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#this is how the therapy scene went right
groguspicklejar · 7 months
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Soap gets a second chance
part one; Soap makes fun of your moans
part two; Soap is haunted by his mistake
A/N: this is the third instalment, guys. the last one will come out probably i have no idea (soon, i hope). i didn't think i'd get such an awesome response to the first part, but yay! thank you guys so much!!! @sofasoap hello again :)
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for the next few weeks, Johnny was dejected.
the worst part was when he tried not to show it.
so you went for therapy. again.
it’s been a while since you sat on this couch.
you didn’t see the need for therapy much anymore since you’ve been with Johnny because he made you feel safe.
he never pressed on your insecurities and fucked around with your feelings like the others always did.
well, not until now.
and it helped.
you felt a lot better about the situation in a few weeks.
you just didn’t know how to bring it up to Johnny without him pulling away from you.
You’re not sure why you chose a horror film to watch for movie night, fully knowing you won’t be able to sleep right after. Maybe you just wanted an excuse to sit on Johnny’s lap. Which he doesn’t mind, of course. Being close to you makes him happy.
It’s just that…
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” His muscles locked up at the jump scare and you burried your face into his neck.
Yet somehow, it’s not the sudden loud sound effect or the sudden demon popping up on the screen that makes him mutter the words through gritted teeth. He doesn’t do well with horror movies. In fact, he’s no better than you and he’ll cling to anything or anyone nearby when he’s watching one.
...you squirm too much.
And it's a fucking problem.
He's trying– He's really trying not to get hard as you shift on his lap. And that's not to mention the little whimpers you make when you're looking away at a particularly gruesome scene.
“Is it over?” you quietly ask when everything's quiet.
He wishes it was. Too much blood is rushing south and he can't think and he needs all of his brain cells for that particular task. He hopes you don't notice him blushing and sweating because he is not about to explain why.
His hands hold onto your back and thigh as he inhales your scent and he chokes back a groan when you accidentally grind over his cock just as another jump scare pops up.
“Fuckin’ hell! Nope!” Soap gently scoots you off of him and sets you down on the couch. He reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. “I can’t handle this. Let’s watch something else.”
He doesn't know what to do with the hurt look you're giving him.
that's not the only instance.
he kisses you goodnight without making an attempt at trying to get in your pants.
which is sweet, when you think about it because you know he's trying not to make you uncomfortable.
but you hate that you're so horny all the goddamn time.
there's also the fact that he actively stops things from going any further during a heavy make-out session.
He's very cheeky about it too, but somehow, you're certain he doesn't mean to be. It just comes naturally to him.
You pull him onto your frame and appreciate the way his tongue slides into your mouth. His kisses are scorching and you revel in them as much as he revels in yours. His hands grip your thighs and you try to lock your legs behind him while kissing down his neck, but he pulls back.
"Bonnie–" You're still near the point of delirium that you don't immediately acknowledge him until he can draw away from your touch. "Wait– wait, stop–"
You're both still panting, eyes dilated. He wants this. So do you. What's the problem? You're not entirely sure.
Your hand cups his cheek. "What's wrong?"
He lays his head against your chest, breathing heavily. "We should stop."
you sighed deeply as you melted into the bubble bath.
that was well over three days ago.
neither one of you brought it up.
he's punishing you.
he has to be.
but it doesn't feel like he was trying to be malicious.
Johnny walks into the bathroom and finds you in the tub.
whatever he was previously looking for was previously forgotten because he immediately came over to you with a smile.
he didn't hesitate to give you a few kisses while swirling his fingers in the water.
you're easily reminded of the times he had you riding him in the tub, water splashing all over the floor while he had you reaching a state of euphoria as he sucked on your breasts.
your nipples harden at the memory and you're trying not to let it show as you sink further into the water.
Johnny settles down next to the tub whilst you try to minimize the agony throbbing between your legs.
"You forgot this wee fella." He brings his rubber duckling that had its own tactical vest, to which you laughed at. "There you go. In ya' go."
The yellow duck is gently placed and you just can't stop giggling as he pushes the duck around like it was a tiny boat in the water and making the sounds to match.
Then he stops to look around the bathtub. "Wait, where'd the other one go?"
He'd gotten another duck not too long ago and then dressed it up in a sweater and a little pink bow and it was the cutest thing ever. He would keep them sitting together on the edge of the tub because "they belonged together".
"Think you can keep me company till she comes back?"
The uncertainty in his eyes made you a little self-conscious. Perhaps you were asking too much of him. But you were determined to keep him close for a little while longer. You've missed him.
You placed one wet hand on his cheek and quietly asked, "please?"
He grew tense within a second, unsure. You recognized that look. The lust hiding behind layers of uncertainty. He smiles tightly. "Of course, bonnie."
he spends the better half of the time telling you stories of barracks shenanigans with Gaz and other Sergeants.
he helps you shampoo, condition your hair and rinse it all off.
it felt nice to be pampered.
so much that your eyes were getting droopy while he was busy with your hair.
you think he let you fall asleep for a few minutes while he was taking care of you in the bathtub.
because when your eyes flutter open, he's looking at you with the dopiest smile you've ever seen.
"what?" you ask.
"nothin'." he shakes his head and kisses the back of your hand. "c'mon, lass. let's get you out of the water."
You give a lazy nod and he helps you stand up. You don't miss the way his eyes graze over your figure as he drapes the fluffy towel over you. The slow heat in his gaze flicks over your wet skin, and you find yourself wanting more of it.
He holds your hands as you lift one leg and place a foot outside the tub. When you go for the other one, you purposefully don't lift it high enough, so you trip and fall directly into him, knowing he's going to catch you.
"Jesus, bonnie! Careful!" He immediately has his arms wrapped around you when you suddenly stumble into him and pulls you out of the bath.
The towel falls past your shoulders and bunches under where his arms cling to you. You can feel how close he is, his chest heaving in deep breaths as he holds you. Your hands gently slide over his arms and you make no move to wrap the towel back on your body.
"Sorry." you utter lowly as you look at him.
He swallows thickly, blinking. "S'fine-"
"Johnny..." It's a bare whisper. A quiet confession.
You want this. You want him. You want him–
You lean in closer. Until you can feel his breath on your lips, until his nose touches yours, until the heat between your legs pools and becomes unbearable.
Until your lips touch his and all hell breaks loose.
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part four :)
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Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.
I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.
Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?
Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.
More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.
Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.
I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.
Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.
But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.
Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!
Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)
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actual-changeling · 7 months
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i have taken apart the kiss several times now for different reasons. today, though, i am reaching a new low. or high, when talking about the level of insanity i am about to present.
the question i will attempt to answer is the following: did they kiss with tongue?
alex, you might ask, why? and to that i respond. i don't know. i wish i did. i tried to get this out of my mind but it did not work so here we are. as always, keep in mind that this is just speculation. i swear i can write intelligent meta too i just need to get this out of my system
i slowed down the parts of the kiss that show us their lips/mouths, so here goes evidence piece A. the left picture is from the very beginning of the kiss, the second one from the middle/early end part.
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now, on the left the kiss seems quite chaste to me, which makes sense, since aziraphale is still in shock and not kissing back yet (if you missed the post on him kissing back, you can find the meta here). on the right, the angle and position of their mouths have changed and look to be slightly more open than before.
this is where i present evidence piece B, both pictures are from the same scene the one on the right is from. if you compare these to the very first one, the difference in how open their mouths are is pretty visible.
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aziraphale is kissing back at this point, and he is kissing back properly. even their jaws look more open than at the beginning of the kiss, and with how long it went on, i think them kissing with tongue is not even too much of an insane conclusion to come to.
lastly, i will show you evidence piece C, which is a small chronological collection of frames after the kiss, right when crowley lets go and aziraphale stumbles back a little. there has been speculation about why he makes the face he does, and i would like to give you my thoughts. not only is he about to cry, his mouth is also open because the kiss ended quite suddenly and he did not expect it.
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his mouth opens a bit more and he pushes his tongue slightly forward, but it was already open. now, i don't know about you guys, but i don't think it's common to open your mouth and stick your tongue out after a kiss, with your eyes still closed.
that is the kinda thing you do when you are kissing someone with tongue and are not expecting them to suddenly pull back.
listen. i slowed these clips down. i zoomed in. i watched them over and over and i cannot find another explanation for why his mouth would be open, especially because he then closes it once he opens his eyes and realizes crowley has let go.
so in conclusion: yes. yes they did kiss with tongue. and i really need the therapy appointment i have scheduled for next week because this feels like an entirely new mental illness.
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evrgrdn · 2 years
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isabella: ur so perfect arent u ://// violet: violet: bestie im literally an orphan
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viinieroxide · 16 days
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—seven days. [ iii ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.
tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.
part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6.1. part 6.2. part 6.3. part 7.
you: *sent a link*
him: ?
him: what's this
you: benefits of crying
you: read it it's enlightening
him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay
you: why crying helps.
you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.
you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.
you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.
you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.
him: it feels like an std
you: pussy
you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.
you: you may look fine now but i know you
him: please stop
you: no
you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.
him: what even is that
you: the parasympathetic nervous system
him: ??
you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school
you: education is important yknow
you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence
him: fuck you im smart
you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography
you: you probably can't do your taxes
him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default
him: the american system is just weird
you: cant argue w/ u there
you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance
you: see? you need that
you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy
him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now
you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?
You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.
In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.
You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?
Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?
Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.
You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.
You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.
Max Max Max Super Max Max—
“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”
Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.
“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”
He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.
You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.
The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.
“Max, sweetheart, you there?”
No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.
Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.
“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.
Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.
This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.
Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.
When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.
Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.
“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.
Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”
You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.
“Max—”
“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”
What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.
You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.
“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.
“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.
“They’re mismatched.”
Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.
“Ignore them.”
Silence.
“You good now?”
“No.”
“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”
“Okay.”
Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.
“Thank you, by the way.”
“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.
“For coming here.”
You shrug.
“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”
Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.
“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”
He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.
You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.
After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.
You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.
The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.
Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.
You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.
The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.
The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.
Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.
You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.
“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”
But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.
The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.
“We should drink,” you suggest.
“It’s mid-afternoon.”
“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”
He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.
“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”
Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.
Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.
Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.
At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.
Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.
“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.
“Hm?”
“That it was unfair for her.”
You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”
“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”
You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.
“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”
Kelly….what the fuck?
“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”
“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.
Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.
“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”
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hermajestyimher · 1 year
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This Is How We Will Own 2023:
We're less than a month away from the New Year, and as such, it is important that we begin to set the foundations and plans we have to not only succeed, but make 2023 a memorable year.
Regardless of how 2022 went for you, regardless of how many goals you were able to achieve, a new year marks a new beginning. Do not beat yourself over how things went, focus on how you can improve them moving forward.
In 2023 we're:
Spending less time being passive scrollers online. The pandemic is over, the world is back in action and so must we. It's time to stop letting our minds be consumed by the opinions of thousands of people on the internet. More often than not, the things we read online come from the psyche of mentally unwell individuals, and given social media's tendency to prompt out the voices of the most unhinged, it gives people that shouldn't have a platform a false sense of authority. In 2023 we're getting off the grid as much as we can and reconnecting with the real world. We will not allow this online façade to swallow us into its void any longer.
Spending more time learning and engaging in high-end activities and hobbies that can elevate our social circle and our taste. Things like polo matches, pilates, ballet, opera, piano classes, poetry, political forums, martial arts, and high-intensity sports, among other things. It is crucial to cultivate a persona that engages in a variety of fulfilling activities that can bring us joy but also help us grow as individuals.
Prioritizing our health and fitness. No more excuses, it's time to cut down on added sugar and refined carbs, time to eat more nutrient-dense whole foods, drink plenty of water daily, invest in vitamin injections every other month, take supplements to improve our body's collagen production, and overcome feelings of laziness by pushing ourselves through fitness goals. 2023 we will make of the gym our sanctuary.
Living below our budget and investing as much as we can. If you haven't already, get a financial advisor, develop long and short-term financial goals and get organized with your income. It doesn't matter if in the past you've felt like your financial habits have not been the most adequate, it's never too late to take control of them and be responsible. We owe to ourselves to spend wisely to have the peace of mind financial security brings. Never go broke trying to impress others.
We're no longer entertaining inadequate men. I must admit I'm guilty of this myself. After years of not dating, getting back into the dating scene has felt extremely disappointing and tiring. Most prospects are simply not up to par with the standards I have and what I want out of my life partner. Sometimes we allow ourselves to become desperate to build these types of romantic relationships that we begin to overlook the things that we really want deep down. In 2023, we're refocusing our attention on living our best lives and being as active as possible in real-life events as touched upon previously, and trust that the right dating prospects will present themselves when we least expect. We attract, we don't chase.
Finally, we're overcoming negative self-talk patterns that hinder our growth. We're investing in therapy, we're unlearning the limiting beliefs that keep us in bondage to people, routines, and views of the world that are not good for us. We have to put an end to the insidious lie of the scarcity mindset, overcome past traumas, and look forward to the good things that are yet to come.
There are many more things I could add to this list, but for now, these are the things I and I know many of you will find helpful on improving on for the year to come. These lists can come out as intimidating to some people, but we have to remember that we are not expected to become the ideal version of ourselves overnight. Growth is a marathon, not a sprint, and it requires consistency. Each day that you wake up and choose to do one or two things differently you're making stride towards that better you. No improvement is ever too little.
Let's make 2023 a memorable year, and every year afterwards.
Daphne.
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absolutebl · 3 months
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Best 23 of BL 2023 - Quirky Awards
SHOCK & AWE AWARDS
1. Biggest BL surprise of 2023:
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The last 3 months of 2023 in general got my biggest WTF award.
GMMTV fielding OffGun AND TayNew in the same quarter while also airing Last Twilight (arguably one of their best BLs ever)
That they ALSO optioned 3 JBLs
That there's a high heat omegaverse BL staring Pavel
That there were 20 BLs airing and none of them Korean.
With 5 VAMPIRE BLs announced for next year
But my prize in this category goes to My Dear Gangster Oppa.
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It's just crazy:
Thai talent, Korean money + IP (this is adapted from a manwha) airing on a Chinese channel (iQIYI). Plus it was GOOD and made smart reuse of a pair who richly deserved it. I'm delighted by the eclectic insanity of this production. And wonder if any other film genre could even do anything like this.
2. The “that country did WHAT?” award:
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The 8th Sense from Korea?!
I mean, seriously?! Dealing with metal health, suicide, darkness, therapy, age gap, & first time love BUT FROM KOREA? And then openness and casual boyfriend physical affection? What's next? An actual hard fought coming out narrative with an HEA? Gay domesticity and families?
Careful Korea, you'll strain something. Possibly your own culture and film industry.
I should stop having expectations of Korea, they keep surprising me.
Runners up: Korea letting OnlyOneOf do Bump Up Business not to mention that OmegaX thing. AND Korea adapting Why R U? What are you up to, Korea? Qua? Is this a coded message? Should we send help? Do you need snacks?
3. Biggest casting whoa! where did you come from? award:
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GeminiFourth in My School President.
Seriously? Babies what? How did GMMTV find you? How do you exist? How is BL this lucky?
4. That studio did WHAT now? award:
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GMMTV putting EarthMix into Moonlight Chicken.
And then doubling down with G4 as the damn sides.
Fucking genius.
5. I’m sad you were ignored award:
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Destiny Seeker.
It's just a really fun little Thai pulp, the pairs were good, silly dialogue, plus consent and other good rep. I enjoyed it. No one talked about it AT ALL.
6. 2023 BL That Actually Made Me Lose My Mind Award?
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Laws of Attraction. -The casting, the crazy story, the soapy drama! But specifically: Film playing Charn - the range of his smiles alone. GLORIOUS
I mean I Feel You Linger in the Air also sparked something in me, but LoA drove me actually nuts.
NARRATIVE AWARDS
7. Best story 2023:
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La Pluie
I know, you're surprised, right? At the time I didn't chat much about it but I really enjoyed the discourse others were having. I love anything that really examines the fated mates (soulmates) trope and the idea of "the one". What a clever way to do that. (This is one reason UWMA is my favorite Thai BL.)
This one reminded me of the way Color Rush approached allegory and that's no bad thing. Such an impressive little piece.
8. Best narrative structure 2023 award:
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Unintentional Love Story.
I know this may seem a simplistic pick. But I love the tidiness of this no frills contemporary romance, how the culture of work and personal ethics and corruption fight against the main character's affection and integrity. Poor baby boy is driven into a corner and then punished for it. But it is punishment he feels he deserves, and so it is up to his (now) ex to figure out what went wrong and why.
It's just great. I love it when no one is stupid or wrong, it's just impossible circumstances and unintentional love deeply felt.
9. Best 2023 dialogue (script) award:
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Jun & Jun
Never before has Korea laced a BL with that much perfectly executed innuendo. It was a master class. I didn't know you could be that lascivious in Korean, quite frankly. Plus the way the 2 Juns constantly seamlessly transition between formal register (work, public - where they are boss/employee) to informal register (when they are alone and age mates + childhood sweethearts).
Beautiful to hear and watch.
10. Favorite scene 2023:
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The dub con scene in I Cannot Reach You because I AM TRASH for an out of control seme. I'm sorry I just AM.
I have said it before, I will say it again, NO ONE DOES THIRST like Japan. And when that thirst bubbles over, it is heart-clenching and very hot.
11. The most rewatchable BL of 2023 award:
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Our Dating Sim
That scene where they lie on the floor + the stolen kiss + giggle? Come on, it should be on comfort repeat in war rooms. It could bring world peace.
ACTORS & CHARACTERS AWARDS
12. Best performance of a queer actor in a leading role, 2023:
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Fluke in Make a Wish.
It was fun to see him as an irreverent immortal and while I love OhmFluke I also really enjoyed this new pairing. It was a genuine pleasure to watch.
13. Best pining 2023:
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The moot pining in Tokyo in April is...
Boys, seriously? Japan must you destroy us like this? Hurts so good.
14. Best wingman 2023 (The Namgoong Award)
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Tiw from My School President
I mean, come on, of course it's him!
(Also can you believe Mark went on from this to do fricking Only Friends!? To Last Twilight! Come on GMMTV GIVE HIM A LEAD!)
