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youandtom2 · 11 months

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Request if you want it: Tom is playing at a golf event and reader is a journalist there. She absolutely can't stand him, because she finds out he is quite arrogant and full of himself. They go after each other throughout the whole day with sarcastic remarks. But somehow (you can fill in the details) Tom seduces her by the end and he gets her on her knees and he totally dominates her, making her choke and gag. And he embarrasses her by making her feel his muscles and beg to suck him off and he boasts about how easily he got her in the palm of his hand. :P

(14/07/22) brain go brrrrrrrrrrr THIS REQUEST!!!!

a/n (28/06/23): This was a request that was sent in and one that I had started last year that I really wanted to finish. Apologies to the anon who sent this in and waited for it whoops. This was supposed to be short but I clearly don't fucking know what short means so here's like 7k or something???

Anyway here's 'A Word for the Youth Diary?' Shitty title I know but I literally can't think of anything else.

MASTERLIST

"The weather is absolutely gorgeous here at St. Andrews' Castle Course, celebrating the first 'Pro Amateur' charity competition where a host of celebrities, socialites or anyone with a keen passion for golf can compete. A number of spectators have gathered around the course, eager to soak up the buzzing atmosphere, the scenic landscape and the presence of Hollywood stars, all in the views of the warm Scottish sun. Now that's something I never expected to say!"

The red light of your recorder dims as you press pause on your commentary. You made the switch to recorder a few years back when journalism became too close to drowning in a number of scribbled, illegible notes written far too quickly. Now it is a simple case of pressing record and pressing pause.

Of course, wherever there is a flock of celebrities congregating in the one area for the week, there will always be flock of paparazzi and journalists close by, each with the same agenda. It usually feels like mission impossible to get a word in with a celebrity or document anything of note or interest when there's a wall of other journalists blocking your way, but today those things won't be a problem. Because you’re not going after who may probably be the most coveted celebrity here. Tom Holland.

You don't quite don't know where it stemmed from; your strong dislike towards Tom Holland. In all honesty, your hatred towards him is very self-inflicted, but there's something about his ego that paints him in a very arrogant light. He knows he's hot shit with the press, he knows everyone fancies the man, he knows that his many talents has sky-rocketed him up the societal ladder and onto the throne of the rich and wealthy. What makes him double as frustrating than he is arrogant is that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's Hollywood's golden boy; ever the humble, handsome, kind, charity-giving actor that has claimed the hearts of many across the world. It's what makes your hatred towards him completely unjustified, so while no one shares the same view as you, there is some things you can do to quietly preach your opinions.

"First to arrive at the course is the notable Tom Holland, waving to the crowd with a smile, loving the attention as ever. Although I'm not sure that his mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire will receive the same compliments!"

The smirk on your lips lasts for the majority of the day as you talk incessantly into your recorder. Your goal isn't necessarily to shit on Tom, only when the opportunity presents itself of course, like when he swung the golf club at an awkward angle, sending the ball straight over the forest and into the sand bunker.

"Oooh, what a poor shot from Tom Holland. He'll be disappointed with that one. Perhaps leaning towards the 'amateur' side of the competition in comparison to some other competitors. Tom Holland yet again teaching us a valuable lesson in life; just because you're a pro at one thing doesn't mean you're a pro at everything else."

The crowd politely applauded and off he went with his caddie. While others followed, you choose to stay rooted while you wait for Mark Wahlberg to walk up to the tee. He's who you've been waiting for all afternoon. Getting a word in with him would set you up for the highlight of your career.

"Mark! Over here! Mr. Wahlberg! A word for the Youth Diary? Mr. Wahlberg!"

As it seems, Mark calmly maneuvers way past the wall of journalists, paying them, and you, no mind and strolls over to the starting point. Damn. You have to get a word with him somehow.

"Mark Wahlberg takes a mighty swing and thrashes the golf ball high into the air, and the crowd watches in astonishment as it sails its way over towards the green, a hair's breadth away from perfection as it rolls upon the hill. A round of applause circles around Mark as he proudly walks on with the confidence of a man who's set on winning this competition."

As the hours tick by, you find yourself without any luck. Those first few minutes of the competition were stuck in a loop, constantly experiencing deja vu of having to witness Tom Holland's unlucky shot followed by being ignored by Mark Wahlberg. You haven't had one decent interaction with anyone yet. Things are getting a little desperate.

You even begin to understand why the majority of journalists are following Tom Holland like a lost flock of sheep; he's very chatty. He stops at every turn to give his narration on his own playing, offers a brief insight to the projects he is currently working on, and if he likes you, even spill some of the secrets of his private life. It's a journalist's dream, one that you haven't even had the taste of yet since Mark Wahlberg is as accessible as the vaults of the Bank of England. Anyone with common sense would advise you to follow the crowd and ignore your bias towards him and just interview Tom Holland if it means you have something worth printing.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Not a chance. He gets enough attention as it is.

"Mr Wahlberg! A word on your new film? Could you tell us about Uncharted! Mark! Over here!"

Not even a glance is spared your way in yet another attempt to get his attention. From your left, a voice emerges. A fellow reporter sidles himself next to you, away from the crowd that follows Tom Holland. You spot the Sky Sports label wrapped around his microphone.

"He doesn't like to speak much to the press. Thinks that he'll say something and they'll twist his words," he sympathies. It's genuine, obvious that he too has been caught up in the same frustration you've been facing all afternoon. At least he has a little more insight as to why you haven't gotten a word from Mark.

"Yeah, I figured. It wouldn't hurt just to say hello and have a small chat. What could the press twist about that? If anything, I think he's damaging his reputation by not saying anything. It's rude, y'know?"

He nods his head in agreement, but the sigh he blows doesn't seem to match. "You have to let it go though. They're not obliged to tell us anything. This is just a day out for them, they're not getting paid so why should they have to say anything about their work? It's just our luck whether they choose to talk to us."

"Ugh, I guess you're right, but I still need something for my article."

"Sky Sports has had lots from Tom. Why don't you try your luck with him? He seems to be a lot chattier than Mark. I don't know much about film journalism, only sports, so I don't know what it is you're looking for. But if you ask him anything, I'm sure he's willing to provide."

You look to him with contempt in your eyes, your lack of smile instantly shuts down his suggestion.

"I appreciate the suggestion but no. He's too easy. Think of how many journalists are here desperate to get a word in about sports, golf, acting, celebrity personal lives, all that show biz. If everyone shared the one source, audiences wouldn't bother reading them all because they all be the same, boring stuff. Think about it. If you, and 30 other journalists had the chance to interview Ronaldo, you would all take it because after all its Ronaldo. The only downside would be that you would then have 30 articles all saying the same thing and audience getting bored after reading 1. Now think about having the chance to interview Messi. It would be hard but total payout if you got it. Plus, you would stand out from the rest and that's what would gain audiences' attention."

Once again, the reporter sighs. "Look, kid. I've been in this job for 20 years and I've learned that sometimes you just have to cut your losses. If your objective is to get something to write about for your article, then you should do it however and whatever way you can, doesn't matter who the source is. If your objective is to get something from Mark Wahlberg specifically? Then you should scrap the whole article and try again. Something is better than nothing."

"I refuse to take anything from Tom Holland."

"Suit yourself. Good luck. Oh, by the way, I think you're still recording. Wouldn't want you to get your chance with Mark only to realise you have no storage left on your recorder."

You mumble a weak thanks and remember to press the pause button on your recorder. The reporter saunters away back towards the crowd, your only indication of knowing where Tom Holland is. You consider it for a second, but determination drives you away, following Mark to the next hole.

~~~~

It's all to play for in the final hole with only two possible candidates capable of winning the trophy. Currently sitting in the lead is the elusive, mysterious Mark Wahlberg, strolling casually along to the final hole with his team behind him. Ah, and of course, next in line is Tom Holland soaking up the attention as he strings along behind Mark Wahlberg like an apprentice would their mentor. It's not clear whether the confidence he walks with is a poorly executed imitation of his acting mentor ahead of him, or whether it is a man deluded with besting him. All will be revealed within the hour.

It's well into the evening of the Pro Amateur competition and the luck that reporter wished you earlier has yet to find you. With the final hole well underway, you're starting to think that it never will. So far, you've gotten a few short, curt answers from other celebrities here but nothing near the sustenance your article needs. If only Mark could stop being so stubborn.

"One at a time please guys, one at a time." Tom's smug, arrogant tone of voice emerges from behind you and not too soon after, tens of other voices asking him questions. As he makes his way nearer, so do the swarm of people and in an attempt to get out of the way, you're stampeded by the press. Bumped, shoved and pushed, you struggle to find your balance and fall precariously on your knees with your equipment tumbling from your bag. In all honesty it didn't hurt, but what an inconvenience picking up all your bits and bobs. Ugh it's all his fault.

Before you do anything irrational and say something you shouldn't, you pack up your stuff and walk away.

The competition concludes with a twist that no one was expecting. With a gust of wind getting the better of Mark Wahlberg, it earned him a double bogey and cost him the trophy, annoyingly snatched up by Tom who achieved victory with a birdie. You seethe at the sight of Tom holding up the golden trophy, soaking up the champagne that his teammates spray all over him and hearing the applause from everyone, even you as a slow, lethargic clap rings from your hands. All to just to keep up the pretence of 'liking him' of course. Ugh, why did he have to win?

After a day of being the lone ranger in a journalists mission, you concede to following the crowd into the conference room where many like you await behind a wall of microphones and a valley of cables to hear from today's competitors. And Mark Wahlberg is one of them. This might be your chance to get a question in. Quick! Where's your recorder?

Fuck. It's not in your bag. Where is it? You rummage through your bag again and it's definitely not there. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where could it be? Did you lose it when you fell over? Has it been stolen? Fuck, you really need that!

You have no other option but to record from your phone and in your quiet, subdued panic, you try your best to catch anything he has to say. The quality isn't great and it's picking up outside noise to the point that articulation has no place on your recording. Sweating at the loss of some expensive equipment and valuable content, your phone drops and the clatter of it paints a mountain on its waveform, rendering the recording useless. Fuck, if you hadn't lost your recorder.

People start to look at you in your fluster and your legs starts bobbing erratically. The attention is too much and it's exactly why you prefer to stay behind the microphone and not in front of it. You have to leave. At the next possible opportunity, you end your recording and begin to make your way through the aisle, apologising profusely to the other journalists who wait for Tom Holland to make an appearance.

You just about make the double doors of the conference room when you hear Tom's voice welcoming the room.

"Before I start, I wanted to check to see if this was anyone's recorder..."

Everything about you stops dead in its tracks; your feet, your heart, your breathing, your entire existence. Nervously, you spin around to spot Tom Holland holding your recorder in his hands, fingers fluttering around its buttons. How the hell did he get his thieving hands on it?!

A pit opens up in your stomach at the dreaded thought of having to announce yourself in front of everyone to claim it. But damn, you really need your recorder back.

Braving the nightmare, your hand raises half-heartedly into the air. "Uh...it's mine. Sorry, I must've dropped it."

Tom's deep brown eyes lock onto yours from the stage and he throws, what you think, a sickly smile before he offers up the most ridiculous idea. "I can set to record if you want. I can sit it riiiiight here." He sits it directly in front of him and sends you a sly wink. It's a spot any journalist would dream of having their microphone; right under their nose on the off-chance that anything muttered under their breaths or whispered discreetly would be picked up. Journalists are a sucker for secrets. Quite frankly, you don't care for his secrets, you don't care for his thoughts on today's events, and you really don't care for what he has to say at all.

But the only reason why you end up saying yes is because you care more about what people would think of you if you gave up an opportunity like that.

"Sure. Thanks."

You proceed to endure 15 minutes of Tom glorifying himself in front of the press. God, it's embarrassing. You could plainly hear the snide tone underneath the guise of 'self-evaluation'. Everyone seems to soak it up like a sponge, praising him for his insightful words and self awareness, writing nothing but positive words about the actor. Whatever. You wish you could drown him out but your paranoia is rooted to your recorder at his table, thinking the worst outcome as his fingers toying with its external case. What if he doesn't know how to work it and accidentally erases all you had from today? One slip up and it's gone. Your eyes constantly flicker from your recorder to him and no matter who he's speaking to or where he's looking, he always manages to catch your gaze.

Already outside your comfort zone, you audibly whimper when you see him lightly tap the little trash button at the end of the recorder, miles away from the stop, pause and play buttons that you would regularly use. You would only ever press that button with intention, it’s pretty to hard to press it accidentally. Even without knowing how to work the recorder, it doesn't take an idiot to know what that means, so watching Tom play with it tells you that he is whole-heartedly toying with you, enjoying the view of you panicking from his throne of sadism.

It's like he can sense your hatred towards him.

~~~~

"Thank you, thank you! Until next year!" Tom smiles as he walks off stage, your recorder in his clutch. The further he walks away, the faster you bob and weave through the crowd, feeling like you're fighting against the tide as it sweeps you out. Then, just as the room empties you reach the entrance to the backstage area in a relief, only to hit a brick wall that stands in your way between you and your highly coveted recorder.

"No press allowed backstage." A security guard towers over you.

"Tom Holland has my recorder. I'd like to get it back." You have no time for polite small chat, your request grumbling with agitation.

"Still can't allow you back--"

"You can let her through, Jim. It's alright." A young boy’s voice echoes from behind the wall.

The guard hesitantly lets you through, keeping you under his iron gaze while you slip through the narrow space he gives you. You are led out into a hallway with plaques decorating the hall, awards from winners of tournaments the venue has previously hosted, the newest addition being Tom's 'Pro-Amateur' plaque much to your distaste.

The boy you recognise as Tom's caddie leads you down this hallway, he hasn't said so much as a word to you as he confidently walks ahead. Now he's getting his assistant to fetch you? God, the arrogance!

"He's in here."

"Thanks," you quietly mutter. The door closes behind you, locking both you and the actor into the room. When you started the day bright and early this morning, you didn't think this was where you were going to end up. You couldn't have put money on it.

Although, you have to admit: despite putting your heart and soul into avoiding Tom Holland the entire day, this could be an exclusive for your article. Nobody else has had this opportunity, so why not take advantage of it?

Tom smiles as he greets you, carelessly tossing your recorder from hand to hand. You swallow nervously. "You are...?"

You respond with your name, who you report for, and make it abundantly clear that you would like to take back your recorder in one piece.

He approaches with a small, boyish chuckle like you just told a joke. "Sorry, I was just thinking," he casually says, "about how you once said you refuse to take anything from me."

What? Where did he hear...? Fuck. He listened to it. And that entire conversation you had with the Sky Sports reporter...

Your mouth drops. As does the anchor in your stomach.

"What was it you said again...?"

"You listened to it." He ignores you.

"Oh yeah, that my 'mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire wouldn't receive the same compliments'."

"You...listened to it all?" you reiterate once again. Your voice rings with all the inflections of a question, but you already know the answer. Unfortunately.

Tom's brows furrow inward.

"Honestly, I can overlook the fact you insulted my outfit, it doesn't bother me that much." There's a 'but' in his sentence. You're just waiting for it. You inwardly panic, trying to remember what else you said that would warrant that dreaded 'but'. Your shield of writer's anonymity has fallen; it's what protects you if you are to ever post negatively about a celebrity, but now that he knows your name and your face, you're left exposed.

"But..." There it is. And in a disbelief, he bites, "I'm too easy? Really?"

There's two ways you could go about this. Stand your ground and defend yourself, or dig yourself a grave and apologise.

Ha. Yeah right.

"I don't really think it was your place to listen to my recordings."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Should've minded your business if you knew what was good for you."

"You--" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, almost to contain himself and tries again. "You," he points accusingly, "are very...very lucky that you look as attractive as your voice sounds."

Your cheeks flush angrily. Safe to say, you're not used to anyone calling you attractive let alone Tom Holland, so in your fluster you have no idea how to respond. You don't know how to tame the flutter in your heart nor the fire in your stomach. Instead, you ignore it all and revert back to your original goal.

"Can I have my recorder back? Please?"

"In a minute." He swats his hand away from yours. High above your reach, you stand helpless as you watch his thumb crash land onto the record button, resuming from where it last left off. "I think that what you have about me in your article is a little bit too harsh. Why don't we start putting some positivity back in. I think you have it in you to pay me just one compliment. I did win the competition after all, I think it's deserved."

You laugh hysterically. The nerve of this guy! So conceited. "You don't deserve anything from me."

