#i did not like the season for many reasons but its not my business to dictate what ppl enjoy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

axelsagewrites · 10 months

Note

My dear author, I just read "Daemon Targaryen*In Charge" and omg it's amazing! That said, if you're taking requests could I get a part 2, extremely fluffy focused on their married life (how they support each other and are completely devoted to each other, stuff) please?

Daemon Targaryen*My Moon and Stars

Pairing: Daemon x essos!reader

Summary: The reader experiences a peaceful day of married life since moving to Westeros for love

Word count: 1419

This is a fluffy sequel to In Charge. Can be read by itself

Warnings: just pure fluff

Masterlist Here

Translations:

Kirimvose - thank you

Ñuha qēlos - my star

Ñuho glaeso hūrus - moon of my life

It was easy to miss Essos, the smell of its spices, the music that rang in the streets like church bells, and the hot summer sun. Moving from the depths of the East to the capital of the West had been a big adjustment, to say the least. The lords spoke differently here, the streets were busy but somehow not as loud, and the air was cold even when others said it was warm. A foreign land with strange people yet for some reason you kept choosing to stay.

Daemon was the reason why. He was the reason you didn’t pick a ship and sail back. He was the reason you smiled, the reason you laughed, the reason your body felt warm even during the winter season. He was also currently laying behind you, arm lazily draped over your waist. His fingers drew light circles over your hip bone.

“We must wake dear husband,” you said, stifling the yawn that threatened to spill. You had gone to bed later than usual last night and the reason why lay behind you.

Daemon brushed the hair off your shoulder, placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, “Not yet ñuha qēlos,” my star he called you. The star from the east to guide him home he would call you.

“ñuho glaeso hūrus,” you said back slowly, the pronunciation feeling tight on your tongue. “Did I say it right?” You asked, turning your head at first but soon moving to lay on your back to gaze up at his face.

“Yes qēlos,” he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. While you were the star, he was the moon. Moon of my life. He’d taught you the phrase after he taught you qēlos. “Your Valerian is almost as good as mine,” his lilac eyes gazed into yours and sometimes at night you wondered if the moon would be prettier in purple.

Later that day once you had finally managed to pry Daemon from his marriage bed you decided to walk the grounds while Daemon trained in the courtyard. The red keep had been quiet recently, perhaps too quiet, but nonetheless, you decided to enjoy the rarity to its full extent. As you walked you noticed all the other wives gathered in clusters with their sewing or their embroidery or occasionally a book.

While the wives may have smiled at you and asked polite questions it had yet to go further. Lady Beesbury smiled at you from her embroidery group, even lifting her hand for a small wave. “They’ll love you once they know you. Like I have, “Daemon's words rang in your heads as you took your first step over. “Ladies,” you greeted the three as you approached.

“Princess,” all greeted, bowing their eyes down before looking back up. You found the curtseying and bowing and titles of Westeros all so painful, but you did not want to correct them yet. “Have you come to join us princess?” Lady Harte asked, glancing around the group.

“If you would like me to my lady,” you said, daemon having spent many a night with you teaching you how to speak to people at court.

Lady Beesbury grinned as she shuffled over on the bench she sat on, “It would be an honour princess,”

“Thank you,” you said, sitting down next to her, glancing at her embroidery, “But please we are in our own company, call me by my name,”

“Very well,” Lady Beesbury said, a smile eating up her face, “Well (Y/N) I’m Alice and these are my friends,” as Alice began to introduce you to your new group you didn’t notice the watchful lilac eyes from the windows above.

Daemon stood silently, leaning on the balcony watching how you smiled as you spoke, how your hands moved with each word, with a relaxed grin on his face. He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching you until he saw Lady Beesbury finger-pointing him out to you. When your eyes met, he noticed your smile widening. Daemon didn’t want to ruin your fun however so left it at a simple wave.

As he walked through the corridors, he noticed a face that he knew would soon become familiar, “Lord Beesbury,” Daemon greeted, suddenly approaching the slightly bumbling man that had been roaming court for the past month. “Do you and your wife have planned this evening?”

“N-not my prince,” the man stuttered out, his cheeks pinking at the edges, “Can we be of service to you in anyway?”

Daemon chuckled lightly at this, “You can help us polish off the plates if you’d like. Would you both like to join us at dinner?” Daemon even managed to have him track down the other wives and their husbands and you were shocked to find out about the sudden dinner party you were hosting.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you told daemon in your chambers as you finished getting ready. Your hands sneaked around his waist, pulling him into you, “But what’s with the sudden want for company darling?”

“It was nice to see you making friends,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face, “and see you smile of course,” he added when he saw the grin spreading across your cheeks.

The dinner had been a success and Daemon even managed to enjoy himself somehow, but he was thankful that it was over. “I forget how much I hate to share,” he mumbled into your neck.

You laughed as you pushed him off of you. “You were right by my side the whole night my moon,” you said as you stroked his cheek, “Besides I cannot have my bath with you clinging to my hip like a wanting child,”

Daemon grinned, his eyebrow-raising, “A bath you say?” He said as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“My bath,” you said pointedly, your hand pushing against his strong chest, “For I smell horrible,”

“You’ve never smelt horrible,” Daemon said but finally he relinquished his grip. As you turned to finish the touches on your bath, Daemon moved to sit on a chair close by. You worked silently, filling the bath with milks, honey, salts, and flowers as daemon watched each move. When you moved here impromptu you had left much of Essos behind, but Daemon was soon to send for all the salts and dried flowers you needed for these baths.

The water had turned a milky lilac once you’d finished and the steam from the water smelt like a sweet flower in spring. As you reached for the laces of your dresses Daemon stood silently. Without words he moved to stand behind you, pulling on each lace gently until he slipped the dress over your shoulders to pool on the floor.

You stepped out of the dress, moving over to step in the bath when you looked up to see Daemon carefully folding the fine silk dress away into the correct chest. You let yourself enjoy the sight, your husband oblivious to your gaze, before allowing yourself to enter the hot water, sighing as the warmth enveloped your body.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you rested your head on the edge of the bath. When heard footsteps pad across the floor, the sound of a chair scraping stone, then felt soft fingertips trail along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered open and when they looked up you saw Daemon looking down. “Relax ñuha qēlos,” he said gently, his voice not far above a whisper.

Allowing your eyes to shut again you let Daemon continue his movements. His fingers slipping into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp at first making you groan in pleasure. He continued his work silently, grabbing a hair oil from your chest of smells and pastes. His fingers stroked through your hair, using the oil the way he had watched you do many times. You let yourself enjoy the silence, enjoy his touch.

After he had finished with your hair daemon had you sit further forward to massage your back, working out any tension Westeros had caused. “Thank you,” you whispered into the near-silent room as Daemon worked out a knot in your shoulder.

Daemon paused for a moment, holding your shoulders in his hands. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek without caring that he got his shirt wet. None of that mattered to him right now, “Anything for you ñuha qēlos,”

“kirimvose ñuho glaeso hūrus,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

186 notes · View notes

hyuckmov · 2 years

Text

haechan — fallingforyou

bestfriend!haechan x reader, (feat. best friend mark, mentions of yeri) 5k, unrequited love angst for the most part, a bit of fluff, a happy ending this time, christmas and new years eve season vibes a/n: this is loosely based on 'fallingforyou' by the 1975 because...'i don't wanna be your friend/i wanna kiss your neck' but also hopefully its a little more than that...this goes out to all of you who've been in love with your best friend :) i'm scared there's more mark than haechan in this LOL also for someone who doesn't write long prose 5k is a little amazing for me </3 lmk if you like it thru my asks!

1 dec

you were only having this conversation with mark because haechan couldn’t make it for movie night.

movie nights without haechan were a quiet affair. with no one clamoring over which movie to put on and insisting on playing a series of games to decide, with no arguments over snacks or blankets or which lights to turn off, you and mark sat down and easily picked a movie from the watch-list. things were peaceful. until mark decided to bring up a topic you had sincerely hoped he wouldn’t.

“hey, i have to ask…” he sat up from where he was slumped on the couch. not paying him much attention, you nodded so he knew you were listening. “have you really never had feelings for haechan?”

turning over to look at him, you groaned. “mark we’ve been through this…”

he slid off the couch and joined you on the floor, pressing pause on the movie so there was silence instead. “give me your honest answer.”

you truly, genuinely, hated whenever he brought this up. you hated whenever anyone would ask whether you and haechan were dating, or if he had a crush on you, or any other variation of how are you only friends? truthfully, you hate it because whenever someone asks, you imagine it for a split second: it puts feelings and images in your head that are difficult to forget, and before you know it you can’t act normal around your best friend for about the next two weeks.

but then you embarrass yourself: you linger too long on his hands over the popcorn, you stare a little too much when he’s across the table during dinner, and haechan notices. he laughs in your face, and that makes you drop any other feelings you have settling in your stomach. business as usual. lather rinse repeat.

mark is still looking at you, his wide eyes telling you he really wants to talk it out this time. mark is a big believer in having all your feelings out, and in ‘open communication’. you’re surprised that it’s been 4 months since he brought up the issue.

“mark, just tell me what you want to say.”

“okay.” he pauses, and you can see him lay out his line of reasoning in his head. “what would you do if haechan told you he had a big project due and he was stuck at the library working on it?”

“i would go over there and help him.” you say, without thinking much about it. “i did that, actually. literally last week.”

“okay, cool, you’re a good friend.” mark takes a breath, “what would you do if haechan told you, that right now at this very moment, he really wanted to eat ramen.”

you raised your eyebrows because that wasn’t out of character for haechan at all. “go over there with ramen in a pot.”

mark nods, but he’s just warming up. “it’s midnight right now, in case you were wondering. it’s also raining outside, but i’ll move on. how many times have you helped haechan just over this past week?”

you’re beginning to catch on to what he’s implying. “we’re friends. that’s what good, loyal, friends do. we help each other out!”

“i’m not finished.”

“well, hurry up with your point and less with the hypotheticals.” you turn back to the tv, and you are about to press play on the movie when mark asks-

“do you say i love you to each other?”

your reply of ‘yes” sticks in your throat. yes you do. frequently. but its a throwaway comment, its how you end phonecalls, its what you say before you step out of the door. neither of you mean it. do you? “we don’t mean it.” you settle on your answer.

“he might not mean it.” mark sighs. “think about it y/n. you’ve blown off dates with people who were interested in you just because haechan wanted to hang out. you’re with him almost every second of every day. you would drop everything just to do something he asked. you don’t do that for me, that’s for certain.” you open your mouth to protest, and he quickly adds “not that i mind. i know we’re good friends. i’m just saying.”

“what are you saying?”

mark takes a deep breath. “you treat haechan like your boyfriend.”

the words settle in your brain for a second. you want to say you don’t, but you think a little deeper. if you and haechan were in a relationship, what would you do differently? where would things change? we would be kissing you think. then, fuck. why am i thinking about kissing haechan? then, if this is love, then yes i’m in love with him.

but mark hasn’t finished his thought. “you think of haechan as your boyfriend, you act like you’re his girlfriend, and i’m only bringing this up today because…”

“he doesn’t.” your eyes meet mark’s, and in that second, the both of you understand each other far better than can be put into words.

10 dec

you really hate that mark brought it up. and this time, it feels a bit different than before, because mark has really made some points. do you act like you’re his girlfriend? should you stop? should you scale back? it would be horrible if you just wasted all this apparent girlfriend-isms on your best friend.

“is something wrong today?” you’re having your weekly lunches with haechan at the cafe near the library, and he’s sitting across from you, and everything is normal: you’re at your regular seat, with your regular choice of lunch in front of you, and haechan is telling you about some way mark messed up the microwave last night. but also everything isn’t normal, because you’re back in the depths of pondering your relationship with haechan, and suddenly you’re wondering if this could be a date in some other universe.

“nothing’s wrong.” you poke at your food. “so are you getting a new microwave?”

“y/n i’m serious. did something happen? you’re being really…” he squints his eyes as he examines you closely, and somehow this makes your cheeks feel warm. you can’t look at him in the eyes. “you’re just…you keep not looking at me. why aren’t you looking at me? do you know something?”

“know what?” suddenly, you’re attentive: know something? your mind is going wild with all the possibilities, because it’s beginning to sound like…

does he like you and he’s afraid you found out?

“nothing” he says, far too quickly, and it makes your heart beat a little faster.

“what are you keeping from me?” now you’re on the offensive, and you watch haechan duck his head to avoid your gaze.

“i’ll tell you when i’m ready”, he mumbles and checks his phone for the time. “fuck. i have to go for class now.”