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15. Biggest OMG I LOVE you boys together, YAY!
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Dimpled McMafia & Feral Bunny Foo Foo from Kiseki Dear to Me.
They were feral for each other.
We were feral for them
It was a whole delightful THING.
16. Most unexpected return of a BL pair? award:
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The Private Lessons pair showing up in Love Class 2.
I know it was only a cameo, but SERIOUSLY? Thank you SO MUCH Korea! A big studio picking up a Strongberry pairing? I love you.
Seriously tho between them, Taiwan & Korea tried for ALL THE CAMEOS this year.
17. Well aren't you two just the prettiest? award:
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NetJames in Bed Friend.
Need I say more?
18. LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD
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Bah Vinh in Vian & Mr Cinderella 2. I did like either show but I loved him in them. Especially the make outs.
Yes you have chemistry with all the boys in Vietnam and you kiss beautifully. But it's okay now honey, you have the crown. Relax, you're stressing us out.
RANDOM PICKS
19. Favorite Linguistic Moment of 2023:
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Our Dating Sim
Caught in the act by the elevator scene. OMG it's so funny. They're being such boyfriend shits to each other, and to be caught in the act by THAT character, and try to manifest formal language whole cloth? Hilarious.
Honorable mention to War Peanuts in Destiny Seeker.
20. Biggest disappointment of 2023:
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You Are Mine
Seriously Taiwan, AGAIN you disappoint me with an Office BL? You're Taiwan, land of offices and suits. This should be YOUR SETTING TO WIN. And yet... argh. I mean it wasn't bad. But it wasn't good either. Stop it Taiwan, do better.
Runners up? Between Us, Chains of Heart, Dangerous Romance - this was a HOTLY contested category.
+ 2 Winners in the sub-category of FUCK YOU FOR THAT ENDING award:
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The Director who Buys Me Dinner - I mean this nicely but: you have your lane now Korea, stop hurting us, that's Japan's responsibility and they do it better.
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I Feel You Linger In the Air - I'm just hugely disappointed. Thailand ALMOST got its second 10/10 from me, but that damn ending.
Argh.
21. Best Wardrobe/Prop Use 2023
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The shower of packaged bedsheets in My Personal Weatherman
Amazing. Brilliant. No notes.
22. Best Queer Rep 2023
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Chot in Step By Step
In fact, all the queer characters in this show were treated with great integrity.
AND props to this cast for refusing to do fan service. GOOD FOR YOU! Fuck those sasang wankers.
Runners up? The found family cast of Love in Translation and the Rainbow Rice Cakes in The New Employee.
23. Best Meta Trope call out
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Tin Tem Jai
Come on, what a zinger, but at themselves (and Taiwan)
Final question: which of the 23 was the hardest for me to pick?
Honestly? Question #1 this year. But also question #20.
(Last year: 2022's Version) 
Remember I only pull from shows that were completely finished by the end of 2023. Or The Sign probably would have taken multiple categories. But it will fall into 2024 offerings.
(source)
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queers-gambit · 7 months
Text
Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles
prompt: your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.
pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x female!reader also Helaena Targaryen x Cregan Stark
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 11.1k+
warnings: modern AU, cursing, male-centric aggression, mild violence, (more) against-a-wall smut, author uses writing as therapy so theres way too many details, implied character-age-up (they're all legal to drink), barely edited so be nice, author probably missed some warnings!
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Dorne wasn't just the Seventh Kingdom that withheld against conquest the longest, but now extremely notorious for their epic party scene, luxury resorts, sex-positive atmosphere, and overall debauchery. Dorne was lively, Dorne was hip, Dorne was ever-changing and always current. Dorne set trends, created challenge, and showcased their always-evolving lifestyle. Dorne was bright, colorful, tropical, and forever warm to the bone; being the ideal hot-spot for those who had money to spend.
Dorne was where everything happened.
Dorne was the place to be.
Dorne was exactly the thing you needed after finishing an over-worked, grueling finals season at your university.
When you and your best friend met for coffee nearly a full year ago to tell you she and her fiancé were thinking of a destination wedding in Dorne, you felt your excitement spike to never-before-reached heights. You would've been ashamed at how fast you jumped at the chance to travel, but you didn't have the time! You've never been to Dorne, hardly anywhere really, but going to university in the country's capital meant you interacted with a lot of international peers. Many who told you endless stories about their drunken foolishness in the Seventh Kingdom, driving up your interest and want to visit.
And now the time had finally come.
"My family's already there," Helaena told you softly; both sitting in the exclusive first class cabin after boarding the aircraft, "so we'll have transport when we land, so we just have to worry about our luggage."
You nodded at her, "Sounds good."
She offered you a look, laughing, "Just say it - I know you want to."
You glanced up and down the aisle of the plane before quickly squealing and jogging in place, "This is so fucking cool!" Helaena laughed as you calmed down, telling her, "I feel so fucking fancy right now, you have no idea! I can't believe your dad's doing all this!"
You and Helaena were traveling together because you, one, you were her bridesmaid, and two, you had a similar final exam schedule; both pursuing advanced degrees that kept you wildly busy. So her family went ahead to the resort to make sure everything was as it needed to be, and now that you were both done with exams, you were heading for Dorne to kick off 10 full days of wedding shenanigans.
When you calmed down, Helaena asked with a small smirk, "You gonna be okay?" You held up a pill bottle with an eye roll, giving it a shake; emitting a rattle. "Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no, don't take an Ambien. You're gonna be so delierious when we get there!"
"I either drug myself now or you clean anxious puke off your lap later..."
She handed you her water bottle.
The entire craft was in the air within minutes; being able to recline your seat since you were flying fancy, covering up with the blankets the pretty flight attendant offered. With earbuds in, you let Helaena lift the arm rest to lean her head on your shoulder in a snuggle, shutting your eyes, and that was honestly that.
Sure, when you woke, you were groggy and a little confused, but when you remembered where you were, all sleepiness evaporated into vibrating-excitement. You were allowed to disembark first, grab your luggage, and instantly located the sleek, tinted SUV that Helaena's father had sent for you.
Long gone were any Ambien side effects, your heart elated by the sights of Dorne you drove past. Oh, it was all so beautiful. So new. So stunningly busy. "Here!" Helaena beamed, holding her phone up and making you both pose for couple of sillier selfies before smiling sweetly for the camera for another few saved photos.
"Look, look!" You gasped, pointing to the street vendors. "That man actually has a snake on a leash! Holy shit!"
"Pretty normal here, Miss," the driver spoke stoically.
Helaena laughed, "This is so cool! Look, look at those!"
"Oh, we'll have to come back," you grinned, looking at the array of handmade purses and bags another vendor was selling. The rest of the ride was very similar, just the two of you gasping and grinning and pointing out everything you found interesting or alluring.
Upon arrival to the Sun Spear Spa and Resort (and Casino), you were blown away by the immaculate detail and decor. It was open, breathable, modern, and vast. There were three pools, direct and private beach access, six different restaurants, guided tours, several different bars planted in every corner of the resort. The walls were high, and inside, it was like stepping into a whole new world; lush green plants spewing everywhere; glass ceilings that let in all the light; marble flooring and a light perfume in the air.
"Hi," you beamed at the concierge. "We're checking in for the Stark-Targaryen wedding."
"Hi, welcome, welcome to Sun Spear! May I have your names?" The man asked in an upbeat tone, typing when you told him. He smiled and revealed, "The rest of your party has already arrived, but I have here your key cards." He handed Helaena a tiny envelope with her set of keys before offering you the same. After consulting the room numbers, you thanked the man with the name tag 'Robb' before rushing for the elevators.
"Can you believe it!?" Helaena squealed.
"Barely," you laughed, pouting dramatically. "Awh! Feels like yesterday I was introducing you and Cregan. Now we're checked into the resort you're getting married at, and it honestly doesn't feel real yet."
"Maybe it'll sink in later," she mused, moving to enter the elevator when the doors opened - but stuttered in step. "BROTHER!"
You gasped when Helaena surged past you to launch into someone's arms and knock them both half a step back onto the elevator. After a stunned moment, you recognized the long white hair adorned with a leather strap and felt your stomach plummet. You know how people say 'butterflies in my tummy' when talking about the person they like? Yeah, no, the sentiment is understood and appreciated but it's not entirely accurate. It was more like an anxious stomach-sinking feeling; churning, nauseating almost.
You smiled politely when Helaena let go and Aemond glanced up at you. He spoke your name cooly, blinking twice before seemingly remembering where he was. "Here," he offered, reaching out of the elevators to grab your suitcases.
"Thanks," you tried to laugh lightly, luggage all loaded into the death machine.
"'S good to see you," he directed at you, Helaena leaning into his side. "You look nice."
You waved him off, "Oh, you're so sweet, but you're obviously lying. I'm in my airport clothes, just spent, like, 8 hours on a plane, and I know I look as tired as I feel."
"Still," he eased softly, "beauty doesn't know tired." You didn't get to answer his compliment because when you got to Helaena's floor, the doors opened to reveal a grinning Cregan - it being obvious she had texted him and he came to greet her.
"They're so fucking cute," you whispered.
"A little too cute," Aemond answered at the same level; you both sharing a smirk.
After brief greetings to Cregan and parting words to the couple with promises to text everyone later with plans, you and Aemond continued on your way to your floor in the elevator. "You don't have to walk me to my room, you know," you told him softly.
"I know, but what kinda guy passes on the opportunity to aid a pretty lady?"
"Oh, that was smooth," you teased, snorting in amusement. "I'll give you that one."
"C'mon," he eased, the doors opening again and the pair of you striding out. "I'm actually in the room next to you, looks like," he glanced at his own door as you used your key card.
"Good, I'll have someone to help do my hair," you teased, letting him pass because he held everything and you, only your purse. Hey, he offered!
Aemond chuckled, setting your belongings down and dismissing himself, "I'll let you get settled and see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah, I just want to wash the travel off me. Wanna meet in the lobby before dinner tonight?"
"Why don't I just pick you up and we go down to dinner together?"
"Woah, but it's such a long walk for you. I don't want you going out of your way," you snickered, watching his lips twitch in a grin.
"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart."
When Aemond slipped out of your room, you giggled to yourself. You just couldn't help it; hands clasping together in glee and merriment over the banter you exchanged; feeling so very girly, and while so silly, it was a welcomed feeling. And did he ask you out? No, not really, but you couldn't help but romanticize his offer to pick you up before the family dinner that evening.
You ripped open your suitcase and the chaos began; being the only person in your room meaning throwing around what you wanted wherever you wanted without disturbing others. You brought way too many clothes but you were glad you did - needing options for the different events.
You picked an outfit, scurried into the bathroom, gawked at the interior for a long moment (it was a huge bathroom for a single room), and then got the shower turned on to heat up. In the meantime, you laid out your toiletries and products and tools, then stepping into the hot shower and literally moaning from relief.
"Ohhhhh yeaaaah, baby, that's it!" You groaned through a laugh. "Is this what water pressure is? Shit, this is nice. Gods bless it," you turned so the stream was on your chest, humming again. "I can't go home ever again, can I? Nope, probably not. This kind of water pressure would literally injure a child in King's Landing, they'd never allow this kind of luxury."
You tweaked the knob, upping the temperature, and sighing when the steam swirled around you; moaning again. You were unaware that Aemond had double-backed, pausing at your door when he heard you and swallowing harshly. He glanced down and glared at the tent pitching in the front of his jeans, but then you moaned again and his single eye fluttered shut. He retreated to his room before he spent his load right then and there.
You've never done this before, but that shower was so mesmerizing, you were in there for 56 straight minutes - with zero regrets. And now, you had the distinct pleasure to prepare for dinner with your best friend's family; including her brother, who you were deeply attached to; wildly attracted to; and wanted to impress by looking more than good tonight.
You wanted to look delectable. You wanted to look stunning. You wanted to be looked at as if a five-course meal.
With that in mind, you stepped out of the shower and got to work.
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Three definitive knocks announced his arrival, and honestly, you could've cried from anxiety. You figured you couldn't wait much longer after doing a fourth once-over in the mirror, couldn't look any better if you tried, and proceeded to yank the door open. "Hey," you chirped, readjusting your earring back.
"Shit," Aemond blinked as his single eye raked you up and down; leather eyepatch matching his leather belt and shoes. His button-up was black, unbuttoned at the top to show off his two thin silver chains, both at varying lengths; wearing easy black jeans.
"Hi," you mused, purse under your arm as you made sure to shut the heavy door after checking your keycard was where you needed it to be. "You look handsome, loving the monochromatic look."
"It's one of the many colors gracing my wardrobe," Aemond teased. "And if anyone should have a compliment, it's you, doll, I mean, just wow," his hand snatched yours to hold onto yours fingers and gave you a twirl while whistling. "This dress is a little short, no? Not that I'm complaining, I just know Aegon..." He teased, still holding your hand to yank you into his side; arm lazily tossing around your shoulders as he moved you off for the elevators.
"Your brother isn't a worry of mine," your eyes rolled, "not since I caught him..."
"Doing?"
"Nothing," you sang, punching the elevator door rapidly.
"Hey, now," he turned you so you were pressed to the cold, metal doors, "if it's about my family, I have a right to know."
"Only if it's dangerous or otherwise," you breathed. "Trust me, he's not in trouble, he's just... Busy...?"
"Where did you catch him?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Does to me."
"You're gonna make fun of him, no."
Aemond sighed, hearing the metal contraption arrive and easily stepped back; pulling you with him just as the doors opened behind you. He simply held your wrists and then drove you backwards, chuckling to himself when you pouted up at him and yanked your hands from his. "Still don't like your personal space invaded, huh?" He laughed, giving you space after hitting the lobby's floor.
"Who the fuck does?"
He nodded in agreement. "Where did you catch Aegon?"
Your eyes rolled, "Nope."
When you arrived in the lobby, you and Aemond were still bickering back and forth; all the way to the restaurant of choice that evening. You ran into Jace and Luke - Aemond's nephews - but didn't wait for them to join you; understanding the tension due to Luke's recklessness costing Aemond's eye.
"Hey," you mumbled to him when he went rigid about the lads, "you're okay. You're gonna be okay, it's okay, just ignore them."
He huffed hot air through his nose, nodding stiffly, and then following you to the reserved "party room" - being a private dining patio. When you arrived, there was a round of cheering, both you and Aemond being greeted, and when you looked, there was only 4 seats - both beside one another.
"Here," Aegon beamed, tugging the chair beside him out.
"C'mon," Aemond whispered, leading you to your chair; pulling it out, offering you to sit before he joined. Before you sat, you greeted Aegon, taking the advantage to whisper in his ear,
"Secret's still safe but Aemond knows something's up." You offered him a pointed look before smiling at Aemond and taking the seat he offered you. Beside you was Aemond and Helaena, and beside him, you and Aegon; Cregan on Helaena's side and Robb Stark on Aegon's other side.
After Jace and Luke arrived, the toasting began. Wine was poured, helpings dolloped to plates, cutlery scraped plates, and over it all, Alicent stood to her feet, "Well," she sighed, nodding at the table, "just let me say: welcome to the wedding of my daughter, Helaena, and her incredible fiancé, Cregan, who I believe has always been meant to join our family. I speak on behalf of my husband," she smiled at her decrepit husband, "Viserys, and I, and we just want to thank everyone who came all this way. Welcome to the start!"
After the obligatory sip, she offered, "Any others?"
The table glanced at one another, so, you stood and cleared your throat. "I'd like to offer a toast," you smiled as Alicent sat. "Watching Helaena and Cregan in the time we've all been friends has truly, truly, truly been a one-of-a-kind experience because how often do you get to witness two people who are meant to be, find each other? Like a puzzle, they are two halves of a whole, and while perhaps a little rough around the edges, still has a perfect fit. Thank you for inviting me, but mostly, thank you, Cregan," you smiled at the groom, "for being a one-of-a-kind man, because our Helaena deserves the absolute best. It brings us all peace and joy to know she will be loved and protected - as she deserves. However," you paused, "I also want to thank Helaena because, as friend to you both, it's been refreshing to see my mate be treated as he deserves, too. To Helaena and Cregan - our perfect puzzle pieces!"
Another round of applause and sips of wine.
Viserys toasted Cregan's strength and Helaena's bravery - saying they made a handsome couple. Something that made Aemond's eye meet your own with soft smiles.
Best man, Harwin Strong, toasted the beauty of young Helaena and how a "sorry sod" like Cregan would never deserve a woman like her, but so long as neither of them forgot that, everything should work out. You felt Aemond's pinky finger reach out to stroke your own resting on the table, and again, you met his gaze with a much shier attention than before.
Sansa Stark thanked everyone for the amazing time so far, loving their generosity and attention to detail. She toasted to loving your best mate first, how that will always make for a much better relationship; and how Helaena and Cregan just make having a relationship look easy, it was truly inspiring. This time, however, Helaena started to tear up a little and you reached into your purse to produce tissues for her; missing the way Aemond stared at you with a longing expression. Yet Aegon did not, nudging his brother and muttering, "Just ask her out already, for fuck's sake. She's not gonna bite."
Aemond swatted him away, taking a much longer pull of wine than the others taking an obligatory sip of wine.
A few others gave speeches, too, but you were drastically annoyed by Jace and Luke, sitting with their girlfriends, all snickering together over any and every congratulatory sound. They thought they were being quiet, yet they were anything but; the entire table eventually hearing them and offering glares that went ignored by the youngsters. You felt tension rolling off Aemond in suffocating waves, frowning when you noted a few Starks exchange unamused looks at the show of blatant disrespect. You were just about to open your mouth to tell them off when all of a sudden, after groomsman, Robb Stark, sat down, Aemond's fist punched the table to aid his standing movement.
He played it off by fluidly lifting his goblet.
"Final tribute," he spoke stoically, staring directly across the table at his nephews, "before we turn to our meals this evening, is hoisted in honor of the entire Targaryen brood. Tonight, we do not mourn the loss of a sister, but the gain of a brother, and I think it only fair we offer the same curtesy they've always shown us - respect."
"Aemond," Alicent warned.