"C'mon. Just one. It's not that hard. I promise I'll give you your recorder back straight after."

Succumbing to his torment, your eyes roll over his features, his hair, his outfit and his body, trying to identify possible compliments that would meet his demands but yet wouldn't inflate his ego too much. What you don't anticipate is you're spoiled for choice.

Defeated, you sigh. "You...smell nice."

"Aw, c'mon. I said you were attractive and all you could think of was that I smell nice? Try a little harder."

"Hey, you said the deal was that I give you one compliment then I get my recorder back. Cough up, Holland."

A smug grin pulls at his lips. "I'm not satisfied. And I will give it back when I am satisfied."

Given that your hatred towards Tom Holland is now at least justified and not just self-inflicted, it means that it's twice as hard to sacrifice it all and compliment him like he so desperately wants you to, a complete betrayal to your own beliefs. But you NEED your recorder.

"You look strong."

"Elaborate."

"You clearly work out."

"What in particular?"

"Your arms."

"How can you tell?" He's really pushing the mark, overstepping it by miles with the dirty smirk he has on his face because he knows he is. You audibly grumble at the sight. Losing patience...

"They just looked particularly...muscular when you were swinging the golf club."

"Why don't you give them a feel and you can tell your readers how strong they really are in detail? I know you want to."

Is it bad of you to admit that you do want to feel them? Absolutely. Are you going to announce that to him? Absolutely not.

You don't move for a couple of seconds, your own conscience making so much noise inside your head that you can't make a coherent thought. A spark of adrenaline twitches at your hands, enough to catch Tom's eyes but it's not enough to swing it into force.

Quietly, slowly, he reaches for your hand and envelopes his fingers around yours, manipulating them to wrap around his upper arm. He makes sure to mold your fingerprints into his skin while he tenses, just to feel the sheer density of his muscles. His skin is warm, soft to touch but yet firm to grasp. While you become instantly fascinated, his glistening smile brightens in the corner of your eye. It's so quiet in the room that Tom hears the softest stutter of breaths and he feels like a winner all over again.

"Well?" He nods towards the recorder, its red button flashing. For the readers...

"Definitely..." you clear your throat. Why has your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? You retract your hand. "Definitely toned. Sculpted."

"If that's what you like then I should show you this..."

He takes your hand once again, its warmth holding you captive, and drags it all the way down to his torso. You can't pull your eyes away from how he sensually slips your hand underneath the hem of his shirt and weaves your fingers between the valley of his abs. Your fingertips skate over every sculpted ab of his, feeling the way they almost shiver at your cold touch.

Your fingertips aren't enough. Tom takes a step closer and your whole palm presses against him, almost too intimately for strangers.

Tom's head quirks to the side to get a better view of you. "Thoughts?" he asks, even though he can read them so clearly on your face. You're becoming entranced.

"...Holy shit," you whisper. "Um, yeah. Strong."

"For a woman who had a lot to say about me, you're certainly lost for words now."

As the heat rises and things escalate, neither of you diffuse the tension and the string of long, uninterrupted silence continues. Every minute that passes by is a precarious step over crossing boundaries and breaking every rule you have in your moral bible.

It forces you to suck in a nervous breath and hold it for a few seconds while you deliberate what the end goal is. Of course, it was to leave with your recorder but given your current position and your change of opinions, you're not so sure anymore. To be clear, your change of opinion isn't necessarily about Tom; you still think he's conceited, arrogant and incredibly vain, but it is what you do with that opinion that has changed. Before, you avoided him, stopped yourself becoming another little lost sheep and following him at every opportunity. Now? You're giving him every drop of attention you have to give.

Tom watches you intently while he silently introduces himself to your shyer nature, definitely not the same person that walked in here in a fit of rage and demanding for their recorder. The minute he meets that side of you, he knows exactly what to do next.

He drops his head as he drops his voice into his lower register, your hand feeling all the rumblings from his chest. "Want to be completely speechless?"

Fuck it. Sure you do. "Mm-hm."

"Good girl."

You aren't actually sure what he's planning to do so you look for intention in his eyes, but you see nothing but darkened caverns and devilish features. In fact, it's because you're looking into his eyes that you don't realise that he's grown hard underneath his straight grey trousers. Like before, he guides your hand fluidly underneath the waistband where the button pops out easily, and navigates you under the elastic band where he desperately shapes your fingers around him. He pulses underneath you, shaking with relief that he has you exactly where he wants you.

You dare not pull your eyes away from his, even as they droop in his pleasure. More so now that you admit how seductive they look. You try to mirror that same seduction with a small smile, moving your hand up and down his shaft independently.

Fuck, the more you move your hand, the more you think it's never going to end. Bluntly put, he's huge.

As a journalist, you should be eloquent with your words, careful in your choice of vocabulary, definitive with your metaphors, but all those years of reading and writing falters the second the sheer size of him stuns you. It slightly pains you to be so tasteless but nevertheless, you don't think there's any other way to put it.

So caught up in the heat of it, your common sense finally comes to once again acknowledge your recorder in his hand. You forgot he had been recording this entire conversation...

He brings it closer to his lips, seductively whispering directly into it. "Just like that..." He keeps going. "Doing such a good job - fuck - don't stop."

Encouraged, and progressively feeling turned on, you tighten your hand around his cock and move faster.

"How do I feel, sweetheart?" The microphone tilts towards you. Detail. Although at this point, you don't think it's for your readers as much as it is for you and Tom.

"So big. I almost can't fit my hand around you."

He very nearly buckled. That voice of yours is like a siren to him. Little do you know that when he found your recorder and listened to all of your little angry ramblings about him, it had sparked up a fiery, unavoidable desire inside him. It was hell having to listen to your voice talk shit about him, he just couldn't stand it. He needed to hear you compliment him, worship him, adore him, and he spent every spare minute of his day replaying your recorder, instilling your voice to memory until he could manipulate your words, imagining what they would say about him.

But now that he actually gets to hear you feed into his desire is twice the satisfaction than he initially thought.

As quick as lightning hits, an idea occurs to him and it completely devastates his entire system; if hearing you compliment him turns him on, how would having you beg for him make him feel? The idea becomes such an unstoppable craving he already knows his imagination won't be able to satiate it this time. He needs it for real and right now.

"You wanna taste?"

Doe-like eyes stare up at him - oh, you are so capable of begging him - and your movements come to a halt...all except your thumb sweeping over his tip. You didn't actually think this was going to go any further than a hand job.

"You want me to?"

Oh no, no, no. This isn't about Tom begging. "Because I know you want to. I can see how desperately you want to tell everyone how I allowed you to come backstage, meet me, get on your knees for me, how I allowed you to suck me off and how I allowed you to taste me." His hand slithers up your jawline and brings you close, leaving nothing but a hair's breadth to separate you. As you anticipate the feeling of his lips, you have but his breath fanning over yours and the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach to feed from. "You just need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Beg. It was hard enough to lose one battle and compliment him, but to lose an even bigger one and beg? You would be absolutely humiliated.

Would be meaning if it was under any other circumstance, if you weren't so spellbound and seduced by him. But that simply isn't the case.

Not uttering another word, you slowly drop to your knees keeping Tom with the wicked grin within your sights. The zipper of his trousers comes undone and you pull him free, watching as his cock stands tall and bobs heavily with weight. Instinctively, your tongue rushes to wet your lips.

"Beg." Tom demands again. The recorder soon comes back into your view and your jaw clicks with frustration. He's capturing every single word much to his demented, power-hungry mind.

You chew through your irritation and instead tune into the feeling that's bubbling in and around your stomach, the one that's being powered by him. "Please," you breathe. "Please, Tom, I wanna suck you off so badly, I promise I'll be good."

"And do you promise to never write a bad word about me ever again?"

Oh, this fucker.

"I prom-"

"Say it like you mean it."

How you so wish you could lie through your teeth, but you know for a fact that from now on, any bad word you write about Tom Holland will forever be tied with this day. You'll think twice about writing badly because being on your knees for him will get in the way. You'll struggle to find the words to knock him because the compliments you paid him will stain your lips. You'll hesitate to criticise him because you'll remember how you verbalised about his good looks.

"I promise. Just--just let me taste you." It's sad how desperate you sound. "Please?"

He doesn't respond. There's one last warning to give.

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart pounds. Despite being adamant in your dislike for Tom, you do somehow get the feeling that the threat that rings through his tone is not one to be taken lightly. It buzzes a little too seriously for you to brush over it. So you answer accordingly.

"Okay, I promise."

The threat dissipates and he looks at you approvingly, his empty hand dropping to cup your cheek. You aren't so unaware of the twitch of his cock in your hand. "I just want to make it clear and put on the record that out of the two of us..." Tom angles you closer, "it's you that's the easy one. Too easy. So easy that you're already on your knees and begging me."

How you would slap that grin clean from his face. The scowl on yours warns him of it, but he simply laughs, mocking you.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Admit it." His boyish chuckle continues to ring in the air and its contagious effect pulls at your lips despite trying to hide it. He sees clearly that it pains you to admit it, so as a small motivator, he crouches to your level, his hand still cradling your cheek. In quieter words, though still delivered through a smirk, he murmurs..."Be a good girl for me, yeah?" His lips melting onto yours stops you from getting the chance to reply. The surprise of it fogs up your brain, submitted into a dream-like state as he gently molds his lips onto yours. It's short and leaves you wanting more.

With a flutter of lashes, you nod. "Atta girl."

He stands up taller once again and you take that as your cue to fulfill your promise. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue darts to sweep over his tip. His groans can be heard above you and no doubt heard by the recorder, crescendoing the second your head starts bobbing. Your hand covers what your mouth can't reach, doing as much as you can to make him feel good. It seems to work; his hips begin thrusting. Slowly, at first, to swing into rhythm but the more you swallow him the less control he has of his own movements, and soon, with your hair wrapped tightly around his fist, he's rutting erratically, drinking in the sounds of your moans of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so good at that."

"Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Taking me so well. Good girl."

"Just like that, shit."

"Look how easy you are, fuck. So willing, aren't you? You wanted a word for your precious Youth Diary? Here it is; you are so easy it's pitiful. Fuck--"

Tom's animalistic nature completely dominates to the point where your tears and gags are silently begging to slow down. Every part of you is screaming out: your throat is bruising, your lips are tearing, your eyes are streaming, your knees are cramping, but holy fuck hearing him talk about you like that fuels the fire inside you.

His thighs twitch underneath your hands and you think he might just cum down your throat. The red-hot grip he has of your roots is your only warning before that happens.

Warmth fills your mouth and you're quick to swallow it down before you choke, like it’s instinct. He holds you hostage with his cock deep in your mouth, using you to string out the orgasm for as long as he can. Minutes later, you open your eyes to see Tom hunching over, still very much catching up to you in regaining his composure. His white fist grips the recorder while the other remains tangled through your locks, keeping you in place to prevent you teasing him any further.

When all seems settled, Tom lifts your chin once more - dabbing off the little drop you seem to have missed - and catches your gaze from behind the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You already know what he's going to ask of you and when he perches the recorder in front of you, he shoots you a wink.

"Detail." He simply says.

"Hmm, you taste so good, Tom. Best I've ever had. I could taste you all day."

At that moment, something snaps in Tom. The smirk drops and his jaw tenses. It's small, minute changes, but it dramatically changes the atmosphere in the room. You just don't know whether it's for better or for worse.

You find your answer when Tom's muscular arms promptly tuck themselves under your arms with vigour, yanking you up onto your feet. The clatter of your recorder steals your attention as Tom carelessly throws it onto a coffee table to his right; after all, he needs his hands to be free if he is planning on returning the favour. You should be complaining about his lack of regard for your equipment and how he could've broken it, but the red flashing light still shows sign of life, so you decide to overlook it for now. Besides, Tom doesn't give you long before he whips your head back to claim your lips, hungrily moaning into them as he forces his body weight against yours and slams you flat against the wall. The collision whips all of the air out of your lungs but it isn't what causes the gasp to jump from your throat. Tom's lips find your neck, suckling onto the supple skin with intentions to bruise, all to distract you from his hand slipping under your skirt. With ease, he palms your cunt, offering just enough of a tease to have you burning for more.

"I need to hear you say my name again with that voice of yours." Ah, so that's what triggered him.

"Tom," you mewl, almost purring.

"As sexy as that sounds, I think it will sound even better when you’re cumming for me."

Oh fuck.

It's frightening how quickly Tom is able to weaken you with just the deft touch of his fingers to your clit and punishing kisses to your neck. You try your best to soak it in and remain somewhat stable to remember every moment of it, but goddammit you can't keep yourself together. So much so that despite Tom claiming to adore the sound of your voice, for the sake of dignity, he keeps his hand clamped hard against your mouth. Neither of you want curious ears to overhear the scandal coming from within.

Never did you think that Tom's all-round talents included making a girl cum so easily. It's kind of frustrating.

His fingers circle around your clit, dragging and pulling every nerve he can find and it winds you up perfectly. Legs shaking, breath faltering, you suspect you have mere seconds before he takes your orgasm.

Your whines and moans buzz from behind Tom's hand, muffled and diffused. Eventually he lets go, and replaces his hand with his lips, once again thrashing against yours.

"You gonna cum for me?"

"Fuck, I--"

"Say my name. Beg me to let you cum."

"Tom, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum."

Two fingers slot themselves into you, his palm taking over pleasing your clit and you have to stop yourself from buckling. It is the last sign Tom needs to know that you're on the precipice of shattering. With a devilish twinkle to his eye and a crooked smile, he sinks closer to you, his lips narrowly brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers the word. "Cum."

In a similar fashion to Tom what seems like hours ago, you come undone. Your hands grip onto his shoulders for stability as he refuses to stop abusing your cunt. His fingers dig deeper, his hand moves faster, and the tight curl of his knuckle breaking you sends you spiralling.

The gut-twisting tension soon turns to tranquil bliss as he slows his movements, finally catching a breath to revel in the post-orgasm haze with a twitch or two catching you out.

For as egotistical as you believed Tom to be, with the grounding kisses he litters over your cheek, neck, lips, he completely negates that belief. He utterly dominated you, yet affection fuels his movements; something you don't expect a vain person to have. Maybe he isn't all you made him out to be...

Calmly, you both collect yourselves until you're presentable, standing apart within the room as if what just happened never happened. The heat of the room is all that's left to suggest otherwise.

Tom doesn't stop you from reaching for your recorder, the plastic rectangular object feeling like home in your hand. You firmly press the stop button, letting the audio file save before you address Tom again.

"Thanks for...y'know, keeping it safe. I genuinely don't know what I would've done if I lost it."

Tom smiles kindly. "It's no problem."

"Oh, and congratulations."

He nods humbly. "Thank you. I didn't actually think I was going to win it, but I guess luck was on my side." Huh. He's not bragging...

Settling your recorder into your bag, you begin to make your way out of the room. You hadn't realised how late it had gotten and how hungry you had became until your stomach grumbled loudly. As you take your cue to leave, Tom leads you out with a gentle hand to the small of your back and chills arise. Shit. Don't start liking him now...

Tom clears his throat before you completely disappear. "Will I be seeing you lurking about any other events this year?"

Something about his question makes you smile. "Maybe. I've got a few film premieres that I will be attending."

"Good. Well, if any of them include me, I'll make sure to review your work again." How his wink makes you weak.

