#HOW COME I HAVE HARDLY SEEN ANY POSTS ABOUT IT
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daxaster · 1 year ago
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HEY how come no one told me that in Final Frontier; Kirk, Spock, and McCoy literally go camping together and talk about how good friends they all are and enjoy spending time together and then try to fuckin sing campfire songs and Spock is roasting a marsh melon and then they all go to bed and say good night to each other one at a time???
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notmeowse · 27 days ago
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That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.
In my opinion.
I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.
I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.
All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.
But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.
So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.
This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):
Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.
The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:
Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!
Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:
I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.
First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.
And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!
What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:
People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.
Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --
The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."
So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:
When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.
So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.
And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.
Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:
Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"
John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."
Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?
They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.
So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.
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delulujuls · 6 months ago
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healing sessions | aegon II targaryen
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hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.
this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)
and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts
summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit
warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs
pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen
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The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.
Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.
Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.
To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.
Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.
After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.
"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."
"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.
Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.
Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.
Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.
The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.
Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.
After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.
"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."
He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.
"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."
"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.
Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.
"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.
"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."
Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.
"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.
"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."
"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."
"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.
"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.
Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.
"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.
Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.
For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.
"Did you bring strawberries?"
She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.
"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.
"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.
Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.
"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.
"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.
"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.
Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.
"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"
He also shrugged.
"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."
Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.
He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.
"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."
Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.
"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.
"I miss you, you know?"
"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.
"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.
"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.
She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.
Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.
Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.
"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.
"Not quite yet," he joked.
She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.
When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.
"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.
She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."
Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.
"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."
The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.
She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.
When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.
"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.
"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.
Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.
"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."
It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.
She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.
"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."
She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.
Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.
The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.
Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.
"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.
"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.
Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.
At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.
Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.
"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"
"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.
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desireangel · 4 months ago
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Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen
Part Two
Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o
Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k
Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!
Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3
Masterlist!
Part One
Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 
His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.
It was always on your mind. Always. 
Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  
And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 
Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.
You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 
Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 
If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 
Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 
On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 
Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.
You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.
The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”
Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 
Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 
“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 
Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 
But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 
Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 
Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 
“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 
Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 
Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 
If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 
There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 
He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 
No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 
A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 
But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 
Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 
The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 
When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 
Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 
“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”
Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”
You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”
It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 
But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 
You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.
So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 
A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 
He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 
One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 
Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 
Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 
And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.
For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 
“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”
With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 
Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 
There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 
“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”
You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 
“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”
Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 
Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 
You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”
The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.
Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 
Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 
But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 
“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”
Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 
“My prince-”
“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”
The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 
You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”
If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 
There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 
So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 
“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”
Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 
And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 
A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 
The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 
You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 
Footsteps. Again. 
Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 
It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 
So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 
You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.
Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 
If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 
But what else had you expected?
This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 
Gods, you had never known anything like it. 
Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 
You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 
Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 
For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 
Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  
Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 
Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 
The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 
And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 
Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 
It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 
You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.
Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  
He wanted you to see. 
Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 
Sleep did not come easy that night. 
 
You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 
The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 
For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.
Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.
It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 
There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 
You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 
“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”
You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”
Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 
He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 
The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”
“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”
Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”
“I did not think you cared to take note.”
“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”
Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”
“I do not.”
You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”
“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”
“Answer my question, Aemond.”
“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”
“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”
The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”
Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 
“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”
“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 
There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”
“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”
Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 
The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 
When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 
You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”
“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 
For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”
“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”
You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 
The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 
Lavender, leather and him. 
“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”
Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 
His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”
“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”
Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.
You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 
It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 
You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.
There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”
A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 
You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.
“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 
Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 
You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”
Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”
“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”
“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”
You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”
“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”
Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 
Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 
You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.
“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”
“Gods, no–do not sto-”
Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 
“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”
“No.” 
It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   
Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 
You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 
“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 
Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 
“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 
“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 
Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”
“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”
There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 
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sugawhaaa · 21 days ago
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HYUNJIN ONE-SHOT
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⭐️ •[ Bold Colour ]• ⭐️
Warnings//genre:: SMUT, one-night stand, squirting, fingering
Pairing:: ex-idol!dom!hyunjin x sub!fem!reader
A/N:: this is such a long fanfic but...I hate it. I hate it so much 😭 but I spent too many hours on this to not post it...
Skz masterlist::🎨
🎧::
You had seen this man in the museum at least three times a week and he often had security guards near him, not deliberately surrounding him to avoid drawing attention, but they were always cautious when he's in the building. You do have to admit that he is a very attractive young man, probably a model or something. All the girls you work with swoon over him and can hardly speak around him...
It was very late at night, only a few minutes before closing, when you saw him come in again. You held back a groan and greeted him. "Welcome, how can I help you," you lean over the desk slightly and the man smiles before handing you a card.