"You've shown us all what love is," he told the couple. "How to keep it alive, how to remain level, patient, kind, resolute, and how to compromise." His eye flickered to yours, continuing, "Making us all envy the connection... The friendship you share, the time spent together - growing and nurturing one another. It's not everyday you're able to marry the right person at the right time," he half smirked, "someone you think understands you better than anyone else." He blinked, then cleared his throat, "And yet, I've always heard there's no bond like that of family - those you share blood with. Tonight, it wasn't Cregan who proved me wrong..."
"Aemond, don't," you mumbled when you heard Helaena sigh sadly.
"Hm," he seemed to change his mind, and instead, raised his cup in the air. "To my sister, the most beautiful bride and her very own Prince Charming - to Helaena and Cregan! May it be a long and happy marriage that we continue to envy through the ages."
"Here, here - "
"But also to our nephews, Jace and Luke," Aemond cut off the responses - the entire table stilling with confusion.
"Us?" Jace asked softly, "What for, Uncle? We are not the ones getting married."
"Well, since you found it appropriate to whispering during every speech, I figured why not just give you the attention you so obviously need."
The younger crowd at the table all oooh'ed in union while the older adults tried to diffuse the tension. You simply reached out to grab Aemond's elbow and pull him back into the chair beside you; frowning when he only smirked. "That wasn't very nice," you reprimanded softly.
"Needed said," he shrugged.
Alicent and Rhaenyra, mother of Jace and Luke, Aemond's older half-sister, were bickering in anger about Alicent's son disrespecting her own - but Alicent countered that Nyra's sons disrespected her daughter by their chattering. The tension melted into the night, everyone moving about their business; seemingly sweeping the tension under the rug, dishing up dinner and starting fresh conversation.
Your own peaceful talk with Cregan's uncle, Ned Stark, was interrupted when you jumped as a hand boldly laid on your mid-thigh. You covered your surprise with a dab of your cloth napkin to your mouth, looking discreetly to the warm fingers grasping your flushing flesh; then trailing your gaze up to the owner of said hand. Aemond casually ate with his other hand, a smirk pulled on his lips; never looking down at you, but wriggling his hand a little to make you squirm.
It felt so fucking good to be touched by him like this.
Even if it was minimal, fleeting; barely there and never-lasting. You savored the feel, the heat, the way a single, simple touch made your stomach twist in knots and heat to flush your skin.
However, when his hand slid up your thigh to push the hemline of your dress - your hand slapped down to halt his movements. You moved his hand back down to your limit, patted twice, and let go, distracted by Ned Stark's alluring baritone, accented voice. He took the hint and only touched you at your limit, still too casual for your liking; leaving you alone in your burning-desire state. If only you knew that Aemond was having just as hard a time as you - thinking you had the softest skin he's ever held before.
Soft, shaved - or is it waxed? - moisturized, and basically calling to him that he needed to get a handful. He helped himself.
You almost moaned when he curled his finger to your inner thigh; an embarrassing gush of arousal seeping from your cunt at the slightest movement from the handsome, silver-haired, one-eyed dickhead known as your best friend's brother. Yet you didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting beyond that, all too happy to listen to the others chatter away. He didn't push you too far, and yet, never once removed his hand - almost entranced by the feel of your warmth.
When dinner was brought out, Helaena and Cregan stood and everyone - yes, everyone this time - silenced themselves to listen. Sitting back in your chair, you slowly let both your hands come around Aemond's one; just holding his forearm as you listened to your besties thank everyone for their efforts and appearance during their nuptials.
When he didn't shy away from your show of silent affection, you let your hand drift to hold his bare wrist; frowning when his arm contracted in movement. However, your frown turned into an easy, relieved smile when he only moved to fold his hand into yours; fingers interlaced, resting on your lap to let your other hand cover your conjoined ones.
"And to my beautiful bride," Cregan purred, turning to Helaena, "I hope this is all you've ever wanted, exactly as you've imagined it... Because giving you the wedding of your dreams is top priority. To see your friends and family come together has been truly incredible, and I hope the rest of these celebrations are exactly that - a celebration as you've always dreamt it'd be. I'd give you whatever you'd ask for, you know," he grinned, the hand in your tightening. When you met Aemond's eye, Cregan continued, "You're all I could've dreamed of, and at the end of this week, we'll have the rest of our lives together - something I only ever thought was possible in my dreams. You're all I want in this life, and I'll spend the rest of ours being worthy of you."
Aemond squeezed your hand, you returning it as you beamed at your best mates kissing; the table cooing at their adorable antics while you snuck a glance at Aemond. His head was cocked down at an angle, smiling down at you, looking all too soft and kind for his usual demeanor. You couldn't look away once you made eye contact, staring at one another, lips slowly curling in a bright grin as his hand tightened in yours.
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The following evening breezed in with the tropical wind, and after an hour and a half, you were pecking off room service platters you had delivered and used plastic cups to drink the Dornish sweet wine from the bottle your friend had gone to the bar to get. Sansa Stark made sure your hair was in order before she pulled her long, red strands up in a high-teased ponytail; complimenting the way her bright Tully blue eyes were rimmed in a smudged-liner. You made sure you both ate a significant amount before starting to drink - wanting to loosen up as you finished getting ready together.
She wore something from your closet, you wore something of hers. With everything you needed in your purse, you latched your heels on and took your phones off chargers. "The cabs are here!" Sansa mocked, making you sputter a small laugh. This side of her was a breath of fresh air, knowing that truly, if anyone deserved a feel-good night out, it was Sansa.
So, you made the decision to stay sober - you know, so she could drink under a safe eye. However, after double checking for hotel key cards, ID's, cash, debit cards, the paper bag of bride-to-be merch, and whatever else you deemed necessary, you left the room, and was surprised to see some of the guys leaving their rooms, too.
"Hey," You greeted the best man, Harwin Strong, "what're you guys doing?"
"God daaaaaaamn," he whistled, "lookin' good ladies!" He smirked, looking you up and down, "We're heading out to some clubs and bars, too, princess."
Your eyes rolled in good humor, "Okay, yeah, sure, where are you really going?"
"Out," he nodded, following you to the elevators. "Seriously, there's a couple places we wanna check out. By the looks of things, y'all had the same idea, huh?"
You smiled as Sansa answered, "Yeah, it was last-minute. Kinda like a bachelorette thing."
"That explains all that, huh?" Harwin snickered, pointing at your paper bag.
"Don't be a hater 'cause you didn't think of it," you teased.
He hummed, "You both look really gorgeous tonight, by the way. Just incredible, I mean, Sansa, this dress is - just wow!"
Sansa flushed, letting you thank him for you both as she seemed a little tongue-tied. However, when you made it to the lobby, it was a semi-chaotic scene as the entire bridal party had gathered to share mutual rambunctious excitement. After joining in and greeting everyone, you set the paper bag down and started to dress Helaena in the obnoxious bridal garb.
"Here," Sansa giggled, handing out different paraphernalia to each lady, "just for a few pictures!"
Nobody objected. Robb had no problem taking a load of photos; some with you all posing and others more candid. It was all in good fun, the cab driver even offering to take a large group photo of the entire bridal party; encouraging a few different poses and giving you a thumbs up when done.
"Hey," Aemond approached you as you stood to the side and texted your mother, assuring everything was okay on your vacation, "haven't seen you since dinner last night."
"I know," you pouted lightly, "I'm sorry I've been a little MIA, we had an all-day spa day today."
"And here I was thinking you were avoiding me, huh?" He mused, but you heard the underlying insecurity to his voice.
"Not even close to the truth, Aems," you promised.
"So, uh," he glanced at the guys before back at you, asking, "it's just you ladies going out tonight, right?"
"Mhm," you nodded, trying not to break apart under his gaze.
"Without... Someone there?"
"I mean, we'll all be there, looking out for each other," you offered Aemond a confused smile, "and I'm not drinking, so I'll make sure everyone's safe."
"You think that's a good idea?"
"Why not?"
"New country plus drinking, I mean, sounds pretty accident-prone."
"We'll be okay, I'll stay sober and keep an eye out, make sure nobody breaks an ankle or two like last Halloween."
He looked at the bridal party, musing, "You're going to keep hold of five drunks?"
You paused for a long moment, not putting much thought behind logistics. "I think I can manage," you admitted with uncertainty. "They're not that bad. I mean, Arya's small enough to haul over my shoulder; Helaena never drinks too much, I think I have it covered best I can."
"You know what? I'll just come with you ladies."
"What?" You giggled, thinking you must've misheard him.
"I've already been out with the boys for the bachelor's party. You're one person trying to look after my sister and her friends. Trust me, I think you're gonna need help."
"Between us, who do you think has more experience between wrangling drunk women?"
Aemond just smirked, nodding, "C'mon, we should head out."
Figuring there was no use in arguing, you turned for the minivan and got in after the other girls. After Aemond spoke to Cregan and Robb, he got in the passenger seat, and away you went. "What's he doing here?" Rhea asked cautiously, looking guarded.
"He wants to help keep an eye on us," you smirked.
"So you're gonna keep creepy dudes away from us?"
"Sure," Aemond agreed just as his sister squealed and begged for the radio to be turned up - she absolutely loved this song!
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The club had no central lighting in the warehouse styled event room. There were multicolored strobe lights that flickered and pulsed and beat in-time with the loud, blaring music that was dialed to a volume that made the floor vibrate. Trendy music played in remixed playlists, heavy speakers lining most walls that didn't host the VIP sitting area.
Sweaty bodies bumped and ground together.
There was the dance floor. Then the bar lined the entire back wall, bathrooms located to the left and a fire exit to the right. The right most part of the room, stretching wall-to-wall, was an elevated space that had separate, roped-off lounge areas; complete with velvet couches and individual tables.
"Here," Rhea waved you all after her, leading you all right up to the bouncer and being granted access. Heleana looked skeptical as she realized this was some orchestrated event, not liking the idea of being clued-out of the knowing, but still, played along with the luxury treatment. You were seated in the corner booth, and without missing a beat, Sansa was tossing you her purse and yanking Helaena to the bar with the hope that her bride-to-be apparel would earn free drinks.
"This place is nice," Jeyne tried to compliment, but you and the Stark sisters shared a bemused look. "Oh! Goodie!" She squeaked when Sansa and Helaena returned with a full tray of assorted drinks.
"So, they just filled it with all the forgotten drinks," Sansa explained, "and said it was on the house 'cause of Helaena's bachelorette shit."
"Well then," you smirked, reaching for a single shot, "a toast!" Everyone reached for a drink and hoisted it in the air. "To our dear, sweet love, Helaena, and her saying 'I do' to one helluva guy! May this marriage be long, prosperous, adventurous, and full of the love you deserve! To Helaena!"
"And Cregan!" The bride slipped in as everyone echoed their toasts to the soon-to-be-married couple. You had your one shot, and while the others filled up, you and Aemond just watched them. Jeyne, Rhea, and Sansa scurried off together, Arya seeing someone she apparently knew and running off with them, and Helaena was looking at you with a dramatic pout. "Come dance with me," she whined. "I let you convince me to come out tonight, so you have to dance with me! Before I'm a spoken-for woman!"
Aemond smirked when you spared him a look as if to beg him to rescue you, but being unable to because his sister was adamant to get you on your feet.
Everyone was buddied up and accounted for; leaving Aemond alone at a reserved table. However, he didn't mind watching purses if it meant he could turn mutely to watch the dance floor, and while the lights made it hard, his eye caught sight of you.
Helaena was having the absolute time of her life, and the women around her all seemed blissfully distracted by the alcohol in their systems. He watched you. His eye did not stray, until he realized that while he could see you, so could every other wanton eye roaming the hazy room. Aemond glanced around and saw a few VIPs smoking, figuring it was okay to light up. Out of defensive anxiety, he pulled a cigarette carton from his pocket, tapped a single filtered death stick out, fingered his lighter before pausing to light, inhale, and return his gaze back onto you.
You were lost in the music, evident that all you ladies needed some stress relief after the whirlwind that is wedding planning. He knew you weren't drinking, but seeing you laugh and toss you arms up, rolling your hips in rhythm to the music, he knew you didn't need a single drop to have a good time. He thought that was admirable, incredibly rare these days. In Aemond's experience, college kids had a hard time saying no to alcohol, and the fact that you did it so willingly felt like whiplash.
Aemond stood and neared the guard railing of the elevated section he was stationed on. His shoulder leaned into a steel support beam, staring at you for several long moments while casually smoking; perking up only a degree when you told the girls something and then started moving through the throngs of people.
You pushed up to the bar and the bartender almost immediately took your order. He figured all seemed well enough because you weren't moving from the bar yet, his gaze shifting to scan the building.
Bodies were pressed together at every inch, the smell of sweat and spilt alcohol seemingly permanently perfuming the air. It was hard to see, but after adjusting, he could make out a few faces. Nobody seemed too hair-raising, nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary...
Until his eyes returned to you. The bartender was distracted doing their job, and instead of you standing peacefully, there was some guy obviously trying to flirt with you. He seemed desperate for a conversation, Aemond almost cringing from a distance as he could only imagine what kind of terrible pick-up lines this guy was using. He felt ready to move into action, but the moment the thought entered his mind, Aemond saw you gather the glasses from the bar, turn, and quite literally ignore the blonde man - who stared after you with a gobsmacked expression. Aemond smirked when the man turned to complain to his friends; holding a drink in one hand as the other gestured angrily after you.
The man's friends got a glimpse of you and laughed, slapping their friend's chest; and Aemond hoped one of them told him that a girl as pretty as you was lightyears ahead of his league.
Aemond relaxed when you returned to the party, taking a long drag when you distributed drinks to your friends. Arya had come back around with her friend, the group mingling and enjoying their new acquaintances. He noted you were empty handed, flagging a waitress down; the VIP section apparently having the luxury of being waited on to avoid the long waits at the bar. He quietly requested two bottles of water be delivered - unsealed - to their table.
His attention returned to the bridal party, only to watch a few guys join your group. Sansa and Rhea ate up the attention; leaving Jeyne and Helaena to dance alongside Arya and her friend, as the same guy from the bar holding your conversation hostage. You still looked disinterested; stoic and cold; body language assuring Aemond that you weren't receptive to the stranger. You flinched in discomfort when he had to lean in to shout in your ear just to be heard over the music, but your eye rolls told Aemond you wouldn't listen even if in a silent library.
Something in the interaction made him annoyed. It wasn't jealousy that someone was paying attention to you, standing so close and intimately; invading your space. It was something else. He could tell you weren't interested in whatever was being said, and when you turned from the man once again, obviously dismissing him to dance with Helaena and Jeyne, Aemond could see offense paint the man's face. It wasn't jealousy, but perhaps something akin to protectiveness after witnessing the way the man had approached you at the bar, and now, again, on the dance floor.
Without a single thought, Aemond was pushing off the beam and dropping his cigarette to crunch under his boot the moment the stranger reached for your upper arm to whip you around aggressively; snarling and scolding you. Aemond easily slotted through the sweaty crowd, not entirely barging through them but not exactly waiting for them all to part for him. The stranger was sneering something at you, demanding an apology for blowing him off (twice) so rudely, but you were snapping that it was rude to bombard you. To pester disinterested women. To impose. To approach an entire group of women and ruin the good vibe by simply being an intrusive, entitled man. The blonde man was just in the middle of snarling in your face how much of a "catch" he was when Aemond arrived, and without truly thinking, he reached out and tore the man away.
Aemond, while decently lanky and skinny, was ripped with defined muscle and when his anger was flared up, he was near unstoppable. So, in reality, the stranger would've been moved whether sober or not, but because this man was drunk, he nearly toppled over. As the stranger scrambled off the floor, Aemond stood protectively in front of you with his anger almost palpable, barking, "She told you to fuck off, mate."
"Oh-ho! Got a big man here, do we!?" The blonde stranger raged, his pale flesh turning a bright red from his anger and alcohol consumption. "You wanna have a go, mate, I'll fuck you up right here! Right now! Fuck you think you're doin', touchin' me like that, you fuckin' prick!?"
"She's not interested," Aemond stood his ground, "and you need to walk away - right fucking now."
"Over some stuck-up whore who won't even accept a drink? She's that much of an up-tight bitch? Too full of her-fucking-self? Man, you're wasting your time, chicks like that don't know a nice guy even when he hits her."
"As if any woman in their right mind would accept a drink from you," Aemond sneered, looking the man up and down. "You got ears? You speak the Common Tongue? Turn around and fuck off - the ladies aren't interested."
"Like I'm listening to some one-eyed, pussy-boy - "
"Aemond!" You yelped, shoving yourself in front of him when you saw the impending danger. You knew his injury was off-base; not a topic of conversation anyone dare engage in. The fact this stranger honed in on it so easily was triggering in the worst way imaginable. "Hey, hey, hey, he's not worth it. Hey, c'mon, don't let it get to you this bad. It's okay. Aemond, c'mon, let's just walk away."
"Listen to your bitch, mate! She's not even fuckin' worth it! What kind of a guy wants to parade around with some whore? Wearing something like that for everyone to see! What's wrong, princess?" He directed at you. "He don't give you enough attention? Huh? You gotta find it anywhere else, don't'cha, why else dress like that - huh!?"
By now, a small crowd had formed and the blonde, drunk stranger was being egged on and riled up by his mates. "Don't," you repeated to Aemond, perfectly all too used to men's reaction when women reject them or simply didn't get what they want.
"Walk away," Aemond repeated, his veiny hands moving to hold your arms as if it would physically restrain him; your hands on his waist to keep him anchored.
"Man, what the fuck ever. Not even worth it," he scoffed.
"Then why do you keep talking?" Sansa drunkenly snapped from behind Aemond's broad shoulders.
"Fuck did you say, bitch!?"
Aemond sighed and tugged you behind him, stepping up to the drunk blonde man; lowering his tone to mutter something as he stood between you ladies and the lads in tacky Hawaiian-print button-ups. You're not sure what was said, but Aemond seemingly had the last word; watching him turn back for you lot and instantly start checking that each of you was truly okay.
Aemond gently caressed Helaena's cheek, muttering, "You good?"