“okay!” you’re a little breathless from all the thinking. an awkward kind of silence fills the space as he puts things into his bag, determinedly not looking in your direction. impulsively, you add, “you can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“i know that. i guess i’m just…” he shoulders one of the straps on his backpack, and pauses to look at you. “i’m just scared of what might happen.”

you’re hoping against hope. maybe this time things will be different. “i’ll wait. things will be okay, i’m sure of it.”

“okay.” he smiles and stands up to go. and before you can lose your nerve, you say, as quickly and hopefully easily as you can:

“loveyoubye!”

he turns and his face breaks out into a wide smile. “bye y/n. love you. see you later.”

maybe you do act like he’s yours. but maybe mark was wrong, because sometimes you think he acts like you’re his too.

17 dec

it’s been a week, and whatever it was, you’re wondering if that moment in a cafe was completely hallucinated.

haechan doesn’t bring up whatever he was keeping from you. you don’t want to push him, because good things take time, don’t they? you ask mark if he has any idea what it’s about, but apart from telling you not to get your hopes up, he doesn’t have a clue either. you think you could maybe go on living like this: delusional over the fact that your best friend might like you. ready at any moment to return the feelings but ready at any moment to also pretend like nothing ever happened.

except maybe you couldn’t, because this whole situation has made the i love yous ever more painful.

after the next movie night, when you’re about to head to your own flat, you stand around, putting on your shoes and taking them off again while haechan busies himself in his kitchen. mark had already left, leaving you one last skeptical look before he headed out. you want to tell haechan you love him, just to hear him say it back — but every time gets a bit harder because it means something a little realer. “haechan!”

“yeah?” he walks out, still holding a plate. “get home safe y/n. text me when you get back.”

“okay, goodnight.” you walk out of the door, and as casually as you can: “love you.”

“mmhm. love you too.” haechan’s already gone when you turn back.

as the days turn colder, december seeping into christmas in all its stories of love in the winter and warm fireplaces, it becomes a mini game for you: how many times could you get haechan to say he loved you, just to hear it? ending each phone call with love yous, that you just manage not to stumble over. facetiming at night, and waiting to say it but not getting a chance to as he falls asleep. in the library before haechan’s class, you take too long deciding how you should say it: i love you, or just love you! bye, love you! or love you bye! and haechan has already left, with a wave.

you say it to his face once: as he’s adjusting the hood on your sweater for you before you leave the restaurant, and his face is so close to yours that you can count his eyelashes. and its so endearing, how his eyes crinkle into a smile, his hands brushing the hair out of your eyes, as he says it back.

each time he does say it, you let it warm you from the inside out. you let yourself imagine that he means it, and it’s enough for you, just for now.

20 dec

so your guard is truly down when he shows up to dinner at your apartment. you made kimchi jjigae, haechan’s favorite, and mark had come over too. the plates were cleared, but all of you lingered around the dining table for a while, talking quietly about little things, enjoying the warmth of the living room even as it gets colder and colder outside.

haechan is a little tipsy from the soju mark brought over. his cheeks are dusted with red, and he’s becoming increasingly touchy: his hands playing with your fingers and his head gently tilted to rest against yours. you like it a little too much, and you could get used to it. you wonder if he’ll tell you he loves you today.

“mark. y/n.” he swallows. “i asked yeri out today.”

and just like that, the delusion from the past month, the confidence you’ve gained from knowing your feelings and imagining that maybe he returned them, all your i love yous and all of his, begin to feel like a cruel joke.

mark is looking at you. carefully, he says, “that’s great haechan. i didn’t know you liked her.”

haechan smiles: you can feel it against your shoulder. “me neither.” still playing with your fingers, “i think one day, i was sitting next to her in class, and i realised.”

you think you’ve stopped breathing. normally, your silence would have been suspicious, and he should have noticed: should have turned to you, squinting, trying to figure out your opinion. but clearly you’re the last thing on his mind. “that’s so sweet. what did she say?” you try to sound excited, and you push him off of you like you can’t wait to hear the rest of the story, but really you just want to be away.

“she said yes.” haechan laughs a little at that, and he’s so happy. “we’re going to the christmas party together. and the new years eve party.”

mark laughs too, but his eyes never leave your face. “will you she be your new year’s kiss?”

haechan’s eyes widen. “dude i didn’t even think about that. sure.” he leans back, and looks up at the ceiling and you know he’s thinking about her. you’re not thinking of anything.

later, as you’re both cleaning up the kitchen, haechan stops you gently with a hand on your wrist. he seems to have sobered a little, because the cloudy look in his eyes are gone. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i was really scared i would make a big deal out of it if i told you and mark, only to get rejected.” he smiles a little.

you nod a little, not sure how to respond. but then he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, and he takes your hands in his. “are you mad at me? i’m really sorry. i promise i’ll never keep anything from you again. i love you, and y-you’re my best friend.”

and instantly, you want to hold on to him so badly that you don’t want to do anything that might drive him away.

“i’m not mad at you.” and because you’re just a little selfish, you pull him in for a hug. just one last one, before everything changes. “i’m really really happy for you haechan.” and just because you’re such a good friend, the one who puts him before you always, you add as you pull away: “we should probably stop saying i love you. yeri might get the wrong idea.”

he laughs a little. “you’re right. thanks y/n.”

it’s a mark of how good a friend mark is that he walks haechan to the crosswalk before saying he left something at your place, and doubles back.

when you swing open the door, the first thing he says is “i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t know anything. it just happened.” and it’s that which makes it real, and makes you start to cry. he spends the rest of the night patting at your hair as you mess up his hoodie with your tears, his “i knows” punctuating your incoherent rants about how it should be you. because it should be you, but also there’s no reason for it to be, at all. and there’s nothing you can do.

25 dec

mark solemnly promises he will watch over you for the whole christmas party. “just in case you get drunk and try to ruin yourself, or them.” he says. you tell him you don’t need someone watching you, and tell him to enjoy his christmas night, but he waves you off and slings an arm around your shoulder, for which you are grateful. it’s mostly been you and him this past week, haechan often busy with a date or another activity, and you’re a little grateful for that because seeing him in the flesh makes it hurt far more than all the hypothesizing you do in your head.

it’s only 2 hours into the party, more people trickling in by the hour, and already he’s started a game with you where you point out possible people for you to go out with. both he and you know you would never make a move, as evidenced from what happened between you and the person we are pretending is not holding hands with his maybe girlfriend right now. but it’s fun to hypothesise.

“he looks nice.” mark points at a boy you recognise as jaemin, who’s inspecting the back of your television.

“maybe.” you tilt your head, thinking about it. “he has a nice smile. oh and he helped me with calculus the other day — that was really nice of him.”

“so you know him!” mark beams at you. “you should ask him what he’s doing with your tv.”

“ask who what?” and the little bubble you’ve been sitting with mark in for the night is suddenly gone, because haechan has wandered over to the two of you, yeri following behind and smiling widely. he’s wearing a red striped sweater, the one that you picked out for him, and it looks so good that you curse a little internally.

“y/n was thinking of asking jaemin out.” mark says, swiftly. his arm tightens around your shoulder, encouraging you to stay calm.

haechan looks taken aback. “you’ve never mentioned jaemin to me.”

“i don’t have to tell you everything. you certainly don’t.” it’s a little mean, and not at all how you would speak with him usually but the way his fingers are interlaced with yeri’s is making you feel jumpy and annoyed. mark is giving you wide eyes, but he tries to pass it off with a laugh.

“sorry. she’s just mean because she’s drunk.” you haven’t had a sip of alcohol the entire night, but you play along, and try to avoid haechan’s eyes.

“sorry.” you mumble. haechan is still looking at you suspiciously, but yeri presses herself into his side and his expression clears.

“yeri wanted to say thank you for hosting the party.” he smiles at her, like there’s something the two of them share. you think you’re going to be sick, but mark has been answering for you far too much.

“thank you for coming. hope you had fun!” you smile as graciously as you can, but you tug on mark’s jacket with your other hand. “sorry, excuse us, we want to go say hi to jaemin for a bit.”

mark helps you hop off the kitchen counter, steadying you with an arm as you look around the room for ‘jaemin’. the entire time, haechan watches, not sure why he can’t stop noticing how the two of you are acting, and how this is the first time he’s really seen the two of you so close. he wonders when you’ve ever been this comfortable linking arms with mark, or putting your head on his shoulder, and why hadn’t he noticed before?

“wait-” he blurts out. you look at him questioningly. “be careful.”

irritated at him, for making you talk to him and look at him like this, you respond “what?” a little too aggressively. you really can’t control it today.

“with jaemin.” if you were still delusional, which you are trying very hard not to be, you would almost say it was as if he was making up what to say as he was saying it. “i heard he’s really rude. and not nice to date. at all.”

you raise your eyebrows, because you know that anyone who’s met jaemin would never say that about him. “sure haechan. merry christmas.”

and just like that, you leave him and yeri in the kitchen, mark guiding you through the crowd easily. jaemin is nowhere to be seen, so the both of you go to your bedroom, where you spend the rest of the night, mark valiantly trying to cheer you up by playing christmas songs for you on the guitar.

and if haechan slipped away from the party to stand outside your bedroom, listening to you laughing and requesting mark do the high note from all i want for christmas is you again, you were none the wiser.

but all you did know, was that when you and mark came out of the bedroom to kick everyone out of your apartment, haechan and yeri were kissing under the mistletoe, his hands wrapped around her waist, and her hands cupping his cheeks. you cheer loudly along with everyone else, and give him an aggressive thumbs up when he looks over at you and mark. you’re beginning to think you want to spend new years eve alone.

31 dec

you were only having this conversation with haechan because the both of you were stuck, in your car, on the way to a new years eve party you swore you didn’t want to go to, because mark couldn’t make it.

over the phone, he was really sorry. “i had no idea, but i have a family dinner tonight that i can’t get out of it. i’m really sorry y/n. don’t go to the party if you don’t want to.”

“of course i don’t want to.” spending new year’s eve alone was bad, but it would be worse if you had to watch yeri and haechan kiss to seal their love forevermore as the clock struck midnight. “i’ll watch a good movie, and go to sleep. i might not even stay up for it. it’s just another night.”

but that didn’t happen. haechan showed up at your door, breathless and panicked. his car broke down, and he had to go to the new years eve party to meet yeri, so could he please please please borrow your car? and could you please please please come with him, because he didn’t want to drive over alone? as you handed him your keys, seated in the passenger’s seat, in last year’s new year’s eve dress and mark’s huge hoodie over it, the words “you would drop everything just to do something he asked” rang in your head.

would you go to a new years eve party if he asked, one that you weren’t planning on going to, in the middle of the night, even if you knew it would likely bring you immense pain? yes apparently, you would. apparently, you still treated him like your boyfriend when he was about to be someone else’s.

haechan keeps looking over at you. how do you look so pretty, in the middle of the night, just getting ready for bed? and why are you wearing mark’s hoodie? “i’m really sorry for making you go out like this.”

you wave him off. “it’s fine.” softer, “you know i’d do anything for you.”

cars moved slowly around you, and their tail lights shone in a bright red lane all the way down busy highway. very soon, the car was barely moving. the two of you sitting there, stuck, as the clock on the dashboard blinked 11:40. running his hands on the top of the steering wheel, haechan spoke up first. “when did you get so close to mark?”

“huh?” you’re genuinely confused. “why would you say that.”

“you’ve just been a lot closer with him recently.”

“we’ve always been friends.” you don’t want to say anything too cutting, anything that would make the silence in the car too heavy, but there is no other way to put it. “you’ve been busy.” with yeri hangs unspoken in the air — but its true. and you don’t even blame them. if haechan was your boyfriend, you would want to spend every second of the christmas season with him. “mark has just…been there.”

haechan doesn’t reply to that. the car inches slowly forward. the song that plays from your phone is slow and deep, and when you look at the lights on his face, his eyes unfocused on the road you realise you just want to reach across the seat and wrap your arms around him.

you think of skipping the song or switching to a christmas radio station, but you can’t bring yourself to ruin it.

“y/n i.” haechan finally takes a deep breath. “i don’t know if its selfish of me, but i just feel like i’ve been losing you and i don’t know how to be back in your life in the way that we were.”

the way we were. “haechan, i don’t think the way we were…was very good for us.”

“what do you mean?” haechan turns, and looks at you. halfheartedly, you point to the road ahead, but the cars aren’t moving, and his eyes are focused on you.

“have you ever really thought about what we were to each other?” you blame the lights. you blame the song. and you blame the fact that the clock reads 11:49, and you just want to be honest, maybe just for once in this cursed holiday season. “haechan, my life revolved around you. you were everything to me. and all i needed at the end of the day was just, you smiling at me, or you telling me you…” you can’t finish the sentence. you won’t.

his heart snags on the were. the was. “i didn’t realize.”