He had a V.I.P. pass for the museum aka he can waltz in any time of the day, take a stroll, and leave. That wasn't the only perk of the card but that's what he seemed to use it for. You take the card, enter it in the system and hand it back.
"Thank you," he smiles fondly before making his way. You notice he has a bag on his back and you quickly call out.
"Sir, can I check your bag?" You call out and he freezes.
"Almost forgot!" He smiles before handing you the bag. You only did a brief search because you didn't have any reason to believe he was up to trouble. He's been here over a thousand times. You noticed he had a sketchbook tucked in there which undoubtedly interested you but you didn't pry, only handing him the bag back.
"Thank you, enjoy your time," you nod and he smiles before carrying on. Since the museum closes in a few minutes you decided to do some cleaning around the museum, sweeping, and mandatory upkeep. It was five minutes after closing time and you noticed the man staring at a statue and scribbling down some notes or something in his sketchbook, his pencil between his teeth as he used pen. How strange.
You then went up to him, politely asking him to leave and he nodded.
"Yes, I'll be leaving," he closes his book, tucks the pencil behind his ear, and begins to walk away. You sigh in relief before heading back to the front desk. As you do some more closing you notice the same man in the corner of your eye. It was like 15 minutes past closing! You groan and hurry over to the area you saw him in but he turns the corner sharply, bumping right into you.
His body was sturdy and surprisingly strong and knocked you right over. He quickly reached to catch you, tossing his sketchbook down to grab your wrist. "Sorry about that," he apologizes quickly as he assists you up but your attention is more drawn by the photos on the floor. Some were roses and very artistic charcoal drawings but a few were more...erotic.
"My bad," you say as you help him pick up the drawings but also get a closer look at the sketches. Most were women that seemed to be in a lot of pleasure...it stirred something inside you but you brush it aside.
"No, no, it's my fault," he kneels down to pick up the drawings. "Sorry you have to see all this," he blushes with an innocent smile. "Do you draw?" He asks as he scoops up the drawings.
"Uhm I drabble here and there," you hand him back the drawings as the two of you stand. Hyunjin steps back and looks you up and down. You blush, feeling a little embarrassed by his gaze.
"Modeling?" He tilts his head and you shake yours.
"Nope, just desk worker," you laugh softly and the man laughs.
"Surprising. I'm shocked no one has offered you a job before..." he thinks for a moment. "This may be a little bold of me but," he tucks his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and hands you a business card. "Perhaps you'd be interested in being a muse for me. Just an offer," he shrugs before quickly making a leave.
Hwang hyunjin.
That's his name. How nice, rolls off the tongue nicely. Over the next few days, you consider his offer, but he was right, it was a very bold move on his part.
What he wanted was a nude muse or at least little clothing so you really wanted to be careful but...what's the worst that could happen right?
"Hey, it's the girl from the museum you bumped into last week and you gave me your card," you say into the phone and you heard Hyunjin shifting on the other line.
"Oh, hey," you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm guessing you've...considered my offer?" His voice is laced with some mysterious intent that you can't read through speech alone.
"Yes. I'll model for you," you smile and Hyunjin cheers softly.
"Great! Are you thinking about going nude or just a little exposed?" He asks purely for data. He doesn't mean to pressure you at all.
"I'm not sure yet,"
"That's perfectly fine, whatever makes you most comfortable darling," he chimes and you blush at the way he calls you darling...the two of you then work out the details of your meeting and before you know it you're at his house, totally gagged. His house was huge and a little modern but still classic and it looked fresh. Must've been built at least 5 years ago. You ring the doorbell and Hyunjin quickly opens the door.
He's wearing a tight-fitted dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tight dress pants that flare out at the end. His hair is tied back in a ponytail with a pencil tucked behind his ear. "Ah, there she is," he smiles and invites you inside.
He does all the basic things like show you around just a bit and offer you some water and some snacks before getting started. "Okay, so have you decided what you'll be wearing?" He asks softly and you think for a moment.
"Will you...judge me?" You ask abruptly and Hyunjin laughs.
"Judge what? I'm doing this for art, to learn about the female body, I don't mind anything. Body hair, stretch marks, scars, etc let it shine," he smiles sincerely at you and you consider his words.
"Alright then...I won't wear anything," you nod and Hyunjin fights to hide his smile at your words.
"Sounds good," he nods and pretends not to watch you undress by adjusting his canvas and preparing materials. He bites his lip as he watches you unclip your bra and slide it off your shoulders, setting it on the designated stool. His eyes follow carefully as you hook your fingers around your panties and slowly pull them down.