"Hmm, we'll see, Tom Holland."

~~~~~

It takes you over a week after the golfing event to eventually find the courage to finish writing your article. Most of it is written from what you remember thinking throughout the day, but your work leaves much to be desired. All that's missing from the article can be found on your recorder that you have deliberately been ignoring knowing what filth it contains.

It takes a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night to find the bravery to listen to it once again. It all goes smoothly at first, words flow from your mind to your fingertips and your article slowly builds as your past self feeds you your own commentary from that day. You were going to stick with your original idea, deciding to keep in all your criticisms about Tom Holland because who's going to stop you?

But your valour is short lived. Because you've reach the end. When you think you have the finished product, a masterpiece of literacy for your readers to enjoy and you have nothing else to write. Just when you think you're about to press 'publish' that you reach that part of your recording that you just can't bring yourself to turn off.

Shit, it turns you on so much to hear Tom's voice once again demand that you promise to never write another criticism again and the way you caved so easily in your lust-induced state. Even listening to it makes you resonate with it all over again, resurrecting the same excitement and anxiety to stir in your stomach. It's a reminder that persuades you that you don't necessarily agree with what you write about Tom. It makes you reconsider all that you've just written, your finger hovering over the backspace button prepared to fix the promise you're about to break.

Fuck. It's such a good story. Probably one of the best articles you've written. Alas, with the disagreement going on in your head, you can't find it in yourself to commit to it. There's also the problem that if you are to post it, the privilege of writers' anonymity will no longer be in your possession. Tom does, after all, know your name and your face, and you are damn sure he will take the time to find it and read it. What unnerves you is that you have no idea what actions he might take. How could you forget that warning?

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

So there you sit with your empty glass of wine, chewing nervously on your nails while your eyes dry at the light of the screen you've been deliberating over for the last three hours. The question still remains.

What do you do?

#ngl the ending was a little rushed #cos this was way longer than i wanted it to be #oh well #enjoy!#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #golfer!tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x y/n #anon asks

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apomaro-mellow · 19 days

Text

Hot for Teacher(s) 10

Part 9

Shawn tried not to think too hard about his dad and his teacher dating. He knew his family was a little different than the others. Most people had two parents. But he’d never ask for his sire to show up. Never in a million years. He still remembered how bad it got.

It made him a little wary of Mr. Munson. He didn’t think he’d ever hit his father. But sometimes pain wasn’t physical. Even when Billy hadn’t put his hands on Steve, the yelling had been horrible too. But Steve had been in love. And there had been a time when Billy cared for him. He’d told Shawn so.

Shawn couldn’t believe it. People in love didn’t do that kind of thing. People in love did things like go out on dates, gave each other gifts and scented each other nicely.

Like how Shawn could smell Mr. Munson on his dad. He probably wouldn’t have been able to tell who it was if not by his powers of deduction. They’d been sitting on his bed, his dad reading him a bedtime story. He didn’t bring up the scent, or how it made him feel nice. He just hoped Mr. Munson would stay around a while.

“Are you and Mr. Munson in love?”

Steve fumbled with the basketball in his hands and Shawn used the opportunity to steal it from him and go for a shot. He missed, but getting a steal from his dad was still nice.

“He and I are…dating, as you know”, Steve said, grabbing the ball as it bounced his way. “I think it’s a little too soon to be using words like ‘love’.”

“He’s over here a lot”, Shawn said.

Steve didn’t know how much he should read into that. Was Shawn saying he didn’t like Eddie being around so much? Did he feel like someone else was taking time away from Steve? It was hard to tell with his son sometimes what he was thinking.

“How come you always make me go out when he’s over?”

“I don’t always-”

“I know you’re going on a date every time I have a sleepover. And I’ve been having a lot of sleepovers lately.” Shawn’s expression was a little too mature for a child his age.

“First, don’t interrupt, it’s rude. Second, I thought you liked having sleepovers.”

“I do. I just don’t know why you don’t want me around Mr. Munson. I see him all day at school.”

Steve kept his body language nonchalant while dribbling the ball. “Well that’s just it. I figured you’d be sick of him. He’s at school AND at home?” He shot and the ball went right in.

“If I score more than you, can we get ice cream?”

“Shawn, it’s January.”

“I want chocolate with gummy bears.”

Steve was still thinking of it a few days later when he had sent Shawn on yet another sleepover while he, Eddie, and Robin got drunk and gave powerpoint presentations on a subject of their choice. Robin was about ten slides deep into one about why TV shows sucked on writing lesbians on purpose but somehow made the most compelling character chemistry on accident.

At first, he’d been sitting close to Eddie, legs in his lap, playing with his hair but Steve had learned that Eddie never sat still for long. Every few slides, he’d jump up with an interjection and Steve knew if he didn’t want to flop off the couch, he’d better not get too tangled.

Robin was very open to discussion. Heated discussion but still. Steve finally cleared his throat when they started getting closer, hands moving wildly as they argued about the sexuality of Sandy the Squirrel.

“Hey, it’s Powerpoint Night, not debate night”, Steve said.

Robin gasped. “Steve! Can we have debate night. We finally have a third party to mediate.”

“What do you guys need a mediator for?”, Eddie asked.

“She has very strong opinions on salted caramel”, Steve said. “Your turn Eddie.”

Eddie got up, his presentation popping up as he cleared his throat. “Pluto’s Planet Status: Logic vs Sentimentality….”

Robin stayed the night, taking up the guest bed while Eddie went up to Steve’s room. He’d been inside before, but it always felt momentous. A space that not many had seen before and Steve was allowing him. They collapsed next to each other, limbs tangling through the night.

The next day, they got up, making a breakfast of sausage, eggs, and other greasy things to stave off any hangover symptoms. And before Eddie left, Steve asked a favor of him.

“Do you…mind scenting some of the pillows? Not for me, but for Shawn? I want to gauge his reaction to the idea of you becoming more…permanent.”

Eddie’s eyes got wide. “Do you want me to be more permanent?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, moving in close to scent Eddie at his neck. “You’ve always smelled like safety to me. And now…you’re starting to smell like home.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him, confirming that he felt the same. He wanted more of Steve’s scent around his own home. Eddie completed the favor, scenting the soft throw pillows on the couch.

When Shawn got home, he had Steve spent most of the day inside, doing various things but when the sun set, they had a movie night. Steve tried not to look too giddy when Shawn grabbed one of the pillows and held it to his chest, nose pressed to it. His body language may have been neutral, but the happiness must’ve shown in his scent because Shawn started to cuddle up to him. His omega hindbrain was filled with thoughts he hadn’t allowed for a long time.

Good alpha. Safe. Perfect alpha. Perfect for pup. Need to scent pup. Need him scented by both.

That was all Steve needed to move things up to the next step. He enacted it when picking Shawn up from school one day. He was mindful not to take up too much of Eddie’s time during dismissal, but Eddie always assured Steve that he’d rather talk to him than the other parents.

“What if you’ve got something important to tell them?”

“That’s what emails are for. And really, how many times can I say ‘your kid cried because someone looked at them’ or ‘ they’re chattier than a telemarketer’?”

Steve figured some things about being a teacher didn’t change all that much between the age groups. He built up his nerves to ask the question. He had already asked Shawn if it was okay and his pup was more than happy about it.

“You know, Shawn’s birthday is coming up soon. We usually go out and do whatever he wants. And we were wondering if you wanted to tag along?”

Eddie looked between them both, mouth agape and looking like he wanted to jump for joy, hug them both, and blast off like a rocket all at once. It really made Steve want to kiss him in front of all these people, parents, teachers and all.

“Hell yeah-I mean, y-yeah”, Eddie stuttered when he remembered where he was.

Shawn looked elated too and things couldn’t be more right.

And of course, that was when things started going wrong.

Part 11

Tags

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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kasagia · 1 year

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Heyyy! So I was wondering if it was possible for you to write something where klaus forces the reader to marry him and they have a daughter hope(she can be a baby or a kid) and the reader can kind of tolerate klaus for the sake of her daughter but actually hates him and over time she falls in love with elijah's nobility and confesses to him at a party or something and klaus overhears ending is up to you<3

Loved by them two

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader, Elijah Mikaelson x reader, Summary: After your parents (pack leaders) arranged your marriage to Klaus (with whom you accidentally had a one-night stand earlier), you tied your fate irrevocably to the Mikaelsons. Problem? 1. You hate your husband for tricking you into this marriage. 2. His noble brother is too alluring. 3. You find out the hard way that hate, love, and lust are a very explosive mixture. Especially when you add the two Mikaelsons to it. Warning(s): argument, fight, blood, love triangle, smut, the first time I wrote something bordering on smut, angst, fluff, the reader kisses Elijah and then goes to bed with Klaus; generally, the reader doesn't know what to do; but she has two hot brothers on her call; three in total because Kol is her best friend; I really like this one after all Nonsense from me: I combined these two requests because they seem to go together. Also sorry if I didn't include enough Elijah x reader (despite my huge crush for all the Mikaelsons, Klaus will always get somehow a girl 😅). I also took a gif from here, because... well it's good. Word count: 8,3k (it's pretty long, I admit, but I don't regret any minute of writing it.)

You hated Klaus Mikaelson with all your heart. Your abhorrent, psychotic husband. A man who somehow was the father (even though you've tried to disprove it many times) of your precious, sweet little daughter Hope.

If the devil could take human form, no doubt it would be your husband.

You met him by accident. You and your friends went out into the city to have fun. You met a hot, handsome blond guy in a bar, went to bed with him, and left his house the next day without a word, expecting never to see him again. You wouldn't think that when you get back to your pack of wolves, your parents - the alphas of the pack - will tell you that you're getting married in a month. And not just anyone. Klaus Mikaelson was going to be your husband. A 1,000-year-old werewolf and vampire hybrid.

You will remember for the rest of your life what they told you when they were destroying your chance for happiness.

"The pack must be strong. This marriage and your assumption of power will guarantee us a secure position in New Orleans. No witches, vampires, or other werewolves will stand in our way. This alliance with the originals will guarantee us power beyond our ancestors' imagination. The crescent wolf and other packs will succumb to our strength. It is your duty to do this for your people."

Of course, you objected to the idea as soon as they told you. But you weren't a leader yet, so your opinion didn't matter much. Especially when your first meeting with your fiancé was only a few minutes away. At least the first official meeting.

You thought the guy must look like a walking fossil. You were surprised when you met that hottie from last night.

And from then on, your whole life became hell.

You tried everything to back out of that engagement. Really everything. Even a fake pregnancy with another, which turned out not to be so fake after all. And unfortunately for you, the father of your child was HE. The curse of your existence.

So he sped up the wedding, and you became the wife of the most dangerous vampire in the world. Cool! At least you got lots of presents and access to his bank accounts all over the world. The pros of being an incubator for a miracle baby.

Then you met your guardian angel. Elijah Mikaelson - the older brother of your awful husband. Your only consolation (other than Hope) in this terrible situation. Your friend, soul mate, and the man of your dreams.

Fate liked to make fun of you, it forced you to marry the wrong brother.

Elijah was everything any woman could ask for. A tactful gentleman, respecting and supporting female feminism, always keeping his word, a walking ideal. The complete opposite of your cruel husband.

You were completely in love with him. So much so that when he held your beautiful one-year-old daughter in his arms, you imagined that he was her father. Your fantasy was almost always spoiled by your husband stepping on the three of you and taking the baby out of his hands.

You had no idea why Klaus had even chosen to make your life a nightmare. There were other ways he could have taken control of the city; he didn't have to become the leader of your pack and marry you.

But he always did and took what he wanted. You found out after being stuck in this happy swamp of being married to Klaus for a year. So you took great satisfaction in denying him the one thing he could never have and so desired - your love and affection.

It was another big mystery for you when it came to Klaus and his complicated personality. Yes, you had a child together, and you were stuck with him, but before that, you didn't know each other. So why did the mighty hybrid decide to find a mate and lead his own pack with them? And why was he strangely obsessed with creating a happy, loving family with you and Hope?

Worse, he turned out to be a good alpha to your pack and an even better father. You couldn't say a bad thing. You two ruled the werewolves, enhanced by your fusion, as equals. And Hope loved it when he sang her lullabies and tucked her in to sleep. Ironically, she calmed down better in the murderous original's arms than in yours.

Even your own child was against you.

Fortunately, in this cold, dark Mikaelson mansion, there was one soul who stood by your side no matter what. The only one you could trust implicitly without fear of ending up with a stake in your back.

Elijah was a gift from heaven to you.

During your pregnancy with Hope, he helped you in every possible way. He was always there for you, whether it was holding your hair as you returned all the breakfast he had prepared for you earlier or reading aloud to you as he massaged your aching ankles.

And when did you become a hybrid? He was the one who taught you self-control for the most part (while Klaus was busy doing something else and couldn't see the two of you, of course).

There was only one problem. Your terribly possessive husband.

As soon as Klaus came into your sight, Elijah had to move two meters away from you, or all hell would break loose.

And you're not exaggerating at all.

One day, when you were watching a movie and lying on the couch, leaning against each other and covered with one blanket, you didn't notice the hybrid enter the living room. You didn't even blink when your companion was dragged from his place and thrown to the other end of the house. A second later, a very angry and jealous vampire took his place, hugging you much closer than his brother and placing his hands on your growing belly.

You didn't react to his show of strength then.

Elijah and Rebekah taught you long ago to choose your battles with Niklaus. It wasn't worth arguing with him about everything he'd done. Especially since you were pregnant at that time - you didn't always have the strength to get into fights with him.

But now as a hybrid, queen of your pack and whole New Orleans? Oh no, you wouldn't let that man fucking rule you.

You tried to make his life hell. You defied him every step of the way, overthrowing his dark plans and bringing your own to life. Of course, you did it all with a sweet, stupid smile, occasionally showing him small acts of tenderness, such as hugging or kissing on the cheek or forehead (on exceptional, life-threatening occasions, you even sacrificed and kissed him), to lull his vigilance.

But Klaus wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing and was happy to let you change a couple of his plans if it meant a kiss from you.

And you thought it was what made him fall for you.

You were stubborn, always getting your way, going over the dead to achieve your goal if it was to protect your loved ones.

And Klaus loved it. You don't know if it was his weird fetish - the guy always got what he wanted and no one dared stand up to him, so he felt for the girl who didn't want to succumb to him. You were probably one of the few survivors of the rebellion against him. And the one who could do literally anything without any fear of the hybrid hurting you.

You get used to this life. Secret meetings with Elijah in the library, discussions in the living room while Hope played with her toys on the carpet and watched cartoons on TV, occasional shopping and girls' nights with Bekah and Freya, and even to Kol's pranks and tricks.

Even your relationship with Klaus has been better lately. You tried so openly not to show your hostility towards the hybrid. After all, he was your daughter's father and Hope deserved at least a semblance of normalcy - parents who don't want to kill each other every 5 minutes.

But tonight, everything was about to change.

~•♤♤♤•~

"So you want me to go with you to some weird party organized by your current archenemy Tristan, and Klaus gave you his permission to take me out of the house?" you asked the original who made the pancakes for you as you discussed another plan to outsmart the de Martel siblings while cradling Hope in your arms.

"I wouldn't call him an archenemy... just a minor inconvenience."

"Is that why you and Klaus tremble with anger every time I say his name?"

"No, it's because a beautiful lips as yours shouldn't be tainted by such a terrible name."

"So whose name should I keep saying, Elijah?" you asked with a teasing smirk, licking your lips.

The original leaned slightly towards you. The tension in the room was palpable between the two of you. You looked down from his captivating, mesmerizing eyes to those alluring lips you've dreamed of kissing ever since he turned out to be more than your asshole husband's brother to you. You were only a few centimeters apart... so little...

Hope's squirming in your arms reminded you of the baby's presence. And that you were standing so close to your husband's brother in broad daylight and in a place where anyone could easily walk in and see you two. Against your darkest, most hidden desire, you have moved away from the noble original. Elijah cleared his throat, going back to continuing your breakfast.

"I'll be ready at 8 p.m."

"The party starts at 7."

"So? Don't you think being fashionably late will be the perfect combination for the act of surprise when they see me hanging on your arm? We'll get their attention, so Klaus and Kol will do what they do the best."

"You know ladies don't usually talk about such… bloody things while holding babies in their arms?"

"Ladies, Elijah, but my wife is everything but that." the hybrid came out of nowhere with that arrogant smirk on his lips. "Hello, my queen. My little princess." Klaus smiled fondly and took Hope from you, making funny faces at the baby. The traitor started to giggle. You rolled your eyes but also smiled slightly upon hearing your daughter's cute laugh.

"Dada!" she screamed, grabbing his nose with her hands.

