed.

both of you refuse to say a word, yet. because you two are scared to have another breakdown that made this marriage even harder to break. especially satoru, he was aware that deep inside him he was not ready to let you go. he was just lying to himself because he is aware that he can heal if he gives himself some time.

"y/n, can i hold you here in my arms?" satoru swallowed all of the bitterness he felt for leaving you just to hold you again, for one last time. you slowly stood up from your and came towards in front of him.

your soon-to-be ex-husband gazes upon you. however, you refuse to meet those warm eyes that you loved the most. satoru slowly pulls you into his lap and cradles you like his greatest treasure, which you definitely is.

when your face hits his shoulder, you couldn't help but to hide your face deeper into his neck. "the place i'm going to stay afterwards is far from here. are you sure you will be okay?" he whispers in your ears.

"yeah, i'll be fine." you nodded solemnly. "i also planned to stop from my work for a while." you added.

"why?" satoru raises his eyebrow. he thought you loved your job as a barista. you enjoyed making coffee and wherever there's extra pastries left in the cafe, you would take it home for him to try it.

"don't worry, i had a lot of fortune that could last for a century. and besides, you even said i had a midas touch, so surviving won't be too hard for me." when your parents died, they left all of their fortune to you. so that makes you an instant millionaire and nobody knows that beside your husband.

satoru gently pushes you to meet his eyes. "i think this moment is perfect to give all of my secrets away. i don't need any perfect lies to hide from you anymore." he tucked the loose hair on the back of your ear, admiring your beautiful frame under the pale moonlight.

he gulped nervously, and for some reason, you're becoming very anxious about what he's going to tell. all you had to do was to wait for him to speak his thoughts out.

"the reason why i want to divorce is to have a new life and forget about the past. that includes you, y/n." though he only started, millions of knives already stabbed your poor heart. your eyes stared at him, a bit widely.

satoru couldn't bear to look at your pained expression, but he forced himself to look at you. so that you would feel his sincerity. "before suguru disappeared, he once told me to choose another path of life. he told me to run away from the jujutsu, run away from my life." he said, almost whispering.

"although, i want you to come with me. but…"

"i somehow got myself involved with the jujutsu too?" you continued it for him. satoru falls silent, so that means yes, it is true.

satoru cups your face. "i'm sorry, y/n. i really, really love you. but this is not the right path for us. you'll get more hurt if you continue to get tangled with me. so, after a lot of thinking and consideration…"

"i became selfish once again. i chose myself over you, y/n."

for the nth time, the walls you have been building around your emotional state are starting to shake once more. you could feel the hot tears building in your eyes.

you will not cry. you will not cry. you will not cry.

"i-i understand…although, you don't have to apologize for choosing what is the best for you. i'm actually glad that you're finally doing it." you plant your palms over his hands on your cheeks, closing your eyes to swallow up those annoying tears.

"i'm such a bad husband, aren't i?" satoru chuckles weakly. what has he done to deserve you like this? your understandment is something that he greatly admires in you. your heart is pure like an angel from above.

an angel like you can't fly down hell with him.

but god, you're making yourself willing to go down with him without any hesitation and that is just completely wrong.

and for the past years, satoru would make a mistake and you are there to correct him patiently. he would always tell himself to make something and make everything up for you. but who would have thought a divorce is the best thing to do?

"to be honest, not at all. remember what i told you before we got married? you are the fire and i'm the—"

"gasoline?"

"no silly, that's a song." your laugh brightens up the atmosphere. satoru smiled at your happy demure, he likes seeing you this joyful.

"you are the fire and i'm the fireman. a fireman would not function completely when there is no fire. meaning, why would i, a fireman, be here if there's no you, a fire." you raised your fingers to help you visualize your point.

"does that make sense to you?"

satoru shook his head. "no."

you snapped your finger. "exactly! you think i'm bad at explaining things, while i think of myself as great at explaining things. that's the same as you thinking you're a bad husband, while i think of you as a great husband."

"..."

"i made you speechless, meaning you agree and i'm great at philosophy!" you boosted yourself by imagining a crowd was giving you a round of applause.

your husband wonders for a moment before cackling a laugh. "that still didn't make sense to me but it brought a lot of comfort to me. thank you, y/n."

"come on! just admit you love my philosophical nonsense." you pouted, hitting his shoulder playfully.

satoru laughed once again, pulling you by waist as he buried his face in your hair. "of course i do. i love everything about you." and he would still do, always and forever.

"i'm going to miss this." you mumbled as you relaxed on his touch. satoru also agrees, kissing your head all over again.

"and i'm going to miss you too, a lot." he said sincerely. the two of you held the longest stare on this day. you just let yourselves drown with each other's enticing orbs.

satoru was the first one to break the record by sighing and rubbing his eyes. the truth is, he couldn't bear to look at you any longer because he could see how broken you looked through your eyes just because of him. instead, he hides his face once more on your neck.

“i'm really, really, really sorry, y/n. i'm so sorry for using you. i’m so sorry for cheating on you. i’m so sorry for hurting you. i'm so sorry for not choosing you again. i'm so sorry for being selfish. i'm so sorry for everything." there it is, again. his hot tears are back and now drenching your shoulder.

"i used you as a getaway from my sins and from the grief that day, y/n. you should've said no when i asked you to marry me, but why did you do the opposite?" his voice became slightly thicker, he's definitely frustrated.

"i did it for love, satoru." you answered without hesitation.

satoru momentarily stopped crying as his breath hitch. "yes, i'm already aware of your true intentions that day. but i still chose to marry you because i love you. i know it sounds so dumb but it's true." you continued.

you could feel his arms around your body tighten, scared of letting you go from nothing. it was like he was begging the gods, if there was one seeing the both of them right now, to let him be delusional and not take you away from him.

"let me ask you this time, do you regret marrying me?" you whispered.

your husband looked at you with unshed tears. "i don't. but i regret that this is the end of us."

why is it always the time where someone would tell their true feelings when everything is falling apart? so if this divorce wouldn't happen, does that mean his word would be forever kept inside him?

"i've always wanted to tell you that i was actually glad that you became my wife. i thought you would be my endgame. instead, you became the reason why i am still here and breathing."

the void of regret is slowly pulling him inside. but you are there to make sure that he would survive the gravitational pull. you just loved him so you will help to let you go.

"i love you, my sweetheart, my y/n, m-my wife..."