You can't deny that you see the lust in his eyes but he hides it well. "Okay, can you raise your left arm and now tuck your hand behind your head," he instructs you how to pose before smiling. "Perfect," he nods and you stay posing for a while as Hyunjin quickly sketches out the basis of your body. "You have a stunning body," he smiles as he looks between you and his canvas. He licks his lips discreetly, more of a focused wipe than sensual, but it strikes something in you.
"You think?"
"I know," he replies quickly and you blush. "You cold?" He looks up worriedly and you shake your head.
"Nah, it's comfortable in here," you keep your pose and Hyunjin nods.
"Good, you're doing good," he quickly finishes up the sketch before pulling out his watercolor and painting his masterpiece carefully. His consistent praise makes your heart race, and your face flush but you try to hide it.
Before you knew it the painting was finished and he was proud to show you. He flipped the canvas around and you smile.
"Wow it looks incredible! Art is your gift hyunjin," you smile and he blushes.
"Thank you but I only recreate what I see," he glances your body up and down quickly before offering you a robe. "And here's your payment," he reaches into his pocket and starts counting out bills before handing them to you. 70 bucks...not bad.
"Wow that's a lot more than I thought," you blush and Hyunjin shrugs.
"Tip," he smirks before wrapping up his materials but you didn't want to leave just yet...
"Can I see some of your other live paintings?" You sway on your feet and Hyunjin smiles, excited that someone wants to see his work. He pats the bench he's sitting on, inviting you. He pulls out a stack of canvases and papers in a protective sleeve.
There were lots more paintings of women in pleasure but it somewhat confused you. If it was a live painting did the women make that expression the whole time? "How'd you make these ones?" You point to three paintings of the same woman, as the paintings of her go on they get more erotic. It looked almost like snippets from a night of pleasure.
"Well, this was uhm...a girl I knew. We had a weird relationship," he blushes softly. "She liked when I filmed her during our nights together and so I asked her if I could paint some screenshots from the videos," he invitingly shows you the drawings and the story somehow makes the drawings more lewd. You then stumble upon a photo of that girl giving a blow job.
Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight, your mouth watering and Hyunjin panics, flustered that you found that photo. He quickly takes the stack from your hands. "I uh...that one is not supposed to be in there,"
"Would you...make a painting of me like this?" You tilt your head to him and he quickly turns to meet your eyes. He crosses his arms and arches a brow
"What are you getting at here darling?"
"You know what I'm implying," you smirk and he chuckles lowly.
"Your friends would kill you. They all fawn over me no?" He chuckles and you shrug.
"Beats me," you lean closer and Hyunjin sighs.
"How am I supposed to resist such a hot girl," he sighs and unties his hair. "You sure about this?" He looks up at you and you nod. Before you knew it his lips were melting against yours, your tongues dancing for dominance as his hands roamed over your nude body. You hesitantly raised your hands to his chest as well. He pulls back from the kiss to breathe. "You're so fucking beautiful," he admits before leaning down to kiss your neck.
You toss your head back, allowing him more room as he eagerly nibbles at your neck. He brings his hands down to your ass, gently lifting you onto his lap, his boner painfully present against your crotch. He tears off your robe and sucks a nipple into his mouth.
He wasn't just moving fast, he was moving urgently. He craved you. He was desperate for you. He needed you.
"Ah, Hyunjin," you put your hands to his head as he sucks on your tits, making you moan and shiver in pleasure. You grab his long hair between your fingers and he moans softly as his tongue flicks against your nipple.
"Grind on me baby," he encourages as he supports your back with his hands. Per his instruction, you begin to grind back and forth on his bulge. Broken moans fill the room as his cock twitches against your clit but is unable to enter. He pulls back from your chest but continues to rub the hardened nub with his thumb. "Can I eat you out?" He looks up at you, his breathing heavy either from lack of oxygen or raw desire.
"Yeah," you pant out and he scoops you up into his arms effortlessly. He was very strong for a painter. He kisses you as he takes you into his bedroom before setting you on his bed.
He steps back, standing at the foot of the bed, and begins to unbutton his shirt, putting on a lovely show for you. The way his fingers skillfully slip each button through the little slit, his fingers long and sculpted his torso nice and tapered. He flings his shirt off his shoulders before tossing it somewhere in the room. He crawls up on the bed before grabbing your thighs.
"You're so wet," he breathes out, his breath hitting your folds in a sharp tingle. He runs his middle finger up your folds tenderly making you gasp. "So beautiful," he admires every aspect of your body as his fingers tease around your hole. He then puts his lips around your clit making you jump.