Yeah, this little traitor could already talk. No, the first word she said wasn't dad; it was mom. The problem is that her happy "dada" came out of her mouth too often compared to mama. Klaus was too pleased with this fact than you would have liked.

"Well, maybe if my loving husband was an exemplary gentleman, I could act like a lady."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"How is Aurora? Did she let you out of her arms so quickly?" you asked sarcastically, trying to throw him off balance. You weren't in the mood to put up with that annoying asshole today.

"Did I just hear jealousy in your voice, love?"

"Haha, you wish. You have my full blessing to spend time with whoever wants you."

"Niklaus. I believe we were supposed to have a meeting before we put this grand plan into action. Will you forgive us, Y/N?" Elijah interrupted you before you two broke the incredible peace between you that had lasted for 4 months and started to jump at each other's throats.

"Just take him wherever you want."

"Brother, shall we?"

Klaus muttered something under his breath. He handed our daughter over to me and planted a quick, wet kiss on my neck before stepping out of my personal space. I growled at him, showing my golden eyes. The man merely laughed, waving to the little one before leaving the kitchen.

"Enjoy your meal, Y/N."

"You can try to lose him on the way back!" you screamed after the retreating man in the suit.

"WON'T HAPPEN, LOVE!" your husband shouted back, ruining (as usual) all your dreams.

"It's always worth giving a shot." you murmured, knowing full well that he would be able to hear you. You smiled victoriously, hearing his irritable, grumpy voice as he snapped back at one of his vampire errands.

~•♤♤♤•~

"You look amazing, Y/N." Elijah greeted you with a delighted smile as he watched you descend the stairs in a long, tight black dress with gold embellishments at the waist and the ends of the sleeves.

With your little tiara in your hair and a gold snake necklace entwined around your neck, you felt like a fucking queen.

You're not going to lie—you went all out with your preparations, and Rebekah made sure she did your makeup for your first big, official outing since Hope was born.

It wasn't until you came downstairs that you noticed that Elijah wasn't the only person sitting in the candlelit room. Klaus was sitting right next to him, looking at you with the same fascination and admiration as his brother. You felt a little uncomfortable being watched by two originals with heart-shaped eyes.

"Maybe I should choose a dress with a higher neckline after all?" you wondered as you watched them almost drool over your looks. They were both 1,000 years old but acted like horny teenagers.

"So I guess I'm dressed well enough to be a distraction for tonight?" you asked, bringing their attention back to your face. They both decided to act nonchalant, as if they hadn't been staring at your ass a few seconds ago.

"Maybe even to well, love." Klaus' heavy, watchful gaze didn't let you down an inch. You felt an involuntary shiver run through you with each step you took closer to the originals.

"My brother may be right. No one will be able to take their eyes off you."

"Thank you, Elijah."

Klaus cleared his throat as he got up from his chair and faced you. He took your hand gently, and after softly caressing the wedding band and engagement ring from him, he shifted his attention to your wrist, suddenly stopping his movements.

You looked up at his eyes, catching his gaze. You felt enchanted by these calm, blue eyes, their beauty mostly made you went to bed with him a year ago. You felt like any little move could break that strange spell between you two.

At one point, you felt cold metal settling on your wrist. You turned your gaze to the charming bracelet that, surprisingly, matched your outfit.

"It's for protection. In case you need help and no one can find you."

"So you've always known where I am? What is this, some kind of dog collar with a tracker?"

"No. Freya enchanted it for me. It's supposed to sense when you're in danger and let me know." he rolled up his sleeve, showing you a new bracelet on his wrist. "I have a similar one."

"Oh." you groaned in shock, completely not expecting something like this from him.

"Exactly. Oh. I guess I'm not the bad guy all the time."

"I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't. Have fun with my brother, love."

For the first time since you've known Klaus, you felt sorry for him. Due to the growing guilt you were feeling, you kept an eye on his receding shape until he passed through the door. You sighed, turning to face Elijah, who had already approached you from behind in a moment of your inattention.

"Don't worry. He'll get over it. Niklaus can't blame you for being careful with him." he tried to comfort you, but deep down you knew it was your fault this time.

And you weren't going to act like your husband, so you decided to apologize to him at the next opportunity. Unlike some, you were able to admit when you were wrong. However, Elijah didn't need to know about your plan.

"Maybe you are right. Let's go to this party."

~•♤♤♤•~

You were talking to Elijah at the bar while sipping your drink. You entered as planned—late, attracting the attention of most people. Rumors quickly spread throughout the supernatural community. Your favorite was that during that year of your "absence," you divorced Klaus and married his brother, now parading proudly with him around the salons. Elijah seemed to like it too.

You were enjoying the party until one of the de Martel siblings showed up. Tristan.

"Famous Y/N Y/L/N Mikaelson. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you sir are…?"

"Tristan de Martel. You must have heard about me from dear Elijah."

"To be honest, not so much. I only know that you're the one who invited us, for which I want to thank you." you played a stupid, naive girl with joy while watching the frown on his forehead. To remember: He does not like to be diminished or underestimated in any way. Mr. big ego.

"So perhaps you would do me the honor and dance with me? We could get to know each other better."

"Actually, this lady promised me her first dance. If you'll excuse us, Tristan."

"Of course. Enjoy yourselves."

Elijah grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. He pulled you closer to him, rocking you to the beat of the song. The original wanted to cause even more rumors... you wonder if Klaus agreed to his actions.

"He's a slippery guy. Now I know why you wanted me to stay away from him and his sister."

"You just spoke to him, how do you know..."

"Well, starting with the extravagant look of the room, the fact that his suit and watch literally scream I'm rich, and ending with the fact that he carries himself as if he were the master of this world, I've noticed other manic behaviors as well. Besides, it's obvious at first glance that he's desperately trying to imitate you. I don't like him."

"Should I assume that you don't like me as well?"

"No! No. I like you. More than you know. I don't know how I would have dealt with vampirism and all of this without you. Thank you for being there for me. Always." you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

"And forever." he said, placing a tender kiss on top of your head. "You're more to me than I could ever admit."

"Do we have to? Pretend and hide the truth?" during your conversation, you didn't even notice when he led you to a more desolate place. Nobody was looking at you. There was only him and you.

"Niklaus..."

"Have you ever, in your entire, very long life, done something just for yourself, without thinking about your brother or sibling? Have you ever acted selfishly?"

"I can't be selfish with you." he said, resting his forehead against yours. You were so close to each other, so close to getting what you both wanted.

"Why?"

"It will destroy us all."

"Then let the world burn... just for a moment."

Elijah, after a moment's hesitation, leaned closer to you, embracing your slightly trembling figure with anticipation even tighter. He cupped your right cheek with his hand and finally brought your lips together in the long-awaited kiss.

Your first kiss with the original was… completely different from what you imagined. His soft lips didn't match up with yours as well as they did with…

You froze in complete shock as you realized your subconscious was comparing Elijah to Klaus. And surprisingly, it was more sympathetic to your hated husband, from whom you wanted so much to be free. In spite of this strange feeling of guilt that you somehow betrayed Klaus, you returned the kiss with more passion than before, trying to feel that wonderful tingling and buzzing in your head.

But it never came.

Something was missing in this perfect, fabulous setting for the first kiss with the love of your life. And you had no idea what was wrong.

Maybe first kisses with someone new were so… awkward?

Your treacherous mind reminded you that there was NEVER such an awkwardness between you and Klaus. Only pure passion and desire.

What the fuck happened to you? Why didn't you feel anything special when all your wet dreams were coming true?

You moved away first under the pretense of taking a breath. Staring into Elijah's eyes, you could feel the same attraction that accompanied you every time you stole those furtive glances from each other.

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you since the first day you gave me a lecture on how Pride and Prejudice is Jane Austen's best book; how cliché it wasn't." you hit him on the shoulder, making him giggle. "And if the circumstances were completely different, if it were someone completely different, I wouldn't hesitate to be selfish just this once and take something from my brother. But I will not allow any harm to come to you or Hope through my actions."

Before you could say anything, you two heard a howl.

Klaus and Kol.

Elijah nodded at you. You disentangled yourself from his arms and ran upstairs to fulfill your role in the Mikaelsons' plan. You just hoped the guys would distract them long enough for you to find what you were looking for.

You searched their house, wondering how Elijah's confession would affect your relationship now.

But little do you know that you weren't the only one who heard it.

~•♤♤♤•~

It was a really fucked up night.

The peaceful surveillance of the de Martel house turned into a bloody battle between the originals and the first vampires they turned. Klaus' therapist, Cami, barely escaped a jealous attack by Klaus' ex-Aurora. You wonder how Klaus managed to reach Cami in time and why the red-haired psycho didn't target you and your child. Klaus must have put on quite a show for her.

In all the chaos, you didn't get a second chance for a moment alone with Elijah. The subject of your feelings still remained the elephant in the room. And frankly, you've had enough of it all. All you wanted now was a warm bath and playing with Hope. No more family drama.

Without Klaus, everything would have gone to hell. And as much as you hated that he forgot to include you in his plans for today, you couldn't help but be grateful to him for helping you protect your pack from vampires today. He didn't have to. He could watch the de Martel vampires kill your people and attack them when they get tired of fighting werewolves. Another demonstration of him being more than a villain to you.

It amazed you how one minute he was an irritating, ignorant, disrespectful asshole and the next your savior, protector, and equal partner in crime you could rely on.

You guess that's what your husband was like. Full of contradictions and surprises. Your private pet of nature.

You sighed in relief as you finally walked to your home. You took another step towards the mansion when you saw Klaus and Elijah getting out of the car and heading for the entrance.

You were about to join the originals, but you stopped dead at the sound of Klaus' pretentious voice.

"So we're just going to pretend you didn't kiss my wife and confess your feelings to her, or maybe you have an explanation?" you hid, eavesdropping on their conversation. "Don't think that after all that's happened, I've forgotten that you went a little too far in distracting the de Martels. You may get Aurora away from her that way, but it was superfluous, and I know you enjoyed every bloody second too much for me to just walk away from this."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. If she wants me, it's none of your business, Niklaus. You only married her because you made up a plan - Y/N has never wanted to be your wife and you have never cared about her." Klaus stopped, watching his brother blankly. He looked like something had broken inside him.

The hybrid suddenly lunged at the other man with his fists.

They started punching each other and throwing things at each other within reach. At one point, they both pushed off each other, landing on opposite walls. (Creating another dent to patch.)

"SHE IS MY WIFE! My mate! My queen! MOTHER OF MY CHILD! You have no right to her, brother! So I'm warning you… If I ever hear the littlest rumours about her having the smallest crush on you, I'll put you back in that bloody coffin, and I will release you after our eighth child comes into this world. She will be so madly in love with me that she won't even spare you a second glance when you meet again."

"I didn't know you loved plans that take over a thousand years to complete, brother. I never thought you could be so patient."

Klaus growled, throwing himself at his brother with a scream. From your hiding place, you could hear the sounds of a fight and shattered furniture.

You decided to wait a little longer before stepping in and heroically separating the two combatants. You didn't want it to seem like you overheard their argument.

Only when there was a sudden outburst followed by a suspicious silence did you decide to run into the house. You wouldn't expect them to demolish the entire living room in minutes, and Klaus would be bleeding out dangerously while trying to patch up the wound and drive the dagger into his brother's heart.

The men didn't notice you as they tried to disable each other. You weren't going to come between them or stand on either side until Elijah, out of nowhere, pulled out Pappa Tunde's blade.

Your body reacted faster than your brain. You instinctively threw yourself between them, shielding Klaus from the blade.

They both froze when they saw you.

Time seemed to stop as both shocked and incredulous looks from the originals fell on you. To be honest, even you were surprised which side you were on. You blamed your stupid tendency to act instead of think in difficult situations. But you weren't going to show them that you were insecure about your actions. Not when they were both holding weapons harmful to the other one.

"Put it down." you said, looking straight at Elijah. "You too." you added, glancing over your shoulder at your husband, who was staring at you with a strange, unidentifiable look. Amazingly, he dropped the dagger to the ground first. Soon after, Elijah did the same. You quickly bent down to grab both weapons, putting them in your pockets. "Good. Are you calm now?" they nodded silently, waiting for your next move. "Great. So, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL YOU TWO WERE DOING?!"

Elijah took a breath, probably intending to give you some clever answer, but stopped as soon as you felt an unexpected weight fall down your back. You caught Klaus just in time before he slid to the floor. Holding him up, you noticed a wound on his right side. You reached out to touch his wound, but the hybrid's strong grip on your wrist stopped your hand.

"Don't. You'll get burned. Verbena and the wolfbane. Grenade."

"What the hell?! Elijah how could you throw a grenade at him?! Do you throw one back?!" you asked the man in your arms.

"I wanted. You stopped me."

"God, from now on, you're both grounded from being with Hope. Hell knows if that rage won't attack you in front of her! Come Klaus. I'll help you clean it up. Elijah, you can clean up here before Rebekah or Freya come." you said, casting a disappointed look at Elijah's outfit before helping the hybrid up the stairs.

"I would never..." Klaus tried to explain himself as you dragged him to his bedroom.

"Just shut up and sit down." you growled at him, pushing him onto the bed. You took the first aid kit from the bathroom and went back to him to disinfect his wound. "It'll hurt."

"Will you kiss it later? To ease the pain and speed up the healing process, of course."

"Don't try your luck any more today." you warned, rolling your eyes at his mischievous smirk.

He snorted, offended. He looked like a child who had been grounded for snacking on sweets. You sighed, trying not to laugh at his scowl. Unwittingly, you began to wonder what Hope would look like when she went through her rebellious period. Probably like her father when he did something wrong and got caught doing it. Well, at least you'll have some practice before she grows up.

"Do you love my brother?" he burst out suddenly while you were cleaning his wound made by verbena and wolfsbane. Why they had pomegranates from these plants shouldn't shock you as much as it did.

"What?" you asked, shoving a water-soaked cotton ball into his wound, which made him groan in pain. You gave him an apologetic look as you continued working on his side.

"Don't act stupid, it's not like you at all. Do you love my brother?"

"Of course I do, he's my friend and Hope's uncle." you replied unfazed, continuing your work.

"Let me rephrase that. Are you IN LOVE with my nobel brother?"

You tried to pretend that his question had no effect on you. You put down the cotton balls and tried to avoid his gaze to give some answer, but Klaus grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. Fuck. You couldn't lie now. He always knew when you were lying, and now that you were exposed to his watchful gaze, you only knew one way out of this fucked-up situation.

So you pulled him closer to you, kissing him passionately.

He moaned, surprised by the feeling of your soft, enticing lips on his own. He wasted no more time. He put you on his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible.

The feeling of his warm skin against your clothed body reluctantly brought back memories of the night it all began.

Intoxicated by the feeling of his captivating lips on yours again (after so long), you didn't even notice when he threw you onto the bed, only momentarily breaking your kiss to let your hair down. He melted back into your mouth, hovering over you. The hybrid tangled his hand in your hair, tilting your head so he had better access to your equally eager mouth and tongue.

He moved to your neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites and rubbing every inch of your skin, effectively ruining any thought process in your head.

It was just you and him.

And after a very long time, you felt extraordinary pleasure and much-needed relief from the tension that your body had gone through today.

"Nik!" you moaned when he started sucking on the most sensitive spot on your neck, which he knew damn well existed and used every time to tease you.

But this time you moaned for him like a whore, too overwhelmed by the sensations his skilled hands and lips were giving you.

And this time, Klaus didn't hold back. His amber irises and possessive growl were the only warnings he gave you before he ripped your dress in half, revealing your dressed-in-lace-underwear body to him.

His wolf howled inside him.

He pressed his lips to yours greedily, caressing every inch of your newly exposed skin. You growled into his mouth as he bit your lip harder and dug your nails into his back. He reciprocated by squeezing your thigh tightly as he wrapped your leg around his waist, rubbing your most sensitive parts against each other. You both moaned in unison, pulling your lips apart for a moment. You decided to repay him and slid your fangs out to dig into his neck, drinking his sweet blood greedily. You've been dreaming about it since you became a hybrid. Only in your darkest, wildest dreams, after which you were ashamed to look into the eyes of the hated hybrid who probably drove you to Stockholm syndrome because you wanted him more every day—the man who was the cause of your misery.

It was impossible for you to love him. To love the man who tricked you into this marriage; who lied and killed and tortured so many people; who made you fall head over heels for him. Maybe that's why you fell in love with Elijah? He was his complete opposite. He was self-possessed, calm, reasonable, and kept his word.

But there you were, rubbing against him and moaning as his blood ran down your throat. Wanting him more than his brother—the man of every woman's dreams.

Maybe you were as fucked up as your husband.