12:00 AM

it was quiet, really, really quiet. higuruma was looking at the two of you all over again. his eyes showed sympathy for both of you and he was sad because this is the end for you and satoru.

right now, both of you are staring blankly at the divorce paper on the table. no one was making a first move by signing it.

you let out a sigh, a heavy feeling was buried deep in your heart. your whole body feels so numb and you still haven't cried for today. everything feels so wrong, yet at the same time it feels right. you don't know what to do anymore.

as you recall your conversation with him, you just wished it didn't end and would continue forever. because you know you'll never get tired of hearing his voice, his laugh, and his philosophical nonsense too.

not to mention, you've also dreamed of building a family with him. a mini satoru and mini y/n sounds nice, doesn't it? as your eyes wandered across this apartment, you can depict your children with him running around. god, if you were dreaming, please don't wake up.

"higuruma, can you please just wait for me in the car…? i-i would like to have a final conversation with my wife." satoru suddenly spoke and nanami left without hesitation.

"so this is it?"

"yeah, t-this is the end." satoru chuckles breathlessly. there was like a big chuck on his throat that made him feel suffocating. truth to be told, he doesn't want this to be the end. but again, he has to.

"thank you for giving me a total of the best six years of my life, toru. i mean it, thank you." you counted the first four years of your relationship and the two years of your marriage. playing with your hands to mend the shakiness, it was a constant reminder that only a few minutes left before the surname satoru would be stripped of your name.

"thank you too, y/n. i also had so much fun and love these past six years. thank you for all of the things you have done for me." he said silently.

all this time, you are the only one looking at him because his eyes were focused on the paper in front of him. "good luck on your new path. i wish you the best." you intentionally called his attention.

"you're really staying here in this apartment…alone?" satoru asked you.

you let yourself smile slightly as you shifted into a more comfortable position. "yeah… just in case you feel homesick, this would be a reminder that you still have a home…only if you want to." the air in this room is very thick and it's suffocating you.

"t-thank you, y/n, really." he expressed his gratitude once again.

a nagging feeling tells you that satoru was about to go back on his decision at any minute. and you too would probably go back to your decisions you had set for both of you. it would be more devastating for you if satoru didn't achieve his plans for himself in the near future.

"let's not make higuruma wait."

satoru falls silent. now he was stuck in a madness of a dilemma. in short, he was starting to rethink his decision to the point that he didn't notice he was staining the divorce paper with tears. his hands began to shake violently along with his cries becoming louder any minute.

satoru finally lost his cool as he wailed loudly in front of you. the sound of his sobs made you clench your lip as your chest tightened once more.

you on the other hand, you're trying your best not to slip any tears down from your cheeks. you successfully stopped them from falling this morning, you couldn't afford to cry not because there's only a few minutes left before you would let yourself fall into a pit of sadness.

sensing that neither of you would make a move, you are aware that satoru couldn't bring himself to do it even though he had to. so, you gently steal the paper away from him.

divorce agreement…it read. oh how you despise those two words.

"satoru, i mentioned to you a while ago that the reason why i want to spend this last day as a married couple is because i want us to leave without holding any regrets." you started with your pen touching the paper. satoru's eyes widened, he wanted to stop you from doing it but nothing was coming out from his mouth.

"i can see it in your eyes, you're doubting your decisions." you continued as you wrote your name. in satoru's horror, only your signature is needed and everything would be over for him.

however, you stopped writing. you tapped the table to gather his attention to you. there he saw you smiling dearly at him.

"did you have fun spending time with me this whole day?" satoru knows your intention. you are encouraging him to do what he was supposed to do even if it means leaving you.

"yes…yes i do, i enjoyed being with you." he stuttered. the tears were still streaming down his face and he was using his sleeve to wipe it. you reached for the tissue and gave it to satoru as you watched him wiped his eyes and blow his nose.

"that's good to hear. i also had fun being with you. not only for this day, but the whole time i was with you, i enjoyed it." you grabbed his hands to soothe it by massaging those long and calloused fingers. satoru watches you and eventually becomes slightly calm by your actions.

you inched your lips into his fingers and kissed it delicately just like he used to do with you before. everything went blur to him and only the sound of your sweet nothing was audible into his messy world.

"i know you'll be doing great with or without me. so satoru, put more faith in yourself. this is another big step for us, and i want you to be ready just like i am." you swiftly slide the divorce paper in front of him. but this time, it has your signature on it.

satoru felt like he was being showered by the cold water as he stared at the paper with pure horror evident on his face. you finally did it, so there is no turning back now.

"h-how—when…! when did you sign it?" his voice cracked due to his frazzled emotions firing him repeatedly. satoru reaches the highest point of heartbreak he ever experienced in his life.

"when i gave you the tissue." you whispered weakly. to your dismay tears are only a slip away from your eyes a thousand times today.

"i don't want to sign it. i don't want to! i don't want to leave you anymore y/n!" he yelled. you accepted his lash out with open arms, but you can't do anything anymore. you finally signed the divorce settlement, and this paper wouldn't go if there's no signature of satoru.

you suddenly pull him into a passionate yet heartbroken kiss to shut him up. satoru eventually responds to your kiss, becoming more emotional than ever. while you are busy keeping him in company, you sneakily put the pen in his hand.

satoru felt an object in his palm, he knew you're telepathically telling him to sign the paper but he still refuses to acknowledge it, at least not yet. as he continues to devour your lips, his eyes are still producing salt tears that add more emotions in the atmosphere.

"i could see a bright future ahead of you, satoru." you muttered between the kisses.

"mhmp—you should grab it, please." you continued to deepen the kiss to lure him. but he voluntarily stepped away just to make a counter argument for that.

"but i could lose you if i do that." he whispers solemnly.

"we've already lost each other when we realized that everything was going too fast for both of us." you chuckled bitterly at your statement. "that it why it is time to face the consequences, by setting us free." you added.

"do…do you really want to do this?" he hiccups.

"this is what fate wants us to do." your voice is soothing as hell. it held no grudges nor resentment, just pure calm and adoration towards him.

but satoru still didn't bug and he still doesn't want to sign the papers.

your gaze never leaves him as satoru buries his face on his palm, weeping so quietly that you could almost hear a pin drop. it was getting so hard to watch so you looked away and slowly walked away.

"i am going out for a bit." you mumbled quietly, not waiting for him to reply or look as you walked away with your whole body shaking.

outside, there you saw higuruma leaning on his car exterior. "hey…" you greeted weakly. higuruma looked at you with a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"hey…how did it go?" higuruma asked, his gaze falling on the papers in your hands.

"emotional." you joked.