You grab a fistful of his hair as he slowly eats you out, licking up every ounce of arousal your body produces. He brings his finger down to wriggle into your pussy. "Good girl," he grins as he rests his head against your inner thigh, flicking his tongue out to attack your clit. His hair tickled your thigh and his body weight against your thigh added to the sensations. "You're doing so good for me darling," he kisses your clit as you feel his finger begin to thrust deeper and faster. "Have you ever squirted before?" He asks abruptly and you blush.
"N-No...I haven't," you admit shyly, already assuming his bold intent.
"How interesting," Hyunjin squeezes another finger inside you and you squirm slightly from the intrusion. He curls his fingers right against that sweet spot that has your gut tied in knots. You moan softly, growing louder and louder by the minute, and Hyunjin smirks. "That's it, feel the pleasure darling," his encouragement was much appreciated and in a way helped you draw closer to your impending release.
Before you knew it a rush of heat coursed through your body and it honestly startles you. The pleasure was overwhelmingly intense, so warm and tingly.
"H-Hyunjin," you warn him, your breathing heavy.
"Don't worry, let it out," he sucks on your clit and you let out a cry as you feel fluid gushing from your cunt. It spurts out onto Hyunjins face and chest and it takes you a moment to realize what had happened.
"I-Im so sorry I-" you got to sit up but Hyunjin quickly rests you back down.
"Relax darling," he pets your thigh softly. "After such an intense high you should relax," he smiles warmly and you pause before nodding, laying back again. "How did it feel to squirt for the first time?" He asks as he dries himself off with a nearby towel, conveniently placed by his bedside.
"I-oh yeah...um it was..." you think of how to describe it for a moment.
"Overwhelming?" He tilts his head and you laugh softly.
"Yeah, definitely that but also...beautiful," you smile blissfully, basking in the afterglow.
"That's good, I'm glad darling," he kisses your forehead. "Are you feeling tired or do you want to continue? Either way I'm as happy as a clam," he smiles sincerely...
Please reply or drop a comment in my inbox if you'd like part 2 🙏
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meyhew · 2 months ago
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“WHAT WE MOURN FOR THE DEAD IS THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPES.”
I never thought I’d make this post. Any time I imagined a One Direction member dying, I pictured myself weathered and grey. This was an eventuality that wasn’t supposed to be actualized until the boys and I had lived full lives. To have to come to terms with Liam’s death—his perpetual absence moving forward—in my mid twenties feels absurd. I wrote a long thing the day after I found out, so I’ve already gotten some thoughts out. I’m going to try and keep this short. I likely won’t succeed.
Liam was kind. If he’s remembered for anything, I hope it’s that. I know he helped out with food banks in London during lockdown because there were photos of him packing boxes, but I didn’t know until now how much money he gave them. £80,000 without any publicity. And it wasn’t a one-time donation. He kept working with various orgs to help food insecure people. In the week leading up to that unfortunate Wednesday, he gave away thousands to fundraisers—primarily set up to help people with severe illnesses. He’d been part of Soccer Aid for years. He was involved with anti-bullying campaigns. He worked with Rays of Sunshine to make hundreds of sick children happy. Over the years, he also donated to nonprofits that help children in Gaza and other places. The T-shirt he designed for Choose Love has garnered nearly £200,000; Choose Love has been working with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians to provide desperately needed aid in Gaza. Liam understood the value of his wealth, and what his social responsibility was. He did his part to make this world better.
All that without taking into account everything Liam did for us. The youtube videos he started during quarantine because it was a way to distract people, give them something to look forward to. His comedic timing was something special. The discord server where he talked to fans and highlighted their creative endeavors. His livestreams, the endless culture-defining tweets he made. I still see people laughing about his tweets. We all remember Mrs. Horan, yes? I mean, go all the way back to TwitCams. Just google the phrase and one of the first videos you get will be Liam’s. From day one, he took it upon himself to make sure the fans were happy. That we felt seen, heard. And he kept One Direction alive for us, on occasion at a great personal cost. He performed deep cuts we’d never seen sung live, he was always so enthusiastic about everyone else’s projects, he never shied away from talking about the band—because it made us happy. He knew what the band meant to us, the blend of hope and nostalgia many of us clung to, and he held on with us. For us. The masses ridiculed him for his clinginess, and he didn’t let go—for us. I’m sure he knew there are those of us for whom the name One Direction still means everything. And how right he was. Look at the global charts for the past two weeks. We’ve made history again. Because of Liam. He had been the glue holding a lot of the fandom together, whether people realized it or not. He brought us all together again in the most heartbreaking of ways.