“well it did. and now you’re unhappy because i’m not just waiting for you to reply to my messages, or pick up my calls, because i’m spending time with mark now.” you are picking the entirely wrong fight. the whole argument is wrong, and you know it, but you look stubbornly out at the window. this confrontation was not going to turn into a confession, not when you were both on the way to literally help him kiss someone else.

“i’m not unhappy.” haechan says, slowly. “i just…” the car behind you honks, and he hurriedly moves the car forward, but soon stops again. traffic on new years eve was impossible. “i lied that day.” you look over at him, unsure what he was talking about. “i didn’t ask yeri out. she asked me out.”

you take a moment to process this, but it doesn’t really change anything. “okay.”

“and, i guess i never really thought about her that way before. but she just asked, and suddenly i realised that maybe i did like her. it’s weird, it kind of felt like after she asked me out all of our casual conversations in class just took on a different meaning. i’d never even really thought about her that way before, and suddenly it made sense.”

why was he telling you this ?! you think love truly brings out the worst in people, because you wanted to jump out of the car instantly. you had to be happy for him, and there was no mark to act as a buffer. you’re about to say something, when he continues on.

“i told you and mark that night because i waited for you to ask me why i really liked her. or really just, i don’t know, help me figure out exactly how i felt about her.” he ran his hand through his hair. “but i guess you just didn’t say anything and i just kind of went with it.”

“well…” you try to disengage yourself from the situation. it sounded like haechan really valued your opinion, as a friend, and you hadn’t been there for him. “sorry. i guess it just took us by surprise.” you cringe as you realise that by speaking on mark’s behalf, it really did seem as if you were leaving haechan out. “took me by surprise, i mean. well, do you like her?”

he laughs a little at that. “it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“it’s never too late to rethink how you feel about someone.” you say, quietly.

haechan looks over at you, and it’s his gaze: as if he’s looking for the answer in your eyes, that makes you look away. you glance at the clock, and suddenly you freeze. 11:58. you scramble to put on the radio. “fuck, haechan we’re not gonna make it.”

“y/n-”

“you should call yeri and tell her you’re going to be late. she’ll be really mad if you don’t show up. she must be really worried-”

“y/n, please listen to me.” he takes both hands off the wheel, reaches out and holds your face in his hands. the radio announcer has just flickered on: the countdown has started. “i’m just going to say it. that day in the cafe: i was afraid you knew something. actually, i was afraid you realized that i liked you. every day, i would wait for you to say i love you, because i wanted to have a reason to say it, even if it was to say it back. i thought about how much you cared about me and i thought if i thought about you less, if i payed attention to other people, if i let more people into my life, it would be easier just being your friend."

‘5!’

“but it’s not.”

‘4!’

“it didn’t get easier, and i just miss you-”

‘3!’

“-every day because i think-”

‘2!’

“i really think that…”

‘1!’

and he doesn’t even bother finishing his sentence. he leans in, and kisses you. your head is wiped of everything he just said. you don’t think of yeri, you don’t think of mark, you don’t think about the afternoon at the cafe or that moment you saw under the mistletoe. you’re wrapped up in him, in the smell of his perfume. the graze of his fingertips against your cheek. and you reach out over the console, and wrap your arms around his waist like you always wanted to.

when you break apart, the radio announcer wishing everyone a happy new year, he mumbles. “didn’t get to finish my confession.”

you laugh and lean forward, to kiss him again. the cars on the road had all stopped, and you think that maybe the whole universe has been waiting for this moment. “i’ll do it for you. i think i really like you haechan. i think i love you.”

and you think maybe it’s not so cruel, to sit with your best friend, who you are in love with, and who loves you back, the kiss still buzzing on your lips, as you watch the fireworks in the sky, the voice on the radio singing in the new year.

#haechan #haechan scenario #haechan au #haechan angst #haechan fluff #nct scenario #mark scenario #nct imagines #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct dream scenarios

971 notes · View notes

bethanywritesbooks · 2 months

Text

my immediate thoughts on the first four and a bit episodes of netflix's avatar!

massive spoilers below!

okay I’m sorry but there is NO WAY sozin was actually present and storming the air temple. dude’s the fire lord. he would absolutely have been sitting behind a desk from the safety and comfort of his own palace and receiving the occasional update via letter at MOST.

are we supposed to infer the airbender woman who gyatso nods at is aang’s mum? surely the camera lingered on her (and showed her having absolutely bananas-level tornadobending skills) for a reason.

gyatso with the kids :”( literally made me cry.

honestly I was not as outraged as some people with the whole ‘toning down sokka’s sexism’ thing, bc I do understand some of his lines coming across differently/more maliciously in 2024 than intended at the time they were written. but I have to say … this version of katara opening the iceberg was not entirely convincing :/ like in the OG version you could see how she was so angry at sokka that it fuelled her waterbending enough to break the iceberg, but in this one she just … raises her hands?

I get that this show is trying to be its own thing, but ‘will you go penguin sledding with me?’ is SUCH a perfect introduction to aang’s character, and I’m kind of bummed they nixed the line :/

and I get there are time constrains etc, but they didn’t include any of katara and aang actually bonding together, so it doesn’t really make sense now that she’s willing to go off and travel the world with him.

the music is really good!

GRAN GRAN DID THE THING!

speaking of, why does gran gran know everybody’s business?

they definitely seem to have toned down zuko’s personality? like OG show zuko would not be having a back and forth conversation with iroh about the avatar, he would’ve just shouted at him and stormed off.

I also really like the interaction between iroh and aang. iroh’s toeing the party line, but you get the sense that he believes differently.

okay, I have to say this, and this is something I’ve been thinking since the first promo pictures came out. everyone’s clothes look too clean! our real clothes have were and tear, but these outfits don’t look lived in! it’s distracting me!

that said, paul sunghyung lee is completely spot-on as live-action iroh. completely captures the character’s personality and appearance. I want a hug from this version of iroh.

must admit I am glad that appa and momo are 100 times cuter and nowhere near as terrifying as they looked in [REDACTED BY THE DAI LI].

okay, heading into episode two.

seems they have retconned zhao’s origin story, since this seems to be the first time iroh has met him? does this now mean zhao was not present at the zuko/ozai agni kai, like he was in the OG show?

SUKI!!!!

suki’s reaction to meeting a boy she likes being to throw down and fight him, what a little weirdo (affectionate).

oh, zuko. having the confidence to try and fight AVATAR KYOSHI is certainly … A Decision. one that a teenage boy would make!

AVATAR KYOSHI LOOKS SO GOOD!

avatar kyoshi if you are free to hang out on thursday night, I would like to hang out on thursday night when I am free, if you are free.

hmm I’m kind of intrigued as to where they’re going with the live action version of zhao. because right now it seems like he’s a nameless commander — like we’re supposed to infer his letter is his first direct communication with ozai? he’s not been around the royal family before? by taking away this backstory, the show is missing out on the total hilarity of a middle-aged man having longstanding, personal beef with a sixteen-year-old.

listen, if daniel dae kim wanted to be in my tv show I would absolutely be like ‘yes, of course, how many close-ups do you want?’ but I do think the OG show not revealing ozai’s face until season 3 was a really smart decision. it built up so much suspense and mystery around this character (who is supposed to be larger than life!) and it had SUCH good payoff IMHO. I do kind of wish they had committed to this too but, like. if daniel dae kim was in my show I’d want his face in it, so I get it.

time for episode three!

azula!! introducing her doing undercover work makes sense for her character, given how she later infiltrates ba sing se. though I’m not sure it’s entirely believable that the people … wouldn’t recognise her? in the fire nation capital? she’s a (very!) public figure!

again, season 1 zuko would not have had the patience and self-control to compromise with zhao like this.

mai and ty lee! I like that the show is already hinting at mai betraying azula for zuko — her first instinct is to defend zuko (even though she walks it back when she sees azula is upset), hinting at where her true loyalties eventually lie.

being a teenage girl and getting led astray by a bad boy with a shaggy haircut is, unfortunately, a canon event for us all.

katara brushing by zuko and him touching her scarf!!! not the 2024 zutara crumbs!

‘zuko, don’t fire bend, it’ll draw too much attention!’ zuko: proceeds to have a huge smackdown fight w aang, destroying multiple vendors’ goods in the process.

that lady smacking zuko for attacking aang was genuinely the funniest part of the episode.

‘MY CABBAGES!’ iconic, outstanding, give him an oscar immediately!

episode four!

more aang and iroh interactions! maybe they'll do a jailbreak together?

loved seeing the iroh and ozai interaction, I hope we get to see more of their dynamic together. (I think a lot of ozai’s actions make sense when you remember he’s a youngest child.)

loved the detail of zuko giving iroh lu ten’s broach (badge? pin? it’s late, my brain’s getting fuzzy), showing that his softer side was always there.

bumi’s voice and mannerisms and completely spot-on, but I’m not sure I entirely agree with his new characterisation. he seems so … jaded and bitter? yes, they’ve captured his silliness and eccentricity, but he’s also supposed to be wise, and I’m not sure if the latter is really coming across.

okay episode five! (it’s 11:30PM at this point, and I can feel myself becoming less and less coherent, so don’t expect as much detail at this point.)

ooof. the CGI while the gaang is on appa seems … worse than in earlier episodes? did they run out of money at this point?

this version of ozai seems more … pragmatic? he’s strategically playing his kids against each other, but IMHO animated ozai would never praise zuko (even if it was to put azula in her place) bc he didn’t like him enough to do that. ever.

JUNE LOOKS SO GOOD.

okay I am too tired to keep watching, I'll watch more tomorrow.

#atla netflix spoilers #atla spoilers #atla #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender

46 notes · View notes

teresalace · 7 months

Text

"I won't cry for you" - Yandere Tyler Galpin x Female Reader PART 3

•Part 1 •Part 2

Words: 1699

Warnings: Mentions of torture, psychology, dysfunction yet healthy family relations if you squint.

Show: Wednesday (2022)

Summary: You've graciously or stupidly, granted Tyler a phone to call his father for whatever reason he had while you went to call yours for assistance. And since you weren't fully knowledgeable about Hydes, you contacted the only person you knew, who wasn't in prison, that had that knowledge. Your father, Alvin Gates.

• •

🥺 Sorryyyy this took forever a lot of months, planned to post this at February but got sick and many stuff happened, preparing for an interview :--D but am back in my writing mojo!/kinda, HAPPY HALLOWEEN) AND I HEARD season 2 is coming omggg I'm excited

————

"Well, well, well~ If it isn't the sweet consequence of my actions with your mother." A voice unmistakably grouchy speaks, sounding jovial with every word out.

A quick glance to your locked bedroom door before you finally said a response into the cellphone.

"You sound well, father." You mildly greeted, a tinge of a smile in your voice. To think it's almost only been a month since the last call.

"Yeah yeah it's been a while but cut the chitchat, sweetie, what do you need helping with?" You could imagine an eyeroll as your father said, always cutting to the chase.

"About Hydes." You spared no other detail and maintained calm articulation. Not that you needed to be careful with him, thankfully.

For more precaution, it's better if not even your own father knows about Tyler being in the house. You didn't want things to get out of hand.

"Ah- what about them? Did something happen that isn't supposed to–" Suddenly silence overtook the line, a thoughtful humming until he spoke again. "Don't get yourself into any unfamiliar territory, kid. That's suppose to be your mother's speciality."

So he noticed, of course he did. Better leave that to his wandering imagination than spoil your plan. A very non-existent plan at the moment.

"I don't plan to. Father, I was just curious since I kept hearing about them." True, that wasn't a lie in the slightest. "I was wondering if you'd know anything about them."

Surely he must know something.

"Hmm, you heard it from someone, no doubt. . . Alright, alright. What do you want to know exactly, kid. I'll tell ya as much as I can afford to." Sounds like mother has been keeping tabs on him.

"Hydes obey only one master, their own, correct?" You continued when father hummed a helpful tune, "would it be possible to sever the ties between a Hyde and its master."

A pause in-between your father's breathing left you suspended.

"Well. . . Got bad news for you kid, I don't know any available methods for that." He sighed gruffy like he felt bad, "sorry but can't help you with the whole severing business. It's set in stone, pretty much."

"I see. . . " You massaged your temples, disappoinment rising inside you. But you couldn't just accept this answer easily, stubbornness seemed to take hold in your heart. For what reason? You couldn't figure out.

"However–" A hoarse chuckle emerged from your cellphone. "It's not entirely impossible to say there aren't other ways of solving that problem. I'm sure you can get some creative ideas from their origins, kid. Only one thing is set in stone, Hydes only serve one master."

Father's bold hint sparked a lightbulb in your head. Their origins.

In the first place, what caused Hydes to bond an undying loyalty to their masters was–

"Sorry for not being alot of help, kid, I'm out of time for the day. Take good care of yourself, will you."