"so, that's the end now?"

"...yep, that's the end now."

silence engulfed both of you, just your almost steady breathings and his observing orbs burning through your skin.

"never thought satoru could cry harder than he did when geto-san…you know." higuruma said, sighing as he tucks his hands on his pockets.

you nodded. "i know. satoru lost suguru literally, while he only lost me through relationship. he'd become more vulnerable around me, and that scares the hell out of me."

"i, his weakness, has become more exposed to his enemies. i know sooner or later, they would swoon to get me just to make him fall on his knees. we don't want that to happen, i don't want to be a bait nor a cause of his downfall. temporarily or permanently, satoru must not fall, no, not anymore." you continued.

"y/n-san, i hope you would also realize that failures, downfalls, mistakes, and damages are unavoidable, gojo-kun is no exception to all of that." higuruma argues.

"satoru is going to live a good life and have a future that he deserves, so who am i to halt it?” you ignored what he said because you know he was right.

“this is a big step for both of you. i just wished that everything would go well for the two of you.” higuruma smiled at you.

“we will, eventually.” you return the smile and then excuse yourself to go back inside, just to see satoru still crying nonstop.

approaching his figure, you wrapped your arms around his body to console the man. “don't go back to me now, satoru. if you cannot bring yourself to let go, then i will help you.” you whispered into his hair.

satoru pulled away just to look at you with his teary eyes. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m really sorry.” he keeps on apologizing to you, while you just smile at him and wipe the tears in his eyes.

“it's alright, satoru. i already forgave you a long time ago.” you said.

“i can't sign it. i don't want to sign that anymore.” he confessed. a small form made its way to your temple” “but this is for both of us. don't you want to have a brand new start? how can we thrive when we both have shackles on our feet?”

“i-i thought everything was easy. i thought i could l-let you go that easily. but i was wrong. it's so hard to let go of us, y/n. and as much as i would like to do what i meant to do, it's just so hard to see us disappear from our now individual lives.” satoru buries his face on your stomach. your hands immediately made its way towards his hair as tears are threatening you once again.

“it's hard to let you go too, satoru. but it would be harder to see you suffer more when you're here with me.” it was getting late and satoru was still amidst the crisis, but you are determined to get him out of there.

“look at me, toru.” you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you. “you’ve still got a whole world to see. so don't you ever get worried about me because i’ll be more happy to see you free without any worries.

“go live a life that you weren't able to do when we were still kids. do what you always wanted to do.”

“and just so you know, i will always love you and you will always have a special place in my home.” you put his hand to your left chest where your heart lies. “here, satoru. you'll always be here.”

satoru pulled you into the tightest hug since it was literally the last and you wouldn't mind. reciprocating the hug, you finally smiled whole-heartedly and it even reached your eyes.

“whatever happens, i love you, y/n. i love you more than anything. i have loved you since the first time i saw you. and i will always love you even if this would be the last time i would see you.” throughout the six years that you two had been together, from boyfriend-girfriend relationship until to marriage—this was the very first time he declared his love to you with so much intensity.

your eyes nearly gave up on how long you've been trying to hold your tears. but you still swore that night that you'll never shed a tear unless satoru is out of the scene because you knew how much effect your crying causes him.

to hide your emotions, you pull him closer and share the last and passionate kiss as two persons who share the same surname are binded by the law. both of you could feel the emotions begin to overflow as things become more sensitive.

you were the first one to pull away as satoru was still crying. cradling his cheeks, you connected your foreheads together and said again, “let's not make higuruma wait any further.”

satoru knew it was time, time for him to finally sign the divorce paper that he's been planning for a month now.

he expected this one too just like you, so it shouldn't hurt, but why is his heart still aching? with a final stroke of his signature, satoru felt so empty. his soul feels like missing and something was taken away from him.

both have done it—a trial away and the marriage will no longer be valid. there would be no mr. and mrs. gojo now because both will live differently.

grabbing the paper with your shaky hands, you turn around at satoru and give him the final hug with a final kiss. “good luck on your new life, satoru. i’ll always cheer for you and support you until the end.”

“thank you so much, y/n. i really mean it.”

and with that, you and satoru shared the same sad smile you could utter at that moment. sure, this night will end bittersweet, but tomorrow is a brand new start.

you watched satoru walk solemnly towards the car. he looked like a ghost wandering around the vicinity without any will to search for the true paradise for him to rest. it really broke your heart that this is the end for both of you.

and with now fully signatured divorce paper on his hands, satoru felt that each step he took, he felt like fainting on the spot because of how devastating he felt.

but you cannot undo everything now. satoru had officially become your sweet memory and a stranger on the street at the same time. just as he was about to go inside the car, you called out for his name one last time.

your ex-husband looked at you with tired, red, and puffy eyes. you let yourself give the bestest smile you could offer at this moment. a smile entitled one last smile before saying a goodbye.

"if we found each other in another world, let me be your wife again!"

satoru's eyes glisten with tears once more. nevertheless, he also offers you the bestest smile he could manage. he is now letting his broken heart go out of your grasp. forcing himself to swallow and accept that in this lifetime, you are no longer his.

but if the two of you would be reborn or somewhere in the multiverse, he would pray that the two of you got the life you onced failed to build, and that was something he would wish for forever.

"of course! and i will choose you this time. we would make a family that we once dreamt of, and i will give you the honor to name our children." satoru yelled back, making your smile widen.

you could finally rest knowing that there would be a lifetime waiting for both of you somewhere in the future. and this time, you are not being delusional because you know it'll be going to happen and you'll make it happen.

"emi!"

"what?" satoru halted his steps to focus his attention on you.

"i want our first born daughter to be named emi." you've actually dreamed of having a child with him, in that dream, her name is emi. it was like a sign to you, so when you woke up, you immediately searched its meaning and found out that emi means blessed.

you are blessed.

both of you definitely feel blessed to have each other.

that being said, you have kept that name for a while now. sooner, you wished that name would be used with satoru's surname entangled to it.

because in this life, it was unfortunate not to use the name emi. you only want to use that name with him and only him. for you lived with him, loved him, and dreamed with him.

but patience is a virtue. you are willing to wait for that dream, for him. time is not a problem to you because you'd be fully patient just for him.

"have a safe journey, gojo satoru. i will be waiting for you in our next lives." you gently bow your head to send your wish for his safety.

with that, satoru enters the car without looking at you anymore. he was afraid that if he looked at you, he might find himself running back into your loving arms again.