She nodded, but then, her eyes widened and she squeaked when the stranger charged Aemond from behind, shouting his name in warning. "Shit!" You yelped when he dodged out of the way just as the man threw a wild punch.
Nobody could've stopped the fight if they tried.
You made sure to herd the women close as Aemond dodged two more throws, his long platinum hair swinging as it fell out of its bun before he found his opportunity. Aemond strategically waited until the blonde stranger was open to throw his weight behind his fist colliding with the drunk man's cheekbone.
The crowd of people around you all 'ooohed' in union, wincing when Aemond, again, knocked his fist into the man's jaw and, again, sent him sprawling to the floor. One of the friends managed to sneak in and land a blow on Aemond's cheek, but his head only barely turned with the impact. His eye locked onto the new target, and not a minute later, the other guy was nursing a broken nose.
Aemond glanced around for any other contenders, sighing when there were none - just a cloud of jeering drunks voicing their approval towards the violence. "Hey," you begged again, his eye finding your worried face, "you done now? Can we get you cleaned up?"
Sansa stepped up, stating, "We can go if you guys want - we don't have to stay!"
"No, just... Stay outta trouble," Aemond sighed. "I'll be up there," he gestured back at the elevated VIP section. You hated seeing him shoulder his way through the rowdy crowd who had already forgotten about the fight.
You shook your head, grabbing Helaena's arm and leaning into her ear, "I'm gonna check on Aemond. Don't go anywhere, stay with the girls!"
"I will!" She agreed, letting Arya push another shot in her hand. You turned and grumbled when bodies began bumping into you instantly; your jaw clenched to keep upright. You had to eventually shove a few people out of your path, but didn't care, jogging up to the VIP section and looking around. When you got back to your table, Aemond was sitting with his head tilted back, eye closed, smoking another cigarette, ice on his slightly reddened hand.
"Aemond?" You checked, announcing your presence as you took the seat beside him; scooting closer. "The fuck was that? Gettin' in fights in the club, Alicent wouldn't be proud," You spoke gently, readjusting his ice so it was actually over the swollen area.
"Just guys being dudes, dudes being guys," he mused, free hand holding his cigarette to speak as he exhaled. "Why're you up here?"
"I wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine, you can go back - "
"Aemond," you snipped, "I'm fine here. I needed a break, and I wanted to check on you."
He nodded towards the table, "Water's for you."
You glanced over, finding the two water bottles amongst an array of items on the tabletop. One unopened, the other cracked and partially drank. "Thank you," you spoke sincerely, waiting until his eye met yours, "for the water and for defending me back there. I owe you one."
"I only did what a gentleman should do," he sighed.
"Wasn't worth bruising your knuckle, was it?"
"I'd actually say it was necessary," he spoke like it was easy. You hated that, how he seemed fluent in flirting but you knew he wasn't really. Why would he? Aemond Targaryen made 'being perfect' look fucking perfect.
You were quiet for another moment before you blurted out, "It was pretty hot, I have to admit. Seeing you defend my honor."
He eased his cigarette to an ashtray, speaking clearly, "Wasn't gonna let him touch you." You thought that was final and just smiled softly, but then Aemond finished, "Wasn't about to let any man touch what's mine."
"Yours, huh?"
He smirked, "Why not?" His now free hand landed on your bare thigh; dress riding up when you sat down to give him access to your spa-waxed legs. "You anyone else's?"
"I'd like to think women aren't possessions."
"Yet you're the one prize I fucking need," his hand squeezed. "Don't even know what kinda gem you are, do you?"
"I think your adrenaline's got you talkin' crazy," you tried to deflect, giggling lightly. But his hand squeezed again, making you look up to meet his gaze.
"I know what I want. And I know," his hand slid up to ease up the curve of your ass, "that I'm done denying my want for you."
"Aemond," you felt drunk on his presence.
"Tell me to stop, doll, and we won't ever have to talk about it again. But if you can't," he palmed your flesh, "and you want this, too - "
Your hand grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling his hand from under your dress, "Helaena's my best friend, and you're her brother. This is... The most taboo situation we could entertain right now."
"Hmm," he pulled his hand back, making you instantly snatch it back.
"But I can't tell you I don't feel it, too." Aemond's eye glittered in the strobe lights, feeling him pull your legs so you were nearly sat on his lap; legs laid over his so he could fully touch your thighs again. "But we can't, i-it would - this would take away from Helaena - we can't."
"I don't see her here right now," he purred, leaning in close to breath in your neck. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."
"Aemond."
"Keep sayin' my name, baby, but it doesn't answer my question."
You only managed to answer, "Too long," in a quivering voice before,
"HEY!" Sansa slurred, beaming brightly from over Rhea's shoulder as they stumbled up; giving just enough time for you and Aemond to separate. "I know you guys! Oh! I know them! Look! It's our friends!"
Rhea Royce, being just-as-drunk, gasped, "I know them, too! Oh, bless the Seven! We know you!"
"Hi," you laughed, eyeing them all with full amusement, "everyone doing okay?"
"I called our ride, they're up the street - they can't get down here 'cause of traffic," Jeyne informed with a pant, Helaena and Arya held to her body. You smiled at Aemond before getting up to gently take Helaena's weight from Jeyne, who breathed, "Thank you so much. C'mon, our ride's up there - "
Aemond grunted as he stood and offered his water to Rhea, assisting the ladies in keeping their balance in sticky-soled heels. You handed Sansa your unopened water as you held onto Jeyne, watching Aemond help Arya, Rhea, and Helaena - who needed his support.
It was a shit-show getting the group in another minivan; the only relief being when they were bribed with tacos. The ride to the resort was a total 180 compared to the ride out, as everyone knocked out except you and Aemond. A couple of times, you wondered if you should speak first but never did - being vulnerable isn't your forte.
You know what you would rather do than wrangle in five drunk girls? Specifically after a bachelorette party? Declaw wet cats. Contract measles. Be hit by a bus. Learn how to speak Latin (a dead language, for those who don't know). Go to Vegas with your entire lifesavings and lose it all. Use pliers to yank a tooth out - no dentist or anesthesia used (Ron Swanson style).
Anything would be better than this.
It took the better part of an hour for you to get all the girls out of the van, through the resort, and into Jeyne's border-line empty hotel room. Empty because the sweet, party girl from Northern University didn't unpack, and was the cleanest; the perfect place to dispose of everyone. Aemond was as helpful as ever, but he didn't do much past helping you get the women in bed; unsure how to help past that. From there, you did the rest: took off any shoes and / or glasses, plugged phones in, left water bottles and a bottle of Advil in view, and shut the curtains to grant them deliverance when the sun rose.
When done, you and Aemond snuck out of the room quietly and let the door shut behind you; leaving you in the hall. "I put Sansa's phone on FaceTime with mine," you showed him, "in case one of them throws up or needs something, and left it on the charger."
"So we should get you to your charger, right?"
"Oh," there was teasing to your tone, "worried about my battery running low?"
"Just wondering if your batteries can go all night," he smirked, picking up on your innuendo.
"Oh, good one," you teased, watching him smirk. "Thanks for helping tonight. It was nice having you watching our back."
"Yeah?"
You beamed, nodding, "For sure. I could tell Helaena had a blast."
"Good, 's what I care about," he nodded. "Listen," he cleared his throat, "I, uh... I have to make a confession."
"Aemond Targaryen wants to tell me a secret?" You teased, facing him in full-interest. "Please," you encouraged, gesturing for him to go-on.
His tongue wet his lips swiftly, "I know you're Helaena's friend and you say it's wrong, but I just... I tried not to have these feelings for you, but I can't stop them."
You smiled, "Aemond, that's the alcohol talking."
"What if I said I didn't have any?"
You blinked in mild shock, offering quietly, "I'd say you were delirious from dehydration or something. It was really hot in there, must've been sweating a lot, or maybe it's your adrenaline again!
"Why is it so far fetched for you to think I could have honest feelings for you? Truly, have you thought this was just a one-way street?"
"You're Helaena's brother," you spoke softly, sadly, "and maybe we're just - I don't know - not thinking clearly! We need to cool off - "
"No, no, I don't need to cool off, you see, because I'm thinking the clearest than ever before," Aemond shook his head, reaching for your shoulders to squeeze, and move down to hold your upper arms, squeeze again, then down to just above your elbow. "I feel as if I don't say it now, I might lose the nerve later. I've always admired you, sweetheart, and I know it's wrong, I know it's taboo and scares you, I know I'm your best friends brother, but I can't help it. You're just - this - like - fucking incredible person, who is loyal and wise and strong and knowing and open and sweet and empathetic and wickedly intelligent - "
You cut him off by surging into his arms; chest to chest, lips locked together in a passionate exchange of fierce, over-boiled emotion without a single thought towards further repercussions. There was tongue, there was teeth, there was an-ever spreading warmth that stretched from your cheeks to your toes. Aemond tasted just like he semlled - sweet, salty, just the right amount of spicy. He let you lock your hands in his hair, always knowing your affinity for his long silver mane; tugging the strands you managed to get ahold of gently to cause Aemond to moan while sucking on his domineering tongue.
Aemond was losing his mind; infected with all you were, all you are, all you would, could, and should be. The way you made him feel, the obvious care you put into others, the sweet, innocent look in your eye replaced by a haze of lust - all thanks to him. For a moment, Aemond's mind felt numb before it jolted back into reality, realizing he was kissing you. You. You were kissing him, he was kissing you. His dear, sweet, kind, ever-so-perfect sister's best friend, you - he was kissing you and you were kissing him back. Sure, he dreamt of this happening about a few dozen times but the real thing was tenfold what he ever imagined.
Holy Seven, he was kissing you.
"I take it," he panted, breaking apart before surging in for another taste of your pouting lips, "you might feel..." another kiss and a small moan, "feel the same?" He pulled back to look in your eyes, but when you didn't answer him, Aemond teased, "Oh, c'mon, princess, tell me you feel the same. Tell me I'm not makin' a fool of myself, that we're not just runnin' high from the club's fumes."
"No," you promised, "you are no fool, Aemond Targaryen; far from it, in fact. I, too, feel whatever this is, whatever is emotional, tangible, physical between us, I feel it, too, and I want you - oh!"
He didn't need to hear anything more, suffocating you in another kiss, and this time, you let him control the motions because you were unsure how far this would - or should - go. His hands squeezed over your hips, turning, and pushing you against the wall just a few steps behind you. Your moan was meek, released into his mouth; loving Aemond's taste on your tongue; and for now, you simply forgot he was your best friend's brother. Or ignored the fact.
"Shit," he panted, looking down at you before glancing down the hall, "listen, listen, listen, baby, hey, if we keep goin', I might not stop." He offered a small shrug, "Ready to bust right here, right now, if I'm honest, but I'd rather be inside you."
You considered his words for a moment; waiting for his gaze to return to you before voicing your opinion. Feeling inexplicably turned on by his earlier actions to defend you, bruising his knuckles on a stranger's jaw; how he called you his, how he touched you, and when his single violet eye turned back to you, you surprised yourself by your words, "Better make it quick, then."
Aemond smirked, "You want me to fuck you, here? Against the wall?"
"Maybe," you answered softly, letting your hand reach out to palm over his swelling cock; hearing his breathing catch and continuing, "only if you can be quick so we aren't caught and slapped with an indecent exposure charge."
Aemond did not hesitate to swoop down and slam his lips to yours; pushing his hips forward so he could grind into your palm. Hands roamed to touch, caress, squeeze until they secured your hips in a bruising grip, then dipping low to suddenly grab your thighs and hoist you up. As if you weren't turned on enough, the obvious show of strength and ease in which he held you made your cunt contract over nothing; dampening to an embarrassing level. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel so frantic; so animalistic; so feral that you needed to be fucked right here, right now, in this hall that was so very public.
But that was the fun: having a frenzied fuck with the looming threat someone might catch you.
You moaned like a wanton bitch in heat, core pressed against his straining member and only imaging what the feel of him would be. A whimper was ripped from your throat, gasping as Aemond grew to a knew height of desperation; turning a degree more aggressive in the way he pressed close to you, teeth scraping your lips. It was like he was trying to suck your soul through your mouth; tongues battling, hands sliding around one another as if unsure where to hold. You settled on his cheeks, finding the chiseled features alluring enough to grip; his securing your waist and base of your ribcage in a bruising grip, both moaning in pleasure and need.
"Gotta keep it down, pretty girl," he muttered with a smirk, holding you expertly so he could grind his harden, black-jean-covered member to your ever-dampening core. "Don't wanna get caught, huh? Disturb the peace, have someone hear us," he breathed against your lips, "come outta their room to check?"
You whimpered.
"Oh," he chuckled darkly, pulling back only just to look at you, "my pretty girl would like that, huh? Always knew you were a fuckin' freak."
His lips were on yours as you pawed as his belt and jeans. Aemond chuckled into the kiss, readjusting his hold on you to help; and the moment the garment was loose, you shucked his jeans to mid-thigh. All the while, Aemond leaned back in to smother your neck and shoulder with his searing-hot, teeth-raking kisses; uneven breathing making you tremble when each exhale covered your saliva-coated skin to send a shiver through your muscles.
"Aemond," you begged, riding up your dress to expose your soaking-wet, black lace thong, "just need you - now. Please, please, we don't have time for begging."
"Gotta warm you up - "
"I've been warm since you shoved that guy off me," you rushed, whimpering, "please, okay? Just fuck me. I need it, I need you. Take your time with me later, but for right now, just fuck me - I need you to fill me, Aemond."
"I gotta condom - "
"I'm on birth control - that NuvaRing is fuckin' incredible," you laughed, hearing him hum in amusement as his teeth latched down on your bottom lip enough to encourage you into another tongue-wrestling session.
After a moment, Aemond grinned and glanced down to push away any lingering fabric, lips licking yours messily; grabbing hold of his cock to line up at your core. Never before had you felt "dripping" for any man, but Aemond wasn't just any man. No, in your mind, he was The Man.
No warning was necessary for him to snap his hips forward; sheathing his hot, leaking cock in your sopping warmth in one fluid motion; piercing you. He praised in your ear, "Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," before sharing a moan; yours from absolute pleasure, and his from sheer relief. He's wanted this longer than you have, which felt impossible, but the truth was the truth. Aemond's been in love with you for what felt like an impossible amount of time.
"Shit," you begged, teeth scraping the shell of his ear, "hang on, hang on, hang on." You whimpered, "You're so fuckin' big - just a moment, please, hang on."
"'S all right, love. Take your time. I got you," he soothed, unfazed by your repeated pawing around his neck to keep your balance; sweaty palms catching his hair a few times. "Just fuckin' feel me, baby," he groaned in your ear, "and how full you feel. So fuckin' tight," he grit.
You whimpered.
The thing is, you've fucked your share of men (and women) before, but Aemond was something Godly. You felt disappointed you didn't get to physically see his glory, nor have it in your mouth, but figured there was time to admire him like a painting in the Louvre later. For now, you could only understand that Aemond was by far the biggest you've had; both in size and girth. You shuddered at the feeling of him filling you to the brim, whispering, "M-Move, please, move, just start moving, oh, my Gods. Y'Feel so fuckin' good, shit, Aemond, baby, you feel - Godsdamnit, you feel so fucking good."
Aemond did as you asked, moving his hips to drag his cockhead along your quivering walls to collect your wetness, only to push right back in; creating a languid pace as to allow you accommodation. His teeth grit tightly, "No idea what it feels like for me, sweet girl. Fuck. Who got you this wet? Huh? Who got you here? Fuckin' tell me, baby, who got you like this?"
"You, Aemond. Always you, baby, always gettin' me wet - so fuckin' wet," you babbled. "Don't even have t'do shit t'get me goin', 'M always so ready for you to have me." You felt a scream build and Aemond must've seen it because he offered you a stern look as he humped quickly into you. "Quick and quiet, right?" You complained with wide eyes, swollen lips; the perfect pout that would get you whatever you wanted from the middle Targaryen.
"Jus' for right now, can get as loud as we want later, huh?" He hissed, groaning as he readjusted his stance to increase his speed. "Hold on, princess, just hold onto me, I got us, almost there," his lips ghosted your neck before letting his teeth gnash your flesh in a show of messy dominance. "Good fuckin' girl, yes, yes," Aemond grit, flexing his jaw when he felt your arms tighten, "just hold on fa'me - can't get enough of this. Huh? Hear me? Can't ever go back, princess, not when I've had you like this - jus' fuckin' made f'me, Godsdamnit - yes, yes, yes, there's my girl, good girl, so fuckin' good for me. Shit, I don't wanna cum, I just wanna feel this pussy for as long as possible, but I can't hold it, baby, shit, I can't hold it anymore."
Your moans and grotesque sounds of Aemond's balls slapping your leaky cunt filled the hall; your mind only briefly registering the idea for a moment to let you glance up and down the hall to ensure your "privacy". Words failed you, your lungs heaving in short puffs; gripping his shoulders as if it would keep you anchored, but the truth was, his forceful hips were sending you up the fucking wall.
"Ae-Aemond," you begged brokenly, reaching for your clit and only needing to add minimal pressure; ready to shatter from the harsh thrusts your one-eyed lover provided. "I-I-I'm there. I'm there, baby, please, oh, shit!" You felt a sob lodge in your throat.
"Cum on my cock, princess," he demanded as your head tilted back to bang into the wall, sinking his teeth deep into your pulse point when exposed. "Lemme feel you, love, c'mon, just let it go. Show me - " he felt the trickling of your cum squirting out in a rare display, "oh-ho-hoooo, look at that, yes, yes, there's my good fuckin' girl. That's it, fuckin' soak me, there it is - shit, shit, oh, fuck. Grippin' me so fuckin' tight without anythin' needin' to be said. Good girl," he grunted, feeling as if stabbing through you with the way he thrusted and jackhammered his cock into your tightening cunt with each word.
Your tongue flattened against his neck, hearing his groan, and when your mouth closed down to lock your teeth over his pale flesh, sure to leave a red mark, Aemond gave a final grunt. He shuddered; hands bruising your skin as his hips stuttered once, twice, and stilled against you. Your nether region blossomed with his warmth, your lungs panting to catch your breath; feeling full as Aemond barely deflated inside you.