"I will." A buzz of excitement slowly crept over you as an idea began running through your mind. "You were very helpful, dad, thanks. You take care too."

"Mm sounds like you found an answer eh?" He sounded genuinely happy, making you feel much more sturdy in this new plan.

"Not exactly but I should be on the right track." If Tyler would go along with it.

"Mm so you're going to try any attempts, I see. Hah– it's hilarious how similar you and your mother's thinking is!"

Again with the comparisons. You rolled your eyes, "Goodbye, father."

"Alright alright, see ya kiddo. For now." BEEP. BEEP.

The call was over already.

. . .

You turned off the burner phone, picking out the block of battery from the back and saving it in your other hiding space for another time. Now you should check on Tyler, you can't afford to trust him so easily especially when his father's a sheriff.

Quietly you went out of your bedroom, closing the door slowly so as to not make a sound. You headed down the stairs in a casual, fast pace to quickly see his state of mind.

But it's likely he isn't planning to screw himself over... Your assumption was most likely made correct when you came to see Tyler sitting slumped on the couch, his face buried deep in his hands.

Sweeping your gaze across the living room and floor, the burner phone you gave him was nowhere in sight… Mentally noting to check the trash bin by the kitchen before you stomped down the stairs and made yourself known.

Tyler's eyes peeked up first from the gaps in-between his fingers like the leafy venus flytraps back home ever so often tempting you to closer inspect. To place your finger in there, to feed.

He waited on your next move.

Your arms folded, hiding your hands twitching on their own for a tweezer. "Did you have a good talk?"

What else could you really say without sounding too interested in him.

"It was something…" Tyler did a small shrug, less energy than he's shown before, voice dulled by the cover of his fingers. "Could've gone better. I wish he didn't hang up so fast."

"What did you talk about?" Might as well see how much information he was willing to give.

A small sigh, Tyler slowly revealed half of his distraught face. "Not a lot. He wasn't interested in what I had to say… Told me to be careful." Strange of the dutiful sheriff to say but then again you didn't know what kind of father-son relationship they had.

"How are you feeling?" One of mother's favourite lines growing up that you've somehow adapted into your vocabulary. It seemed the most appropriate.

You continued watching Tyler's tensed form with a safe but short distance away, the coffee table acting as a possible shield in between you and him. Incase he raged.

But there was none.

There was something in his usual silence this time that irked you. Like he didn't fully trust you.

You approved of that, as he shouldn't. Mutually. Especially if things ever go wrong because of him, you were ready at a moment's notice to abandon everything to do with him.

"I… Hate him."

The pause went on for however many tensed seconds before Tyler's hands fell onto his knees.

"Sorry sorry, I know I shouldn't be saying this… I mean I can't say I don't miss him."

"You can say what you want. I don't mind," you said flatly, genuinely meaning it. His expressions stiff, he looked mentally pent up, thoughts practically steaming out from his ears.

"No, it's fine. You've done a lot for me already, I owe you." He grinned brightly, the dark cloud looming over from before gone in an instant, "for that phone call too."

"Sure," it wouldn't be bad to have a Hyde indebted to you.

Tyler checked the ticking clock on the kitchen wall, "I guess it is getting late… See you in the morning?"

You nodded. "Night, Galpin."

"G-Good night! Have a good sleep." He smiled dopey, waving briskly while walking backwards to the foot of the stairs before jogging up to his bedroom. So naturally at home.

Just how eager was he to get back in his room?

That wasn't his usual way of walking, what could he be looking forward to or hiding in there… Or he could just be relieved of stress after that talk with his father, maybe that brought about his new behavior.

Your suspicions were beginning to sound far-fetched even to yourself but then again, there was always that silver of possibility that he could be planning to rebel against you.

So you moved fast towards the kitchen sink, tiny spikes of uneasiness pulsing through you, turning the facuet on and letting the water run loudly as you went to look into the trash bin.

Expecting to look down into a void of nothingness.

The large black plastic bag sleeved over the edge of the bin looked loose and puffy. Clearly you didn't do this, your meticulousness wouldn't allow such a lazy set up. You pat down the puffy areas, flattening the edges to allow better access in seeing what trash had been collected.

Shiny peices of black metal greet you at the bottom of the pit, tiny and almost powder-like glitter in the kitchen light. What previously used to be a burner phone now looked like the result of being in someone's clenched fist. Useful monsterous strength… if he could actually get it under his full control.

Whatever anxiety crept inside your heart disappeared as you contently spun on your heel and turned off the kitchen faucet.

A small appreciation for Tyler as thanks to him, there's less work for you now.

You wondered why you even felt 'anxious' at all, it must've been the slight stress of knowing he could've screwed things up for you. And himself. Now that makes sense, of course since it's not as if you actually knew him personally even back in town.

Feeling much more at peace, you headed towards your own bedroom, adjacent from Tyler's. His room barely made any noise except for the few inaudible mumbles and the faint use of his shower and the light peeking through from underneath his door.

You never noticed before but he always had the lights turned on in there. Well, it's not as if you were the one paying the electrical bill. It was nothing noteworthy.

Once settling in your own bed and underneath your blanket in the cozy dark, sleep came easily… Until your brain jostled an interesting observation your very eyes must've slipped.

In the trash bin, there was no sight of the small black piece. The memory card.

The sim card.

Despite his questionable actions, you chose to sleep, thoughts racing alongside a strange excitement building up in you.

Oh what are you up to, Tyler Galpin.

Time was ticking. Neither on his or your side. He just didn't know it yet.

In the following morning you received a misscall from an unknown number. Father. He never contacts you first. There's nothing he needs that you could provide. It must be about the Hyde.

Finally.

#tyler galpin x reader #female reader #tyler galpin x you #yandere tyler galpin #wednesday 2022 #yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #teresalace #writing #dark fic #I won't cry for you #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #Teresalace #wednesday netflix

75 notes · View notes

dragonrider9905 · 30 days

Text

Midnight Snacks

Summery: Dogma had a long day at work and comes home to a surprise.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Celebration You Prompt List

@eclec-tech Here you go!!!!!!! Thank you so so much for being my first ❤️First person to encourage me on my writing journey, first to invite me to Tumblr and first to request in my follower celebration!!! I really hope this one lives up to your hopes! Your idea was just so cute XD I hope I did it justice ;D

Dogma trudged his way through the streets back home.

It’d been a long day.

Well, in truth, it’d been a long day for a long time. After the fall of the Republic with that fateful ‘Order 66’ (which he really didn’t know what that was all about) Dogma took the first opportunity to escape the prisons, which were in chaos. He’d struck out on high alert and extreme secrecy for who knows how long, living hand to mouth and always looking over his shoulder. Little by little, the paranoia dissipated and life turned into a day by day experience. Apparently the Empire was too busy to hunt him down (which was fine by him). They were too busy looking for other high value targets (which he had to admit, he didn’t know who or what they were. He didn’t get a whole lot of information in his cell on Coruscant). He’d rather be safe than sorry so a low profile he kept, but he also decided to live a little of a life. He’d get a job, make some money and live like a normal person doing…what normal people do. Whatever that was.

Monotony of time went on; Dogma got steady work and a steady life. Rarely anything fell out of place, just like how he liked it. He liked as few disruptions as possible. He knew everything that was going to happen. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Order was the order of the day...that was, until he met you.

You were the craziest, funnest person on the planet (and he’s got to admit that’s what made him attracted to you. Like, how in the galaxy did you have such a carefree spirit? Live from moment to moment without anxiety for the future. Always ready for an adventure. Believe that everything would be ok, and it always was. Blew him away).

Dogma always liked understanding everything, and nothing scared him more than when his heart started beating abnormally around you. The queasy feeling in his gut whenever you’d do something around him. The blush whenever you’d tease him. The irrevocable smile that’d show up on his lips whenever you laughed. Dogma didn’t understand any of it!

Ok, he retracted his earlier statement; he realized he was never more scared than when he connected the dots: he was in love with you.

Falling in love was easy. Staying in love was the hard part.

His shifts at the factory were long and hard. 12 hours a day, zero breaks, four days a week. The bits in between were yours. How do you keep love alive on that?

Turning left at the corner and sighing into the night, slightly chilled with the season and a hint of rain in the air, Dogma felt almost giddy. It’d been three months since he told you how he felt. Three months since you told him you felt the same way. Three months of bliss, and extreme exhaustion. Before his shifts or after, he’d head to your place to spend time with you. It was a solid thirty minutes (if not more) on a good day from his apartment to the factory adding so much extra time to his day he wondered every night coming home if he should quit.

He was a reasonable man too though. Jobs were hard to come by. If he quit, he’d need a plan. And he couldn’t quit now, there were too many bills to take care of. Plus if he wanted a future with you…

But, how long would this last on the scraps you gave each other?

He sighed, almost defeatedly.

The contradictory swirl of emotions had him climbing on top of the highest mountains of Aldaraan and tumbling far below into the depths of the oceans of Kamino.

He decided to head straight home today. The lack of sleep was really playing a number on his mind. He’d commed you before with no answer on your end. He hoped that you’d understand. That you weren’t upset with him. It was always hard for him to tell. He wasn’t the best when it came to reading emotions and even then, since his…mistake on Umbara, a gaping hole of self doubt was left in its wake.

Sighing for the up-teenth time, he finally turned onto his street. Reached his door and pulled out his keys…to notice the light was on.

He was pretty sure he’d turned off all his lights when he left? Perhaps his habit just slipped. Doing things for so long he’d forget even doing them.

Stepping his apartment, he dropped his stuff to the floor, and sighed again. Home at last.

“There you are!”

Dogma screeched and nearly jumped out of his skin.

The sound of your bright, bubbly voice was the last thing he expected to hear. Looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, you laughed and ran into his arms, embracing him with a hum.

“Now you shut that trap of yours and move it! I’ve got everything ready for you!” Forcibly lifting his jaw back into place, you pushed him further into his apartment.

“What…?”

Had he gone to your place by accident? No…those were his books, his carefully stored few belongings…

“When I got your comm, I could almost hear how tired you were. I figured since you’d been coming by me every day, I’d surprise you and throw you a welcome home party! Whatda think?!”

“The place is empty.”

“Exactly! You’re kind of party.”

Dogma chuckled. You weren’t wrong.

“It’s great, thank you.”

“Oh I’m just getting started. First, it’s snacks in the kitchen, then it’s holovids, then a good night's rest for your off day tomorrow!”

You waved your hand to the couch where you haphazardly threw pillows and blankets onto the floor. Pillows and blankets he knew were not his.

“You brought your stuff over here?” Dogma knew you were particular about your comfort items. You liked them clean and in place in your own apartment. They never left their spots.

“Yeah! I figured we could make a blanket fort! I know you don’t have many of your own yet.”

“I, uh, I—”

“Oh stop babbling and let’s eat! I know you’re starving!”

Bopping behind him and placing your palms on his back, you practically pushed him all the way into the kitchen.

Sitting on the table was a vast variety of his favorite snacks all assembled in a neat array.

“Oh wow…” Dogma was at a loss for words. You did all of this for him?

He turned to see your sparkling face and smiled.

“Thank you for everything. I don’t deserve…”

“No talking like that! You deserve the galaxy, my dear.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he drew you in for a hug. Against his chest, he felt your smile. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he broke away.

“Should we move the snacks into the living room and get started on those holovids? Since you’re the absolute best, you get to pick.” Dogma picked up a platter of meats and cheese on it, moving to the small coffee table he had.

“But this is supposed to be your relaxation night…”

“Nah, whenever I’m with you I’m relaxed.” He paused with a look of realization crossing his face, along with a smile. “Well, mostly.”

You laughed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Raising an eyebrow you shook your head.

“Ok, then.”

“Isn’t that show you like on tonight?” he asked. “I can turn that on…”

“But…”

“If you like it, I like it.”

You giggled. “Ok, sounds like a plan.”

“Also, I get to make fun of it if I want to.”

“Dogma!”

You laughed and threw a pillow at him, which he expertly deflected with a laugh.

Settling down and wrapping blankets over your heads, Dogma started the show.

“Aw shoot, I forgot the dip in the fridge.” You scrunched up your face, eyes glued to the screen. The action was only beginning. A slight look of disappointment crossed your face before you stated “I’ll be right back.”

“No you stay, I’ll grab it.”

With a wink, Dogma jumped to his feet and ran to the fridge.

Opening the door, Dogma was struck in the face.

“What the kriff?!”

Running a hand down his face and refocusing, he didn’t see the dip he was looking for, instead he noticed a little, red dragon sitting on the shelf…laughing? Was it laughing at him?

“Why….is there a dragon in my fridge?”

“It was hot!”

“What kind of an explanation is that?” Dogma said more to himself than you.

“Well I mean if he was hot.” He rolled his eyes. “What the kriff is he doing in my fridge though? Where’d he come from?”