Moments later, he copied your idea and dug himself into your neck. The moan coming from him sent shivers through your body all the way THERE. How could a man make you so desperate for him with just some kisses and the slightest touch?

You'd probably go all out and lose yourselves in each other's touch for the rest of the night (and possibly part of the morning) if Hope's cries hadn't come from the baby monitor on his nightstand. You broke apart, breathing heavily. Klaus licked off the rest of the blood dripping from your wound until it closed. He rested his head against your chest, inhaling your scent.

You unknowingly ran your hand through his curly hair, also closing your eyes and getting lost in this special, unique moment of tenderness between you two.

"I love you, Y/N." his soft whisper, combined with the gentle movement of his lips against the skin of your breasts, sent shivers down your spine. The realization of his confession left you completely still, holding his arms in a gentle embrace. "I know you don't feel the same way about me, but I promise you that one day you will. I will be worthy of your affection, my brave, wise, beautiful, merciful queen." he said, placing one last longing kiss on your lips before climbing off of you. He got dressed and left the room to soothe the crying Hope.

You closed your eyes, taking shaky breaths. You covered your mouth with your hand to drown out your silent sobs as you heard the familiar lullaby that Nik usually sings to Hope.

Klaus has really changed for the better since the first time you two met. And any other woman in your situation would surely fall in love with him in a heartbeat. But you've already given your heart to someone you'll never have. Or so you thought.

You felt an inexplicable attraction to Elijah, but with Klaus... everything just felt right - even though the hybrid drove you crazy and was the complete opposite of your dream prince on a white horse, in which Elijah fit perfectly. So maybe your Mr. Right wasn't someone you'd imagined in your head a long time ago…

And now, crying silently on your husband's bed, you realize what you should have done ages ago. But before you did the right thing, you could afford to pay a little attention to your troubled, lost heart.

So you cried until you got tired enough that all you did before falling asleep in Klaus' bedroom was to cover up any traces of your tears. You promised yourself a long time ago that no matter what, you would be the only witness to your tragedies. You'd rather be seen as a cold bitch than a weak, lost girl thrown into the fights the originals always fought.

Because in the end, it was only you (and Hope) against the whole world. Just like always.

~•♤♤♤•~

"I need you to do me a favor, Kol." you said as you walked into his room without knocking. The original was on the bed, flipping through something on his phone. He lazily shifted his gaze to you. You groaned internally. Bored Kol is a Kol who is very hard to work with. But—shame to admit it—he was your last and only resort.

"Hello to you too, Y/N. Thank you for knocking before storming into someone's room. How am I? I'm very glad you're asking; I'm fine. That's a very beautiful day, don't you think? Yes, indeed. Did marriage with my brother completely make you lose any manners and tact?" he teased as he drank the blood from the bag.

"I want you to compel me." he spat out his drink, choking and staining another carpet. "Rebekah will be mad at him." you thought as you watched how the original was coughing.

"What?!" he shouted, finally coming to himself. "Why?!" he asked, reaching for his half-full bag again.

"I want you to compel me to love Klaus." he spat out his drunken blood again, suffocating. He tossed the bag on the nightstand, deciding not to reach for it again in the face of new revelations. He probably thought you were completely out of your mind.

"What the bloody hell?! But I thought you and Lijah…" he began, confused, jumping out of bed to face you.

"We never gonna happen, Kol. I realized it very clearly yesterday. And I don't want to feel these stupid things around Elijah any more. He will never be mine, and I will never be his. I have Hope. I had to think about her future and happiness. And she deserves… everything. So if I can give her a happy, normal, loving family, I will do it. Even if it means falling for Klaus by your compel."

"Are you sure, darling? Do you even know what you're asking me for? Do you really want me to erase your memories of you and Elijah?"

"No. I don't want to forget. I want to remember all those stupid moments that led me to this fucking rollercoaster of emotions. I need you to convince me that... it was always meant to be Klaus. That my love for Elijah is just a fleeting fascination, and that Klaus is my fucking soulmate and partner, someone who will treat me as an equal and put me and our daughter above everything else. And that seeing him so close with Aurora and Camille made me realize that I only want to be with him."

"You know that these things aren't far from the truth, do you? My brothers love you. Both equally strong. Are you sure that…"

"Yes. I made my decision. I'm just asking you to help me sort out my emotions properly. I can't be the girl who sails between two brothers. I will not let Hope grow up in this mess my feelings have caused. My fate was sealed the day I met Klaus. Now it's time for me to finally accept it."

"I'll help you, darling. On one condition. I'm not going to keep you under my compel forever. I'll take it off someday. Are you then ready to face the consequences of your actions? Organize your feelings on your own? What if you really fall in love with Nik? What if you somehow fall in love with both of them? If Elijah finds someone else? Do you even think about what it will mean to you? You'll be living a lie, Y/N. Are you ready for it?"

"I'll do everything to give Hope the family she deserves. Besides, I'm Y/N Y/L/N-Mikaelson. I always know what to do. And for now, this is the perfect solution. I think I could be happy with Klaus after all. And after everything that happened recently... I just want to finally be happy, Kol. Without all the extra problems that being a Mikalson brings anyway."

"I only hope you're not going to regret this... Look at me, darling. Today you will feel something more than hostility or a little friendliness toward my brother Klaus. After seeing him, being a hero for your pack, and rescuing that human Camille from getting killed, you realized that you'd always had some feelings for him, but before today they were weaker than what you feel for Elijah. You realized that Klaus could be the man of your dreams, someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. You will never forget what you experienced with Elijah, but now you see him more like a brother and an uncle to your child than a life partner. You like Klaus; he's the only man you could be romantically interested in until Hope comes of age. After this time, my compulsion will cease to work. You will forget that I compel you. I told you to get that stupid idea out of your head and told you not to ask anyone else for such a favor. You will follow my command." you snapped out of your stupor, blinking as you tried to remember what the hell had just happened.

"Well, at least promise me you won't tell Klaus, Elijah, or anyone else."

"I hate to say it, but you have my word. Everything will stay between us."

"Good." you nodded your head and left his room. Kol's concerned gaze led you all the way to the door.

At least he circumvented your request and didn't force you to love Klaus directly, he just dulled your infatuation with Elijah. If you started to feel anything for his hybrid brother, it would be real. He only hoped that when Davina, Rebekah, or Nik found out, they wouldn't castrate him for it.

~•♤♤♤•~

You were pissed off. Incredible furious with your stupid husband and his older brother.

These two morons went with Kol on a solo quest against Lucien and Tristan, locking you (Freya, Davina, Rebekah and you) in the house.

You don't need to tell anyone that they came back with nothing and narrowly escaped death. As soon as the boundary spell was lifted by your witches, you ran out of the house with Hope and went straight to your pack. You left your daughter with your cousin Lily and her witch girlfriend while you went to get wood. You must have landed your rage on something. Trees were better than innocent people or your very guilty and stupid husband, whose face you didn't want to see right now because you knew you'd use it as a dartboard.

However, you forgot that your husband had no self-preservation instinct.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you growled as you sensed his presence, continuing to chop wood. He really was asking to die today.

"You took our daughter and left the house, you think I won't follow you? Besides, we need to talk, love."

"Well, it's too fucking late now. Fuck off before I shove a branch up your ass."

"Where does such an aggression of yours come from, love?"

"You dare to fucking ask me?! After what you did?! You could all die or get caught! I know you don't care what happens to me, but have you thought about Hope? Your fucking daughter! What would happen if they came for us, for her, when we were closed in the cage, you made?! Tell me, honey, was it your brilliant idea? Or maybe Kol's?"

"It's fascinating that you have such faith in my noble elder brother that you don't even entertain the slightest possibility that it was his plan."

"Elijah wouldn't do something so stupid. He's better than you. Do you even know how it could..."

"Of course our dear Elijah would be a better husband for you!" his brain apparently focused only on that damn part, not the one where you scolded him for being so careless because you were worried about him.

"Don't you dare fucking bring him into this! He was the only goddamn person who cared about my fate after my transformation! He cares enough about me to let me know about his plans, Klaus!"

"I saw perfectly well how he cares for you - by shoving his tongue down your throat!"

"Maybe if you weren't acting like a fucking, arrogant, condescending dick who knows everything best, you'd be in his place!"

"Well, I went further with you than he did last night. You didn't even moan against his mouth as you did against mine. I guess being a dick pays off after all." he replied with a feisty, smug smile.

"You! Fucking! Disgusting! Pervent!" you growled, punching him in the chest each time, causing him to back away from you until you pinned him to a tree. "I fucking hate you. Every time I see the shadow of a man worth loving in you, you always screw it up! I hate you and despise both you and myself that despite all the damn things you've done against me, somehow I still fucking want to see in you someone worth my love!" you screamed, taking out your anger on him with every blow you landed on him.

It shocked you that he didn't do anything to stop you. He just took your punches, standing still in complete silence, until you got tired.

"Better?" he whispered, staring at your panting, disheveled figure as you both tried to calm down.

"A little."

"You tremble." he noticed, carefully touching your cold shoulder. "Let's go back to the camp. We need to warm you up." he said as he took off his leather jacket and tossed it over your shoulders. He grabbed your hand and started leading you through the dark forest.

You don't even remember when you got this far in your anger. It took you a good half silient hour of walking to get back to the sleeping pack.

You sat by the still-burning fire. Klaus added a few logs of wood to make sure it wouldn't go out. He then sat next to you and unrolled the blanket, draping it over your back, creating a warm cocoon around the two of you.

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder and staring into the fire. You blissfully absorbed the silence between the two of you, losing yourself in Klaus' warmth and scent.

"I'm sorry." he broke the long silence between you. "I should have let you know about my plans or not locked you in the house. You're right. You deserve someone better, love." he said, his voice slightly trembling as he spoke the last words.

"I could love you, you know?" you felt his piercing, surprised look as you played with one of the sticks, staring stubbornly at the fire to avoid his gaze. "A long time ago. If you hadn't acted like a condescending asshole and tried your best to lock me up in that damn house with Hope. If you'd let me in, help me get past that evil, cruel hybrid facade and see the real you, you would have what you so secretly desire."

"And what is that?"

"Unconditional love from someone who isn't forced to give it to you. Unlimited trust and devotion-something you have not experienced in your very long life. You know one day you'll get it from our daughter, but it won't be the same. She will love you because you are her father, her love is conditioned by the bond you have shared since she was born. That's why you want me to love you so much. You want someone who cares about you for no reason."

"And could you? Love me just because you want to? After everything I have done?" he asked, pulling you away from him, not too far away, just enough to look you in the eye.

"You were never quite the villain in my story. I have to admit, I've hated you since I met you... but over time, I've seen that you've made me more than I could have imagined, someone much more powerful, someone whose opinion really matters. You always helped me, even when I thought it was some kind of sabotage against me and when I disagreed with your plan, like when you decided to stop Dalhia alone or play partners in crime with your bloodthirsty father. You take care of my pack like it's your own, and you're such a good father to Hope that sometimes I envy her. Maybe our beginnings weren't the best, and maybe along the way we'll start arguing and fighting like bitter enemies again, but I couldn't imagine anyone else to do it with."

"Even after I forced you into this marriage?"

"Well, if it weren't for you, my parents would've arranged one with a possibly stupid, self-centered werewolf anyway, so I didn't get the worst of it."

"Good to know I'm not the worst option."

"At least you're hot and handsome." you replied, nudging him with your arm. He did the same, making you both laugh.

You stared into his eyes as the firelight reflected in his beautiful irises, emphasizing sparks of amusement and... tenderness.

"I want to be the man who deserves your love."

"Can you let me in then?"

He did not answer. Instead, he pressed his lips to yours. If it had been any other man, you would have insisted on answering this important question. But you knew Klaus too well to know that this passionate, sultry, tender kiss is a silent promise he makes to you. A promise he intends to keep.

Klaus wasn't the perfect man of your dreams, and he often made hasty, sudden decisions without considering the opinions of others. But deep down, you knew there was no other man in the world who made you feel the way you did with Nik. Even Elijah couldn't make you feel half the way you did with his brother. His kiss, his touch, his smile, and his scent made you feel insane. And that (desire, passion, tenderness, warmth, and thristing for his little affection) was the type of love you want to lose yourself in.

Maybe it was Klaus who was supposed to be your Mr. Right after all.

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pearlprincess02 · 4 months

Text

pisces sun, virgo moon, aries rising, aquarius mercury, capricorn venus, sagittarius mars

pisces sun: dreamy, distracted, can be very stand-offish, escapist, TW: could be dealing with addictions, surfer vibes, has particular topics they know a lot about, more introverted, knows and has many secrets, artistic, silent but deadly

virgo moon: it's not uncommon for virgo moon mothers to have experienced lots of angst when pregnant with you, especially if this was their first pregnancy. what isn't expressed + released in a healthy way stays trapped in the mind of the virgo moon mom, manifesting into anxiety. if anxiety was a theme for your mother while she was pregnant with you + it remained undealt with, then there's a big possibility that anxiety is something you've experienced on a chronic level as well. virgo moon mothers also deal with overcoming perfectionism — wanting to the perfect mother + projecting perfectionism onto her child(ren), so if you mother was hard on you growing up, that is why. if you are challenged by the illusions of not being good enough, this is probably something you've also picked up on from your mom during your time in her womb. but because of their will + dedication to be the best, virgo moon moms make very good caretakers as they are empathically connected to the needs of their children + are not satisfied until they can tell that their children are satisfied. even when virgo moon moms can be tough on their kids, remember that they are their own toughest critic + they really do mean well. i'd recommend being of service to your mother in any way that can lighten the load on her as virgo moon mothers tend to have a lot of their to-do lists. words of affirmation also goes a long way in gifting them peace of mind, especially from their children as they tend to be overthinkers when it comes to motherhood.

aries rising: probably has something that makes them stand out whether that be tattoos, scars, or a birth mark, masculine features - defined jawline, thick eyebrows, muscular body, intense eyes, always looks like they’re on their way to bitch someone out, high energy placement - walks quickly and with purpose, hates slow people and slow drivers (probably drives fast too), don’t mess with people they care about because they will bitch you tf out on the spot

aquarius mercury: can be a bit judgemental, make strong opinions and judgements. but they are willing to change them if they want to. they're somehow both stubborn yet flexible about their beliefs.

capricorn venus: ice you want to melt, respect or admiration are the only options, reliable and grounded, always in control, you know when she's approaching, true faithfulness, hard to satisfy, she's the authority.

sagittarius mars: always taking their shot, will explore and challenge you, a wild ride, infectious and attractive optimism, humor, or even clumsiness or awkwardness, chronically adaptable and energetic - can you keep up?

(anon ask)

ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ

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herofics · 3 months

Note

Yooo, remember a WHILE back when you made those Sloth HC’s for Mina and Kiri? (Took me a lot of scrolling, you make TONS of great stuff luv.)

Could you somehow transfer that to JJK with Todo and Maki? I just love the concept of it and how you’d incorporate that in their world.

A/N: Thank you, if you want to find posts easier, the masterlists are linked in the pinned post. The post/request can be found here and it was pretty fun to write back then. It was also pretty fun to write now too. These are based on how the characters are in the anime, rather than in the manga, because the manga is so much ahead. Did HCs since it’s the easier option, but I gotta admit I don’t have a particularly good grasp on Todo’s personality especially, but I hope these are fine

~Zenin Maki~

•Your cursed technique stockpiles cursed energy the more slothful you are

•It comes with your physical abilities strengthening and your cursed energy becoming more intense (Idk how the hell CTs or CE works)

•You do your daily things, you train with the others and stuff like that, but you always do it the easiest way possible, the way that requires the least effort

•Maki wasn’t a big fan of you when you first started in Jujutsu High, you started at the same time and she found you quite infuriating

•You never seemed to take anything seriously, most of the time you were just lounging around, yawning, looking generally tired and being lazy

•But when she saw you fight for the first time, actually fight against a curse when you were assigned on a mission together, she was stunned to silence, which is a pretty impressive feat for anyone when it comes to Maki

•You always liked her, you thought she was badass and no matter what anyone else thought, strong

•You and Maki actually end up becoming pretty close after you saved each other’s asses on the first mission you had together

•The dating thing just kind of happened without either of you really realizing it, until Panda made some off hand comment about you two dating and you were both like “We’re not dating!”

•Which led to the conversation of “Are we dating?” and ended with the conclusion of “I guess we are”

•When you overexert yourself, you fall asleep very soon after, therefore you have to be good at distributing your cursed energy evenly so you don’t run out

•You also have to sleep for a pretty long while after to get your cursed energy back to a normal level