"we'll be going now, y/n." higuruma rolled the window and waved a farewell to you.

you just nod at him while you watch the car slowly disappear from your eyesight. sad but true, you will be waking up all alone from now on 'till your thirties.

no more satoru to wake you up with cuddles. no more satoru who would make corny jokes randomly. no more satoru to who would always remind you that you have a husband. just no more satoru gojo—

drip…

a tear, followed by another, and another until it just flows uncontrollably. you are finally a crying-mess. you're letting yourself cry and let your emotions out by a shout of pain escaping out from your lips.

it was all over.

satoru chooses his life over you, and you choose satoru over your life. with your knees planted on the pavement, your hand travels towards your mouth to cover your loud painful sobs.

all of the tears that you had been keeping since this morning, finally had their freedom to flow at your cheeks along with anguish scream that came out of your broken heart.

you finally lost this time.

[a special chapter will be posted soon, so stay tuned and just comment if you want to be added on the taglist for this one — ©luvvixu2024]

[applesauce42069]

so if people didn't hear what happened in calgary, essentially:

yes, that is a nazi salute. yes, that is the leader of Iran.

what is not visible in this photo is the pro-palestine protestors he was standing with. in the videos that circulated, you can see a blonde woman in a keffiyeh walk up to him, say something, and then walk away. there are people with keffiyehs and pro-palestine signs all around him.

they are the people who concern me the most. they claim to be pro palestine, pro justice and peace and equality. a man, standing in their protest, did a nazi salute, and none of them stopped him.

i'm a jew and the descendant of holocaust survivors and victims. if someone did a nazi salute in my vicinity and it was safe to do so, i would go bat shit on them.

so why did no one stop him?

i feel like is is emblematic of how antisemitism spreads among pro-palestine leftists. they don't set out to be antisemitic. they don't want to be antisemitic because its wrong to be prejudiced. but the antisemitism begins to slip through the cracks. they usually don't know enough about jewish people, jewish history, or antisemitism in general to counter it. the effect is slow, but damning. eventually these antisemitic symbols lose their meaning, become less important. so even in the face of something this overt, people don't stop it.

all i can say is that its truly disgusting that people turned the very real, longstanding oppression of palestinians by the israeli state into an excuse to spread violent, hateful, and harmful rhetoric at the expense of jewish people around the world.

and i would also like to say: my grandmother grew up in communist poland, raised by a holocaust survivor mother who had lost her own mother and sisters, likely to the nazi death squads east of Poland, the Einsatzgruppen, as they were trying to flee. Her father may have never met her, having died in the polish people's army around the same time she was born. all her life she wanted to come to canada, because it was safe and bountiful. she brought her family here, and i've always felt lucky for it. now we have people throwing up nazi salutes in our streets to celebrate the attempted bombing of our family members.

antisemitism is a plague.

[mmogurl]

Dragonseed

18+ | 6.4k | Daemon Targaryen X Female Reader | dangerous, sex starved, raunchy Daemon | virgin reader, first time sex, first night / prima noctae, big breast reader, daemon is a boob man in this, non con, non consensual, P in V, much groping, lots of typical Daemon cussing, starts out rough but reader enjoys it in the end, I just woke up with this in my head and needed to get it out.

Daemon has not been satisfied with his wife Rhaenyra lately. Frustrated and sexually deprived, he goes searching in the village at the base of the Dragonmont for a woman that might catch his eye. That's when he comes upon you, a beautiful, young dragonseed, ripe for the taking, whether you like it or not. I came up with the idea for this after reading page 914 in Fire and Blood. In the show, they recruit Valyrian blooded bastards to ride the unclaimed dragons from King’s Landing, but in the book there is actually a fishing village at the base of the island where Dragonstone is located. The men of House Targaryen were known to seek pleasure among the commonfolk there quite often, claiming their ‘first night’ rights and sowing ‘dragonseeds.’ Leave a comment if you're interested in seeing me expand upon this story, because I could definitely see writing more.

Tags: @coffeebooksrain18 On AO3

Rhaenyra has been an insufferable cunt as of late. First she had wallowed in the death of her son, Lucerys, which he understood to an extent. They were at war though and Daemon could not excuse her absence at council. There simply was no time for mourning when the Iron Throne was at stake.

When Rhaenyra finally returned to the painted table, she was in shambles, a scared, frail shadow of the strong Targaryen woman he’d known and cared for. It had taken all he had to hold back the grimace that fought its way out at the sight of her tear stained cheeks. They were of royal blood, Valyrian blood, and she should be ashamed to show such weakness openly, especially as the future queen.

She spoke of retribution for her fallen boy, demanding the life of the Hightower bitch’s second mongrel son, Aemond. Daemon had offered to fly to King’s Landing right away to avenge his wife, but none would take any part in his plan. So he did as he often did, connived in the shadows, plotting murder so that a one-eyed Targaryen princeling might die to replace the son Rhaenyra had lost.

But, it seemed nothing was ever good enough for the so-called Realm’s Delight. No act of loyalty, nor obeisance, nor love, nor retribution would ever amount to anything in his wife’s eyes. She did not seem to trust a word he said lately, viewing him always with thinly veiled scrutiny and scorning him from her bed every night. Perhaps she had only been interested in using him to solidify her claim as queen after all. The irony was not lost on him considering how badly he’d wanted the throne in the past. It all left Daemon feeling restless, his blood running hot with the need to satisfy his carnal urges. Admittedly, there were not many women within the confines of the castle, save for the servants, who were not especially comely. So, he ventured forth to the village below the Dragonmont, where farmers and fishermen lived around the now thriving port. There he walked the streets, drank in the tavern among the commonfolk, hoping to chance upon a suitable woman. Any fair of face with a willing cunt would satisfy his needs, but he was hoping to find someone of note, a beauty worth his seed.

So far, he has found nothing but mediocrity and it does nothing to stiffen his cock.

As he exits the tavern already deep in his cups, given the position of the sun it’s sometime past mid-day, and there is a celebration underway. A flutist is playing a lively tune as men and women alike dance together in the square. His eyes dart around, taking the scene in slowly considering his relatively inebriated state, until he catches a flash of blue.

And that is when he sees you. You are ravishing in light blue silk, a crown of yellow wildflowers upon your silvery-gold head of hair. Daemon finds himself completely enamored as he takes in your fetching features; the big blue eyes, your proud nose, those luscious lips, and the full swell of your breast has him reeling.