You came running into the kitchen. “Isn’t he the cutest thing!!! I found him today roaming the streets. He’s a fire dragon! I’m going to bring him home and raise him and we’ll be best buddies.”

Dogma shook his head. You were crazy.

But he loved that about you.

Yeah, this love would stay alive for a long time. Who knew, even maybe the rest of his life.

Celebrating You Masterlist

#dragonrider9905's 100 follower celebration #dragonrider9905 follower celebration #dragonrider9905 writing challenge #celebrating you #clone trooper dogma #dogma x reader #dragonrider9905 writing request #dogma x you #cw dogma #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #starwars #star wars

33 notes · View notes

noahsartt · 2 months

Text

My reservations with the 2022 Interview with the Vampire tv series:

My thoughts on amc’s Interview with the Vampire (2022) tv series compared to the 1976 source material and what I liked about the 1994 movie.

Some reflections before the second season airs. I watched the series as it was coming out in 2022, so these thoughts have been sitting for over a year.

This is a subjective critique of the show, not me hating on it. I liked the show a lot & watched it twice. Many of the key changes were extremely creative ways of exploring those characters from new perspectives, instead of just pointlessly remaking something that's been done before. Distinct creative change should be the basis of every remake, no point is making something 'new' if there's nothing new about it. This show knew that, and the changes for the most part were written beautifully. ...But the movie is still my favourite despite its many flaws. Camp classic right there.

Issues with the show:

Making it take place 100 years later, it ruins the specific aesthetic of the book for me. (But I understand they had to in order to re-write Louis & Claudia as black).

Aging up Claudia. The way Bailey Bass played Claudia was amazing, no notes at all for her. I just wish they kept her younger because that was a very symbolic part of what made Claudia’s original character so tragic. She suffers in an entirely different way to Louis because of her age. New Claudia is supposed to be in the body of a 14 year old, but the actress was 18/19 so she looks much older already, and no matter how well she played it, the age factor can’t be helped. Being stuck eternally in the body of a 5 year old (book) is so different to a 14 year old, who looks much older (tv show). Kirsten Dunst who was 10 in the movie, was able to play the little child - adult vampire progression a lot better. People say Claudia's original age is too 'disturbing' to see on screen... but that's the character...

Daniel being old… WHY?? Just so they could tie together the storyline or him meeting Armand multiple decades before ???? I only read IWTV and some of the TVL so I don't know everything that happens down the line for him, or what amc plans for the character in the show... but I don't understand the aging up except for 'diversity' reasons. Which, ok, but just to check a box? Louis and Claudia's race change make sense as a creative decision. But the Daniel in the book and film is a 20-something year old which is why he's so fascinated by Louis' 'gift', and doesn't understand the message Louis is sending, instead wanting to become a vampire too. Why would old Daniel want those same things? Changing Daniel's age is such an inherent thing... it's like if they didn't make Lestat blond. Eric Bogosian plays him funny though, I will say that. Christian Slater kind of just sat there.

Louis having no money and needing Lestat's financial support for his business ventures????? When it’s supposed to be Lestat leeching off Louis' estate … WHY. Why did they change something so fundamental about their dynamic. Lestat moves in because he needs wealth and Louis has it. And then he starts acting like it's both of theirs and Louis just lets him. Funniest thing ever. But in the show Louis moves in with him instead. That's just wrong.

Louis asking (basically begging) Lestat to make Claudia when Lestat is supposed to be the one to do it in order to ensure Louis doesn't leave him. Another fundamental part of their relationship that just got flipped around completely... and for what? Why did it change the things it didn't need to?

Antoinette... girl why are you there... we don't need more characters. Go away.

The guy that Louis gets with to make Lestat jealous …. why is he there either? In the book they don't need to bring other people in to irritate each other.

One of the most perfect scenes from the film was when Lestat was tormenting that girl and trying to get Louis to kill her. The show’s version with the opera singer wasn’t the same. The original scene is such a good depiction of their dynamic with each other: Lestat's eccentric killing methods and Louis’ shame and guilt. The show’s version didn’t live up to it. That scene was so excellent in what it set out to do. It captured their back and forth in such a simple way. That dynamic follows them forever, even as Louis begins to accept his nature, that spark of annoyance towards Lestat is ready to become a full fire at any moment. That scene is enough to be a full character study. The show has little bits here and there which capture something similar. But they should have recreated that scene at least.

Claudia and Lestat's relationship evolving from enjoying each others company and similarities, to detesting each other and competing for Louis’ affection. They didn’t spend enough time on Lestat and Claudia’s relationship in the show to fully demonstrate that, only a few scenes of them driving together and hunting together at the beginning. Even the two hour movie found a way to intergrade that better. Their relationship and the way Claudia is so starkly similar to Lestat when they move to Paris, is one of the my favourite parts of the book to analyse. Louis leaving Lestat and moving all the way across the ocean, only to be reminded of him in everything Claudia did. The show did have some purposeful parallels between Lestat and Claudia in the dialogue which I appreciate, I hope that continues in season 2.

Louis being in on Claudia's plan to kill Lestat and even being the one to finish off Lestat when it’s supposed to be Claudia’s idea on her own...?? Lestat's death is supposed to be an "ok, I guess that was necessary, time to move on with our lives now," moment for Louis. But he wasn't supposed to have the courage or the want to be the one to do it himself. He was hesitant and regretful in the show, but he still slit his throat... it was supposed to be Claudia alone. Credit where credit is due, the scene was beautifully filmed, the red blood on white cloth looked incredible and the entire scene captured the tone of devastation that the movie didn't. It was all very quick and emotionless in the movie.

Even though I hate Br*d Pitt's acting, his Louis was way more accurate to the book Louis. He basically was the embodiment of book Louis. Just sad and whiny the entire time. New Louis had more to him, I think Jacob Anderson even said in an interview that it was a purposeful decision to give Louis more grit. It's not a change I appreciated because it alters the original character too much. You can't change something that fundamental. Just ugh. In the show, Louis is more angry than pathetically sad, it’s very different to how the character was originally written.

Sam Reid’s Lestat is pretty on the nose but still more serious than the original Lestat & Tom Cruise’s portrayal which was the perfect level of camp and eccentric. Tom cruise was playing Lestat from just IWTV but Sam Reid is playing him with the baggage of his entire life as written in the other books, maybe that's why he is different. Maybe his performance is even better because of it. I haven't read the other books so I can't really say.

I won't say anything about Armand (yet) because he hasn’t had his time to shine. We’ll see after season 2. I loved Antonio Banderas as Armand, and even though he was very different from how book Armand was, it was a change I liked. New Armand is going to be more accurate to the books I believe, but i didn’t like how Armand was there the entire time Louis was being interviewed… why...

Maybe I am one of the few that doesn't overtly appreciate the 'fresh' take of this story. Many of the things that draw me to the book and the movie have been taken away in this adaptation.

---

I recommend this fan fiction that explores the idea of Louis being a person of colour in the context of the original book's 1700s timeline. It explores the intersectionality of Louis' struggle with vampirism, queerness & race while still being authentic to the book. Go read it.

In the Author's words: This is NOT a rewrite of the AMC TV show, nor does it intend to be. This is us making one (subtextually plausible) change to canon in order to 1) explore underlying issues with the source material and 2) see how it affects the way the events of IWTV played out.

Ok that's it. Will maybe add to this when the second season airs. For months, this was just for me in my notes app but what is tumblr for if not to air out my locked away ideas.

48 notes · View notes

russenoire · 8 months

Text

in response to this post:

ONE-sensei is a bit of a troll, not gonna lie.

but... i actually like this ending, at least for comedy's sake. the stark juxtaposition of

'boy gets hit by a truck and his unexamined jungian shadow self flattens a city before he finally makes peace with it'

with

'and everything was just fine six months later'

is funnier than spelling out exactly how we get from point A to point B, because we KNOW — as the audience — that it wasn't 'just fine'. after everything we saw, how could it be?

subverted expectations underpin a lot of comedy, even dark comedy, especially absurdist comedy. MP100 is practically built on both. this story wrings a lot of humor out of sad, if not tragic, situations: witness shigeo's 'who told you you could pass out?!' after his home has been reduced to kindling. or ritsu's admission that he only recently stopped crying himself to sleep at night over his inability to bend spoons like his big brother. while he's letting shigeo know just how much he supposedly hates him in that alley.

not expanding upon the real-life consequences of said city-flattening is funny precisely because dropping 'i wrecked my hometown after nearly dying in a car accident on the way to ask out my crush when i was a teenager' in a conversation and just... leaving it there? would be fucking horrifying in real life. here, in the elastic magical-realist context of MP100, it's more darkly absurd than anything else...

more to your point, OP: in this particular series, ONE-sensei tells so much of this story by implication. the answers to some of your questions are in the text, only... alluded to.

this might get long. bear with me:

the fact that joseph from the government exists? and that he's an esper working in secret? implies that the knowledge of destructive espers might need to be concealed from the public at large, perhaps to prevent wide-scale panic or ostracism of espers themselves. i doubt the government was forthright with its citizens about the confession arc disaster or the actual cause, for the same reasons.

that suzuki's broadcast-hijacking world domination announcement is met with public disdain and ridicule, especially over social media? outside of our cast, no one actually takes his threat seriously until it happens. reigen's trash-talking claw's seventh division down to earth also shows how little respect espers who don't make themselves useful to society actually get here. he is, after all, just another member of the public.

that reigen agrees to take on haruaki amakusa as a client after the world domination arc in part because he's worried about losing business? people have begun to move away from seasoning city in the aftermath; whatever the threat amakusa's hyakki present, neutralizing them as soon as possible is best for reigen's continued financial health. i can see even more residents deciding they've had enough and leaving after shigeo's last brush with death. would you stay?

how many people know shigeo is connected to reigen, apart from the people they both know? out of his own inflated and fragile ego, reigen presents himself as a sole proprietor on his website; it doesn't seem his business or its reputation would be directly affected at all.

and the injuries caused? possible deaths? we get a taste: early on in chapter 100, several people are trapped and unable to move in a 地盤沈下 (jibánchinka, literally: 'land subsidence', which can apply to a sinkhole, a landslide...) shigeo has left in his wake. we only find out because a cop is being briefed on this and its cause while trying to detain the suspect for questioning.

but like all other bodily harm caused in this story, we aren't treated to the fallout. did the elderly ishiguro survive shou plowing him into the earth? did miyagawa die after teruki flipped his barrier onto him and broiled him in his own flames? did those high school bully boys live after shigeo cracked their heads open on the pavement like eggs? like, these are good questions. (i'm inclined to believe that all these people died, but many would call me harsh for saying that about an otherwise kind story. we never see them again, either way.)

shigeo actually has a healing factor of sorts; his jungian shadow self keeps plucking him from death's arms. we have no way of knowing if this is true for anyone else, because that isn't the story ONE wanted to tell. if nothing else, the mangaka's lack of desire to engage with this question of lethal consequences is at least consistent across MP100.

any questions that aren't answered either directly or that can't be answered by easy extrapolation can foster continued engagement with the material.

for example: we don't know what shigeo's parents think about much of anything in this story, besides how little they expect from him and how ritsu sets a standard they feel shigeo should live up to. this boy goes through hell multiple times and is never shown to confide in either of his parents about it, instead suffering in silence for some time until he finds someone he feels safe enough to talk to. all this gives me the distinct impression that shigeo just isn't that close to his mother or his father. i can understand why. it's actually kind of sad, even as readers' frustrated expectations of real-life parental involvement with — and confusion over — his and his brother's shenanigans also generate some dark humor.

this also establishes a precedent: since we never check in with them, by the time the confession arc rolls around, their opinion hardly matters. (but i'm sure someone has written a fic fleshing that out! i'm somewhat curious myself.)

73 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 3 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Eleven

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None!

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag list: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper

Thanksgiving break had arrived, a welcome reprieve from the constant stress of classes. Everything had been ramping up lately on the climb to finals season, as your mental health had started to dwindle. Your world was crumbling, piece by piece, and you were desperately trying to get all those pieces back into place as the weight of life held you down. You hoped that finally getting some time alone would be helpful.

Loneliness had always been your closest friend, though it felt harder to cope with now that you’d gotten a taste of actual friendship. It had been tainted with love and lust, but it was friendship nonetheless, and you missed it dearly. This time of year in particular was always difficult. You could never afford the holiday travel cost to get back home, so you’d always just stay in the dorms, alone.

It was harder now, watching your fellow classmates in the hallways. Some looked ecstatic, smiles gracing their faces as they held their phones to their ears with one hand, the other hooked around the handle of a suitcase. Others looked exhausted, dark circles under their eyes as they shuffled their tired feet down the hall.