•Maki doesn’t really care if you’re lazy, since you still put effort into the relationship and you can hold your own and you’ve got her back in a fight

~Todo Aoi~

•Todo used to not have a very high opinion of you, because of how lazy you were

•He felt like you never put any effort into anything, especially physical training, which was very much the case but he didn’t yet understand why

•You never really talked about your cursed technique, because you didn’t see a reason to

•So Todo didn’t know about how it worked or that your lifestyle was very good for your cursed technique

•When you finally got annoyed at his attitude and the constant chastising, you told him about your cursed technique

•Now he can just complain to you about your martial arts and close combat technique, which he does

•Todo actually starts helping you with honing your technique, which includes a lot of sparring and you getting beat because you don’t want to use your cursed energy on him

•He wouldn’t kill you, and getting at least a bit beat up was a pretty daily thing for you as a jujutsu sorcerer

•Todo has had to carry you back from missions a few times when it got tough and you over exerted yourself, because you fell asleep

•He doesn’t mind, and he’s much gentler with you now that you’ve started dating

•Before he just threw you over his shoulder and carried you kind of carelessly

•When you need to recharge, you like to sleep in his bed

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #todo aoi #maki zenin #maki x reader #todo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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pastanest · 1 year

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Brienne x she/her!reader

A/N: feminists stand UP! in this house we support women’s rights AND women’s wrongs!

warning: winter’s leaving and hot girl summer’s returning so it’s a lil steamy in the end for all my strong, independent, Brienne whores xoxo

To Be A Woman

It had almost been a cruel joke on Brienne her entire life. The fact that you, belonging to a family that was still noble but not as highly regarded as the Tarth’s, had always been more of a lady than she had. If you had been anyone else, Brienne would have felt a harbored, silently seething jealousy towards you. Had you not only shown Brienne kindness and respect, had you treated her as the lesser lady that she felt she was, had you ever made a comparison between the two of you or made a point of it to others; had you not been as perfect as you possibly could be, perhaps Brienne would be able to feel differently towards you.

Instead, she finds herself joining you to yet another dress fitting. It was not something Brienne enjoyed, nor was it something that she was ever involved in beyond giving her opinion on the dresses you tried, but somehow, you always found a way to convince her. To Brienne, the reason was obvious the moment you stepped out from behind the curtain for the sixth time, in a dress not so different from one you had tried three dresses prior, but it stole Brienne’s breath from her very lungs regardless. The stars in her eyes made you smile as you twirled on the raised podium, the seamstress clapping and cheering the same approvals she’d had for all of the previous dresses. The only opinion you care for, though, you always have to ask for.

“Lady Brienne, what do you think?”

It takes your dear friend a moment to respond, choosing her words carefully before she nods.

“It suits you very well, my Lady.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I do wish you wouldnt regard me with such formalities, especially when you are the Lady of Tarth!”

Brienne scoffs at this. “I could never wear such pretty garments, Lady (Y/N).”

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to her choice of uniform. “And I could never wear such strong, solid silver - that is not what makes a woman, dear Brienne.”

Then, it was Brienne’s turn to roll her eyes, while you decided on the dresses you wished to purchase and requested they be delivered to your quarters when convenient. Taking Brienne’s arm, you stepped out onto the street and began to make observations about the market’s most recent additions in products. Strolling through the bustling crowds of the townsfolk, not one stopped to stare at the woman that towered over you at your side, not one whispered to another cruel gossip about the untraditional armored woman walking lady about the town. The warmness of your presence was a shield stronger than any Brienne could hope to hold in her own hand, transforming the viciousness of the public’s usual opinion into kind smiles and well wishes, passed to her as much as they were to you.

As unlikely as the friendship has always been between the two of you, according to Brienne, to you it has always been second nature. To Brienne, you were simply too kind, too empathetic and too beautiful to resist in any and every sense of such words. You always have and always will be something that Brienne wished to be, in some ways, something unattainable and most commonly undesirable in favor of her path of strength and righteousness, but there was something so enchanting about the the sweet scents that followed you everywhere you went, the flowing gowns that trailed around every corner you turned, the pretty potions that you added to your baths and used on your face before retiring each night. Something so beautiful and unknown to someone like Brienne, who had been all but forced to deem such things as never to be hers, by right.

If the most she could do was exist beside you, see and feel such beautiful things by being in your presence, that would be more than enough for her, she thought. The smile that you were the first to give her had been the most like a girl she had felt in all her years pretending to be one, she had often mused.

Evenings like this, spent in one tavern and then the next, following the music and you as you danced towards it, have always been Brienne’s favorites. The part of her that rolled her eyes and feigned disapproval at your antics had long since passed, replaced by an enamored smile as she takes the closest seat she can to the musician, her eyes never leaving you. Your hips sway with the fluidity of water or wine, your gown flowing with each motion, the smile on your face one that Brienne is certain comes from any of the heavens that may lie beyond this life, your eyes closed as you lose yourself to the plucking of strings. And though you know better than to drag Brienne to her feet and embarrass her by forcing her to dance, you throw yourself into her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck as you share a laugh that is so without worry, without further thought, Brienne wonders if she is in a dream. Not a drop of wine fuels your action, but an energy and force that she has never understood, and has no desire to. Though she wishes to decode every intricate detail of your personality, there are aspects of you that are simply beyond explanation, and she will love those all the same.

The moonlight casts a gentle glow above you as you stroll arm in arm back to Evenfall Hall, you having been an honored guest while your family conduct arrangements with Brienne’s father. Giggling and sneaking through an entrance to avoid being seen, you lean on each other as though nothing more than a pair of girls far younger than you are, far more rebellious than either of you have ever truly been, but the rush is just as exhilarating when you collapse on the bed, safely beyond the door to your quarters. In the few minutes it takes for the two of you to catch your breaths, you stare up at the canopy of the bed in a daze.

“It is a relief to know that we will never be more than girls, you and I.” You muse playfully, enjoying the continuation of youthful bliss that can only be experienced with her.

Brienne scoffs. “If you would regard me as such, then I suppose you are correct.”

A deep sigh passes your lips. “You must stop chiding yourself like that, Lady Brienne.”

She sits up, turning to stare down at you with a frown. “It is no chide, but a simple fact. Perhaps I was a girl for a few years after I was born, but I was not allowed to be for much longer.”

Sad eyes meet hers, staring up at her with such sincerity she very nearly has to break your gaze, but she wouldnt dare. “You were banished from what is nothing more than a man’s version of being a girl, when they know nothing of the sort.”

Brienne’s frown deepens, and you continue.

“Being a girl is not long hair, long gowns, dances or potions or baths, it is not something restricted to a certain body that must fit in a special box designed by men. I heard one of those Lannister pricks-“

“(Y/N).” Brienne raises an eyebrow in warning, her own respect for people outshining your general disapproval at those with snobbish natures, while you roll your eyes.

“I heard one of those ever so noble, ever so rich Lannister men, say that lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and the same can be said for women. No man can understand what it is to be a woman, in the same way we can never understand what it is to be a man. I am sure being a man goes beyond drooling at everything with a hole, though they do little to prove it-“

Brienne can't withhold the gasp of a laugh she releases at that, always surprised by and appreciative of your crude humor.

With a bright smile on your face, you sit up with her. “The point I am trying to make is that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel. Just because I like to dance in a gown does not make me anymore of a woman than you. If you find your femininity in your armor, in the swing of your sword, in the strength you feel in your righteousness, then that is what makes you a woman, Lady Brienne. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

There are mere inches between your faces, your voice nothing more than a whisper by the time your explanation is finished, reflecting the gentleness of the tears shining in Brienne’s eyes.

“If you do not wish to be perceived as feminine in any sense, then that is perfectly within your right, as well. Nothing is inherently feminine within you unless you want it to be and decide that it is. So tell me, dear Brienne, how do you accept yourself?” You take ahold of her hand to encourage her, and her glazed eyes dart down to acknowledge the gesture, her cheeks flushing pink as she swallows nervously.

“I…If what you say is a true, which I believe it must be, then…I am a woman.” She says, sounding sure of that statement and confident in it for the first time in her life, her gaze firm as it returns to yours.

Grinning at her, you squeeze her hand. “Then we are nothing more than a pair of girls, are we not?”

Brienne chuckles bashfully. “I suppose this is an accurate statement now, my Lady.”

Releasing her hand, you approach your dresser and sit in front of the mirror, beginning to remove your jewelry and tidy it away habitually.

A question tugs at Brienne’s mind, but she temporarily loses all trace of any thought as she watches the way your fingers detangle your hair with expertly gentle, nimble movements. Utterly mesmerized, Brienne shakes her head and focusses her mind.

“If you have never felt the way I did when being referred to as a lady, why is it you disapprove of it when I regard you as such?” She questions, remembering all the times when you had been quick to correct her when referring to you as ‘my Lady’.

Looking over your shoulder, you smile at her. “If you wish to call me your Lady, you will need to make me yours, first.”

Brienne does not have the tools available to check, but she is absolutely certain that in that moment, her heart stops beating, her soul glimpses the world from a bird’s eye as she ascends to the heavens, and then she drops back into her own armor quite suddenly, her face substantially hotter than it had been when she had last felt it. The dumbstruck expression on her face makes you laugh into a wheezing frenzy, wiping tears from your eyes as you stand up and disappear behind a curtain to get changed. If Brienne’s temperature rises much more, she will be forced to consult the God of Light.

She fixes her gaze to the floor, desperately trying to think of anything other than the fact that you are undressing and stepping into a nightgown behind a curtain that is no more than a few feet behind her. The honor that pumps in her very veins will not be outrun by adrenaline, not this day. But as she feels the bed dip behind her, and those nimble fingers beginning to untie parts of her armor, she cannot remember how to swear anything to the old gods or the new, except that she is, undoubtedly, on the brink of fainting.

“Am I wrong to think that, based on the frequency at which you have referred to me as your Lady, that is what you wish me to be?” You tease, your lips so close to Brienne’s ear she can hear your breath in her hair, a trail of goosebumps erupting on her neck.

She gulps, taking a deep breath before shaking her head.

Without sparing another second, you slink your way around her until you are straddling her lap, Brienne’s hands acting on an instinct she did not know she had when they immediately lift to hold you there. She takes perhaps half a second to thank every god she knows for the fabric of the nightgown you are wearing, because had she felt your skin beneath her hands, Brienne is sure she would not have survived the contact. Her eyes meet yours, wide and stunned, frozen in place much like the rest of her, while yours are relaxed and - dare Brienne think it - sultry?

“Then, my dear Brienne, I must amend an earlier statement.” You begin, and she nods feverishly, urging you to continue because she has lost the ability to speak. “I said that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel, and while it is still true that nobody can take away what it means to be a woman…it is quite possible to touch, to feel, such a thing. In more ways than one, so I’ve heard.”

Brienne blinks rapidly, clearing her throat. “M-More ways than one, you say? Perhaps your take on a woman is not as accurate as you first thought, then.”

You nod along with her, a smirk rising at the corner of your lips, which look more inviting to Brienne with every second that passes. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps it is you that should correct me on what it means to take a woman.”

Brienne’s eyes, if possible, grow even wider. “That is not what I-“

But you cut her off, the tension building around you and between you becoming too much, forcing you together in an almightly crash of flushed lips and relieved sighs as you card one hand through Brienne’s hair, the other still unclasping parts of her armor with far more urgency. Her hands squeeze your waist through the soft cotton of your nightgown, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against hers, even through the silver plates that separate you. As each part of armor that covered her torso and arms clatters against the bed, your hands scramble to feel more of her, the strength of the muscles in her arms, the firmness of her chest and hips, while hers hook under your thighs and pull you impossibly closer, her heart skipping a beat when your nightgown rises just enough for her fingertips to graze skin, soft and supple and hot to the touch for less than a second, but time enough for a hunger like nothing Brienne has ever known to bloom within her, and she reaches an epiphany.

Perhaps, Brienne thinks, this is what it is to be a woman.

#brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth imagine #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #game of thrones #got #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 months

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I hope I'm not being rude, this ask also isn't intended as a call out for anyone. As much as I'll be happy if you'd willing to answer, if my ask somehow make you uncomfortable, please feel free to ignore it.

Here's my question :

I've been seeing many post saying that Adrien end up being Marinette' trophy boyfriend instead of proper boyfriend and at the end of the final, Marinette's fight against Gabriel isn't just simply good vs evil rather it's a fight of Adrien's "ownership" so to speak.

I want to ask your opinion about it, especially about the former. I'm personally conflicted about the trophy boyfriend thing because the urban dictionary define it as "A boyfriend that a girl is proud of being with." Which more like what Chloe did at s1, but at the same time it does feel fitting in a way since Marinette do get Adrrien as a trophy for "winning" against Gabriel. Either way it just feels like an objectification and it doesn't seems like something good to show in a show with kids as the target audience, yet I do feels like Marinette's love for Adrien is so shallow that her objectified him like that just make senses for her character.

So, what do you think?

You're not being rude at all! As long as an ask doesn't use names or otherwise make it easy to find the source of the question, I'm cool with it. I don't even mind if it's something uncomfortable, though I will do my best to state my expertise (or lack there of) on those. I think it's really important to be willing to acknowledge your ignorance. No one can know or even be informed on everything.

On to the question.

To start, let's actually define "trophy boyfriend" because the definition you gave - a boyfriend that a girl is proud of being with - is not the one that I would use. It's way too kind!

"Trophy boyfriend" is just a male variant of the term "trophy wife" or "trophy girlfriend." I'm gonna be a little lazy here and just have wikipedia define that one for me as their definition accurately reflects the way this terms is generally used:

A trophy wife is a wife who is regarded as a status symbol for the husband. The term is often used in a derogatory or disparaging way, implying that the wife in question has little personal merit besides her physical attractiveness, requires substantial expense for maintaining her appearance, is often unintelligent or unsophisticated, does very little of substance beyond remaining attractive, and is in some ways synonymous with the term gold digger.

When someone calls Adrien a "trophy boyfriend," they're saying that he's just there to be Marinette's pretty arm candy who supports her unconditionally while requiring nothing from her. A fully one way relationship that's all take and no give.

Unfortunately, canon does seem to be going this way.

Season five was the season which saw Gabriel's slow, agonizing death and final... defeat is too strong a word, so let's just go with reveal. It also saw the end of any hope for Emilie to be revived, assuming that wasn't her at the end, which does seem to be the case. We also saw Nathalie slowly wasting away, triggering all of Adrien's trauma from losing his mother. In other words, this season was all about Adrien losing or fearing the loss of every adult that he has ever loved, none of whom he even got to say "goodbye" to even though they all knew that they were dying.

So it makes perfect sense that Adrienette's big couple conflict was Marinette getting over her trauma and being able to tell Adrien that she loved him! She was absolutely the one who needed unconditional love and support this season and it was so nice to see Adrien giving that to her by laying his own needs to the side since he knew that she needed more support right now.

To be clear, that was sarcasm.

Marinette was an awful, selfish girlfriend this season. Yes, she doesn't know the full extent of what's going on until we get to the final, but in Passion (S5E6) we get this:

Adrien: Marinette? Marinette: Adri-mine! I mean, Adri-fine! No! I mean, you're not mine and you're not fine, I mean, you are fine. (gasps) Adrien, is something wrong? Adrien: No, no, everything's fine... no, everything's not fine. Not fine at all. Somebody I care about is sick and... there's nothing I can do. I feel completely hopeless.

Gabriel then akumatizes Nathalie, leading to a fight that ends with Marinette seeing just how sick Nathalie is. All this means that, by the end of Passion, Marinette is fully aware that Adrien is really struggling with Nathalie's condition and just how bad Nathalie's condition, so it makes perfect sense that the episode ends with Marinette and Alya talking about... how thirsty Marinette is for Chat Noir.

Marinette: You should've seen him! He was so... (growls like a cat) in his cute red suit with black spots. Can you believe it? I asked him out to the movies and I didn't even stammer! True, the timing was bad, but still, everything is so easy with Cat Noir, I can tell him everything I never had the courage to tell Adrien.

Marinette, sweetie, I know that you're going through some stuff, but you're better than this! You've always been shown to care about others! I just don't believe that you wouldn't at least comment on how sick Nathalie is, which really is all that this scene needs because I don't expect Marinette to have no wants or needs outside of supporting Adrien anymore than I expect the opposite.