Daemon finds you a sight for sore eyes, a vision of purity and class coupled most gladly with the bosom of a well coveted whore. From the look of it, you are the bride, clutching arms with some young pup who is likely to be your new husband.

It was well known to Daemon that the towns below the mount were seeded with Valyrian blood. Going back two hundred years when Aenar Targaryen first arrived with his dragons, when the house began to practice the tradition of ‘First Night.’ Whereas a lord or king has the privilege over the smallfolk, to bed any bride first on their wedding night. As a result, it was not uncommon to see pale hair mixed in among the common, many having been bred within the Targaryen line for generations.

Daemon has never claimed such a right before, but he is inclined to command it at the sight of you. A wicked smirk begins to work it’s way up his lips as he approaches. He can’t believe his good fortune, that such a shining flower of a maiden was waiting for him, so close by, and that he just happened to stumble upon you at just the right moment to claim you.

As the King-Consort to be closes the distance, many begin to notice his presence with a look of awe and excitement on their faces. For on Dragonstone, the Targaryens were considered closer to the gods than other folk, and were esteemed as such. Brides that were chosen were considered blessed and envied by all. Many of these women were taken care of well by their benefactors, being endowed with luxurious gifts of jewelry, fine silks, and even bequeathed titles for land.

The children born of dragonseed were celebrated on Dragonstone and it is clear to Daemon by the fine silk of your wedding gown that you have been attended well by your Valyrian patron, whoever it may be.

He walks purposefully towards your merry, dancing form and takes hold of your arm to still your movement. When you look up at him, he cannot help but feel disappointed when your face drops, a look of despair crossing your face as you intrinsically know what he desires of you. Daemon had hoped you’d be pleased to attract his attention, that you’d consider it a godsend as most would. It is merely a minor blow to his ego that won’t stop him from taking your maidenhead.

Silence hangs in the air and before words can even be exchanged, an older woman with dark gray hair advances forth to him. She claims to be your mother and apologizes for your insolence.

‘The blood runs too strong in her, m’lord,’ she grovels with deference, bowing her head with every word.

Good he thinks to himself I like them feisty. Daemon grins, glaring sideways at the young man next to you. He would be considered handsome by most standards, but he is green, just a silly boy without disposition to even protect his alluring little wife. He intends to ruin you for any other fellow tonight, so not even your juvenile husband will ever be able to satisfy you again.

He snickers with satisfaction as your mother offers to escort the pair of you to a suitable location where he might take up his rights. Daemon can’t help but soak up every curve of your face and body like a predator eying up his next meal as she speaks, but you look on the verge of tears, ready to break at the thought of being torn away from your silly little wedding festivities.

“Might I freshen up first, My Prince,” you say, your civility barely held in tact through grit teeth.

“King,” he reminds you, furling his brow. This girl will be nothing but trouble. It will be best to break her swiftly. He then shakes his head non-nonchalantly. “And there is no need. You are already quite pristine and lovely in your wedding gown. I will take my claim now.”

You fluster, your cheeks growing impossibly red with embarrassment at not just the mention of his intent, but your own indignity as well. “My King,” you acknowledge his correction. “Allow us to ready the chambers for a man of your caliber. My marital bed is far too simple…” you continue prattling on. He isn’t really listening anymore though, instead focusing on the plump of your lower lip and how it might feel wrapped around his cock.

He also can’t help but notice how you sound much more proper than your mother, than most commonfolk really, and wonders if your Valyrian contributor has paid for your tutelage as well. You strike him as someone who has been overindulged in your life, treated as a lady of distinction. It would certainly explain your bratty attitude.

“I am not against the amenities of the commonfolk,” he offers indifferently. “As long as there is a clean surface, it will do.” It’s not like he hadn’t fucked in some of the filthiest brothels on the Street of Silk back in King’s Landing. At least there weren’t many rats in Dragonstone.

‘Oi, aell take ye to me own dwelling, m’lord,’ your mother is spouting now. ‘It aes clean, Ae wash the linens m’self.’

“Nonsense.” A man with well-kept clothes is now stepping forward and Daemon believes he recognizes him as the innkeep. He offers his finest suite for the union of Daemon and his freshly wed dragonseed maiden.

Gods, it’s good to be king.

Daemon can’t help but chuckle smugly at the look of absolute dread on your face. You think you’re so special, too important to be fucked by a king apparently. He was going to enjoy showing you otherwise.

His grip has not left your upper arm and it now tightens as he nods to the innkeep, accepting the proposition for a room. The man leads the way and Daemon follows, dragging you along with him and reveling in the way you peer back with sad lamb eyes at your newly minted husband. There is something so deliciously satisfying in tearing you away from that whelp of a lad, in taking what belongs to another simply because he can. It spoke to the primal side of him, the dragon within that would snatch up whatever it pleased without concern for morality.

He desires you now and he would soon have you whether you liked it or not. Rhaenyra had cowed him for far too long and now he’s going to reclaim his manhood, his brutal nature, by taking your bloody virtue on the head of his cock. For the bedroom was just as fierce as any battlefield and Daemon was a seasoned veteran of both arts.

Daemon’s stride is long and resolved as he jerks you closer to his side. You’re reluctant to be close to him, but finally heed the warning and match his pace as you both enter the tavern which also serves as the inn. Upstairs, the balding innkeeper opens the door and ushers Daemon into his freely provided chambers, with his unwilling maiden shuffling in beside him.

The room is quite nice for what it is. Accommodations for peasant folk were typically a mix of ramshackle furniture and blankets with patched holes in them, if the mattress had linens at all. This chamber is simple, but the furniture looks as though it were hand-crafted in town. The bed is very obviously carved by a skilled carpenter and topped with a red blanket as though it were actually a fine establishment.

“This will do nicely,” he nods to the innkeep. Even though Daemon knows he is not expected to offer compensation as an esteemed guest, he let’s you go from his grasp momentarily to fish a coin from his purse, and places it in the man’s hand. “My thanks,” Daemon offers plainly with a dismissive nod, declaring his desire to be left alone with his prize.

“My pleasure, My King,” the innkeeper says with an overzealous bow as he closes the door behind him, finally leaving Daemon alone with you.

You stand there looking like a stunned baby bird who has just fallen from the nest. Your hands are clasped together in front of your stomach as though that might defend you from his designs.

He smirks at you with a pointed laugh as he draws close. Daemon apprises you thoroughly, circling you like a beast as he takes in every sign of weakness, every swallow, every carefully withheld whimper.

“You know what will happen, girl?” he finally breaks the silence as he comes to a stop right behind you.