Being here with so few others had its perks. The showers were much cleaner, and on a few lucky occasions, you were the only person in the room. You kept yourself busy, finally cleaning the garbage heap that was once your dorm, and putting the finishing touches on your projects that would be due in the coming weeks. Through it all, though, a lingering feeling of sadness loomed over you like a dark cloud.

It was only the third day of the week-long respite, and you couldn’t take the feeling anymore. You drafted a text. One to Sam. Your last correspondence had been weeks ago, now, and something in your heart ached when you saw the date next to the messages. We don’t talk anymore, you thought, and that was the loneliest feeling in the world, for so many reasons.

hey, wondering if you and the guys are around/busy? bored and stuck in the dorms lol

You hadn’t even managed to close the app before you saw the tiny text of read appear under your message. It was almost instant.

back home for the week! maybe we can hang when we’re back? hope you've been well

You didn’t bother replying. What was the use, with all the unspoken words behind every sentence? You gave his message a heart, and put your phone back in your lap.

This was a situation you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. You tried to think of how far back you would go if given the chance. If you knew then what you knew now, would you never go up to the roof that night? Maybe you’d quit smoking altogether. You barely smoked these days, only when you were particularly stressed. The smell reminded you too much of him. As did everything else, in all honesty.

The light was quickly disappearing from the sky, stormy clouds obscuring the rising moon. Maybe a walk would ease your nerves. You shrugged on your coat and slipped your feet into your shoes, heading out into the chilly air. You hated Sam for so many things now, so many things that were not his fault. You could no longer take your favorite path down the least-traveled side of campus, not since you spotted his car there.

Your mind began to unravel in the solitude. Campus was empty, with a dead air to it that made you the slightest bit uncomfortable. Normally, a lack of people would be everything you’d hoped for, but it was no longer comforting to you.

An array of paths sprawled out in front of you in your mind. There seemed to be no way forward given your current position. You’d tried to take the advice of Josh and Jake and talk to Sam, but you couldn't find the words. Everything you wanted to say just felt wrong when you would practice it in the mirror. And, on top of that, you weren't sure if you would be able to hold your composure when he actually gave you a response. Would you be able to keep a poker face if he told you he was dating this girl? You had no idea, and didn’t feel like finding out the hard way.

Visions of Sam danced in front of your eyes as your feet naturally quickened their pace. You didn’t have time for this. There was already enough weighing on your mind, the added stress of all this was too much. You feared that you’d made a terrible mistake, choosing to sleep with Jake. It was an action that had been deliberately calculated to sever your tie with Sam, whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not. You’d told Jake he was not part of a revenge scheme, but that had been a lie, you now realized.

You said it wasn’t about Sam. But it had always been about him. Everything you did revolved around Sam. He was now the center of your world. This was more than a crush. You started walking faster. This was more than just finding him cute. You started jogging. This was more than wanting to be close friends with him. You started sprinting across the grass, your shoes leaving trails in the damp grass.

You couldn’t outrun him. You couldn’t the last time you’d been here, running across campus, trying to get away from him, hoping you could exhaust yourself out of being able to think. It wasn’t possible, not anymore. As you collapsed into the grass under a tree, your head spun, every word Sam had ever said to you running through your mind all at once, his image brighter in your mind than ever before.

The last of the leaves shuddered off the tree one by one in the light breeze. The dying grass tickled the palms of your hands when you laid them flat on the ground, your chest heaving. Tears ran down the sides of your face and all of this felt all too familiar. You hadn’t been able to say it back then, but you couldn’t hide from it anymore.

You loved him. You were deeply, desperately, unshakably in love with Sam.

The first flakes of snow began to fall. Delicately, small white flakes drifted down to you, landing on your blazing cheeks and collecting in your hair. Winter was here. Just as you decided to stop lying to yourself. Soon, the semester would end. You would be alone once again. You wouldn’t see Sam every morning, and you could free yourself of his constant influence. It was all so indescribably perfect and terrible, every feeling you had about him so painfully unresolved.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to dream. To fantasize about him in the ways you had always repressed so deeply. The calluses on his fingers, would they be rough against the soft skin of your cheek? What would it feel like to have your lips against his neck, your fingers running through his hair? It hurt so beautifully to let all of it in, two months of emotions washing over you all at once in a bittersweet haze.

Jake had meant nothing, when you got right down to it. But you’d put yourself in a precarious situation, now. Social dynamics you didn’t quite understand swirled in your head, confusing you, you couldn’t even remember all the details at this point. All you knew was that you’d taken what was offered, at the cost of losing what you needed most. Above all, you were scared. Nothing would be the same now, and you'd ruined something that could have been so beautiful – you were sure of it.

* * *

In some ways, it was nice to finally say it out loud. The rest of Thanksgiving break passed by like molasses, each day dragging on longer than the next. You’d done nothing but wallow in the agony of unrequited love, but it was somewhat easier now that you could say it. Love. When the semester resumed, you put on a brave face in front of Sam, though you were sure it was written all over you. There was no real use hiding it anymore. If he didn’t know then, he knew now, in the way you stared at him at the end of every class.

It was the final week of your regular schedule, and you felt a kind of nostalgia walking into the lecture hall for the last time. It would be a work day, the professor announced.

“Well!” Sam said, stretching his arms above his head and turning to you. “I think we’ve got this in the bag.”

Indeed, you did. The two of you had worked rather seamlessly together, more than you’d expected. “Yeah, I think it’s done.”

“Wanna turn it in together?” He gave you that smile, the one you had every inch of memorized.

“I think we only need to submit it once. You can do it, if you want.”

“No, together!” He pulled up the submission screen and added the finished file, neatly titled with your full names. Seeing them next to each other like that was strangely jarring. Before you could protest, he snatched your hand off the desk in front of you and brought it over to the mouse on his laptop. That warm, rough hand stayed on top of yours, pushing your fingers down to click the mouse button once.

And just like that, it was over. The class that had originally drawn the two of you together was done, it was all over. Nothing tethered you to him anymore but the fraying social ties you’d so carefully neglected. Pondering it for too long made you feel tears threatening to well up in the corners of your eyes.

“Finally done.” His voice broke you from your reverie, his hand sliding off of yours. “You wanna come over some time soon?”

You didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you could ever be alone in a room with Sam ever again. You recalled the words of his brothers, though. You needed to talk to him. Even if it was only to find closure, to be given the opportunity to truly cut him out of your life without guilt. “Sure, if I’ve got time. Finals, y’know.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he chuckled. “I’m in the same boat. And I have to move all my shit back to the house, too.”

He did look much more exhausted than usual. Those eyes, that already had an air of tired behind them, seemed heavy. Dark circles adorned the spaces below them. His hair was pulled back, and had lost some of its usual luster.

“Maybe once I’m done with everything I’ll text you." Maybe.

He looked at you, and closed his laptop with a finger. “Sweet. I’ve been missing you.”

“Really?” The word slipped out in shock.

“Of course. What’s a sky without the sun and moon?” He gave you a little shove and a grin. Unbearably endearing, to the point you almost felt embarrassment over it.

“Will you ever stop being so cheesy?”

“Don’t think it’s physically possible, actually.”

“So you’re not staying in your dorm?” You asked.

“No, isn’t the place closed during break?” He looked at you, confused. "You're staying there, though, I'm guessing?"

You nodded. “Normally, yeah. They let some people stay over the break. Like, international students, or people who can’t go home.”

“Can’t…go home?” He looked at you like he was treading on very treacherous ground.

You waved a hand at him, giving a sheepish grin. “Oh, it's not like that. My parents are just really far away. And they downsized recently, so I don’t have a room there anymore. It’s smarter for me to just stay here.”

“Oh, right, right.” He propped his elbow on the desk, resting his cheek against his palm. He looked utterly captivated by even dull talk. “Seems like it would get lonely in there this time of year.”

“Doesn’t bug me much. You get used to it.”

“Probably nice to finally have some peace and quiet, huh?”

“Oh, god, yes.”

“Hoping I’ll finally get some of that at the house. The guy in the room next to me, I don’t think he's spent a single night alone the whole semester. Loud as fuck, too.”

You laughed at that, immediately picking up what he was laying down. “God, that sounds obnoxious.”

“I’m worried it won’t be much better at the house. It never is.”

There was something behind his eyes when he said that, something that made your palms start to sweat and your eyes take in a bit more light. Fear, regret, something in the middle of the two. All that ran through your mind was thoughts of Jake, how you would have to stop. You’d need to quit all of them, that entire family.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and spoke over your silence. “I’m gonna run, if we’re done here.”

You nodded, suddenly struck by the feeling that you might cry at any moment. “Sounds good. I’ve got some shit to do, anyway.”

The two of you parted ways, and you were both burdened and light as a feather as you headed to the library to kill time before your next class. You didn’t have anything to do, in reality, but you needed time to center yourself.

Walking into the library did you no favors. You could see the quiet corner where you and Sam had sat together; that was months ago now. You sat as far away from that spot as you could, but your eyes lingered on it. If you could go back to that moment, would you change a thing? Would you have given up the blissful joy of being in love to avoid the way you now felt shattered to pieces?

A small part of you thought that, perhaps, it had all been worth it. Just to know him, during this time, had been enough. Maybe in your next life, you would meet him again, and he would point out the stars to you with his arm draped around your shoulder while you wore his sweater. The one you loved, the one that complimented his eyes. Maybe it would look just as good on you.

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really

29 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 11 months

Note

Could you do platonic yandere viggo grimborn from httyd with a dragon rider darling?

Ah yes, time to write another scary man. This is aiming to be for Season 2-3 Viggo as that's where I am. I hope I keep things in character ^^ HTTYD has been really fun to write recently.

Yandere! Platonic! Viggo Grimborn with Dragon Rider! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Mature language by me, Kidnapping, Threats, Obsession, Bribery, Violence, Murder, Forced companionship.

Personally I think Viggo has a hard time being a platonic yandere.

He's an ass to his brother and tends to see his men as expendable.

Platonic behavior towards a darling would take time to develop.

It would also show blatant favoritism, which irritates his brother.

Viggo is intelligent, cunning, devious, manipulative, and ruthless.

He's a business man at heart.

He could see a platonic darling as a close friend or a sibling.

It takes time before he shows any sort of obsession.

It takes even longer if you're a dragon rider.

Viggo is a dragon hunter.

He catches dragons and either sells or kills them.

You two immediately become enemies.

Well... he's an enemy to you, he may see things differently.

You could have the potential to be a great ally in his eyes.

The issue is... he knows you won't comply willingly.

Viggo is aware of how loyal you are to fellow riders and your own dragon.

You have such a nice quality dragon too... you really know how to pick them.

Your first encounter with Viggo is most likely due to being captured.

Your "relationship" towards each other is very rocky.

More rocky than a Gronckle's diet....

Viggo assumed right about you.

He did find it amusing that you didn't care about being captured...

You kept asking about your dragon.

You wanted to know if they were okay.

Viggo spares your dragon... it's a good bargaining chip.

With your dragon captured you'll listen to him.

"No need to freak out, my dear. Your dragon is fine... as long as you cooperate."

As a dragon rider this feels like the only way you could get close to Viggo.

That is unless you worked for him as a dragon rider... though he doesn't have many of those recruited.

They tend to betray him.

Viggo is a man to sacrifice things to get what he wants.

If he happens to want your companionship, for whatever twisted reason, he won't mind using your dragon against you.

He likes keeping you compliant with him.

You're more useful this way.

You'd have to be with the dragon hunters one way or another to get him obsessed.

He wasn't expecting it but your company is quite pleasing.

One way or another a platonic yandere Viggo is manipulative.

He has no problems making threats or small deals with you.

Business is business, if you're a business man you've got to have charisma.

He prefers intimidation at times himself.

Viggo is not a good man.

He'd be even worse if you often tried to escape him.

If you ever did try anything funny, Viggo seems to always know a counter.

He's tactical... he's smart...

He always manages to outsmart you.

He will applaud your ambition... but he wishes you used it towards his cause.

Viggo could kill your dragon and at any time if you fight him.

He's making a deal with you.

He wants to keep you around, maybe you could even work with him, in return he'll allow you and your dragon to reunite.

If you fight... well...

He wants to deliver you its hide himself.

He doesn't care about your tears or tries to comfort you if he ever did make you upset.

He finds it amusing to see you so vulnerable.

He's very forceful.

With threats and emotional manipulation... Viggo plans to make you fit into the role he picked for you.

You're either his friend... or a sibling.

Ryker can't object to his brother's lunacy.

Viggo doesn't mind shutting up him if he has a problem with it.

"Ryker, they're family now. They won't cause us any trouble. I don't care if you accept them or not... they'll be beside me. Who knows... they may prove to be on my level more than you."

Viggo often talks to you in private.

It's strangely open, like he's trying to connect with you.