Marinette can thirst all she wants, especially since she's not dating Adrien yet. Just let her acknowledge that this is who Adrien must have been talking about earlier! Instead, she says nothing, forgetting about Adrien's struggles and not informing his other friends of what's going on, leaving Adrien to basically suffer alone as the Nathalie issue will continue to come up on his end, but he never again reaches out for support from others.

Remember how the NYC special saw Marinette and co protesting Adrien not being allowed to go on a school field trip? And how The Bubbler saw Nino trying to organize a birthday party for his best bro? And how Reverser saw Marinette pairing up Marc and Nathaniel into the dream comic book team? You ever look back on all that and wonder what happened to these characters wanting to love and support each other, even if their attempts where sometimes a little misguided?

Ever since the start of season four, loving and supporting each other has gone out the window. If it's not about shipping Adrienette, then no one cares even though Adrienette was totally one sided for most of the show. First it was only on Marinette, then it was only on Adrien, and it only became mutual in the episode where they... got together? Kind of? Seriously, when did they actually start dating? The second half of Kwami's choice sees Marinette say this:

Alya: Then, how did we go from “I’m pathetic and I’ll never love again” to “Yay! I’m going out with Adrien”? Marinette: I’m not going out with Adrien…

But then the very next episode starts with Chat Noir talking about his girlfriend! When did that transition occur? For a season that's all about Adrienette getting together, it's kinda funny that we never technically see them get together. It's also kinda sad that them getting together was the result of Adrien once again not taking Marinette's "no" at face value... I know it's a romcom trope, but writers, please, can we not use it in stuff aimed at little kids? Plus haven't we mostly agreed that it's a bad, lazy, overused trope? Does anyone actually like it?

This is getting long, so I'll just give some final thoughts and call it a day.

A relationship starting off of shallow feelings is totally fine and normal. Outside of your family, that's how most relationships start. You meet someone with similar interest or whose vibes you like or who is taking the same class as you. You start talking and get to know each other, which can lead to a deeper relationship in the form of a friendship or a romance, which is basically a friendship with bonus features.

The issue with the love square is that the writers are absolutely botching the "deepening relationship" part of the equation. They're not letting Marinette support Adrien or learn about his struggles or even acknowledge the struggles that she does know about, which makes her come across as ridiculously selfish, a terrible lead in to a final where she now has knowledge that could destroy him. Most of the audience doesn't trust her to tell him about this knowledge because of course they don't!

As always, I lay the blame for this at the feet of the writers because so much of Marinette's bad behavior and issues make no sense when we look at her previous writing. She's never been the best at emotional intelligence, but she has always tried to help others, a thing that the show somehow acknowledges during her fight with Gabriel, leading to his win, but doesn't in acknowledge in Marinette's own romantic relationship. Of course, that would require the writers to see Marinette's season five behavior as a flaw and I don't think that they do, which is why I blame them and not her. I have no issue writing her - or reading things that write her - as better than this.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better

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stromuprisahat · 2 months

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Remember Alina, you DON'T have any rights...

Siege and Storm- Chapter 12

Another Grisha to drag out of bed in middle of the night?

Or are there other hostile groups we're not shown?

I've read antis with this opinion. Tragic.

As if they didn't pay for that privilege with their freedom and lives...

Alina still doesn't quite realize, how does ~that~ translate.

You're a serf, you're the Sun Summoner.

... doesn't sound so empowering, does it?

As if "they" never needed the Darkling before her, as if "they" offered Grisha a place to live out of goodness of their hearts. As if the Darkling couldn't destroy the whole capital, when push comes to shove. Yet somehow, they're all free game.

Serf, honey, that's what you are, Crown's slave of different name, and that's why the Darkling wanted things to change.

Looking at this passage, I'd love to read the King talking like a KING:

“He thinks she can be trusted,” the King quavered. “We’re not so sure. Her escape from the Darkling seems a very unlikely story, but we cannot deny that Ravka might have a use for her services.”

Yes, Alina is less than a person for him. Why not refer to her as if she weren't even present? Addressing people below one's station in third person...

In short- "If I decide to get rid of you, nothing will stop me from doing it. I don't need a reason, for there's always one."

Remember, Alina? You're ... the Sun Summoner. They need you...

Alina's confidence would be more applaudable, if she weren't strong only thanks to two amplifiers, and her repertoire included more than shining and the Cut.

Was this how the Darkling had felt? Yada, yada, let's stop him! Why does Alina always have these flashes of reason, if they never turn into something more?! On one hand she realizes what he has to keep enduring for the scraps of power ensuring he'll be able to work for his people, on the other he never quite makes in out of the shadow of her bigotry (Pun totally intended.) to become a human being worth active empathy in her eyes. The best she does is offer him decent burial.

#Grishaverse #S&S Chapter 12 #Alina Starkov #anti Grisha sentiments #The Darkling #King Alexander III Lantsov #self centred and paranoid #grishanalyticritical #Siege and Storm #Grisha trilogy #V #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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wealllovemilo64 · 1 year

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Needy drunk! Part 4 Jotaro?

Jotaro and reader are coworkers, and they had a celebration party for the success of an experiment with the department and all.

Now, here, jotaro is divorced and has a share custody with his ex wife about jolyne.. And the reader, a newcomer whos maybe 2-3 years younger (male), somehow piqued his interest. Maybe how the reader talks to him in a gentle caring voice, how he would comfort him if he notices jotaro upset more than usual, or always being by his side. Regardless he was needy and head over heels over reader, despite his stoic disinterested, and rude manner towards him. Yet you still stayed with him.

And during this party. Jotaro drank a bit too much alcohol, and got a bit drunk...which is unusual. Jotaro doesn't get drunk easily but the alcohol is quite strong. His brows furrowed and unshed little tears beside his eyes with a blush on his face. How cute.

Because of the alcohol and the years of loneliness, just feeling your touch and gentle voice asking him if he's okay already sends jotaro to a loophole of neediness, pawing at your clothes, begging for you. (guess he was THAT touched starved.)

Surprised nonetheless,you granted his wish. .. A few moments later, at one of the bathroom stalls of the department, there is a certain someone blowing jotaro's back, pounding onto him from the back and your dick touching all of his sweet spot. Jotaro was feeling immense pleasure, heightened sensitivity all thanks to the alcohol. Evident by the tears running down his face, his mouth apart. Holding the walls for dear life as you kept on pounding him, hat, pants, coat.. All gone. He was vulnerable and naked under you.

Jotaro was pretty, that was the reader's opinion when he first met jotaro. He was glad he worked beside him. And seeing jotaro moaning and crying about how much he loves him, how many times he was jerking off to him, how he feels. You were glad *VERY* glad, being able to see jotaro in this position is heavenly and you were enjoying every second of it.

(Sorry if this is a bit long.. And if you could, please turn this into a fanfic or a scenario is fine too :) ...and if you accept anons, may i please be ⁉️ anon?)

OMGGGG! THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER READ! (i’m so happy i got a new anon, hearts for u ⁉️ anon 🫶🏾)

I hope you don’t mind that i turned it into a fan fiction!

———————————————————

Needy!Sub!Drunk Part 4 Jotaro x Dom Male Reader

Content: Alcohol use, Anal Penetration, Semi-Public sex, Sex while under the influence, Crying (Jotaro), Creampie, Hickeys/Bites, Office Job AU, More Modern AU (Laptops and phones)

———————————————————

It was late at night and Jotaro was sitting in his cubicle, typing away on his laptop like normal. The bags under his eyes were dark and deep, from all the stress he was dealing with and the constant workload that was on him. It wasn’t easy being a divorced single dad with a daughter who usually wanted to be with his ex wife and not him. He had no one to turn to for comfort, no one he could talk to in such trying times. That is, until you came along. You always went out of your way to be kind and caring with him, which made his stomach flutter. You would peer over your cubicle into his, making funny faces and distracting him from his work on his laptop. He always felt like he could genuinely smile when he was around you.

You two were both working the late shift one night, until Jotaro got a phone call. He picked up the phone, only to be met with the angry voice of his wife like usual. She was calling to beat him down with words once again, to tell him how he wasn’t doing his part for Jolyne and stuff like that. He felt so exhausted, but he listened just in case something had happened to Jolyne. After she was done she hung up herself, and Jotaro slowly set his phone down. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you had inadvertently heard the whole conversation. You slowly rose from your swivel chair and walked around to Jotaro’s cubicle, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Hey..you okay?”

Jotaro stayed silent and only gave a nod in response, to which you responded by getting down on your knees in front of him. Tucking a piece of hair behind his ear as you gave him a genuine, gentle look.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? You don’t have to pour your whole life story out to me, but whatever’s on your mind you can talk to me about if you need to.”

Your words made Jotaro feel warm inside, but he looked down at his lap so it wouldn’t show on his face. He nodded, trying to keep a level head as he muttered out a sentence.

“Thank you..it means a lot, [Y/N].”

You smiled, about to respond to him before a couple of your other coworkers burst through the door. All triumphant as they jumped around and laughed together. You immediately rose to your feet, confused on what was happening. Jotaro rose as well and you both went over to them.

“What’s going on?”

You asked. One of your coworkers responded to you with a smile.

“It worked! The experiment was a success!”

The rest of your coworkers continued to jump around and celebrate with each other as you and Jotaro were visibly surprised.

“We’re celebrating at the bar down the street, cmon!”

One of them said before they all hurried out of the room and began leaving the office. You got visibly excited as you turned to Jotaro.

“Did you hear that? We get to party!”

Jotaro saw your excitement as he too was excited as well, though it didn’t show on his face. He smiled at your happy face, almost getting lost in just staring at you since he admired how you looked when you were happy. You didn’t wait for his response before you started pulling him out of the office and down to the bar. Once you two got in, you and Jotaro went to sit at the bar. You both ordered some drinks, just chatting about how exciting the new advancement for the department was and other small things. It wasn’t long before Jotaro was wasted, he only had 2 drinks but the alcohol was rather strong. You however, had hardly finished your first glass so you were still pretty sober. You laugh at Jotaro’s drunk state, it was funny how he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as his words slurred together. You stopped laughing as you watched Jotaro lean forward and grab at your shirt, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“W-*hiccup*..w-want youuuuusss..”

You were surprised at his sudden touchy behavior, to which you blushed and gently pushed him back.

“Jotaro, we’re in public-“

Jotaro wasn’t listening to a word you said as he leaned forward and started trying to kiss you. You sighed as you got down from the stool and slung Jotaro’s arm over your shoulder, starting to walk to the bathroom with him. You pulled him into a stall and locked the door before you pressed him up against the wall, connecting your lips before he had a chance to say anything. Jotaro messily kissed you back, the taste of alcohol mixing in both of your mouths as your tongues clashed together. Jotaro was already beginning to undo your shirt as you made out, breaking away for just a brief moment to pull it over your head. You did the same to his shirt and you went back to kissing, until both of you were completely naked. You pulled away from the kiss, watching the string of saliva between you two before you turned Jotaro around and bent him over. He gripped onto whatever he could, though the wall was really his only option. You were about to prep him before he stopped you.

“A-..already..*hiccup*..loooose..”

Jotaro turned his head to the side, a very obvious blush tinting his cheekbones as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. You were surprised, realizing that Jotaro had been playing with himself at some point and was already loosened up. You smirked, leaning down close to his ear as you whispered against it.

“Were you touching yourself to the thought of me, Jotaro..~?”

Jotaro had sobered up a bit more now, actually able to hear what you were saying now. Giving a slow nod to your voice as his blush only grew darker. You chuckled at the sight, hoping that you were the only person who would ever be able to see him in such a vulnerable state. You didn’t waste anymore time as you spread Jotaro’s ass cheeks with your hands, starting to insert your already erected cock. Jotaro let out a surprised gasp as only the tip had entered, visibly oversensitive from the effects of the alcohol. You were eager to be inside of him already but you were heavily holding back since you didn’t want to tear his ass. You definitely weren’t small and it wasn’t easy to get inside Jotaro’s hole even though it was loosened up. Jotaro cupped a hand over his mouth, trying to contain his moans as he finally felt your cock make its way all the way inside of him. He could feel the tip already throbbing against his prostate as you let him have a second to adjust. He nodded, giving you the go ahead to start moving. You pulled out a little bit before starting up a somewhat slow pace, but you were being a bit hard with your thrusts. Jotaro let out loud moans and whimpers into his hand, the other gripping the wall tightly. You gritted your teeth together as you let out some grunts yourself, Jotaro’s hole was so tight and wet, not to mention he clenched around you like a fucking vice. It wasn’t long before you were thrusting in at a harsh pace, hitting his prostate just right. Jotaro was definitely sober now, his hand falling from his mouth as he failed to contain his moans. The feeling of you driving against his g-spot made his eyes roll into the back of his head. You loved this sight of Jotaro, taking a mental picture in your mind that you would save forever. The tears streaming down Jotaro’s red cheeks was something you would never ever forget. You couldn’t help but lean down and leave some marks on his shoulders and all down his back and his neck, just to ensure he was yours and yours only. All Jotaro could think of was you and how you were absolutely destroying him. He cried out your name, loud moans and whimpers cutting off his sentence as he blabbered on about how much he loved you and wanted you so badly.

“F-..Fuckkk, [Y/N]! I love you s-soooo..m-muchhh..!”

Jotaro’s words only urged you on to keep pounding him into nothingness. Jotaro could feel his climax approaching, moaning out in slurs that he was close. You knew you were close too as you clenched his waist and slammed harder.

“Let’s cum together Jotaro..”

Jotaro nodded, his moans getting more frequent before white spurts of cum shot out of his erect cock and onto the floor. You finished off not too long after him, stuffing him full to the brim with your seed as you let out a loud grunt. Jotaro panted heavily, trying to recollect himself as you leaned down and peppered kisses along the side of his face and his neck. Grazing over the previous marks you left while you were fucking him as you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him from behind.

“I love you too, Jotaro..so so so much.”

#dom male reader #male reader #x reader #top male reader #sub jjba #sub jotaro #sub part 4 jotaro #HELP I CANT PUT THE KEEP READING THING IN THE RIGHT SPOT #⁉️ anon

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room-surprise · 19 days

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Dungeon Meshi Anime Review, Season 2, Episode 19 review

Izutsumi arrives! And Marcille has a nightmare.

This is an interesting episode but I know my spouse and I had desperately hoped that they would re-organize things somehow. Marcille's plot in this feels painfully tacked on and unrelated to Izutsumi's introduction, and the concept of the nightmare is so good, it could have easily been expanded to be an entire episode on its own. I wish they'd done that. They could have paired Izu's intro with the ice golem story to have one all-Izutsumi episode and then one all-Marcille episode... alas.

Those are changes I would have LIKED to see, but here's some changes I didn't like:

(MAJOR MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!!)

Trigger removed Laios' mother's only speaking line in the manga. It would have taken SO LITTLE to have someone read this single sentence, and removing it, in my opinion, has a negative impact on the story as a whole.

It SOUNDS like a generic thing when she asks Laios "When will you give us grandchildren?" But this is actually really important. Laios is afraid of being forced to make a family and participate in society. This is unusual because he's a man, most men in a historic time period of this don't really care about such things, but Laios is so afraid of it, it's a recurring nightmare!

This is also why he acted so weird seeing a loving father/baby scene in the magic paintings chapter. He hated seeing a father talk about how much they love their baby.

Laios is named after a story about murdering your children before they can hurt you. Like an Oedipus Complex supposedly means that a son wants to have sex with his mother, a Laios Complex means a man wants to kill his sons. Kui did not pick this name and then have Laios repeatedly be uncomfortable with children, marriage and fatherhood for no reason.

Obviously Trigger didn't make any of these connections and so they didn't think it was necessary for Laios' mom to speak this line out loud, but I vehemently disagree.

This is similar to my beef with them removing Yarn Floke's only dialog in the story and removing her from the scene with the Island Governor. That moment told us that Mr. and Mrs. Floke were equal partners, and now anime watchers assume she's just his wife who doesn't do anything. That sucks.

The addition of paintings of Marcille's father in the nightmare. Woof. I really don't care for this, if they wanted to do it i would have preferred it if they'd obscured the paintings somehow so it wasn't obvious that Marcille's father wasn't an elf.

I think this makes the later reveal of her half-elf status WAY less surprising.

Also, in the manga, the complete silence around her father created a strong subtext that Marcille's mother was her only parent that mattered. They could still accomplish this but I think it won't be as shocking.

People reading the manga probably thought "her dad was an elf and he died young and that traumatized her" (this is what Laios assumes I'm sure)

People watching the anime will think "her dad was a tall-man and his natural death of old age is what traumatized her" which is true, but they aren't supposed to actually know that yet...