"Shit," you whispered.
"Yeah," he gaped in agreement, gulping harshly. "You all right, love?"
"Mhm," you nodded against him, nuzzling his cheek with your nose. "You?"
"So fuckin' good," he chuckled, glancing down the hall. "I gotta set you down, baby, 'M cramping a little. Easy does it, just hold onto me," he spoke soothingly, pulling his cock out and easing you to your feet while holding onto his neck and shoulders. "Keep my cum right there," he smirked down at you, readjusting your panties over your swollen cunt before tugging your dress back down; giving a playful slap to your clit that made you jump a little from the overstimulation. "Don't let a drop out, hmm?"
"Take that up with gravity, I got nothin' to do with it," you whined, leaning on the wall for full-support. After situating his cock back and yanking his boxers and jeans back up, Aemond dropped to a knee before you.
"Here," he whispered, lifting one of your legs to ease your shoe off. You smiled, holding onto his shoulders as he helped you remove both shoes; standing to his full height again. He looked nervous for a moment, mouth opening but closing as words evaded him.
You took mercy, smiling, "Aemond?"
"Yeah, princess?"
"Would you like to spend the night with me?"
He smirked, chuckling, "Yeah, think I would."
"Good. You get to carry me, then." Aemond grinned and moved before you realized what he was doing, swooping you into his arms. You giggled girlishly, "I need my stuff!" He glanced down at the floor to spy your shoes, purse, phone. Aemond grunted as he lowered in a squat, letting you collect your things to rest in the cradle of your belly, snickering, "You're such a show off."
"This is why we don't skip leg-day, pretty girl," he smirked, "or core day, or arm day..."
"We get it, you work out! But weren't you cramping up a minute ago?"
"Yeah, but that was then."
As he walked towards the elevator, you both heard a door open and peaked over to see one of Aemond's distant, great-uncles peaking out in confusion. "Did you guys hear that?" The older man asked hoarsely, obviously disgruntled from being woken up. "What's all that racket? We thought we could expect for a little sleep!"
You felt embarrassment flush your system, a hand slapping over your mouth - but Aemond covered, "Sorry, Uncle, the wedding parties went out drinking. Got them all safe in their rooms, except this one, though. Sorry for the noise."
He smiled, nodding as if in relief, "You're a good boy, Aemond. She all right?"
"Yes, just a little too much to drink," he chuckled, your free hand reaching over to pinch his nipple through his shirt as your other hand now hid an amused smile. "Goodnight, Uncle, there won't be other disturbances tonight."
When the elevator arrived, Aemond stepped on as this distant relative shut his door again, and as the elevator doors shut, you shared a look before bursting out in laughter. "I don't think I can face him at the wedding now," you whined lightly.
"Why not?"
"I literally have your cum dripping outta me - "
"I told you to keep it in."
You smirked, "I guess you're just gonna have to punish me, then, huh? You never did like being disobeyed, now, did you?"
Aemond laughed, his single lilac eye scanning over your face; slowly dropping in serenity. "What're we doing, baby? Hmm?" He asked quietly.
"Going to my room - "
"You know what I mean," he sighed almost sadly. When you arrived at your floor, he walked out of the elevator as you answered,
"You and I know we have feelings for each other. So, for tonight, it's just us... And we'll decide when to tell the others after we decide what it is to tell them."
"Probably best after the wedding..."
You smiled as you arrived at your hotel door, "Well, I was kinda hoping you'd be my date to the wedding?"
Aemond looked down at you with a softening expression. "Yeah?" He chuckled slightly as you opened your clutch to pull out your keycard, but his hands tightened to earn your full attention once the plastic was in your hand. "I'd... Actually really like that, too, sweetheart," he hushed, hoisting you in for another frantic kiss. The door beeped when it opened, closing with a heavy bang behind you both; forgetting Sansa was left on FaceTime... Too distracted by both being obviously turned on, it seemed, by emotional intimacy.
Perhaps not so one-sided, indeed...
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requesting rules and masterlist
HOTD masterlist
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persephone11110 · 2 months
Text
A Web Of Lies | J. Seresin
warnings: past physical abuse, past domestic violence-> old traditional views of how women are supposed to be,victim blaming—self victim blaming, hurt/comfort, protective jake seresin, mentions of throwing up and being on your period, oc death-> mentions of alcohol abuse and car accident
summary:“Y/n sometimes it best if women are seen and not heard,sometimes its best if you just take the hits and don’t react”. Mama tells you while holding an icepack to her swollen eye.
AN: do i need therapy or do i need keep writing oc’s with childhood trauma?
ocs: Betty L/n, Harry L/n, Darren
THIS STORY IS ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND GENERATIONAL TRAUMA AND MISOGYNISTIC SOCIETIAL VIEWS SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL
Women are seen not heard.
It’s a phrase you learned as a little girl, it’s an assumption youv’e lived by for awhile, taking it in consideration when saw your dad first hit your mom, when Darren first slapped you. Its always the women fault— it can never be the man fault.
You didn’t learn this lesson until your eight years old, when your father facade cripples quickly. Before this happened he was sweet to you, always calling you his princess, having tea parties with you—throwing you over his shoulder.
His laughter was loud and clear , just like yours until it isn’t. Your dad is everything a man is supposed to be until he isn’t. The loudness that once meant happiness turns into—loud agressive shouting, when it’s him and mama alone together.
Well they think their alone together. Your wandering down the staircase to see were he went as he promised to read you the cinderella story again—like he did most nights, reading to you until your snores filled the room.
They’re fighting again which isn’t surprising to say the least. Your parents always argued whether it was in hushed tones or it was so loud that your neighbors next door would come over and make sure everything was fine.
“Betty it wouldn’t be like this if you just made me happy!”,his voice booms, bouncing off the walls. He doesn’t look like he usually does, his hair was messy opposed to the gel back look he normally wore, his clothes has stains on it- something that was unheard of until tonight.
You swear mama not breathing after you watched daddy ball his fist up, striking her across the face. The cracking sound echoes throughout the living room, mama on the ground holding the right side of her face.
You go to open your mouth, worried for your mama. But before you can your nanny Louisa gently wraps her hand around your mouth. “Shh little one, lets get to bed–theres school remember”. Louisa picks you up and you lean your head on her shoulder, leaving your mama bleeding on the cold floor alone.
It makes mama stop arguing with daddy, his combat boots were heavy aganist the floor as he leaves through the front door— using all his strength to slame it.
In the morning you notice how quiet mama is, how red and swollen her face is. “Louisa taking you to school today Y/n” her voice is small and soft.
“Mama why did daddy hit you?”. She almost drops the kettle onto the ground, mama didn’t know you were there watching the vicious scene unfold.
Thats the day your mama infamous words get stuck in your head,“Sometimes mama makes daddy mad, sometimes women must be seen and not heard”.
It words that stay with Y/n for over an decade.
Circa of 2002
Your in your junior year of college when the lesson your mom taught you is sitting in the back of your mind.
Just take the hit Y/n, it makes life easier.
Your relationship with Darren is so fresh, yet your already mimicking how your mom acts around your dad. Your already walking on eggshells with him, he already rolls his eyes when you forget to give him the answers to the psychologyhomework—it meant your walking on thin line of his frustration.
Sometimes you think you deserve the bruises that riddle your body, how many times have you forgotten to call him back, when he tells you to. Sometimes he’s annoyed with how much you move in your sleep, “I can’t sleep Y/n if you move so much”.
Your relationship with Darren was the true epitome of Opposite Attracts. Like today you got excited telling Darren about the release of the book Coraline. You remembered him reminding you to calm down, him telling you didn’t care about his day.
Or when your on your period and he insists that your fine, and how you had the tendency to overreact when it came to your pain. How he’s sighs when your own the ground cleaning up your throw up as the cramps had gotten worse. Telling you its 2AM in the morning and he’s desperately trying to sleep, and now he can’t.
The guilt eats away at you for days, now when you get your period you slept on the bathroom floor.
You don’t have friends anymore, as Darren had grown controlling of your social life. “Am I not enough for you, Y/n?”. Your friends grow tired of seeing you so bruised, they grow tired of trying to help someone who didn’t want the help. Its just you and Darren now–at least he didn’t grow tired of you.
It took ten years for you to leave, your about two years into your nursing job. Your a hypocrite, as you stood infront of a woman in a coma, her husband had beaten to her within an inch of her life and the only chance she had at living was a medical induced coma.
Here you were holding her hand telling her it wasn’t her fault. “Sometimes we believe we don’t deserve better and we believe there is no one out there who will ‘love’ us”. You sighed, lifting one hand to wipe away your tears.
You left him-leaving the state and finding a job all the way in Miramar, California—changing your cell number and email. A phone call from your mother makes you almost burst out laughing,“Y/n I’m so sorry for your loss sweetheart he was such a nice boy”. Darren drinking habit has gotten worse, he managed to flip his car over on its side. You didn’t feel like telling her about the break up - there was no use anway, as she’ll tell you to beg for his love again, like all the other times.
Present
You sitting across from Jake, staring at him waiting for him to tell you how much you suck at cooking. Waiting for him to pick up the dish and chuck it over your head—listening to him pop open another beer, the plate and flood sliding down the wall.
It doesnt come, its never going to.
Jake gives you a soft smile, and he reaches for your hand to hold it, as he eats.“God damn darlin, you put your entire foot in it”.
“Thank you Jake”, You push your chair back, moving to collect his dish. He softly grips your hand, stopping you from moving.
“Darlin I have legs—finish your food first”. He drops a kiss onto your head before walking to the kitchen. His southern drawl thicker than usual.
Darren did always say you were stubborn. You were standing infront of the sink washing all the dishes that had been used for dinner. Despite Jake telling you didn’t have to.
“Y/n is cleaning so hard for you?”.
“Is it so hard for my girlfriend to clean up after herself?”, your holding a cold beer to your swollen face.
“Darlin, no”. Jake wraps his arms around you not caring about your wet clothes. “Let me do it Y/n”. He gently pushes you into the kitchen chair.
Jake doing the dishes right now.
Something your dad wouldn’t dare do for your mom,“Betty I’m tired the least my wife can do is clean up for me”. Darren wouldn’t neither—“Goodnight Y/n, or I’m watching the game”, leaving you in the dark kitchen alone.
Jake Seresin isn’t them, Jake isn’t the man you’ve spent majority of your life scared of. It’s takes time for you believe that, it takes time for you to believe his words,“I will never lay a hand on you Y/n”.
It took some time but staring at him washing the dishes singing along with Beyoncé you start to believe him. You know for certain that Jacob Grant Seresin is not like them—he can’t be.
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mvltisstuff · 9 months
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Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.
lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙
love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹
are you with me - e.b
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summary: request
evan buckley x reader
a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality
it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.
over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.
she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.
all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.
buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.
most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.
she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.
“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.
“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.
“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”
“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.
“hang in there, y/n/n,�� she says softly. “we’ve got you.”
despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.
“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.
“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.
“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.
y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.
y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.
“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”
“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.
“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”
“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“
“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”
“promise?”
“i promise.”
the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.
weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.
y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.
buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.
at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.
“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.
“what’s wrong? did something happen?”
her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”
“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”
“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.
“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”
her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”
y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.
y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.
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probablyhuntersmom · 10 months
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The scenes towards the end of the finale were like an intersection of multiple characters experiencing the loss of father figures, in different shades:
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Luz's relationship to her late father took on a different form, after King's own father passed on and his glyph magic was gone for good. Manny gifting her the Azura books before his death, and Papa Titan offering her glyph magic before he too passed on, helped Luz find her place in the world and defeat Belos.
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Apparently this scene is what made Sarah Nicole-Robles bawl in the recording studio, right after she recorded the lines.
When these changes happen - when we experience the loss of a person, when our ties with them are wrangled into a new form, against our will - it can be devastatingly painful. Change and transformation make for fancy, dramatic scenes in fiction, and they always incur loss in some form, painful or not. It also made me so emotional when seeing how much 18-year-old Luz resembles Manny, and how her enrolment in the university is linked to both her biological father and Papa Titan.
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King's experience of seeing the majesty of his father, however brief, left him in awe and exhilaration. He can rest in the beautiful knowledge that Papa Titan was watching over him the whole time too. The message that his dad left him, relayed by Luz, is something he'll hold dear forever.
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Hunter will never be truly harmed by Belos ever again. But he can't discard the memories of Belos granting him attachment: even if the attachment ended up not being real in a sense. However, like what can be applied in real-life therapy, he can get guidance on how to rescript those memories.
Belos's lies about having good intentions don't change how it felt real to Hunter all those years ago. Hunter was a young child when receiving this 'love', and in a twisted way...the mission given to him by Belos kept him alive up till he could escape the Coven, because the mission gave his life meaning despite the circumstances being awfully terrible. A child cannot survive without attachment, and needs attachment even if the experience of attachment has been horrendous and scarring. And holy Titan don't get me started on how at age 16 (before the timeskip), he had yet to learn more grisly details about his predecessors - whom he might view as older brothers and fathers whom he never met - and the generational trauma in his Golden Guard family tree:
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which would have definitely been explored before he could experience that amazing hard-won serenity and peace at age 20.
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Even Philip's arc is inextricably tied to his manner of coping with how he murdered Caleb, who was the closest thing he had to a father, given how these two brothers were orphans. In the end, Philip meets his end while Luz gazes upon him the same way Caleb's ghost did. Philip won't be haunted by Caleb's ghost again, and he joins the person who was essentially his father figure in death. Till the very end, he was projecting onto another person because he didn't want to recognize the same traits in himself. He was the one responsible for his father figure's death.
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But grief doesn't mean the relationships in question have ended altogether. It's kind of like what this post about the finale (link) says, and it even extends to the relationship between us fans and the show itself.
The cliché "5 Stages of Grief" is the most commonly mentioned grief model, but I follow the development and advocacy of a newer perspective on grief that challenges it. In fact, the 5 Stages was originally just intended for terminally ill patients, but it was taken out of proportion. I began a serious investigation into the newer models after I went through something that parallels Hunter losing Flapjack...eerily, it happened to me two weeks before TTT's release date. No wonder I feel so close to Hunter as a blorbo, I guess.
Unlike what the 5 Stages of Grief says, grief and linear time don't mix well. Without "stages" to follow, there isn't an expectation of some deadline or permanent end of a tunnel in the newer models. Such pressure wouldn't be honoring the sacredness of connections between us. Instead, less famous grief perspectives like the dual-process model and continuing bonds model, are a better fit to honor relationships that mattered, since they aren't given an expiry date.
I wonder how Luz would be feeling on the day she graduates from the Wild Magic University, and how King feels each time he unlocks his own new glyphs since he is the new Titan to supply the Isles with magic. And I wonder how Hunter felt when his coven sigil was replaced with the Flapjack tattoo, and how he feels when he sees the Gravesfield town seal and Wittebane statues.
There are ways in which they can get creative to integrate their grief (notice I didn't say "get rid of", "remove", "erase" or even "manage"...the pain is what is to be managed, not the grief itself) the best they can. In canon, we have examples such as the Hexsquad agreeing to get their Flapjack tattoos together. Luz letting go of the light glyph sheet here:
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is also a fantastic representation of rituals like sending off a message in a bottle at a beach, tying a message to a balloon and letting it fly away (this happened in Reaching Out, didn't it?), or burning a message in a campfire to let it float up towards the sky in the form of embers.
It is a common recommendation to have exercises like letter-writing where the griever writes to the lost loved one. What many may not know is you can also do the reverse: you writing as your lost loved one, to yourself. Because the griever takes a piece of the lost loved one with them, that the griever has shaped within themselves. This is especially good if you need to extend forgiveness to yourself. An example from a book called Bearing the Unbearable:
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The author felt responsible for the stillbirth of her child, but had a "happy accident" where she intuitively asked for forgiveness and then received it, by invoking the love that her child would have shown to her in a world where said child had remained alive.
I think Hunter in particular could benefit from something like this, writing to himself as the uncle whom he saw as genuine and nurturing, and gaining ownership of that part of him even though Belos was a liar and is now gone for good. It can help him move forward especially since he won't be spared from nightmares in which his loss is re-enacted. With this kind of rescripting, historical accuracy doesn't actually need to matter. After all, our own minds lie to us at times and mess with historical accuracy anyway, like Luz's thoughts telling her she was as bad as Belos, and how true that felt.
A physical loved one is lost to death, and it can feel just as painful - only in a different way - if people become estranged or separated without a literal death having occurred. But the connection to them isn't lost, it is only adapted. The bond continues. For better or worse.
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I believe the pain in grieving is connected to each moment when we remember all over again that the one we loved isn't coming back.
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It's like the needle of a gramophone getting stuck in the loop of an unpleasant-sounding record scratch noise. It's a bit like what C.S. Lewis says in his book A Grief Observed: "In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out." I can't find the other part but he later said something like, therefore if a friendship is lost, the part of you that only that friend could bring out, is also lost. Something in you is locked away forever, though new things can also be unlocked after the loss.
It wasn't shown onscreen but I wouldn't be surprised if it's regular for Luz to come across a meme and be freshly reminded of her dad's absence, because she can't show him that meme. King would be wishing that a new funny cat video he discovers is something his dad could also laugh at along with him. Hunter would be hoping that Flapjack, the previous Golden Guards and Caleb are watching as he brings back palismen.
Bereavement, and any grief that is significant enough to alter our personhood forever, are the forms of love that can never really grasp how time flows in a linear way. They can't be reasoned with, only experienced.
"...the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form" - Megan Devine.
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championwarnings · 11 months
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ً HONEY LETTER ୨୧♡
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warnings. fluff, a lot of fluff, fluff that rots your teeth, friends to lovers !, jack being so cute and huggable
plot. jack and you are starring in a romcom and you think it's a "great" idea to tell him your feelings when you're practicing your lines.
— ♪ hey stephen jack
a/n. DUDE THIS IS TOO LONG, IT'S HORRIBLE, I HATE IT, btw it's my first fic, be kind ><
💌 ♡♥︎ ………………………………..........