“Y-yes,” you answer unenthusiastically. The tremulous tone of your voice both excites and amuses him.

Daemon’s hands reach out to your waist then, finding the laces that hold your bodice tightly in place and he begins to untie them. You turn rapidly on your heels to face him, trying in vain to halt his advances. He can’t help but growl at your defiance as he tugs you against him, his grip like a biting jaw on your pliant body.

Grinning wickedly, he glares into your eyes, leaning in so closely that his forehead is against yours and his hot breath is in your face.

“I’m going to take you, little one,” his voice is filled with violence, his tone rough and dangerous. “You will give yourself readily or we can take the difficult path. But, I promise you would not like how brutish I can be. Especially considering how sore you will be once I take your maidenhood.”

Your expression contorts with hatred and insubordination as resignation tries to take root, but ultimately you refuse to budge. He has not broken your spirit yet, but he knows he soon will. Daemon hopes to avoid being truly cruel to you, that is unless you remind him of his fucking wife by being so gods damned obstinate. Then he might just be forced to take his impotence out on you.

“Or maybe…” he continues with a sardonic twitch of his brow. “Maybe since you’re behaving like such an ungrateful bitch, I’ll just fuck you hard and deep until I spill seed in your unspoiled little cunt. I might even keep you here all day, perhaps all night. I have not wet my cock for at least a moon’s length and I am wont to gorge myself in you.”

Your breath hitches at his menacing coercion and tears begin to well in your eyes. It doesn’t bother him, in fact he thinks you might look even more attractive when you’re crying. Most importantly, you nod subtly as you finally understand the truth of your situation, that he has conquered your rebuffs and brought you low before him. You should be much more compliant now.

Daemon presses a kiss against your cheek, relishing the taste of your fear and the way your body tenses in his arms. “Good girl,” he states in a calmer voice.

He swiftly turns you around again, his fingers moving deftly to work the laces of your corset free. You are sobbing quietly and even though he relishes the idea of making you submit, of seeing your eyes red and swollen as you take him to the hilt, it’s becoming tiresome to hear as he undresses you.

“Would you cease with all that incessant blubbering?” he chides you with palpable irritation. He pulls at your laces, then the fabric of the bodice, going back and forth to loosen it enough so he remove it from your body.

“I’m scared,” you peep. “That you will hurt me.” You’re reminding him of a bird once more, perhaps a little chick with no wings to fly, sniffling and pathetic as you accept your fate.

Daemon lets out an exasperated sigh. He would almost rather you be angry and spiteful than sniveling like this. He should have known to use a different tact, but he’s been out of practice for quite some time. He now sees with clarity that you’d be far more susceptible to seduction rather than brute force, but his anger with Rhaenyra had him on edge.

He places his hands on each of your shoulders and cranes his neck forward until his lips meet the spot below your right ear. You jump as he presses a gentle kiss against your skin, his fingers reaching over and caressing along your collarbone. He can feel you relax considerably with his shift in behavior and takes the opportunity to slide the sleeves of your dress down your arms.

“You need not be scared, little bird,” he whispers into your flesh as he leaves another kiss wet against the base of your neck. “I have bedded many a maiden in my time, and I assure you that I am a far more experienced and skillful lover than that untried boy you call husband.”

You swallow with difficulty and then your whole chest heaves upward as you let out a shaky breath. He is not sure if you’re still apprehensive about the pain involved in the act itself or if you dislike hearing him speak ill of your new spouse. It matters not, for Daemon knows he is best suited to tend to your needs on this day, and he will deliver you swiftly from your pain if you serve him well. He could also make it much worse than it has to be if you don’t.

But for the moment, you’re obliging him, not even resisting as he slips the sleeves of your dress off of your hands and they fall to your side. He groans at the pale skin bared to him, feverish at the thought of groping those large tits of yours without the restraint of any bindings.

“I know how best to alleviate your discomfort, my dear,” he continues, his breath tickling your skin. “I know how to hasten you to pleasure.” Daemon sucks teasingly at the lobe of your ear and delights as you shiver and goosebumps break out across the exposed flesh peering out from your low neckline. He is getting so eager now, craving the way you’ll squirm beneath him as he touches you, as he claims you.

He rocks the slackened bodice down over your waist, wiggling it from side to side until it clears your hips and the entire gown finally falls to the floor in a heap. You still don a sleeveless cloth chemise underneath that goes down past your knees, but the fabric is so thin that he can see the outline of your figure right through it.

Daemon feels the hairs on the back of his neck bristle as his cock bulges painfully against his breeches. He’d been so caught up in taming you, so fervent at the thought of plundering your shores, that he hadn’t even realized how much he was aching for you.

With a surge of fist and cord, his trousers are on the ground and he practically tears his braies off so he can press his throbbing length against you sooner. Being liberated from his smallclothes leaves his member free to prod the valley of your arse, and he yanks you back tightly against his chest with a grunt that makes you chirp. You are his sweet, helpless baby bird, ready to be devoured by the fox.

As though pulled by an invisible force, his hands are already snaking around to your front catching your breasts, one in each hand as he kneads them forcefully. You let out a strangled cry of distress as he tweaks your nipples firmly and Daemon’s eyes roll up at the supple, yet dense give of your breasts.

“By the old gods,” he rasps out, looking over her shoulder at the beautiful sight below of cleavage and ample bosom turning in his grip. “These are surely sacred treasures befitting a king.”

He has to feel you without the interference of meddling fabric, needs to see your breasts in all their splendor, to touch-taste-suck them until you cry out. A growl erupts through his nasal cavity and he abruptly yanks your shift down your shoulders, ripping the straps in the process of revealing your remarkable tits.

Seeing your exposed bosom, Daemon grinds his cock into your arse with arousal, his restraint faltering with the promise of you. He spins you towards him, walking backwards to the bed and drawing you by the hands with him. He glances up to see the uneasy expression on your face, the blush in your cheeks as you allow him to lead you. His cheekbones rise and his brow furrows slightly, regarding you with discernment and maybe a sense of pride as you walk bravely forward.

Daemon decides after brief consideration, that he likes you this way: vulnerable, yet courageous. The thought is fleeting as he hits the edge of the bed and sits down without hesitation, tugging you close until you are standing in the space between his parted thighs. Your tits are right in his face now, just where he wants them.