One Direction came into my life at a time when I was becoming lonelier by the day. I had moved to a new country two years prior, and I didn’t yet have many friends because I knew only enough English to get by at school. Outside of school, I had no friends. They were all back home in the place I’d left. All I had was my two siblings—and when you’re 13 years old, your 14 yr old sister is hardly the person you want to spend all your time with. I didn’t have space for me, to do and to be something that was just mine.
Then I found 1d through a girl at school and they became that something for me. I bettered my English by watching them talk. I found this community because of them, and I have learned so much from being a part of it. So many wonderful people have touched my life because of them over the years, some I’ve fallen out of touch with and some I hung out with just this month. They—and, by extension, Liam—have made me wealthy in friendship.
Claudia, Ingrid, Mery; Thank you for putting up with my insanely specific demands and making headers for me. Ingrid, you’ve been so patient about teaching me how to gif. Mery, I still have your rec list for learning Spanish saved in my notes app. The TPWK print you gifted me hangs on my wall. Cloudy, do you remember that lineart you made of me? I still have it. You’ve all been so kind to me.
Rafa; You have no idea how much you’ve helped build my confidence as a writer. Lyab is a thing of the past now, but those hours you spent fleshing out the details of that fic are priceless to me. I’d never written anything so ambitious before. And, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve attempted a novel if I hadn’t written a 100k fic—which I couldn’t have done without your encouragement. I think this is my first time telling you I finished the first draft of my novel in September. Thank you <3
Yas; Beloved you are so dear to me. You have shown me such kindness over the years, at times I wondered what I had done to deserve it. Not many people check in with me the way you do. I value your presence in my life beyond words. You have so much love and affection to give, and I’m glad I get to receive so much of it.
If I wrote a personal note to everyone who’s in my life because of Liam we’d be here for hours and hours. Jess, Bella, Alex, Jack, Hayley, Hope, Soni, Kayla, Sara, Arsh, Tina, Ola, Cristal, Kylee, Hana, Ali, Antonise, Clare, Abby, Nina, fnh, mert, people I don’t follow anymore, everyone who’s come into my life because of liam—I love you. Literally every single person I follow should be named here because I wouldn’t even be on this website if it weren’t for 1d. You’re all so special to me.
I still can’t believe Liam is gone. I was at the grocery store and it hit me that it’s real, and I thought, no, there’s no way. It feels so fucking weird having this invisible hole in my life that’s never going to go away. But I’ll always be grateful for everything Liam brought into my life. I know I’ll grow old with a whole bunch of you in my life—I’ve already spent a decade with some of you in my life—and I wish Liam got to grow old and weathered with us all.
This is such an inadequate goodbye. I think I’ll keep coming up with things I wish I could tell Liam, or things I want to say to you all. There’s so much history here, so much to reminisce about. He took a piece of my adolescence with him. I’ll miss him forever. Too many of my memories are intertwined with him and I’ll miss him forever.
Sleep easy, Liam. I hope, in time, you’re remembered for your limitless capacity for love and your desire to do better, be better. You deserved more. 🤍
—————
tagging 1d people here because i know many blogs aren’t active on a regular basis. apologies if i missed someone (i’m sure i did). hugs for everyone
@1dclowns @hrrytomlinson @sandiazucar @fookinfreezin @hoeranghae @wlwmermald @tomlinsun @epubgf @heyangel @fireproofs @90sgrungelouis @lirry @iconichalo @itsnotreal @aquickstart @roguecurls @harryscuddles @hoteyelinerguy @babyy-honey @goldencereza @kindathoughtprovoking @kindofsharethat @fuchsiasea @queerbloodyangel @tofiveohfive @aboutmetamorphosis @wastelandbabyblue @delicatepointofview @twentybiqueen @girlcrushau @chaoticsue @chimnation @akasakasads @icouldbeluckyagain @alloutshirt @half-lightl @halohamilton @willowfey @meltedwings @softandslow @loustyles @onedirectiom @pop-punklouis @pridesobright @finexbright @femstyles @baawree @iamnathanscott @avocadolouie @userautumn @niallerer @itsnothesameasitwas @usignedupforthis @svpportive @svncourt
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angstflavoured · 4 months ago
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A little fiddauthor analysis...
Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…
First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.
Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.
But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)
The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.
Because Ford has Bill.
And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.
Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.
Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?
He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.
This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.
I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.
Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.
And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.
Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…
OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”
As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.
Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.
Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.
And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.
In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”
And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--
Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.
I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.
FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.
He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.
And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.
F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.
One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.
And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.
At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.
Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.
There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.
I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...
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tinygrove · 3 months ago
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Decent Man Pt.1
The second part
Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader
Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.
Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.
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You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 
You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 
Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 
“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 
“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “Consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 
“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 
“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 
As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.
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yuvany · 10 days ago
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CHRITSMAS TREE SHOPPING // ENHYPEN
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OT7 ENHYPEN x f !reader contains : est relationship + not ptoofread // no cw !! 𝐰𝐜: 1.2k
─── ( on point ) this is promt nr.12 for @cupidhoons seaon of romance event !! such a fun idea and I enjoyed writing this a lot.
NOTE : finally back and posting... enjoy ? I hope
reblogs are always appreciated !!
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𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚
going shopping with him sometimes felt more like a task, especially when it was time for holidays. Heeseung becomes competative and fierce because if he really wants something, he'll fight for it - even when you're his girlfriend. On the walk over to the christmas tree market, you could feel the intensity radiating off him, and you start to get worried, because well, it's only a tree, right? Wrong. "What tree do you wanna get?" You ask your boyfriend who was holding your hand in his that was cosily in his pocket. "I really want a classic green, and you, babe?" He asked, and you felt his eyes on you. "I wanna try white one this year!" Upon hearing that, Heeseung purses his lips. "White?" "yes! have you not seen those pinterest posts?" At this point, the two of you have stopped walking, and were blocking the way, going back and forth on what colour was the best. "Will you agree if I give you a kiss?" you say at least, and he replies, "One won't be enough. How about a hundred more, mm?"
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚
Jay doesn't seem like the type to be very picky when it comes to choosing stuff, he only wanted to know what you were interested in. "Have any plans for Christmas?" He asked you, walking beside you on the side walk that hardly looked any different from the road where cars drove by, their window swipers shoving the snow away from the glass. "Actually, no idea." Jay sweats, because what are two clueless lovers supposed to do in a market? "What do you think?" You asked your boyfriend, He clears his throat and pullls out his phone. This motivates you to continue picking on him the whole walk there. "I don't know either, babe." He admits at last. "We gotta YOLO it I suppose, let's hurry, I wanna look at the trees!" You say and pull him behind you. Even though you didn't know what you wanted to buy, you somehow knew what you did not like. "This one is pretty." Jay said, pointing at a dark green coloured one. "we for sure have different tastes." You comment with a scowl.
𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡
Jake wants to find the perfect christmas tree, a tree where he can place all the presents he had bought for you. The market was filled with trees ranging of different heights and colours, you did not really care what tree you guys would carry home at the end of the day, but Jake was running around the place with you on his tail. "babe, calm down!" You call out, your legs almost giving up on you. "Hurry! look at that one!" He says, stopping only to tell you to keep up with him. You heave a sigh and stomp your feet, frustrated. "c'mon..." Jake moops, his palms on your shoulders. "Just pick a tree, you're not an expert." You groan, and Jake shakes his head. "But we need to find the perfect tree. I'm not leaving until we find the one." "Just pick any one, the decorations will make the tree pretty." You argue, your head finding his chest as exhaustion catches up to you.
𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉
It's been hours of walking around the place, and the both of you could not agree on one tree that the both of you found pretty. At first he said he didn't care, but gradually he revealed his real demeanour. "But you said I could pick whichever one!" You whine, and Sunghoon shoves his hands into his pockets cluelessly. "What do you mean, sweetie? I did not say that." Sunghoon lied. You shake your head at his words, feeling betrayed by the one you thought you could trust the most. "It's just a tree, hoonie, and you can't take back a promise. We pinky promised." Sunghoon remembers this vividly and winces as he tries to make an excuse, but he can't find one that'll satisfy the both of you. "Sure, go ahead. I did promise you, lovely." He walks towards you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Do you really want this brown, poop-coloured tree?" "I was actualy joking with you." You admit.
𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢
Sunoo is a perfectionist, but he also loves you. You had walked up to a classic tree that had that traditional musky colour, the scent of freshly cut wood and the aroma of chirstmas making its way through the market. Something classic could never go wrong, right? That's what you thought at least until you look over your shoulder to get Sunoo's opinion. Upon the sight of his raised eyebrow, crossed arms as he tapped his boot against the thinly covered ground, you start to second guess. "Babe, what do you think of this?" You ask with hesitation. He lets out a hum, "It's alright, I suppose." You shurg his reaction off, and turn to look to the next tree due to his reaction. He sees this, and gets ahold of your shoulder. "Why did you continue looking? Didn't you want this one?" He asks, and you shrug. "I mean, it didn't seem like you liked it." You explained. "I mean, as long as I get to decorate it, I'm fine with anything." Sunoo reassures, and you chuckle.
𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡
He could not care less about what tree would be carried home that eveing, he just wanted to tease you. Whenever you suggested a tree, he'd turn down the option. It came to the point where you were pointing at every christmas tree that you passed and he'd still shake his head.Your legs began to get tired and you stood in place in front of a classic short tree and pointed at it. "What about this one then?" You asked him with an eyebrow cocked upwards. Jungwon had his fingers around his chin as he was mocking a stance deep in thought. "Are you sure about this one?" He asked. "Goodness, this is the last one in this place and the one you haven't said no to. Go pick one for yourself." You sighed and Jungwon combed his hair back upon seeing your tired state. "babe, I was just teasing, get whichever one you want and decoration, and I'll pay." He offers with a hand cupping your cheek.
𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜
"What do you think of this one?" you asked, trying to find at least one tree that the two of you could agree on. "Can't you see that it has too many branches?" Riki judges, and you can't believe how childish he is being. "That one is the perfect one," he continues, pointing at a tree in the distance. "Are you really sure, because I find that it is very ugly. no offence." You sass, looking at the too tall tree. You feel his sharp gaze judge you, but you only giggle at this, knowing you managed to tick him off. "So... what do you wanna do?" You asked him, nudging your shoulder with his. "Obviously that tree." Riki looks over at the one he was insisiting on bringing home. "Lets settle this with rock paper scissor." You challenged him, and he eagerly nodded. "Rock, paper scissor..." He counted down, and you played a paper, and he did a scissor, resulting in his victory. "You were just lucky this time." You sulk.
TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd
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gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago
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Chapter 3 Sneak Peak/Teaser:
Some additions have been added for the sake of it, and may not appear in the actual post when Chapter 3 is up. However, they do serve as a little glimpse into how certain characters feel at the moment. Glimpses which aren't exactly shown in the final post either, at least not like they are here.
Regardless, I hope y'all like this little piece of what's to come!
-----
Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really...? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up... but he just couldn't help himself. Could anyone really blame him? After all this time, he finally felt like he was getting close, but he couldn't be too sure. No, no. Not yet. Though right here, right now he would. He would confirm it, and make himself certain. There was no way around it. ... Yet his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake.
No way, he thought. No way.
[...] He had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong. Not this time around. Not over you.
[...]
He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he had listed all of the information he gathered from his search.
... He had done it. He finally did it.
[...]
Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that had happened, suddenly feeling unsure. 
Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know yet… they didn't have to know yet, this was a golden opportunity. Should he really be giving this up?
Though of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course.
[...]
Maybe... this whole thing wasn't such a good idea after all. Not with how he went about things, not with how he acted and just spit out the most important thing he had found without thinking, just out of spite.
If only he had gone about it differently. Then maybe he'd be with you instead of him.
--
Somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever — and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.
If only you had listened to how your heart stopped.
[...]
You made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side. 
Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.
It was only then did you understand.
[..]
Your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door. Fuck. They were getting impatient.
[...]
Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited and waited.
Life in Gotham had always worked in mysterious ways, but this was too much too soon. Despite months having past, in the moment, it felt like it had been days since you had left. Like you had barely just gotten a taste of freedom, of love and appreciation — only for it to be stripped away from you. To be taken by the very people you once turned to for such things.
Perhaps even staying in the city was too close. Maybe you should've moved farther away when you still had the chance.
[...]
Oh god, you were really doing this.
Not wanting to waste any more time, you took a step forward and tried to take a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage.
Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory.
[...]
The way he looked at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you had seen from him before. Not directed towards you anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person, but maybe you had just gotten used to seeing his back turned to you one too many times. Maybe you had just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of real life.
[...]
Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you tried to ignore it, you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to them talking with you, or smiling towards you or anything. Or you tried to anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.
[..] On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right. It felt stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?
.. All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your sake and their's, but mostly for your own.
[...]
The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it bothered you. It was like some sort of silent evacuation was going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace instead of striking violence and chaos.
You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?
CRACK.
Perhaps you spoke too soon.
[..]
It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.
[...]
Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands felt clammy, and you tried to steady your breathing once you realized it was wavering. You tried to fix any outward reaction you noticed you were displaying before they could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you tried to reassure yourself.
You were going to be okay... right?
[..]
So, you tried to ignore how the pit in your stomach continued to grow with each second that passed. How each sound caused you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you tried to ignore that too.
... Seconds turned into minutes, and it was only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end.
The longer time dragged on, the worse you felt. The more you wanted to get away and just shove them aside. You didn't want this, you thought you wouldn't see them again after leaving, because why would you think otherwise? After all that time of them treating you like you were never there? And now this?