Something you loved about being an actress was the confidence you had acquired over the years, you were so sure of yourself that, without even doing anything, everyone felt confident with you and admired the way you were. However, you would like to say that you always have that confidence in yourself, because at this moment you found yourself with your legs shaking with nervousness.
You were on the filming set of your next movie, a romcom, this was the first time you accepted a role like this, because you have always been more into suspense and horror. Being the lead in a romcom was not easy, especially when your co-star was the cutest guy you had ever seen. You had acted with many guys before, but none like Jack Champion.
You met Jack months before filming began, the director had suggested that you spend more time together so that the chemistry would be noticeable on screen and so you did. With every shooting scene you could feel your own character take over you, acting like a schoolgirl in love trying to camouflage your feelings for the boy who stole your heart.
Remembering each of your moments with Jack was like therapy, you adored him, yes, and he could say the same. Right now you find yourself looking into his eyes, your lips trembling and your legs weak, Jack must think you're too deep in your role.
You hold up a letter written in your own handwriting, so neat and tiny so that you can read it smoothly in case you forgot what was to be read. You had decided to rehearse your lines before you started recording the scenes and boy had you practiced a lot, you already knew what the other was going to say.
Jack was watching you intently for your movements, anxious for you to start saying your lines, his eyes going from your eyes to your hands, and so it went on until you made a small sound, so inaudible that Jack had to open his eyes wider for you to repeat it.
"I know... we've been friends for a while now and it may seem very sudden but... I think I like you."
Saying that, you tried to look around, looking for something to entertain yourself with or distract your thoughts, but you couldn't, all you could do was return your gaze to Jack's, looking for a response to what you said, but you decided to speak again, ignoring your lines and giving him the letter your character had written for his.
"I'd like to know if you can hear my heart beating right now" you took his hand bringing it carefully to your chest, Jack looked at you in surprise, diverting his gaze to your hand and then to the letter he held in his other hand.
Jack could feel how fast your heart was going and your hands so cold as an ice cube, he didn't know if you were being sincere or just winging it. His gaze rested on your lips, noticing how you were trying to keep them still as you licked them to calm yourself. He smiled softly, trying to inspire peace and tranquility in you, you looked like a chihuahua from shaking so much and that was very funny to him. He moved a little closer to you, leaning his body to bury his head in your neck being careful not to be rough. He kept his nose on your neck, wondering how it was possible for you to smell so good, but quickly fizzled out any thoughts not befitting the scene and opted to speak so nicely.
"What do you say we get serious?" he whispered into your neck, his response surprised you and his breath caused your back to arch a little. You knew you liked Jack, but you didn't know you could like him this much.
You pulled away from him slowly, looking into his eyes, searching for some trace of a lie in his eyes, but they only glittered anxiously. That reminded you of the times when you both flirted with each other before the filming of the movie started and as you still do, it became a habit between you to be affectionate with each other, let out teasing or just hugging each other during breaks.
You looked at him doubtful of everything, you were proposing, but you didn't know if Jack had realized that, maybe that's why he answered that or maybe he just wanted to improvise.
"Yah, stop playing with that, it's just a rehearsal" you gave him a somewhat forced smile, pulling your hands away from his and taking back the letter he was holding. "We should go get something to drink."
Jack let out a laugh, hugging your shoulders and starting to walk with you, your heart was still pounding furiously and you felt so silly for not continuing to talk.
"You did great, for a moment there I believed it" You raised your head to find Jack looking straight ahead with a smile, you thought about what to say back to that, did he like you too?
Jack seemed to be deep in thought as well, until he shook his head several times and looked up at you, depositing a kiss on the top of your head.
And so the days went by, in each rehearsal you said something different, like he was the king of your heart or that he brought you flying in the clouds, but again, you denied everything and said it was just you improvising and of course Jack was not far behind, he answered you new things, he said that the girl of his story had always been you or that you were the light of his eyes. You were so happy with something you started and you knew it was fake.
But one day you decided to finally confess your feelings, that day you opted to put on light makeup and wear a small necklace, not so flashy, but you knew Jack would see it because he once told you he liked shiny things. Comically you checked your horoscope to see if it was your lucky day, you had never been one to believe in such things, but you were so desperate that anything good would make you jump for happiness.
Today you hadn't gone to the recording set, you both agreed that you would practice in your apartment, so you took the opportunity to do a quick cleaning.
Jack arrived at the agreed time, you were surprised how punctual he could be, when you opened the door you felt like melting, you were so lost for this man that no matter what he wore, he would look so good, you smiled at him and let him pass, noticing that his mullet looked a little lacy and the skin on his neck was brighter.
"So, honey, shall we continue with the same today?" he asked you with amusement, he called your name to see if you had heard him and you, softly answered yes to both questions.
You got into position, Jack was admiring every corner of your living room carefully and attentively, he smiled when he saw a heart shaped pillow on your couch, so he decided to take it in his arms and hug it to look at you attentively, he wanted to know what statement you would give him today. He moved his hands towards you, implying that he wanted you to talk.
You stuttered a little, thinking about what you would say today but this time, you took the letter in your hands, opened the envelope and began to read, you wrote your character's statement inspired by your crush on Jack. Several times Jack had held the envelope in his hands, but never checked its contents.
"Hey, you're probably thinking, did this crazy lady write me a letter?" you blurted out mockingly, recited her character's name and again stuck your nose in the letter. "Possibly in this letter I won't tell you half the things I want to tell you, you're so brilliant and unique, you make me want to love you like I've never loved anyone before."
"Everyone wants to have you, but I'll always be the only one waiting for you in the coldest moment, you make me feel like I'm not alone" You looked up, only to notice how focused Jack was on your lips, listening intently to everything you said, he was fascinated by your voice, how confident you sounded to him, but you were so nervous that you didn't notice how determined you looked in his eyes.
"You don't know how much I want to kiss you, you look like an angel, I love every part of you, you make me feel unique, the way you say my name is... indescribable" you formed a smile remembering the times Jack called you by your name and not a random nickname, he smiled for the same thing too, wishing he was the one the letter was addressed to.
"I know there are a lot of girls wishing to have you, but will they be able to write you a letter highlighting their love for you?" you laughed, looking at Jack again, you extended the letter to him, this time, with the intention that he would read it, he didn't know if he would, in the script it wasn't written that he would read the letter, but you, however, he decided to ignore it and take it, brushing his fingers with yours, you both smiled at that act.
You watched Jack closely, enchanted by his long eyelashes and the polka dots that adorned his smooth face, you directed your gaze to his lips, which he moved, pretending to read, they looked so cute, immersed in reading that you stayed watching him until he finished reading. Jack looked up, giving you the most radiant smile you've ever seen.
"It's amazing, our characters are so.... wow!" you noticed the excitement in his voice, he sounded like a child after being given his favorite toy, he could only laugh and smile like never before "Your performance captivated me, I thought you would improvise again, I mean..."
"Jack..." You interrupted, already tired of the whole thing, it was time, you had to tell him your feelings yes or yes, maybe they weren't reciprocated, but you needed to get that weight off your back.
"I'm sorry, I lied in every scene we rehearsed, the truth is I like you and I had no idea how to say it" With all the courage you could muster you blurted out your feelings, you wanted to die, throw yourself off a cliff and never see Jack again.
But he smiled at you again and started laughing, with the letter still in his hand, he rubbed his hands on his pants and looked all around before looking back at you.
"Are you being honest this time?" He whispered longingly to you, his cheeks turned red and you could swear yours were just as red, you nodded repeatedly which gave you a headache.
Jack turned around, releasing all the air he was holding and began to hop lightly, reaching towards you and taking your face in his hands, he kissed your forehead, your cheeks and your nose, his eyes were paid to yours, looking at you sweetly.
"Can I kiss you, I just really like you too"
He teased you, you laughed and hugged his abdomen, drawing him to you and resting your lips on his.
At that moment you could have sworn you were in love with Jack Champion.
!!
english is not my first language, sorry if there are some mistakes, i try to improve. also to mention that i don't write smut, just fluff !!, bc jack deserves respect. <3
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actual-changeling · 7 months
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when gabriel/jim (jabriel?? gim?????) talks about his "one particular person", aziraphale's smile is such a blink and you will miss it moment but so incredibly precious and we don't pay enough attention to it.
so, welcome to another round of alex's unhinged meta corner where i over-analyse micro expressions while losing some more braincells.
firstly, here's a clip of that scene just so we are all on the same page since i don't know how much time everyone else spends watching that show. don't ask me it's probably at least 6 hours a day at this point
what i want to focus on is aziraphale's reaction to jabriel's words right after "person". did i slow the clip down and then go through it frame by frame to get the following screencaps? yes. yes i did.
there are two parts to this, the spaced-out smile and then his shock/fear. also before we start can i just say how fucking insane whoever made the trailer was for putting the 1941 dinner scene RIGHT THERE??? with THAT expression??????? yeah. no. i need therapy for that alone.
anyway.
while he is talking, aziraphale is looking at jabriel the entire time, but honestly, i don't think he is actually seeing him, he's neck-deep in his memories of crowley. he as that sparkle in his eyes he tends to get around crowley/looking at crowley and that smile appears rather slowly (or as slow as something can be while lasting less than a second).
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personally, i'd call that expression "completely and utterly in love" or besotted if you wanna keep it simple. a content little smile meant for no one except himself, the kinda look he probably wears in private while calling crowley to ask him to come hang out. aziraphale loves him and in this short moment, he knows it - and so do we.
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when jabriel (preferable over gim, in my opinion) trails off, aziraphale remembers that hey, wait a minute. that's my boss. that's the archangel fucking gabriel. he can't know about me and crowley.
at this point, neither we nor he know what exactly is up with jabriel, so there is a very real danger that everything aziraphale says or shows will be reported back to heaven. the shock sets in, the smile disappear and aziraphale falls from cloud 9 (pun intended) and lands face first back on earth.
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while aziraphale does not have crowley's memory of what exactly went down in heaven when they tried to burn him to a crisp, he has always been incredibly anxious around gabriel and the other archangel. he is fidgeting, unable to stand still or even keep his gaze from flicking around. the only moment he calms is, you guessed it, when he is zoned out and thinking of crowley.
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the very real fear that settles on his face is not just about himself, it is mostly about crowley. if heaven knows, hell will, too. everyone knows about the back channels, most just try and keep up plausible deniability. the fact that it is michael who seems to be directly in contact with hell for the most part and not gabriel is worthy of its own post at some point.
another thing worth mentioning is that aziraphale is so afraid, in fact, that he physically backs away from jabriel and gets as much distance between them as possible. jabriel looks like a lost toddler, very non-threatening, but the trauma runs so deep that it does not matter how much of a danger he really is right now. he has been a constant threat for over six thousand years, you cannot deconstruct your view of a person, especially your boss, that quickly. not even if they turn up with total amnesia on your doorstep. naked.
this was less unhinged than some of my other posts but i think this is a moment that gets overlooked a lot. at least i haven't seen anyone talking about it yet since we are all understandably focused on the ending of episode 6.
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j-0ne25 · 3 months
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NO DIGGITY — CHAPTER [21] of RED LIGHTS [18+!]
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“You’ll always be my princess, no matter where you are or… with who.”
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← previous part | next part →
💻 Cooking a festive dinner with your ex boyfriend brings back memories that you were trying to get rid off and hold onto at the same time. Will this evening decide how the future goes?
❗️You, Y/N, are part of this year’s season of Red Lights, starring as the main character, surrounded by eight very different men that you have all met before. In order to decide how the story unfolds and what happens in following episodes, select an option for the poll after reading a chapter.
🛷 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], pls refer to masterlist for more info, reality/dating show AU, minors do not interact since it includes topics only suitable for adults, content warning under the cut
📕 WORD COUNT: 3.5K
🎸 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
🥀 CONTENT WARNING: mention of therapy, jealousy, mention of manipulative and toxic behaviour, explicit sexual content [includes semi-protected sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, edging, possessiveness, reader gets called princess], so emotional I’m sorry
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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His heart feels as if it’s about to explode. Minho has never felt this nervous in his entire life—and he’s had a few situations that were absolutely anxiety worthy.
For instance, when he graduated from college and had his final exam about finances. This was destined to determine how his future would go. Still, he aced it, of course with your help.
Another situation was when he declined that offer from his parents. Although he chose the other option—just to change decisions a second time, right before visiting your apartment when you were in Thailand—his hands were sweaty like never before, when he looked into his parents’ eyes and told them, he won’t play their manipulative little games.
What kind of irony, right? Minho of all people is now the one to play with the feelings of others. That’s also the reason why he’s so anxious in the first place.
You went on a date with Changbin this morning. Your ex and his best friend got in a fight because Minho confessed why he initiated that threesome one and a half years ago. It’s sick, kinda. At least Changbin told him that and deep down he knows it’s true, although he doesn’t want to admit that.
Minho doesn’t want to admit that yet another relationship is breaking because of him. Because of his stupid selfishness and desire to be in control—all caused by his dumb insecurities.
He wonders what Changbin told you. Your ex wouldn’t be surprised if he shared it with you—those evil mind games he played. Hell, Minho wouldn’t even be mad at this point. Rationally, he grasps it. He knows he needs help. If he really wants this to work—you as his partner or even just as a friend—he has to overcome those fears that make him hurt the people he loves the most.
Minho can’t believe he destroyed a lifelong friendship. And for what? Well, he doesn’t even know anymore.
While getting ready for the date, his thoughts continue running around, scenes of flashbacks filling his vision. He’s barely aware anymore of what he’s doing right now, reality almost feels surreal, if that makes sense.
Minho thinks back to that appointment he had some months ago. How he’s waited for over a year to finally get one. The room wasn’t as sterile as he'd imagined it—colours filling the space, a scent of sandalwood entered his nostrils. You had always used joss sticks whenever you got the time, believing it would ease your mind, almost heal your soul in some way.
But this space was nothing like home. Minho didn’t feel comfortable at all. This was partly on him, yes, he wasn’t really ready for what was about to happen but it was also caused by the atmosphere that the therapist created.
They were kind, no doubt, but more in a shallow way. When he started speaking about himself, opening up during those four appointments he had in total, he realised that this wasn’t it. He shared his feelings about his childhood, that a lack of control probably made him this jealous, made him this irrational about people he likes. When he confessed to the therapist that he doesn’t understand why he treats his loved ones badly and that it’s his goal to overcome the distrust he had regarding you and his best friend—especially after things with you and Minho ended—the therapist didn’t really listen.
They were constantly trying to switch topics, making it quite obvious that they wanted to blame it on something else, just diagnose him with something that requires meds to be treated with. Minho is a businessman after all. He knows when someone does something for the simple reason of getting as much money as possible.
And when he started crying during their last session, feelings blurting straight out of his heart, the therapist just asked him what types of antidepressants he’d want. So, he grabbed his bag and stormed out the door, losing any motivation to try again with another specialist.
But today he’s aware that he has to try again. To make things work with you. To gain back Changbin’s trust.
His best friend hasn’t talked with him since this morning but Minho decided to not push it.
God. He’s so fucking overwhelmed.
I can’t hold onto you and I can’t let you go.
These words have been playing on repeat in his head for the past day now. Last night with you was magical. Minho is so grateful that you even listened to him at all, let alone believe him. He also gets that it’ll take a little longer for you to forgive him. It’s just that he dearly hopes that you’ll manage to forget all this, too. So, that you can one day live the happily ever after you deserve—all your time spent together, couple vacations, maybe a family in the future, just like you’ve promised each other, right?
I can’t hold onto you and I can’t let you go.
It’s a fucking dilemma, seriously. Not just how he’s desperately trying to fix his stupid hair right now, nothing working the way he wants, but also how he’s supposed to go on a date with you in a few minutes. Cooking a romantic dinner together.
Whoever is behind that stupid show of Red Lights will definitely hear from Minho’s lawyer after the end of filming. The mental horrors he’s been put in don’t come even close to what you must be going through right now.
Okay. He can do this. It’s gonna be okay. It’s always gonna be okay.
Always.
💻
“Is it okay like this, Y/N?”
Yeji just finished putting on the shade of lipstick she chose for you. It suits you, really. Just like everything she styles you in.
“Hm?”
She chuckles, noticing how far away you are right now, “Is it okay like this?”
“What do you mean?”
Yeji places the lipstick aside. “Do you like this makeup?”
“Oh, yeah! Absolutely, thank you,” you say with a smile.
“What’s on your mind, dear?”
She always manages to calm you down a little. You seriously hope you’ll stay friends after this—which would be at least one good thing about this whole disaster that also goes by the name Red Lights.
“As if you didn’t know… it’s Minho, of course. After what Changbin and Jeongin told me, I feel like the chances of him and I getting back together are shrinking with each second.”
You told Yeji about the dilemma. Everything. You even stopped worrying if there are any hidden cameras or microphones in the dressing room since you don’t care anymore at all.
I can’t hold onto you and I can’t let you go.
The words are like a mantra inside your head right now. You’re at a point of not knowing how to decide anymore. 
“Maybe the date will give you some answers,” Yeji suggests.
“Hm, you might be right.”
“I would just ask him. Straightforward,” the assistant tells you. You know that this is the best idea. Otherwise you will just keep wondering like you’ve been doing for twelve months now.
I can’t hold on to you and I can’t let you go.
After last night you were hopeful again. You don’t regret anything you did. It felt good to be close to Minho, good to show your most vulnerable sides to each other. And there was even a little spark inside you that indicated that you might be ready to forgive him soon. God, you even thought about possibly getting back together if things work out and this show ends.
But then you were told he’s just here for fun. So, to break your heart all over again?
Okay, stop, Y/N. He isn’t evil.
You’re gonna make a decision once you have talked more.
It’s gonna be okay. It’s always gonna be okay.
Always.
💻
The kitchen is already warm when you step inside. Minho looks nervous, so fucking nervous as if he is about to confess that he’s a member of a criminal gang or something.
The atmosphere is… tense, to say the least. There’s silence spreading around but your ex and you have always been able to communicate without many words, luckily.
“How…” he clears his throat. “How was your day?”
Minho hands you a few vegetables that you start dicing, while he prepares the rice.