With an aggressive pull, he wrenches the shift from your body, laying you completely bare to him. He doesn’t even know where to begin, so much pale and youthful skin to take in that it makes him absolutely ravenous. Daemon’s hand reaches behind your back, holding you in place as he practically inhales your breast into his mouth. You writhe in his embrace, trying to back away from the intensity of his hungry maw to no avail as his strong arms keep you effortlessly in place.

He nips at the stiff peak, relishing the way you jump in response. Daemon’s hand slides downwards, cupping your round, tight ass with a squeeze. He leans back, taking in the view for a moment as he licks with the point of his tongue around your pale pink areola. He switches to the other beautifully pliant tit, tracing a line with his tongue across the valley of your breasts.

Daemon sucks hungrily at your nipple, palming the other with fanatical tenacity. He can feel your body wanting to withdraw, the way it pushes for more and pulls back at the same time, yet your feet remain firmly planted. He’d praise you for being so mannerly if his mouth weren’t full with your delicious tit at the moment.

He can feel his pulse pounding throughout his cock, standing erect between his legs and starving for any attention it can get from you. He relinquishes his grip on your breast, daring an attempt at getting you to relieve his torment as he clutches your hand and brings it down. Your hand retreats backwards, not wishing to participate, but Daemon is firm with you, guiding you to wrap your little bird wings around his engorged member.

Tepid, featherlight fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his too-fat-with-blood cockhead, and he lets loose a growl against the slope of your chest. “Fuck,” he hisses, sucking air through his teeth as you reluctantly touch him. At this point, his sexual deprivation paired with the immense lust he feels for you makes even your untrained pawing feel flawless in execution.

He’s quickly reaching the point of no return, his carnal urges so great that he knows he must have you soon. Daemon’s fingers lower to your tight little cunt, checking to see how ready you are for his impending intrusion. A knowing grin spreads across his cheeks as he feels the silken wet state of your folds.

“Mmm,” he pulls off of your nipple, peering up at you with violet eyes full of mischief. “Are you holding back how much you desire me, little bird? You naughty thing. What will your husband think?”

You flush red and while he was hoping to see indignation, he’s not displeased with the look of yearning present instead. Had he actually managed to ensnare you with the capable way he handled your body? Had he charmed you into his grasp when it seemed impossible you might actually enjoy yourself? Your silence is complicity as far as he is concerned.

Daemon smirks up at you deviously before switching back to your left breast, his tongue dancing across the tender nub as his fingers test and prod at your entrance. He doesn’t feel a solid membrane, but one that has already been teased on multiple occasions, likely coaxed from the efforts of the wanton little dragonseed herself. He could take her virtue with very little pain and she might even find pleasure in the act.

Dragging creamy nectar up from your heat, he holds your hood back, pressing his middle finger to your swollen pearl with a light, circular motion. You jolt into him, leaning forward as though your knees might buckle with even the slightest of coaxing from his touch.

He does not relent, continuing his attentions to both of your breathtaking breasts as he caresses the peak of your sex with practiced grace. You begin to whine, flinching your shoulders with every nip and suck of your tender nipples, your body becoming overly sensitive with his continued ministrations.

Daemon can feel the tension in your body rising and knows that you are ready for him. And not a moment too soon, he muses to himself, lest he lose his fucking mind with desperate need of you.

He stands up suddenly, gently walking you back a couple steps. He then picks you up into his arms with one fluid motion before depositing you with careful precision onto the bed. You look up at him with big eyes, dilated black with arousal as he climbs on top of you.

“You are a sight to behold, dear girl,” he says hoarsely, his voice heavy with desire. “I will not regret this joining and nor should you.” You look bewildered, a flurry of emotions all rolled into one, acutely aware and fuzzy at the same time.

For the first time, Daemon kisses you, and the feeling is like molten lava blazing through his heart and pooling in his gut. His cock is hard and threatening against your thighs, seeking entry with every jerk and twitch. His tongue sinks through your parted lips, dipping into the heat of your mouth, wanting to consume you whole.

He parts from your lips with an intake of breath, declaring gruffly, “You know that you belong to me now?”

With your quiet acceptance, Daemon positions his head at your core, pressing in just enough to fit snugly against your entrance. Leaning down once more, he cradles your back in his arms and presses another kiss to your lips. He needs to keep you distracted, his tongue dancing with yours, keeping you from dwelling too long on unavoidable pain. Gods knew, the feel of your passionate kiss was enough to divert his attention away from all meaningful thought besides the easing of your hurt.

Without warning, Daemon thrusts into you, breaking through your virtue as he holds you tightly. You cry out in startled agony as his length enters you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes at the sudden flash of pain. He holds position within you, soothing you with hushed whispers and gentle kisses through the worst of it.

As he thought, you are not upset for long, within moments already wiggling your hips around his swollen cock and hungry for more. He can’t help but grin with smug satisfaction at the way your body begs for more without speaking any words. Daemon will give you exactly what you crave. In fact, he loves how quickly you’ve become his little bird, his sweet harlot, forsaking your new husband for him in no more than a hand’s width of daylight.

He winces as he begins to move again; the way your cunt clings to his intruding cock for dear life is almost too much to bear. Daemon pulls back slightly to take you in and is not disappointed by the way your pretty lips are spread and panting out quick breaths of ecstasy. He had not lied to you, he’d certainly been with his fair share of maidens. None have come close to matching the beauty of your deliverance from chastity. You take to his girth with aplomb, to the act of love-making with a passionate, melodious abandon.

Daemon would watch your blissfully lurid expression, listen to your dulcet of sinful delectation, all day if he could. But, it’s not long before he can tell that your little cunny is going to give him trouble. If it hadn’t been so long since the last time he knew a pleasure better than his fucking hand, he might be able to deal with you. But, you are so fucking tight and he’s so wound up, that he opts to go out with a clash of smacking flesh. If he cannot make you peak this time, then he most certainly will on the next try, and he will most certainly take you again.

Your lilting moans drive him closer to the edge, pushing him faster than he’d like. Rearing up onto his knees, he clutches your hips tightly and spreads you across his lap. Daemon desperately tries to push you along to your climax, knowing it will be a race that he is likely to lose. He’s not expecting the intense response you give him or the way your hips buck as he coaxes your pearl to completion.

His eyes widen in disbelief, wincing as your pelvis seizes and you clamp down on him with a force so powerful it undoes him. “Fuccccking Hells!” he growls out sounding like a gruff animal as your walls milk his seed forth. Daemon’s member pulses violently, your muscles finally letting up only to begin rolling in waves across his length. “Gods fucking damn, girl!” he steadies himself against the bed, almost falling on top of you in the process.