Overall the episode was good aside from these issues. I liked that the nightmare sequence was in black and white, and the transition to color at the end was spectacular and very impactful... But part of me wishes they had done something else to differentiate the nightmare state from the normal animation. The black and white was good, but almost too subtle because the DM palette is already so desaturated.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #review #spoiler #spoilers #laios touden #laios thorden

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supremechancellorrex · 24 days

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One of the major disappointments I had with the Avatar live-action was the storyline and characterisation of Azula. Not only does the show take vital minutes that could have been spent on Katara, but Live-Action!Azula fails to feel very strong and threatening presence wise. There's a lack of mystique, mystery and reveal with her. The live-action has laid her bare a little too early for comfort in my opinion. Narratively, I think we know her *too well* now. It doesn't help she lays her feelings on her face pretty bare to see.

Where she seemed more promising in Episode 3 with her cool dispatching of rebels and plotting with Zhao, I honestly didn't really enjoy her scenes after. Also, I know this is a tall order, but I found Azula's martial arts not as strong as Zuko's actor, which is jarring for her plotline. I found her lightning reveal a little lacklustre. She's just like, wham, lightning.

Azula's Conflict

Part of Azula's original characterisation in the cartoon was she was able to keep her feelings close to her chest like a cold flame, it was smarter that way. The entire point of her characterisation is she appears the perfect royal vessel blessed with all the gifts, but she actually was hurt and mentality unstable and masking this trauma. Yet, in the live-action Azula ragefully beats and loses control in a training session fight against a servant to the point Ty Lee and Mai, her friends/underlings of a lower social station, dare to protest and physically pull her off in full view of everyone. Meanwhile, Ozai reads her like an open book for most of the season. She feels like more of an underdog, like a vicious little poodle monkey kicked every time Ozai praises Zuko, and being so obvious with her feelings in front of Mai and Ty Lee, and an entire courtyard of subjects and everyone. Apparently, Royal Family members are so much so obvious, a lowly person like Zhao thousands of miles away somehow even knows Ozai is testing her. What did she put in those silly letters? It feels like Live-Action!Azula is cottoning on a little too late on how to really play the game for someone so smart, and that would just be unacceptable in such a traditional, Imperial Confuscianist-like environment.

What Azula deals with in Season 1 of the Avatar: Live Action is a conflict Azula would have more likely had at age 10, realising a textbook answer isn't enough. By having her have this at 14, it does make her feel more slow and less of a prodigy with a strategic mind. The writers decided to do the Season 1 timeline and have something for Azula to do at the same time, but the conflict they chose for her does change her characterisation in ways so far I'm not fond of or at least confident is for the better.

Aluza, A Meaner Zuko

My problem with Azula isn't that she's "sympathetic", more she just doesn't feel like herself. She had a different way of dealing with things in the original show; she'd learned from a young age to be more generally closed off and in an imperial, authoritarian environment. In this environment, where composure is everything and every movement needs to affirm the Mandate of Heaven that is your existence and your divine right, Azula learned to restrain her self-expression where in contrast Zuko had difficulty and was punished for it. As someone who knows people in real life who are very difficult to read. Live-Action!Azula was far too obvious and readable for the characters around her at this stage, especially given the upbringing she would have had. In most of the cartoon, she does have a tighter hold on her feelings and that is more realistic due to the position she has in the culture she was born into. Although we see sparks of insecurity in the cartoon, which hint towards the original Azula's inner issues and trauma, generally she is very composed and tactical.

Trauma can often manifest in unique ways depending on the individual. People with trauma can actually be very hard to read. Similar to how an injured cat will instinctively give no sign of pain to not show a predator any sign of weakness. Zuko lashed out with his trauma, but Azula reacted in a different way in the cartoon. That was part of her characterisation. And, I'm not talking about how Azula is becoming worse and Zuko better, I'm talking about how they react to Ozai and things not going their way. In the live-action, now both just lash out, complain, get angry and have to have someone intercede. Azula is more vicious, but the reactions are more similar now than they were, and I personally feel it takes away from what were key differences between how the characters would react to problems growing up. She was a different person. Now I don't think the cartoon got it all right, I think they were clumsy with Azula's character arc at points in Book 3 especially in my opinion, but she just had more of a presence and there was a certain nuance and dynamic to her troubled and calculating personality that I feel is lacking in the live-action.

Live-Action!Azula also didn't feel very "Royal" to me in the live-action, feeling less like a girl who believes in her divine right to rule and more just a mean girl in high school. There's something often intrinsically cold and distant about people in Royal Families, their environment, the "Never Got Enough Hugs" syndrome and its mentality, even for the ones that act out. The type of people that make children march miles behind their mother's coffin in full view of thousands of faces for saving face, tradition, and duty. I'm not sure they nailed it. This Live-Action!Azula lacks a certain spark so far, and what I know of Royal Families, from the UK and Japan to the former Royal Families of China and Korea, I'm not convinced of her characterisation here as a character with a background as a princess.

Villain Crafting

Azula felt intimidating because Ozai had twisted her into what on the surface to others and even herself was a "monster". Perhaps the cartoon's mistake was not delving deeper into this characterisation more and instead focusing just on the badass spinning kick blue flames moments and smirks a bit too long, as some people didn't get Azula had a sympathetic and tragic side, but I feel the live-action's mistake is adding in details not true to Azula's character and peeling back the mystery of this character too early, because now it feels like the viewers know they know a lot, right off the bat, and storytelling wise in Season 1 it just made this Azula come across as less interesting or even authentic to me. It won't be surprising to anyone this Live-Action!Azula has a mental breakdown now, it will be predictable and more like her usual tantrums instead of a shock that shows a deeper truth.

#azula #princess azula #avatar live action #screwed her up #what were they thinking #i can't even recover #bad writing #avatar the last airbender #nalta

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last-ofthe-starks · 2 years

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HOTD Episode 7 Thoughts and Easter Eggs

Shoutout to Daemon’s helmet in the opening credits and now flowing into Rhaenerya’s symbol. Credits move so fast it is hard to catch things within it.

Opening with this scene is heartbreaking but I enjoyed not having a huge time jump this episode. Also Rhaena being held by Rhaenys is a great way to show that in the ten years time they were apart, they must have still spent time with one another because they are close.

Otto with that stupid pin pisses me right off, but to me seeing them zoom right in on that pin on his chest is to emphasize just how easily Otto was able to become HAND OF THE KING - arguably the most important role in court someone could have - and the man who banished him for being a snake and untrustworthy has somehow allowed him to return to court. (Also, you can see that he bites/picks his nails like Alicent). Say what you want about his health, but if Viserys were a strong man (like Daemon has always said), this would never have even been entertained, and yet here we are.

Daemon is losing it during the funeral while Vaemond Velaryon is speaking, and rightfully so. The poor guy sees through all the falsities and knows that every person involved in the throne is playing the same game. Low blow from the Verlaryon’s to say their true blood runs thick and may never run thin while looking right at Rhaenyra. This episode really drove home the point that Rhaenyra is at the very end of her rope with trying to claim her children are not the children of Harwin Strong. It is becoming impossible for her father to defend her against the opinions of the public.

They mention the Merling King during the eulogy - this is the God who rules over the Narrow Sea. That is obviously a book reference, and in the house Velaryon, it is believed that Driftwood Throne was a gift from the Merlin King to their family to conclude a pact.

The opening scene following the funeral with the dragons flying together again over Driftmark is fairly symbolic; we know that by the end of the episode they will never all be together again harmoniously.

Alicent knows what’s up as soon as she sees Rhaenyra and Daemon in the same area. I like how they shot the scene with everyone on the patio area because you can feel how awkward it is, with all the tiny pockets of people and hardly anyone talking. It’s also a great visual tool to show how isolated Daemon continues to be. When Viserys’ finally does speak with him, you can see that it is too little too late. I think you can tell that Viserys regrets not making a greater effort to keep him around - Daemon warned Viserys of all of this happening in the very first episode. Additionally, having Rhaenyra walking in the background of the crowd watching the two brothers speak again with a nervous look on her face is a great parallel to the wedding episode, when Viserys was watching her and Daemon.

It is incredibly telling that no one is consoling or even talking to the widowed husband, and in a later scene with Rhaenys calling Daemon self serving (fact), we understand that the people of Driftmark likely share her same sentiments. In the books, it is said that everyone on both sides were angry when Daemon and Laena wed behind everyone’s back and ran away to Pentos. Surely his reputation is even more tarnished with her now dying and not being at home to big birth.

Watching the dynamics of all these kids being circled around for so long is very important foshadowing for how they will all be interacting in the future. I actually really like the actors, they are doing a great job and each one of them is really able to say so much about their character without having much dialogue or extended screen time. Shout out to the writers for managing to achieve that, it is no small feat.

Jace is such a sweetie pie, and now that he knows his father was Harwin, it makes it all the more sad watching him trying to mourn a man when he is not allowed to. Rhaenyra is such a good mom and you can see that she is emotionally a very nurturing and caring parent to her children. It’s such a shame Alicent doesn’t learn a thing or two from her.

Having Daemon and Laena’s girls Baela and Rhaena reach out their hands to Jace is so sweet. In the books it made it seem like Daemon and Rhaenyra saw quite a lot of each other, with Rhaenyra becoming quite close with Laena, but in the show it’s implied that these cousins would hardly know one another. It is clear in this one act that they trust one another and feel like they can be vulnerable with each other. This is reinforced when the girls go get Jace first after Vhagar is stolen, and when the boys defend them against Aemond.

Lucerys’ conversation with Corlys was so sad, about Jace becoming king and Luke would inherit Driftmark. It reminds us all that there is so much already riding on all of these kids shoulders. For Luke to respond in such an innocent way that only a young kid can really puts it all back into perspective. Combine that with Aegon getting drunk and behaving like a teenager yet again, and you can see how if left to their own devices, these kids would have likely been friends and lived contented lives.

Helaena being married off to her brother Aegon is true to the book, but seeing Aemond wishing Alicent had betrothed her to him is a new twist. Last week Rhaenyra tried to marry her to Jace to strengthen the family bond and Alicent refused. Alicent was married off as a political move as well, and had completely rejected the notion of Targaryen’s marrying within the family when she was younger. We see now that as an adult, she will truly do anything to prevent Rhaenyra’s claim be stronger than her children’s.

Helaena predicted Aemond losing an eye last episode, and in the short scene we get with her she makes mention of “weaving Dragons with thread”, which could be her foreseeing Daemon and Rhaenyra’s wedding.

Viserys calling Alicent Aemma!!!!!

Like I mentioned earlier, Rhaenys’ clear disdain for Daemon is just the tip of the iceberg. She has clearly been harboring resentment towards Corlys for putting their family at risk, which she warned him about at the very beginning of the show. For a man so hell bent on revenge over men who didn’t listen to his wife, he sure does not listen to his wife a lot. She also cannot look Rhaenya in the eye in this episode, so it is clear that she is deeply disappointed by both sides of her family and it ultimately costs her both of her children. The Targaryens have taken everything from her, so I can’t wait to see how next week plays out with her.

“History does not remember blood, it remembers names.” What a line. Sadly, if Corlys were to take Rhaenys’ suggestion to heart and name Baela and Rhaeyna, they would eventually get married and lose the Verlaryon name. Corlys knows this, and even though the boys do not have his blood, it is his name he values more.

Rhaenyra confirming that her and Laenor tried to have a kid is a big deal my friends!

Harrens Curse - Rhaenyra mentions this and it is a reference to Black Harren. A lot of owners of the land ended up dying by violent means, and Larys made mention of this in last weeks episode as well.

“we were happy enough” - what a loaded statement. “I’m no longer a child” - also a loaded statement. In their relationship she is clearly the one running the show.

Aemond going after Vhaegar and claiming her to ride - what a scene to showcase just how big she is. you can tell that she smells him and for whatever reason, allows him to ride her. I know that is bad news bears but still a very cool scene. To see someone ride a dragon for the first time again like Jon Snow was so cool and well done, especially considering her size and that back then they actually rode them like horses. In the books, Viserys told Aemond that he would bring him to Dragonstone after the funeral so he could pick a hatchling but he takes matters into his own hands. Vhagar was originally owned by one of Aegon’s sister wives, Visenya.

Lykiri is a word in High Valyrian used to calm dragons down.

AEMOND IS SUCH A DICK, wow he becomes an awfully cocky bastard once he has a dragon. And then to throw is brother under the bus so easily, you can feel the resentment in him. This fight between the kids is also slightly different than how it was told in Fire and Blood. In the book, Joffrey sees Aemond sneaking out of the castle. Aemond kicks him into a pile of dragon poo so that he will stay quiet, In the show, we didn’t see Joffrey, and instead it was Baela and Rhaeyna were the ones to see him take Vhagar.

Poor Viserys, my man, he just wants peace and his people refuse to let him have it. But at the same point in time, he is really (to take a quote from Outlander) sailing on a ship made entirely of paper at this point, and everyone can see through it but ultimately because he is King it is the only thing maintaining Rhaenyra’s entire life and social standing. There is an obvious inequality between the family. Every law he puts into place ends up having the Streisand effect.

Alicent freaking out was actually an incredible scene, I knew what was going to happen and my heart was still pounding. Her fall from grace has been huge and the standoff in the center of the room was incredible. The dagger is emphasized a lot in this scene, so I hope to god they somehow make season 8 makes sense with this damn show. Also Criston Cole smirking, I wanted to smack his smug face.

Thank god Daemon actually stepped in to protect Rhaenyra this time unlike episode 5, but I think it’s telling that he blocks Criston instead of going for Alicent. To me, I think he knows Rhaenyra is strong enough to protect herself, and always has.

Otto being proud of Alicent is even more insight into how big of a scumbag he is. Him saying Aemond’s eye was a thousand times worth the price he paid was insight enough into just how far they will go to win. At the beginning of her conversation with Daemon, Rhaenyra says Alicent is not capable of cold murder, but now she can see the true face of her enemy.

Laenor being MIA mourning his sister for most of this episode is so sad. It really is so difficult a position he is in. And thankfully Rhaenyra does truly care for him and recognizes that he is a wonderful person and honorable man. That said, you can see the disappointment in her face when Laenor recommits himself to her. Daemon’s return is breathing new life into her and giving her the strength she needed to fight back, something Laenor will never be able to give her. This scene is very successful because at the end of the episode for a moment, you can believe Rhaenyra would have been willing sacrifice him to get what she wants.

“Fire is a prison, the sea offers and escape.” At first I was unsure how or why Rhaenyra was saying this in reference to her and Daemon, because the sea being her escape isn't an option if she kills Laenor. But after the episode ended, the idea that Rhaenyra knows her and Daemon’s fate’s are tied to their Targaryen blood, but Laenor has an escape if they give it to him is very clear. Another great line from this episode.

Rhaenya and Daemon speaking to one another again in High Valerian - and it is Rhaenyra asking Daemon to marry her again. Girl really has it bad. Rhaenyra has been depicted as an overall honorable person thus far, staying in her lane in court and despite sleeping with Harwin and siring bastards, the new context we gain this episode that she and Laenor did in fact try to have kids makes her situation more sympathetic. They tried, and couldn’t. That says something about her character that previous episodes denied.

When Daemon and Rhaenyra begin talking about marriage and needing Laenor to be dead in order to do so, I immediately was sad. Having Daemon do her dirty work and implying that upon Daemon’s return she would be willing to betray the only other family she has ever had when Laenor did nothing wrong, it would have been very Game of Thrones and I would have been very disappointed. This was all masterfully shot; juxtaposing the audio of their plotting with the scene of their wedding with their kids watching made them seem incredibly selfish, then having it all take place RIGHT after Lenore’s implied death rather than six month after the fact like the book implied is just crazy, honestly. And then you TWIST IT ALL and you see Laenor and his lover leaving together and my faith in Rhaenya and Daemon is restored once again and DAMN what a way to end the episode. But, no one else will ever know they did that, and it will paint them in an incredibly ugly light. For Daemon that is a strength, but Rhaenyra has never had to live with that shadow of darkness.

When they get married they cut their lips and hands with dragon glass! And Rhaenyra touched his chin like she had in the brothel again! We love a good parallel and continuity.

John MacMillan was good in all his scenes this episode, but to see how tormented he was with Rhaenyra when he promises to be a husband to her now...so well portrayed. She knows he is not a strong enough husband for the fight to come, and loves him enough to set him free. I wish we were able to see the conversation between Rhaenyra and Laenor (and likely Daemon) and be able to know his reaction because when you think about it, they gave him and incredibly selfless gift.

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