“Nice… I did a few fun activities.”
Literally, after what happened with Jeongin.
He nods, “With Changbin and Jeongin, right?”
“Yes…”
That’s where the conversation dies down again, as the two of you get back to your tasks. Cooking together with Minho has always been one of your favourite things in the world, you've missed it a lot. It feels suspicious once again that whoever created this show chose exactly this kind of date for your ex and you.
“Min?”
His fingers accidentally brush yours, when he puts some of the vegetables into the frying pan, as the sound of the sizzling oil takes over the room.
“Hm?”
You lay the knife aside, taking a deep breath, “I’m just getting straight to the point, okay?”
Minho gulps, placing the kitchen supplies he’s been using on the counter.
“Jeongin and Changbin… kinda said that you’re only here for fun and after that great talk we had yesterday and… what followed after, I feel… I don’t k-know.” You take a breath, after you hear your own voice shatter into pieces. “Are you gonna break my heart again? Because if that’s the case we should just stop here and–“
“Y/N, God, no,” he immediately interrupts you, getting a little closer by accident. “I made a bunch of irreversible mistakes in my life but I’d never play with you like this.”
Why would these two say stuff like this then? Well, Jeongin never liked Minho much and he also didn’t say anything bad per se. Just that your ex didn’t try to become a part of those hopeless romantics.
“But… Jeongin says that he wanted to join the other group after he realised that I am the main character,” you explain.
“Yeah, I know.”
Minho knew?
“So… you didn’t try switching teams?”
“No… because… and this might sound unbelievable but since I haven’t told you about the reason for our breakup at that point, I felt undeserving to be a part of the team,” he confesses.
God. Okay, that puts all this in a different light. You do understand his thought process although you’d like to see him fighting more for you.
Still, that leaves you with what his best friend says. Changbin wouldn’t have a reason like Jeongin does, right? They’re besties after all, aren’t they?
“Okay. What about Changbin saying you’re just here for fun? He said that this still counts now… that I should know this.”
Minho’s eyes widen, “He said what?”
You just look at him, waiting to explain himself.
“Like I said, when it comes to you, I’ve only ever had serious intentions. This is what makes this all so complicated, princess,” he says. You try to do your best to ignore the pet name he uses for you.
“Really?”
“You can tell when I’m lying, can’t you?”
You can.
And this all just complicates making a decision, for fuck’s sake. You’re no smarter than before.
I can’t hold onto you and I can’t let you go.
This also leaves you with the final question. The one question you never wanted to ask him. It’s not really about his answer, it’s rather the reaction that counts.
“Min?”
“Yeah?”
God. You feel so toxic to even ask him that. Because the possibilities are high that this will actually be the case.
“What if… what if I choose someone else than you at the end of the week?”
You’ve grown closer to Seungmin again these past days. Hyunjin and Chan don’t leave your heart either. Then there’s Felix, the one that you want to get closer too. You deserve your happy ending.
Minho feels his stomach turn, just thinking about what you just asked. It’s like a shot into his heart. 
But he’s realised—especially during a year of being away from you—that being clingy will just push you further away and he knows that his jealousy will do the exact same. It seems as if Changbin hasn’t told you about the toxic game Minho was playing, but this doesn’t make anything better.
So, he speaks what he’s never thought to say out loud.
“Then I have to live with it.”
“Don’t just say this–“
“I mean it, seriously,” he intervenes. And you know that he isn’t lying. “If loving you means that I have to learn to let go, then that’s what I’ll do.” 
Even if it kills me.
“You’ll always be my princess, no matter where you are or… with who.”
This is when the tears start rolling down your cheeks, just like they did yesterday. Minho is fast to bring a napkin to your face, wiping them away. When you look into his big brown eyes, you fear your heart might stop at any second.
How dearly you want to kiss him. Just have him close to you one last time so you can finally get over him. Start over. A new chapter. Getting better and building a life on your own is what the two of you truly need. This whole relationship feels like a one way road. Sure, Minho has shown some signs that indicate he wants to get better. But you’re tired of waiting. You lost one whole year by wondering, just because of him.
However, irrationality takes over you. Just this last time. One last time and then you’ll get over him.
“It’s a stupid idea to ask you to kiss me, right?”
Minho looks at you with wide eyes. He didn’t expect a proposition like this one. You know he was never able to resist you and you reciprocate those feelings very much.
“Neither of us has ever been exactly rational, hm?”
You can see it in his face. He wants to feel your lips pressed against his, probably for the last time. Minho won’t give up. He will get better for you, but mostly for himself. Make amendments with Changbin and other people he did wrong.
But right now he just wants you close. 
I can’t hold on to you and I can’t let you go.
“Do it, Min. Kiss me.”
And he does kiss you like you truly belong to him. Like it’s just you and him on this planet. Like you’re back together again and nothing else matters. You feel like floating over the clouds, high up in the sky. The world shuts off, all the worries too. Minho kisses you like it’s the first time he’s doing it and not the last one.
It feels so good to have him close despite everything that happened. This might not be the brightest idea but you know you will regret it later if you don’t give in one last time. Especially, when his tongue slips inside, dancing around with your own. Your ex is shyer than usual, afraid to make a wrong move. It’s similar to last night—with the little difference that you feel way more eager this time.
Minho reaches for your hips, pulling you towards him before he spins you around, picks you up and hovers you onto the kitchen counter. The food you were supposed to make is long forgotten. You part your legs for him, inviting Minho to get nearer which he immediately does.
His hands start traveling towards your thighs, rubbing soothing circles on the soft skin that is covered by the thin tights. The fingers slowly sneak under your skirt, disappearing beneath the dark fabric. You’re still kissing him eagerly, feeling your panties getting wetter with each second.
“Do you… want this?”
You remember one important thing then, when you think about how badly you crave to have Minho’s hands all over you.
“Amy.”
His gaze darkens, once the cameras and microphones shut off.
“Touch me, Min.”
He’s quick to bring his fingers further under your skirt, before he’s pulling the tights off, exposing your naked skin to the warm air inside the kitchen. Minho lets them wander to your crotch, as his thumb presses against your wetness. He disconnects his lips from yours for a second and when you hastily nod, he pulls the fabric of your drenched panties aside.
It doesn’t take him long to push two digits inside, before he slowly starts scissoring you open. His thumb finds your clit again, drawing circles around it, as your head falls back in pleasure.
God. You can’t believe that it’s just been a few hours that Jeongin was knuckles deep inside your cunt and now you're letting your ex boyfriend stretch you, preparing you for his very much hardening dick.
But it’s the last time. This is the last time you’re doing this in order to get over him.
The damage is too severe to give him another chance, you know that. But you can’t think straight right now anyway, when he’s adding a third one, curling all three of them inside you.
“Right– right there, yes,” you whimper.
“I know exactly what you need, princess. I know this body better than anyone else.”
You ignore his possessiveness. You ignore how toxic it is once again but you never cared when he spoke like this during sex—it somehow just gets you going even more.
“Can’t believe you’re here… eight men surrounding you, trying to get your attention, probably all thinking about kissing you, touching you, fucking you…”
Shit. He’s driving you closer to the verge of cumming with his words. You can’t believe it’s the second day in a row you’re doing this with him.
But it’ll be the last time.
Right?
Well, it’s not the place to be contemplating this right now, when he looks at you with his dark eyes, thumb working on your clit, as the fingers inside you hit that certain spot just right.
And then, right when you are about to reach that sweet relief, he pulls his digits out of you and chuckles, ruining your orgasm.
But you’re also done waiting. You don’t care how desperate you sound. Just this once. One last time.
“Min… need you inside of me,” you confess, catching your lower lip between your teeth.
He pushes his own pants and boxers down at lightning speed, as they pool around his ankles. His throbbing cock being revealed now, he gets closer to you.
“I… I obviously don’t have a condom with me,” Minho suddenly realises.
“It’s fine… I’m still on the pill and clean,” you admit.
“I’m clean, too.”
You’re the one to pull him towards you, while you whisper, “Then go on, Min. Fuck me.”
He hastily nods, before he positions the leaking tip of his cock at your entrance. You part your legs further and spread your pussy lips apart with your fingers, playing a little with your clit, as you watch Minho’s length disappear inside of you.
“You can take me, right? You can be a good girl for me, I know that…”
God. You missed this. He missed this—having your wet warm walls hugging his cock tight, sucking him in. Minho starts with a rather steady pace, knowing he won’t last long and neither will you. The sharp thrusts hit that spot inside you just right, bringing you back to where you left off—ready to let go and reach your orgasm.
“Fuck– so fucking tight and warm, just for me, yeah?”
You’ve underestimated this so fucking much.
“Come on, princess. Cum around my cock.”
Your vision gets blurry when you do as you’re told, allowing the feeling to take over you. As your walls clench around him, his own climax gets triggered too and Minho pulls out of you, spilling his seeds all over your thighs. He knows that cumming inside you isn’t reserved for him—after all, you’re not his anymore.
Once he’s cleaned himself, he helps you wipe away the liquids on your body too. He’s gentle when he puts you back into your clothes.
You don’t regret this. But, still, feelings overwhelm you now and the both of you know that this is where the date ends and the remaining shards of this once loving relationship will burn into ashes.
Minho pulls you into a hug. So so close but you let him. He feels soft. You hear a few sniffles but you can’t tell if they’re your ex’s or your own.
“I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”
You nod, before you let go of him.
Slow strides bring you to the door, as you leave the room with a heavy heart and regret bubbling up in your chest. But time might show you that it’s better to start over without him.
The words are still repeating themselves inside your head, before they gradually become quieter.
I can’t hold on to you and I can’t let you go.
I can’t hold on to you and I can’t let you go.
I can’t hold on to you and I can’t let you go.
I can’t hold on to you.
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Results of poll 20 from WORK IT [previous chapter]:
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[Given that it was a rather close decision again, I made the chapter less angsty/sad than intended. I hope that’s okay for you!]
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❤️‍🔥 AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you so much for reading and always interacting! i’m glad you’re all enjoying it so much. i’ll get back to feedback asap I promise. love you and take care ❤️
© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
188 notes · View notes
ruskaroma · 8 months
Note
omg omg (i really need professional help) i had this Vision of dark+DARK+mean!john wick learning about an asshole who bullied their bunny-really-the-nicest-human-being!reader back during her school years (the reader cluelessly mentions it during conversation). john is not just angry outraged etc, he is The Rage, The War, The Biblical Day of Wrath, so he finds that guy, beats/tortures the living shit out of him and then brings his absolutely clueless little pretty bunny so that she could finish him. john is behind the reader, his arms wrapped around her arms, his hands on her shaking hands holding a gun pointing at the barely breathing man tied to a chair. the reader is crying begging to stop, and john goes "he deserves it, honey <3. now, right kneecap. go, princess, don't let me down".
Oh my god I have something for you.
Let’s give it a very dark twist, shall we? We’ll stick to this concept, but let’s make it even darker.
TW: mentions of past sexual and physical abuse, blood and gore, graphic depiction of torture, john being a very very mean man like he is fucked in the head may god bless his soul, john is also forcefully making the reader kill the man so there’s that.
It was a slip of your tongue. You didn’t notice it, but John surely did. You were used to rambling your thoughts away, a habbit that John adores so much, hearing your voice and telling him everything that’s in your head, because it means you’re not keeping any secrets from him.
A supposed to be peaceful Saturday night ruined John’s whole week, but he didn’t let it show. He kept himself composed around you, smiling so softly when you’d share a random fact about the things you’re holding or whatever comes in mind. He’s a master in the arts of keeping his expression controlled despite his emotions practically clawing their way out of his fucking lungs.
Your head was on his lap as he brushed your hair with his long fingers softly. For a hand that’s killed too many people to count, it’s surprisingly merciful around you. A shitty horror movie was playing on the TV but your attention quickly diverted to somewhere else when you watched a rather familiar scene in the film.
“Oh, man, that sucks. I know how it feels, I used to get hit by my ex-boyfriend all the time.”
What the fuck, John thought. His fingers stopped their movements as he furrowed his eyebrows. You said it as a whisper too but he heard it. He heard it fucking clearly.
“What?”
“Huh?” You moved your head to look up to him. “You said something?”
“You did,” John pointed out. “About your ex-boyfriend. What did you say?”
“Ohhh,” you said in realization, but your tone was calm. Like it was the most fucking normal thing to say in a conversation. “Yeah, he was mean. He used to hit me every time I made a very small mistake, but he said sorry when we broke up.”
John didn’t know what to say. He was frozen, trying to comprehend the words that were being thrown at him all at once.
His baby – the love of his life, someone who cannot even hurt a fucking ant – just dropped a bomb that she was a victim of abuse.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” John tried to keep his voice leveled, soft, as he placed a large hand on your cheek and pulled you up so he could take a good look at your face.
“Well, you didn’t ask. And it’s not like it mattered anymore. I went to therapy and everything was back to normal.”
“No, that’s not –” he closed his eyes in frustration, trying so hard to keep his shit together. “Did he do anything else? Where is he now?”
“He’s–he’s doing fine. I don’t know where he is, it’s been awhile since we’ve gotten in touch.”
John could hear the tremble in your voice, like you knew what was going to come, like you knew what he’s going to do.
He didn’t answer after you said that. He looked away from you, put his attention back to the television.
You shrugged it off, hoping he would let it go.
*
He did not, in fact, let it go.
You came home one day after work to see him being rather... cheery than usual. It was unusual in itself. John being particularly cheery was not something you see in your everyday life.
He had already cooked dinner when you arrived, ate it beside you with an arm around your shoulders. He was also crooning at your ears, asking about your day if something special happened.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Your eyebrows flew up, curious yet amused. Is this why he was cheery all of a sudden?
He led you to his basement – a place where you’re never allowed to go, always bolted shut and completely restricted to you. You were getting a pretty bad feeling about this.
“What–what are we doing here, John?”
Again, he didn’t answer. You could see the grim, dark expression on his face as he opened the door. The face you only ever see when he was just coming back from a long, tiring day at work. The face you only see you know he just slaughtered someone.
Turns out, he did.
Not exactly slaughtered, but close enough.
The man who made you go through hell for years, tied up in a chair in the middle of the room, missing all his fingers on both his feet and hands.
“John, what the–”
Your boyfriend pushed a heavy pistol in your hand, and your heart is beating so hard inside your chest you couldn’t speak properly. You haven’t yet got the time to comprehend what was happening. It was all too fast.
“Pull it.”
“J-John, please don’t–”
“Pull it,” John repeated. He didn’t like repeating himself. You know this. He was standing behind you, his chest pressing against your back, warm and broad and his voice sounded so menice and fucking evil and– “Pull it, baby, before I do it myself.”
“Why are you–” your voice was shaking as well as your hands. You wanted to drop the weapon but you knew it wouldn’t do you any good, not when John was just behind you. “Why are you doing this, John? Please let him–let him go, it was a long time ago–”
“I don’t care,” he said simply, one large hand sneaking down to grab your wrist that’s holding the gun, pointing it directly at the man who’s – Jesus, was he still alive? You saw him move, he flinched, then let out a cough that made more blood from his mouth drip onto his lap. “I haven’t killed him yet because that’s your job.”
“N-No–” tears were forming into your eyes. The feeling of John’s hand gripping yours was already too much to bear, much worse pointing it to the man who abused and neglected you during your relationship, but why were you feeling bad? “John, I–I don’t w-want to, John, please, I don’t want–”
John sighed, disappointed, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he leaned down closer to your ear and pressed a soft kiss there. His beard tickled, making you flinch and let out a shaky breath as you gulped hard.
“John, he–I know you’re doing this because you think it’s best, but I–I promise you that it’s not worth it–it’s in the past and, and–”
“Excuses, excuses,” John whispered, standing straight and taking a step away from you, positioning himself in front of the gun. “Here you are, begging for the life of the man who abused you in the past. Don’t you think that sounds absolutely ridiculous, baby?”
“It’s not–it’s not ridiculous, John, I promised! We–we talked one time after our breakup and he–he apologized for everything, I swear–I swear, John, it was all in the past–”
John cut off your rambling with an evil stare, and it was so unlike him that it scared you right to the very core. “Pull the trigger or I will. I’ll put a fucking hole in his head, saw it off and send it to his little wife and children back in Vegas.”
“John–” you sobbed. “John, please–”
“Did you know that I made him confess every diabolical shit that he’d done to you every time I chop off one of his fingers?” John said it in such a calm and steady tone that it made you only afraid of him even more. “I chopped all his fingers, and he still won’t stop confessing more. Can you believe that?”
“I already forgave him–I already forgave him, John, this wasn’t necessary–”
“It won’t be the same if I’m the one who pulls the trigger now, would it? It wouldn’t be fair, because I’m not the one who suffered under his hands,” John pushed even further, walking back to his original position behind you, gripping your arm and pointing the pistol directly at his head. “If you don’t pull that fucking trigger in the next five second, I’ll let you use a chainsaw to do it and trust me when I say you wouldn’t want it messy.”
You gulped, feeling yourself grow more and more afraid as John stood behind you. He was radiating anger, but he was keeping it at bay, though his swear words might be some of the leakage of his emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.
“I don’t want–don’t make me d-do this, John–”
“One...”
“John, please–”
“Two....” His voice was scary. Deep and level, and the grip on your arm tightened. You felt suffocated.
“I’m gonna throw u-up if I–”
“Three...” He was getting agitated.
The man’s head rose up from his position earlier to meet your eyes, and you swore you felt your stomach churn. His eyes were fucking gone.
The man opened his mouth to speak and a weak voice came. “D-Don’t–”
You pulled the trigger.
“There’s my little bunny.”
You dropped the gun as soon as his brains flew against your face and onto the wall, painting it red. You couldn’t bear to watch any further. You turned with a sob and buried your face in John’s chest, crying hysterically as he soothed you calmly by petting your head.
“Good girl. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.”
267 notes · View notes
retrieve-the-kraken · 13 days
Text
Okay, so I’ve finished my taxes, and I’m basically out of the woods with some overwhelming work stuff, and everything turned out well with a medical situation with my mum, but I am still very tired, but I also cannot keep going without putting my preliminary thoughts on my very first viewing of season 3 down on a post…
It seems my worst characterization so far is assuming that these two idiots would learn to communicate. They haven’t, they’re stupid teenagers, they’re really bad at it, they get mad at each other for everything, and they don’t listen. And that needs to change soon if we want Wilmon endgame.