It's hard to tell if he's trying to get information out of you or wants to know about you more.

It could very well be both.

Viggo can be a man that's hard to read.

Viggo is someone who knows his dragons.

He knows your dragon's weaknesses and strengths.

There's times he offers to help you care for the dragon if you still have them.

After all... he's an expert.

Viggo's attempts to connect with you come off as eerie.

He's terrifying and able to outsmart you easily.

Yet he comes up to you like you're friends or something else?

You've seen how he treats his brother...

Why is he so harsh to him but not you?

Turns out it's because you have intelligence.

He likes how well-versed you are with dragons, clearly learning from Hiccup.

He even admits during a chat with you that he prefers you to his brother.

You ask why... and he compliments you.

"With some time... you and me could be so similar. My dear... you are useful. My brother's barbaric. Yet with you, conversations aren't irritating."

You fear passing glances from Ryker.

Viggo isn't dumb and notices your fear of his brother... he can fix that.

What about he just... replaces him?

It's easy to make his death look like an accident.

Or does he even need to?

He's not sad in the slightest when he does manage to get rid of Ryker.

Viggo didn't like his barbaric tendencies anyways.

Now... he'll need a replacement, won't he?

That's when he brings it up with you.

You know he killed his own brother... you know he's capable of killing those around you, too.

With Viggo... when he brings up this little promotion for you with a relaxed hand on your shoulder...

You aren't in the position to refuse this opportunity.

"Trust me, dear. You'll fit the role MUCH better."

#yandere how to train your dragon #yandere httyd #yandere viggo grimborn #platonic yandere

102 notes · View notes

atwistinthetail · 9 months

Text

my s3 rewrite headcanons

like, obviously my perfect s3 includes emma and lewis for the entire season, but I’m going to engage with the season on its own terms here

here we go~

the comet/moon rock stuff is OUT sorry not sorry but that’s a no from me

I’m fine with Bella’s origin story but the moon pool that turned her should be its own separate thing with different rules and characteristics

maybe she has a different tail color, like different moon pools create different “subspecies” of mermaids

instead of the water trying to warn them about the end of the world, maybe Bella’s magic is conflicting with the Mako moon pool bc they are two different sources of magic, and that’s why the magic is going haywire

instead of Sophie and Ryan mining the moon pool, it could be self-destructing or warping in some way due to the competing magical forces

how do they fix it? I don’t know but I’m sure they could figure it out. Maybe they all hop in during a full moon and they all steep in the magic and it like combines all their auras or something and brings balance to the force. There can still be a cool showdown where they use all their power to do some big spectacle and fix everything, nothing would be as silly as a comet headed straight towards earth

it would also address that things only start going wrong when Bella shows up, and they never question that. It should be bc she shows up, but like it’s not her fault

this is an obvious one everyone says but just… make Will a merman. Maybe it felt like too many merpeople but honestly you can’t have too many merpeople and with a show like this you just have to lean into the camp as much as possible

a new person transforming into a mermaid is also the only repetitive plot that doesn’t get old imo. “My boyfriend can’t find out” is old news, bring me “My boyfriend has turned into a merman”

he could transform on his own without anybody finding out at first, since he has already discovered the moon pool independently. As he and Bella get close, they are both trying to hide the fact that they are merpeople, but they also both want to know what the other is hiding so they are in this constant tango of trying not to be suspicious

and it would eliminate Will being such a rude ass about forcing Bella to reveal her secret

what ramifications does mermania have on Will’s relationship with Sophie if he has to abandon his training?

y’all know this was coming bc it’s me, but we have to fix zikki, I mean this is truly dire. I’m not saying they shouldn’t have problems, but there were so many better problems they could have

first of all, we must get rid of the Rikki/Will ship tease, it has no place here

if Will is a merman, the Will/Rikki/Zane melodrama could be improved. There’s a new guy bonding with Rikki who shares a huge part of her life that Zane never can, and that’s a more interesting insecurity than just being jealous of this new hot guy who made her a friendship necklace

we can do the same thing with Sophie. Rikki seems to have some level of imposter syndrome about running the cafe, at least prior to opening, so it makes sense that Sophie, with more experience and confidence, would be a threat when she impresses Zane

goodbye to the it’s-not-what-it-looks-like Sophie/Zane kiss, it’s the worst reason zikki could have broken up, and we basically already did it with Miriam in s1

Zane didn’t have to revert to his start of s1 self to, like, be a problem. I can definitely see him inadvertently mansplaining business to Rikki, getting into financial trouble bc he’s overconfident, like the same kinds of things they tried in s3 but a lil more nuanced. I don’t see him outright trying to commit fraud lol more like he would make risky financial moves or find dangerous “opportunities” like the treasure hunt to make ends meet

all of that can still cause tension and arguments, but they would be the arguments a committed couple running a business would have, not just more tired teenage jealousy

and they should have ended the series still together lol like I think my stance is clear but I just needed to say it

once Lewis leaves, Zane should take his place as the human protector of the secret. His impulsive, reckless approach to problem-solving would create a new dynamic in the group. He and Rikki would butt heads on how to handle mermaid problems, but it would also let him bond more with the other girls

and eventually Will, bc everyone is friends at the end of my season. They don’t have to be besties but they would be gently competitive allies

Zane would also definitely call Lewis as a lifeline at least once. Their misadventures never miss

speaking of phone calls, they should have called Emma a few times. They wouldn’t have even needed to have a voice on the line, it could have been a one-sided conversation just to show they’re all keeping up

and to confirm she dumped Ash lol SORRY to any Ash girlies if you’re out there

another obvious one, but they should have kept wearing their lockets. Maybe they don’t wear them all the time, but to stop wearing them entirely? They could still also have their own new thing including Bella and Will. Friendship bracelets?

Miss Chatham should have made at least one appearance to meet Bella. Does she know there are other mermaids from other parts of the world?

a Halloween episode where all the mermaids go as mermaids and just have their tails out and everybody thinks they just have really great costumes (I feel like Halloween isn’t as much of a thing in Australia as it is in the US? but they should still do it for the hijinx)

Cleo tells Don and Kim the secret. If Emma told beige-ass Ash the secret there is no way that at least Cleo and Emma would not have told their parents as well, at least as a “finale” kind of move

every couple should have gotten an underwater kiss, I’m sorry but that should be a law in all human/sea creature romance

everyone is happy and friends at the end

Clewis are their perfect endgame selves of course

Zikki is intact, but probably realize that being business partners (or at least partners in this particular business) isn’t for them, but they have come out of their issues stronger as a couple and secure in pursuing their individual endeavors as well

the moon pool is still in shambles but it died of natural causes and it’s still suggested that they will be spending their summer putting it right

the last cafe scene and sing along can stay, but the actual last scene is everybody together at the moon pool 🩵

#h2o just add water #just add water #h2o jaw #long post

44 notes · View notes

detroit-grand-prix · 8 months

Text

thistle and weeds - susie wolff x oc

ii. spare me your dreams

Summary: The F1 Academy season has officially started, and Susie's goal of getting to know her lead programme manager has gone very well. She and Maree have settled in to a comfortable working relationship, but the Austria round gives Maree a reason to be concerned.

Tags/warnings: nsfw

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who has sent me messages about the first chapter/commented/liked/reblogged/interacted in any way whatsoever. The first two chapters of this story kind of came to my mind mostly fully-formed, so I cannot say that I will get successive chapters out quite as quickly.

I hope you enjoy this one, and remember: everything is a symbol and nothing is an accident. :)

Maree stood near the trackside fence next to the pit straight, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her navy blue softshell jacket with the white F1 Academy logo embroidered on the chest, trying to buffet the cool breeze blowing down the track, carrying the metallic tang of petrol and hot rubber down from the garages. The air was filled with the sound of the distant din of the turbocharged 4-cylinder engines that powered the cars for the series.

She was in Barcelona, at the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, watching as Susie Wolff was in the midst of being filmed by someone from the social media team for an Instagram reel. They were on their fourth or fifth attempt, Maree couldn’t tell, but their efforts kept being undone by gusts of wind overloading the microphone audio, or blowing strands of Susie’s hair into her face.

Susie was wearing a navy blue business suit and a white blouse, which Maree had noticed were colors she wore frequently. It was fairly obvious who selected the colors of the official F1 Academy outerwear, but Maree was okay with that. She liked navy blue, and it looked nice on her, too.

“I think we got it this time, if you wanted to see”, the communications woman said, holding the phone screen up to show Susie. Maree felt bad that she couldn’t remember her name, despite talking to her a few times over the past month. Kate? Katie? Either way, she watched as Susie leaned over the phone they were filming on and nodded with approval, before smiling at Kate-or-Katie and walking toward Maree.

“It took a few tries, but that’ll do,” Susie said, allowing her brogue to slip out. Maree had noticed over the past few months that she tended to let her accent off its leash more and more when she talked to Maree, like a sort of code-switch, just for her. She wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but when Maree noticed it, it always made her feel a peculiar warmth in her chest.

Maree still wasn’t comfortable with letting her natural accent loose from the RP English fence she’d carefully constructed around it in her University days, even around other Scots. It was just easier that way, in her experience, national pride be damned. There was no way for her to predict which Londoner would suddenly make their grievances with the Scottish people her problem.

Susie glanced at her watch as they started walking toward the paddock building. “What d’ye reckon, a quick lunch before the next session?” she asked. “If you insist, I won’t resist,” Maree said, making Susie chuckle. It would be the latest of many lunches they’d had together, starting from their first back in February, which was labeled in Maree’s calendar as a “planning lunch”.

But, when she met Susie at the Aperfield Inn, an upscale pub just down the street from the Formula One Management offices, she told Maree to put her notes away. “I said it was a planning meeting, but I thought we could take some time to get to know each other better, since we’ll be working so closely together.”

Things started out politely enough, like any other business lunch, until Susie asked a question that surprised Maree.

“I remembered when we met before, your name was Maree Donne-Bell, or something similar. Did you get married, or -”

Maree felt her breath catch. How had she even remembered that from meeting her at a gala three years ago?

“Divorced.” Maree replied, before Susie could even finish.

“Oh. That’s never easy,” Susie said, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry for asking, I was just curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” Maree said with a sigh. “It wasn’t easy but… it wasn’t long after I started this job, you know. It was only once I’d gotten this job that I realized how miserable I was.”

Susie’s expression became curious, so Maree took that as an invitation to go on.

“So, as I said, it was after I left the Premier League and took this job, which my ex-husband - Rowan - didn’t even want me to interview for in the first place, I started traveling, you know, to races, meeting more people, making friends outside of the ones we kept in touch with from our university days or acquaintances from work, and I realized how much he was holding me back from ever experiencing anything new, just because he didn’t like it, and he would get annoyed when I went places or did things without him. He was very… erm, parochial, I suppose. He didn’t like traveling anywhere outside of greater London, because his reasoning was that anything he could ever want was there.”

“You met in University, then?” Susie asked, leaning forward. She’d ceased eating her aubergine parmigiana, and Maree was relieved to apparently not have given too much detail. The last thing she wanted was to make things strange between her and her new boss, and it felt good to tell someone these long-buried details.

“Yes, we both went to King’s College London. We were both in the orchestra, he was a cellist and I played trumpet. We started talking after our first few rehearsals during our first year. I wasn’t the type that had a lot of boys interested in me as a kid, so I think he was the first one that took me seriously and I guess I just -”

Maree waved her hand in a dismissive sort of motion “- convinced myself that I was in love. He made me laugh, and he was very smart and talented. Maybe not conventionally handsome, but I thought he was cute. He said he was a distant relative of John Donne, which I thought was interesting. He was there for his BMus and ended up being a working cellist, you know, playing in small symphonies and for musicals here and there. He went back to get his MMus, but his wrist started bothering him, and it sort of snowballed from there. Apparently it was because of repetitive stress injury from playing the same way for so many years. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold his bow properly. His teacher tried to work with him on finding a new technique, but twenty years of muscle memory is hard to overcome, and all of the physio in the world didn’t help. He even had surgery for it, but it didn’t work.”

Maree noticed the way Susie frowned, but went on.

“He had to give up his music career, but he got a good job as a broker at Lloyd’s because of an old family connection there, so he made good money, but he was just… not the same person after all of that. I didn’t blame him, you know, because he’d worked so hard for so long on being a cellist, but it happens sometimes. I think there’s better ways to overcome those sorts of circumstances than he chose, but I think I put up with the fallout of it longer than I should have.”

Before either of them realized it, they’d been talking for about an hour and a half, about everything from relationships to their families to their childhoods. It meant that Maree missed the start of a meeting, but she felt like it was worth it.