His release lurches through his body, demanding and powerful as he erupts into you. He is faintly aware of the way your chanting with delight, muttering something incoherent while your small hands remain fastened to his back, holding onto him. The overwhelming rush finally passes and he is left feeling weak, breathless, but oh so fucking good.

Daemon wilts onto you, pressing a contented kiss against your lips. He’s not entirely surprised, but is still pleased when your hands find the back of his neck, deepening the kiss with vehemence. He feels the musculature of your inner lining contract upon his cock again and shakes his head as he parts from your lips.

“No. No more of that,” he gripes, still too sensitive to take that kind of abuse.

He recoils as he withdraws from you, unable to believe how big his cock looks, not fully hard, but still excessively fat considering. Daemon lies down beside you, wrapping his arm behind you and pulling you close.

You come willingly, cuddling into the crook of his arm as your hungry fingers roam about his jerkin.

And then it dawns on him, that in his impatience, he never even bothered to fully disrobe. He dutifully unfastens the clasps on his leather vest, displacing you for a moment as he tosses it aside and tears off his doublet.

“There,” he says with confidence. “Now you can have the full show.”

You laugh, a mirthful sound that makes his heart ache in a good way. Gods, he had really needed to get in a good plowing. He can feel all of his anger and tension melting away as he takes you back into his arms.

“So? Was it all bad?” he asks, fishing for compliments because he loves to hear them. He’d especially welcome them from a stubborn creature such as yourself.

Quietly, you shake your head, seeming at a loss for words. He could understand. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time. He’d essentially stolen you from the path you’d been traveling, plucked you up for himself without your say so. Daemon wouldn’t prod you to talk about it now that his appetites were sated, wouldn’t tease you about your husband now that he had claimed you fully.

He raises a brow as you speak unexpectedly, listening intently for your first real words since he’d imposed himself upon you.

“It was enjoyable,” you answer respectfully, your lusting eyes betraying your true feelings as your hands rove over his now bare chest, eager for more.

“Only enjoyable, little bird?” he decides to tease you a little bit, just for fun.

That mellifluous laugh returns, making him smile genuinely as he gazes upon you. Daemon strokes your back, relishing in the warm plushness of your skin as he settles into bed.

“Why do you keep calling me little bird?” she asks instead of padding his ego. “I am a dragon just as you… Am I not?”

His whole face lights up with a self-satisfied smirk. “Oh, are you a dragon now? I thought you were just a little bird.”

“I am a seed,” you contend with him, far more seriously than he expects you should. “I am of your line too.” You run your fingers into your disheveled hair, twirling cornsilk strands as evidence.

“Well, yes, but you are not quite a dragon. It’s true you have wings and the means to fly, but that does not make a dragon, my delicate little bird,” he cannot help but say it with a mocking tone, enjoying your reactions too much to let it go.

You dare a fearless smack at his chest, indignant and pouting. He would normally kill someone for laying hands on him in any manner of disrespect, but Daemon does not mind it from you in this moment.

“Perhaps, you do have some fire in you yet,” he taunts you with amusement. You look at him wide eyed as though he’s about to admit that you are a dragon just as he is. You make this too easy. He chuckles as he continues to rib you, “I’ll call you my firebird then. I think that suits you nicely.”

Daemon’s brow winks with humor as you take another swing at him. He holds your arms down to your sides as he pulls you on top of him. He let’s you go as your annoyance settles, regarding you fondly as he tucks loose tresses of silvery hair behind your ears.

“I hope you know that I’m going to come back for you again and again, my little firebird,” he utters in a lower tone, his voice taking on a more serious quality now.

You give him a twisted look of both gladness and remorse, your mind unable to decide whether this is a good or a bad thing.

“Do you care for your husband?” he asks earnestly, not pleased with the idea of another man laying hands on you. “I can conscript him to the queen’s army if you wish to free yourself from him. You need only ask.”

You look torn, but he can tell you’re considering his words carefully. “He is not a bad man as far as I know. The marriage was selected by my mother, my husband earns a living well enough to pay my way.”

It bothers Daemon to hear you call the man your husband, even if it’s true. He considers killing the man masquerading as your groom for you should undoubtedly belong entirely to him and no other.

“Paying your way will no longer be an issue. I will ensure that you are financially supported from this day forth, but I will not give you up,” he hears the words spilling from his mouth and feels like an old fool. He’d celebrated too many namedays to be spewing this lovesick shit? He couldn’t help it though. You stoked a fire inside of him that made him feel alive and vibrant, he needed to keep burning with you.

“I appreciate that,” you offer with a small, but hesitant smile. “I’m sure my mother will be thrilled. She has always tried to make sure I’m well looked after. It’s unfortunate you could not find me a day sooner. I’m not sure how to face him now,” she says with a trembling lip. “He will expect to bed me. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. It would make me nothing but a whore.”

“Hush,” Daemon says disagreeably. “Don’t say such things.” He finds himself cradling your sweet head against his chest, hating how true your words are and that he is the one responsible for your situation. He must make it his own responsibility to free you from it then.

“I’ll pull you to castle staff then,” he offers, grasping at possible solutions. It would not be wise to tempt Rhaenyra’s wrath under her own roof, but it would be a means to separate you from your husband at least temporarily, until something more lasting could be devised. There were many positions that would keep you far from his wife’s vicinity as well, if she would even notice that he had taken a lover to begin with.

He might also simply murder the bastard and be done with it, but it might be nice to have you close by in Dragonstone too for opportunistic dalliances.

You begin to protest the idea of going to work at the castle, but he won’t hear any of it and interrupts you. “I will give you a choice then, in recompense for what I’ve taken from you. Will you stay with me, little firebird, or with your husband?” He peers at you with thoughtful bluish-red irises, waiting to hear your answer. He has already decided that he will abide by whatever ruling you make, at least for a time. If you wish to bed your husband as well as him, then that will be your prerogative.

“I do not wish to stay with my husband,” you say quicker than he anticipated.

“Well,” he practically gloats with a mischievous grin. “You’ll be coming home with me then.” Daemon presses a happy kiss against your lips, the sight of your bosom sinfully crushed against his chest sends a pang of desire to his cock, signaling it for action. “But, we might as well make good use of the room first. It was graciously afforded to us after all.”

Daemon reaches down to grip your hips, letting forth a hiss of air as he positions you on his already rigid length. You, his little firebird, would be keeping his flame kindled all this day and perhaps all night as well, with many more to follow. You were his now, born from a threat and remade into a promise that he intended to keep.