Boris, do you do couples therapy? PLEASE HELP THEM.
I think a big reason Wilhelm lashes out, besides getting caught up in his own head, is the fact that he’s also constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing and pissing Simon off. But the stakes for Simon are clearly higher. Wilhelm really needs to learn to communicate, but he’s dragging a whole life of terrible communication and zero support, so HOW is he supposed to learn, if he naturally feels afraid to open up?
It shows in the way he reacts to learning about Erik. Simon might be right, and Erik maybe just gave in to peer pressure, like everyone else in that school (which we see over and over again, like with the strike, and that guy who just repeats ‘yeah hilarious’ when Vincent tells him, and the graduation rituals and basically everything that everyone does at that fucking school), and maybe he wasn’t particularly homophobic. Or maybe he was, but if he had found out about Wilhelm maybe he would have changed his views (after all he was a stupid kid too)… But how would Wilhelm know? Erik is dead, there’s no way of asking him, confronting him about it. And people still call him perfect, and still compare him to his brother.
It must be so traumatizing to have held this person in your head as the one you trusted for everything, the one who would support you most, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else, who would love you and be there for you no matter what, and it turns out that he might not have accepted you at all. And just like that Wille is all alone and angry and afraid again.
(This is why it’s extra cruel that August posted that fucking video, especially how premeditated it was to share it over the whole world, but also then tell Wilhelm that his brother was possibly a homophobe. It doesn’t matter that he went through that horrible hazing, it doesn’t matter that he put a stop to it, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a stupid kid too, the fact that he did THAT to someone, anyone, is awful and he should have known better.)
So that scene in season 1 when Erik teases Wilhelm about his crush potentially changes completely. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it was just a coincidence that he never used any pronouns…
And that makes it even more traumatizing that his parents still think of Erik as the figure of perfection, and Wilhelm, who is queer and scandalous and rebellious, is the real thorn on their side. Fucking Ludvig saying that Erik really was perfect, that he didn’t have “that darkness inside of him”, to his surviving son… But for all we know maybe Erik’s death was not accidental, maybe he did have “a darkness” inside of him.
On the other hand, that “darkness” doesn’t excuse Kristina at all. I am convinced that this depression/burnout that she’s going through is absolute bullshit. Sure, she might be depressed, she’s still grieving her “perfect” heir, and she’s going through a lot. But it’s like Wilhelm says, how convenient that she shuts down and breaks down now. She wasn’t like this when the video happened, because she could still cover it up. And she wasn’t like this when Wilhelm called her to scream that he was going to abdicate, because she could still drag him out of Hillerska. It was only when he told the whole world, and there was no covering it up anymore, that she suddenly became fragile with grief.
And even if it were true, even if she’s going through a severe depression or burnout, as a result of everything that’s happened, that doesn’t excuse her previous lies and manipulations. And it makes the fact that she still really wants Wille to become her successor, despite knowing what it could do to him, despite knowing that he’s already extremely anxious and that he does not know how to manage his own emotions, is evil.
(And even if she wants August to be the backup too, knowing how he is, knowing his own family history, and how it could affect him too, is evil too.) MORE on this later.
Kristina uses her breakdowns to emotionally manipulate Wille into trying to do his best to be the perfect crown prince, now indirectly through Farima and Ludvig. And Wille’s so concerned with her and her fragility that it affects his relationship with Simon. Because he’s anxious about the possible imminence of having to take over, of being the new monarch, when he can barely control his own feelings, when he just wants to enjoy his first relationship and just be in love.
Of course he made things worse for himself and Simon when he publicly revealed their relationship, but we can understand where that’s coming from. He didn’t want to hide anymore, he didn’t want to not be able to be himself anymore, not be able to be with the boy he loves. But they’re still forced to hide, because people start hating on Simon, because people won’t stop talking about them (as much as I HATED Wille shushing Simon, I also understood that he didn’t want anyone to hear their argument, because he didn’t want to give people more reason to talk about them, but also there’s probably a lot of ‘keeping up appearances’ embedded in his mind), because they are very different and almost incompatible for many reasons, and because being the crown prince means conforming to a lot of things (no tattoos, no cutting your hair shorter than, no nail polish, no expressing political opinions, etc etc), and so he has to remove the nail polish and he doesn’t want his foundation to be geared toward LGBTQIA+ people or mental health issues… He can’t express himself, he can’t be himself, because what he is or who he is for real is not compatible with his role or what is expected of him… he’s so repressed still.
(The whole nail polish scene, and the scene where Simon suggests that Wille’s foundation could be geared toward LGBTQIA+ youth, reminded me a little of Isak in SKAM saying that he wasn’t just going to start marching in the Pride parade or wearing makeup. Wille is not necessarily about identity expression, or at least he doesn’t think that he should be. He just wants to be himself, and be with the boy he loves, and that’s it).
As for Simon, he can do no wrong, and I absolutely agree with everything he says and does, but he has always been very idealistic, and he does come across as a little more naïve than I expected, especially with the whole social media comments and his song. It wasn’t the first time he experienced it, because things went south for him when he appeared on the video, so for him now to think that people are magically not going to be cruel.
But I understand how much he’s sacrificing for Wille, and Wille not appreciating it at all must sting. Just like he points out that he didn’t have contact with Micke for years, for Sara’s sake, and suddenly she’s living with him… that fucking hurt. Simon has always been very opinionated and outspoken, and he’s very authentically and proudly himself, but he’s also always molded himself to what other people need, like being a parented child and taking on too much in the house to relieve Linda, and taking care of Sara, and worrying about his father, and letting himself be manipulated by Marcus, and now basically giving up a lot of himself to be with Wille. And as a result Linda treats him like he’s a drug addict, and Sara goes to the father she didn’t want to have contact with, and Marcus talks shit about him to the press, and Wille doesn’t listen to him…
Sara saw the light (sort of), so maybe hopefully Wille will too. More on that later too.
Anyway, it would have been nice for someone from the royal court to sit Simon down and explain to him what being the boyfriend of a royal involves, so that Wille doesn’t have to figure out how to tell him all these difficult things himself. Wille is so used to some of these things, they seem so obvious to him, that he might not immediately think of how weird or outlandish it might seem to Simon. (THat scene with the cake, I mean… it was funny in a way, but I wonder how many terrifying thoughts crossed Simon’s mind, the obvious “wait what??? did I just eat poison???” but also “wait what??? someone’s trying to poison my boyfriend????” and “there are kids here, have they also accidentally been poisoned????”).
I really really hope that, since he’s being forced to go to Boris with August, that Wille will think about going with Simon, and trying to work things out. They need to be able to say all these things to each other, get on the same page.
More importantly, I need a callback to what Boris said to him in season 2, about the expectations of his family, about being able to make his own choices. Which Wille internalized beautifully with that speech to Simon outside his house.
Anyway, this is already very long. Moving on to more general thoughts:
- I did think that the fact that they sort of resolved the whole issue with the police report and the drugs felt a little anticlimactic. It was built up and built up and the whole season 2 finale was about that, and we had a cliffhanger and everything, and then… bye. I wonder if it will come back (more on that later).
- And for that matter, Alexander just became a background character. Did he even have any lines? I could barely spot him.
- August telling Wilhelm in front of everyone at the table that he’s sure Wille will fuck up on his own… rich.
- Also Stella and Rosh was sort of hinted at, it happened in a blink, and then Fredrika was… jealous? Confused? Homophobic? All of the above? But then… NOTHING. Stella was even missing in the last episode, because she was “sick”… (scheduling conflicts for Felicia? Actually sick?)
- I think it’s interesting that Sara preached and preached to Simon about giving people a second chance, including their dad, and then she… goes and does it? It wasn’t the first time she did, she was with August despite the awful thing he did. And then she goes and… gives August ANOTHER chance????
- Someone needs to tell Sara that she needs to stop getting wtih August, because every time they get together somehow, Wilmon go south… It seems these two couples cannot exist simultaneously…
- So I still have to rewatch, but… is August then in the middle of selling his father’s estate to pay Simon? Are any of his friends aware of this?
- I have a cultural question: what was the whole deal about travelling to the US? I mean, I thought they were asking if these kids have never travelled abroad, but they mentioned the US specifically, several times… Is that a thing in Sweden, traveling to the US? Not any other part of Europe? Not Asia? Just wondering. Made me curious.
- Still waiting for this season’s Elias song… just one episode left… If we don’t get one, or a callback to Revolution, I might claw my face off…
- Nils repeating that maybe Wille would have been better off with someone from the inner circle. Seriously, Nils, who do you mean? WHO? Who could you be referring to? Hmm?
- Something else about Nils… a part of me really wished that Wille would have asked Nils for confirmation on the Erik thing. Wille obviously doesn’t want to believe it at first, but then he does, and hearing it from August makes it even worse, so maybe hearing it from someone like Nils would be the final confirmation that he would need, that his brother was the worst. On the other hand, for him to ask Nils to confirm something like that, as a gay, and possibly hearing what happened to him as a result of it… that would have probably made it even worse.
- Really hate that Marcus was mentioned, that he came back to haunt Simon in a way, even if it was minimal. But props to Simon for not rising to the bait in that moment.
- Simon, my love, i understand that you’re upset and heartbroken, but… it would have been nice if you tried to get Wille to talk to you one last time, before breaking up with him on his birthday… especially seeing everything he’s going through. Not that your feelings are any less important than his, of course, but… are you trying to get him to jump out the window????
-Eternally saddened by the disappearance of the orange sweater. Eternally saddened by the fact that Wilhelm did not set foot in or around Simon’s house this season. Although who knows, still one episode left…
Things that I liked most:
- Seriously the chemistry between Edvin and Omar is OFF THE CHARTS. The intimacy coordinator this season was very good.
- Especially that sex scene. Not just because it makes me immensely happy when my favorite ship fucks, because holy shit that was hot, but also because there’s a whole theme around all the hate mail and messages and classism and homophobia and toxic masculinity that Simon is a target of, especially being Latino, whilst Wille, being white and privileged and high class and the heir to the throne, is probably seen as the “man” of the relationship (especially since in the video he’s also the one “in control” whilst Simon is the receiver), so it’s very VERY satisfying to see that they are both top and bottom at times, and they both equally enjoy it.
- Also the use of choir music during the sex scene, giving it a very holy feel, much like Elias’s Holy playing when they have sex again in season 2… seriously I NEED my Elias song this season or I WILL START A REVOLUTION.
- At first I was annoyed at the whole “school possibly closing” plotline, because I thought it was unneeded. Or that maybe it would play a bigger role in the whole video-drugs controversy. But the truth is that it was really good, how it highlighted these kids’ privilege and the absurdity of wanting to cover things up and uphold traditions, and it also worked wonderfully to highlight the divide between Simon and Wille. As Simon says to Wille, he only takes a stand when he has nothing to lose.
- Felice. Felice this whole season was magnificent. Her whole breakdown over the end of her friendship with Sara, showing how truly important it was to her. And Madison saying that sometimes breaking up with a friend is worse than getting dumped, and I AGREE SO MUCH. But then I also think she loses her sense of self, because despite being popular and beautiful, she still gets used and treated badly, by August (obviously), but also by Wille (the kiss), and worst of all by Sara (who in a way used her for her horse, but also for the clout). And in the meantime, she’s treated differently than the other students for being one of the few black girls, and she gets singled out for her hair… and yet, the school is using her to make themselves look good. And now she decides to give Sara a second chance, because she really missed her, because it really hurt to lose that friend, and Sara goes and… does that…
- One of my favorite things about Simon is how he is proof that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean that you have flawless fashion sense. And i can’t help but wonder how fashion and style icon/ELLE’s Best Dressed Man/OMR Beauty founder Omar feels about Simon’s fashion choices. Never change, Simon, never change.
- Vincent was every bit of the tremendous asshole that I hoped he’d be this season. Did not disappoint. I wanted to punch him in the face every time he opened his mouth. Marvellous.
- I’m happy that we got more Madison, but still not enough. Still, iconic. Forever one of my favorite characters.
- I don’t know what to say about Sara and Micke. Just maybe that, when he played that song in the car, even before they started singing, i just knew “oh fuck, it’s all going to shit soon…” I guess Sara felt lost enough that she was suddenly willing to give him a second chance. And the whole “is that going to happen to me?” bit really made me sad. That she understands that mental health and mental illness is unfortunately many times hereditary, and worries that she might become just like him… But despite not being entirely like him, with addiction problems and such, she was still unreliable like him, she did bad things to her family like he did… I was rooting for you, Micke, we were all rooting for you.
- I feel that August’s love for status and for the monarchy might be starting to fray at the edges. First with the fact that he was reminded of his own traumatizing initiation, and reminded of how the crown prince, his cousin and friend and idol, himself was part of that. Second with the fact that Simon points out that he might have an eating disorder, how he would probably not fare any better than the queen if he were in such a stressful position as crown prince or king, how difficult it is for him to handle stress and anxiety. And third with seeing how it affects Wille and Simon and realizing that something similar might still happen to him and Sara. And the fact that he reveals to Sara why he is the way he is, that he lets his guard down with her, might point to even more growth (even though I hate that Sara sort of gave him a “second chance” again). Also I feel the reality of how they, the Royal Court, would control his life is finally sinking in. Hopefully he will also soon realize that they also use him as a manipulation tool. So maybe he won’t let himself be manipulated by them much longer.
- I loved Wille’s ultimate outburst at his mother and father, i love that he told them everything they needed to hear, about their emotional abuse, their neglect. Unfortunately they still refused to acknowledge how terrible parents they have been, and walked off, instead of trying to resolve it. So Wille throwing around the gifts, as impulsive and tantrum-ish it might come across, makes perfect sense. He tries to talk and gets nothing in return. If he’s repressed it’s bad, but if he expresses himself then nothing happens either.
- And I love that Simon got to see what Wille is really dealing with. As privileged as he might be, he’s still lacking the most important things: unconditional support and love. No amount of money or status can make it better, and Wille is broken. The only thing is that, Simon saw how broken Wille was over the death of his brother, whom he loved very much, but I don’t think he quite grasps the gravity of Wille learning that maybe that beloved brother wouldn’t have been so cool with him, because he has never had to deal with a parent or sibling rejecting him for his sexuality. It’s something very different to be rejected by society at large than it is to be rejected by your own family, and not everyone has the emotional strength to deal with that. So for Wille’s parents to still like his potentially homophobic dead brother more than him, is heart-wrenching. But I don’t think Simon really gets that because he’s probably not surprised that Erik might have been like that, because in his eyes those privileged kids in that school (except obviously Wille, and Felice and Madison, who is asking about the non-binaries) are probably all massive homophobes.
- Despite this, I love that Simon sets boundaries nonetheless. I mean, it hurt like fucking hell for him to tell Wille, on his fucking birthday, that maybe they shouldn’t be together. But just because Wille is hurting doesn’t mean that Simon has not also been hurting too. And if they can’t comfort each other, and try to support each other when they both obviously most need it, then maybe they’re just not going to work. And it took a lot of guts for Simon to bring it up in that moment, in Wille’s bed, in the palace, where he’s basically trapped, with nowhere to go, no way to get away (I doubt he called Linda in the middle of the night to come pick him up more than two hours away in Stockholm).
My hopes for the final episode (I don’t think I have any predictions other than, open ending or not, Wilmon will be endgame and there will be a revolution, I just don’t know how):
- Wilmon talk. An actual, healthy, heartfelt talk. A reconciliation for the ages.
- That the fucking school will close and August won’t be able to graduate, and he’ll realize that maybe he shouldn’t have “lived for that school”, as Erik once put it.
- That Wille will realize that, if Erik was not the person he thought he was, then maybe he no longer has to live up to his legacy anymore. @foreverunraveling pointed out how, now that the big Erik revelation is confirmed, then maybe the queen’s trump card to manipulate Wille into being the ideal crown prince is gone. Wille doesn’t care about the monarchy really, but he did care about not disappointing his brother, the “perfect crown prince”, and now we know that he was far from perfect. Erik lived a double life, as Wille points out, there was “public Erik” or crown prince Erik, and there was “private Erik”, or the real Erik (or so Wille thought, now we know there was a “secret Erik” which was the real Erik) and Wille struggles so much with the idea of having to split himself in two, . Wille cannot live a double life, he withers away when he has to hide himself, and now he gets the opportunity to leave that stifling life behind, and blossom.
- That Simon will get a fucking break. I hate that his whole life was turned upside down from the moment the video was leaked, and it’s just never going to be the same, whether he stays with Wille or not, he’ll always be the boy from the crown prince sex tape, he’ll always be the crown prince’s ex, or the crown prince’s boyfriend. But I want some positive feedback for him, someone bigger than the woman and the little boy wanting a selfie. I want him to have his own fanclub or something. Maybe that’s too idealistic…? (I may be imagining something like that scene in Red White and Royal Blue, when they realize that there’s a whole crowd outside the palace all excited to the the Prince and his First son boyfriend… one can dream).
- I want whatever Felice said during the interview to be taken seriously, and for her to stop doubting herself.
- I want a genuine apology from August.
- Also one from Kristina.
- I get the feeling that the fact that August leaked the video might still come out publicly, what with the whole school issue. And in that case, I would like for it to be Simon might to do it, tossing the money from the settlement in his face. It looks like Simon still feels guilty about accepting it, especially when he chided Wille about his privilege and Wille (figuratively) threw the money back in his face. What if Simon does it literally?
- I really wanna know what’s going to happen between Felice and Sara now. The outlook is not good.
- Is it too much to ask to know what’s going on between Stella and Fredrika?
- Most importantly, is the whole thing with Erik going to come out eventually? And how will people react? With support for the monarchy, or with support for Wille?
I have so many more thoughts, but I’m slightly burnt out, and I really should take a break. Also this is way too long. Might have more thoughts once I’ve rewatched the first five episodes, calmly over the weekend…
Also this is very long and I’m sorry.
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