There would be many more meals that she and Susie would have together, alone or with other people, over the next two months, usually in a conference room or at the desk in Susie’s makeshift office in Biggin Hill, sometimes in restaurants, usually delivered, but each one helped achieve Susie’s goal of getting to know her programme manager a bit more.

Glancing over the sandwiches laid out on a long table set up in a hospitality room in the circuit’s paddock building, Susie cringed. “I’ll stick with the salad today, I think… that turkey looks a bit dry,” she said quietly to Maree. Maree shrugged and picked up a roast beef sandwich that didn’t look awful, and a packet of crisps to go with it.

It wasn’t the sort of upscale, full-meal catering that was on offer during full Grands Prix for wealthy paddock patrons, just trays of assorted sandwiches, plastic snap-lid dishes filled with salads, packets of crisps, and biscuits arranged on a tray. Testing wasn’t a terribly public affair, and F1 Academy hadn’t yet proved itself worth the money it cost to run.

She followed Susie to a table with two open seats. There were two other women already occupying it, only one of which she recognized - Delphine Biscaye, a French woman and an engineer who previously worked for Susie at Venturi, and had stepped in to be the Academy’s competition director. Susie introduced Maree to the other woman. Her name was Claudia, apparently, and had worked with Susie for many years as her personal publicist. “She’ll be running the engagement program for girls in karting when we get that going,” Susie told her.

Maree was quiet as the three of them caught up, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, or that she felt unwelcome in the conversation. She was mostly content to sit and listen as the three of them caught up. As she watched, she couldn’t help but notice that even after a few years of working with Susie, Daphne and Claudia both still seemed to be unable to resist the pull of the peculiar gravity that she seemed to exert.

Maree hadn’t ever met anyone quite like that, not even in her years of working with people specialized in public relations, whose job entailed being charismatic and engaging. But Susie was a natural. It could be a practiced skill, Maree knew, but Susie had some inexplicable factor that seemed to draw everyone in, and after two months, Maree wasn’t able to pin down what it was, even though she felt the pull of that gravity, too.

Was it the way her effortless elegance coexisted with her breezy confidence? Was it the way she was so kind to everyone she met, even fans and members of the public that stopped her and asked for photos despite being so busy and focused? Was it the way she always spoke with such resolve and authority, that it assured everyone around her? Was it the way that she and her husband had a net worth now officially in the billions (according to a Forbes article Maree had read), but she was still apparently content to eat a catered pre-made salad with a plastic fork in what amounted to a staff lunchroom? She was grounded, pragmatic, and genuine. There was no part of her that seemed like it was built on artifice.

Two months of working so closely with her brought Maree no closer to knowing the answer. What she did know, however -

“You were right, Susie. This sandwich is dryer than a mummy’s pocket.”

Susie laughed, trying to politely cover her mouth.

“I guess we can add ‘edible sandwiches’ to the list.”

“The list? What list?” Daphne asked.

“Oh, it’s… a list of big-picture things that we would have liked to have before the series launched, and that they - you know, whoever they are, finance, HR, staffing, Stefano Domenicali himself - haven’t been able to work out yet. Like, Susie having an actual PA instead of me being her de-facto assistant, broadcasting rights, those sorts of things.” Maree said.

She sighed. The broadcasting rights was her biggest cross to bear with the entire project thus far, so as reported by marketing & communications in the morning team meetings, when they stated over and over that most of the engagements with the F1 Academy accounts were asking where they could watch the races. Maree was sure they were tired of it, and she was too.

But, it was a problem that was more complex than most. Despite having its own media arm and broadcast rights the world over for Formula 1 and many of its constituent feeder series, adding another one was apparently a bridge too far on such short notice.

The schedule they had to throw together last-minute was one of the bigger obstacles, and until they were able to compete as an F1 support event during Grand Prix weekends as originally planned, that it was a non-starter. “I knew we wouldn’t get everything off of the ground with the timeline we had, but not being able to get any broadcast rights to things is especially annoying. The F1TV people said they just didn’t have enough notice and don’t have the personnel, or something, I don’t know -”

Susie put her hand on Maree’s shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “I know, you tried. Like I said, you’ve helped make a lot happen out of nothing, and a year sooner than expected. Without the work you’ve done over the last two months, we wouldn’t have even made it here for testing.”

Maree couldn’t help but notice the way her hand seemed to linger, far longer than it should have. She spent the rest of the day feeling the afterimage of Susie’s hand on her, despite it being over top of her jacket and the dress shirt underneath. She wasn’t sure wondering if Susie was just trying to be reassuring, or possibly didn’t even think about it, or if - as crazy as it sounded - she was trying to communicate some other intent, or emotion.

It would be a problem for another day.

After testing, it felt like Maree was running on full steam until the start of the first round in Austria. The time between getting off the plane back from Barcelona to getting on it bound for Vienna felt like it happened in the space of a single breath.

The race weekend wasn’t supposed to be so busy for Maree. Her duties were mostly tied up in the preparations, making sure all of the various teams had a plan and the resources they needed. It was the first round, though, and all of the meetings in the world couldn’t prepare you for how things would come together in situ.

She spent most of the weekend trailing after Susie and trying to deal with any of the multitude of miniature emergencies that popped up.

Susie apologized at one point before Maree departed to find a golf buggy to deliver cases of bottled water to a far-flung marshal post that hadn’t received any.

“I know this isn’t really in your job description, but I appreciate it,” Susie said, giving Maree a bit of a pleading look.

“Happy to do it,” Maree said, with a pleasant smile. She probably would have walked barefoot over broken glass just to deliver a letter if Susie asked her to. “Other duties as assigned, right?”

By the time Maree’s head hit the pillow in her hotel room on Friday night after the end of the two race days, she felt a bone-deep exhaustion that she hadn’t felt in ages. In her regular F1 work, race weekends did involve a bit of running around, but it was usually restricted to the offices in the main paddock building.

She felt like she’d run across the entire Austrian countryside that weekend, and the two glasses of wine she’d had at the celebratory end-of-round dinner with Susie and the rest of the F1A staff she had certainly weren’t making it any easier to stay awake.

She was asleep about two minutes after laying down.

As soon as she fell asleep, she was awake again, but it took her a moment to figure out where she was.

She wasn’t in her hotel room anymore, or in Austria at all.

Instead, she found herself somewhere that was uncomfortably familiar. The room was enormous, with white walls and a wood floor, each side of the room lined with a row of Corinthian columns. There was a stage at one end of the room with a navy blue curtain as the backdrop, and rows of navy blue chairs set up.

“Why am I in the Great Hall?”

She recognized the room from her university days. It was a large assembly hall situated in the King’s Building on the easternmost stretch of the Strand, in central London. How many hours had she spent in this building over her three years at Kings’ College, between rehearsals, performances, and attending class in its lecture halls?

She was alone in her row of chairs, but there were other people seated in the rows behind her, all of them focused on what was happening on the stage. There was a small string orchestra assembled, a conductor, and a woman standing holding a trumpet, standing front and center. There was a mild ripple of applause as the room lights faded so only the stage was illuminated.

As the conductor gave the ensemble its downbeat, Maree gasped, realizing that she was watching one of her own performances from thirteen years ago. She recognized the soft, quiet opening measures to Aaron Copland’s “Quiet City” immediately, almost counting the thirteen measures before her entrance by reflex.

Maree had played the piece for a student recital her final year. She picked it because it showed a softer, more restrained side of the trumpet repertoire, when most other trumpet players she knew favored more blistering, technical works.

The woman onstage - the thirteen-years-younger version of herself, she supposed - was wearing the same tea-length pale blue dress she’d chosen to wear then. It had layers of dreamy tulle under the skirt, and there was a gorgeous lace overlay on the bodice. She remembered having to make sure it was loose and comfortable enough around her midsection so as to not affect her playing. Maree wasn’t the type to wear dresses very often, but it was a special occasion.

She remembered her parents made the trip all the way down to London to see it. Her mother helped her style her hair into a loose updo with a braid around the crown of her head wrapping around to form an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

“Oh my god,” she whispered softly. Her eyes were glued to the other version of herself, so she didn’t notice the woman that appeared in the chair next to her.

“Yes, she’s talented, isn’t she?”

Maree almost bolted straight out of the chair she was sitting in from surprise. She whipped her head around to look at the woman. She was petite, with blonde hair styled into a bob, hazel eyes, diamond stud earrings sparkling in the lobes of her ears, elegantly dressed in a business suit -

“Susie?”

The name immediately came to Maree’s mind, but she couldn’t say it.

“And her dress,” the woman whispered. “It’s lovely. It reminds me of the color of the sky at home. Plus, it brings out her eyes.”

A few more measures went by, and Susie began whispering to her again.

“You know this music was originally written for a play where the main character is a man who abandons his roots by hiding his Jewishness, all for the sake of seeking material wealth. He ends up marrying a wealthy socialite, he anglicizes the spelling of his name, and becomes president of a department store. He does all of this to assimilate into the upper class. But, because he denies who he is, he is haunted by his conscience, symbolized by the sound of his brother playing his trumpet from across the city. The play never made it past previews, but Copland turned the incidental music into this piece.”

Maree tried to open her mouth to tell her that yes, she knew that because she’d written her own program notes for the recital all those years ago, but before she could say anything, Susie pressed a perfectly manicured finger to Maree’s lips. It was such a delicate touch, but it startled Maree again all the same.

“Shh. Just enjoy the performance.”

She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, she was standing on the stage in the same room, holding her trumpet and wearing her blue dress. Without the written sheet music in front of her, she had to listen to what the English horn player was playing to figure out where she was and hope that she still had the score memorized like she did thirteen years ago. Just before the director’s cue for her to come in, she realized it was a few measures before the soaring Largamente section, which was the emotional apex of the work.

Maree counted her way through the triplet quarter notes without issue and scrambled for the straight mute on the stool set up next to her, hoping she wouldn’t drop it like she remembered doing in a few rehearsals. Thankfully, she arrived at the con sordino section and the ending passage without incident.

The strings faded out to end the piece four measures after her last note decrescendoed into silence, and then there was a wave of applause. She couldn’t see anyone in the crowd anymore, but she bowed, motioned to the ensemble and the conductor, bowed again, and retreated through the curtain at stage left.

She was startled again by Susie standing in front of her, waiting with a large bouquet of flowers in her arms - white and blue roses, with an unusual spiked purple flower spread evenly through the bunch - thistles.

“You were amazing,” she said, leaning over, and kissing Maree softly on the lips. Maree froze for a moment, then melted into the warmth and delicacy of it. Susie put her arms around Maree and drew her in closer, one hand moving to pull down the zipper around the back of Maree’s dress.

“No, not here,” Maree whispered, but couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “People will see us!”

As if that were the real issue with what was occurring.

“No, they won’t,” Susie said, as her deft fingers easily freed Maree from the top of her dress, pulling the cap sleeves down her arms and tugging the bodice down. Her exposed shoulders pricked a bit, equally from chill and anticipation.

“It’s just us here, we’re finally alone.”

She cupped one of Maree’s exposed breasts with the hand that wasn’t holding the flowers, grazing over the nipple with her thumb. It perked up immediately as Susie dipped her head down to give the breast a teasing lick, before trailing a series of delicate kisses up the flat of Maree’s sternum. Maree’s knees almost gave out from under her.

“Did you like that?” Susie said, grinning at Maree, her eyes full of mischief. “So excited already, aren’t you? Just wait until later on.”

Before Maree could formulate a response, Susie had enveloped her in another kiss, this one more passionate. Maree was a bit shorter, so it was easy for Susie to tilt her back. The flowers hit the ground with a soft thud as she dropped them, deepening the kiss even more.

Susie had one hand on the back of Maree’s head and the other on the small of her back for support, as Maree hooked her arms around the back of Susie’s neck. Their lips fit together perfectly as each of them eased into it. Susie’s lips and tongue were perfect and plush, not too dry, or wet, not too forceful. It was all warmth and tenderness as Susie moved one of her hands to rest gently along Maree’s jawline. She grazed her teeth over Maree’s bottom lip in an effort to tease.

Maree decided she could stay that way all night. If only she didn’t need to breathe.

As they broke the kiss, Maree’s eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright with a sharp gasp.

The Great Hall was gone. The blue dress, the trumpet, the flowers, Susie…

She looked around, eyes blown wide, heart pounding, gasping for breath. She was in her hotel room again. The aircon was whirring softly from the window, keeping the room nicely chilled. Despite that, Maree could feel the old t-shirt she wore to bed clinging to her back and chest because of the sweat. The curtains were drawn, so she couldn’t see if there was any sunlight coming in, but it was still the middle of the night, according to the red digital clock on the nightstand.

She whispered to herself in the darkness to try and calm down.

“It was a dream. It was just a dream.”

#susie wolff #susie wolff x oc #f1 fic #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 academy #series: thistle and weeds

22 notes · View notes