Just this whole situation was giving off mixed signals, but the worst part about it? It made you feel like you should've given up sooner, and who knows? Maybe you should've.
[...]
At least now you were able to take a breather, even if it was only temporary. With someone familiar that you actually felt comfortable enough to be around. To talk with, and exist in their space.
Sure, you'd have to step back outside eventually, but for now? You didn't have to. Not until the order was ready, and you'd have to face them again. Though that wasn't now, was it? For now you could just... be.
To think you'd feel so grateful just to be able to breathe in your own space.
To think that they'd try to take that away from you too, but you wouldn't let them. You couldn't. Not freely or willingly anyway.
You had given them enough, why couldn't they understand that? Why did they suddenly want to have what you tried to give them so long ago? Haven't they realized that the opportunity has already past, and they're the ones that let it happen? Maybe. Maybe some of them do. Maybe some of them did. They were smart like that, after all. Some had to know. They had to.
But not this one. Otherwise he wouldn't be here.
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candy-heart-brew · 10 months ago
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I've seen some fans theorize that the lyrics to "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" tie into Frank's developing relationship with Eddie, potentially foreshadowing a grisly end for a favorite mailman. The lyrics are incredibly emotional and poor Frank sounds like he's fighting back tears during this entire record, making it feel like there's something more going on under the surface. While it's entirely possible that this is meant to foreshadow Frank and Eddie eventually being separated, I think the song's symbolism could be pointing to a different direction...
I touched a bit on this in a different post but to summarize: the attitude that Frank displays during "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" is completely at odds to his reaction to Eddie at the party. During BaBaG he's sad but resigned to fate, he knows that hibernation is inevitable but takes a bit of comfort in the knowledge that it's only temporary and that his loneliness will only last through winter. So, he does his best to power through, keep his personal feelings out of it, and assure his little friends that he'll be alright.
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By contrast, his reaction to Eddie's behavior at the party is one of panic and confusion. He doesn't understand what's happening to Eddie or why he's suddenly gone unresponsive, he just knows that he isn't acting like himself at all and he can't accept that. He refuses to leave Eddie alone even after being ignored, continuing to push until he gets a response, at which point he immediately realizes something is wrong and tries to push further, only stopping when Eddie leaves. At this point in the story they don't appear to be especially close but Frank's terrified reaction speaks volumes about his true feelings for Eddie. And if this is how he reacts to him being quieter than usual, I can't imagine that he'd be much calmer or more composed in the event of losing Eddie altogether. IMO, he's far more likely to get angry and demand answers rather than wax poetic. So while "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" could potentially foreshadow Eddie's fate, Frank's subdued reaction makes me question that interpretation. I do think there's a deeper meaning to BaBaG, that Frank is singing about something other than bugs, just not Eddie. But then who? Well, as we found out in this last update, bugs are not the only creatures in the neighborhood that hibernate...
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Think about it for a moment- Julie is going to be gone for months, leaving Frank all alone without his best friend. Who's going to invite him to games now? Who's going to listen to him about his interests and laugh at his jokes? Who's going to bake gelatin monstrosities with him? Julie is practically his other half so to lose her for months on end must be very difficult for him! He knows that she can't help it and he doesn't blame her but that hardly makes it any easier. All he can really do now is just push that sadness down, wish her goodnight, and wait for her to return.
Under this interpretation, certain lyrics in BaBaG take on a different meaning to me. Lines like "I know it's for the best, I can't keep you," or "I'll be the first to tell you, you just can't stay," could imply an oncoming rift between the two of them. The recent updates have implied that Frank and Julie were written to be a couple and were perceived as such in-universe. We don't yet know how the two of them felt about that but we do know that they were very close to the point of doing basically everything together! But now Frank is falling in love with someone else, someone who may very well come to eclipse Julie in terms of importance to him. No matter how much he loves her, no matter how much they might want to stay together, there are some things you just can't fight and this play-relationship they have can't last forever...
But that's just my interpretation!
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restinslices · 1 year ago
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okay chat maybe him like getting jealous
Assuming you’re the anon who asked about Spooky
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Him this episode >>>>>>>>>>
I've seen posts before about Spooky and people say he'd pull out a gun and start swearing when he's jealous and really show his ass but honestly? I don't think that's accurate 
I haven't watched OMB in a hot minute and Netflix is being some hoes rn so forgive me if I'm wrong but wasn't he incredibly patient?
He was patient with Cesar and with Cesar’s friends. I don't recall him ever losing his temper and going insane besides season 4 when he heard people fucking shit up outside 
Spooky gives me the silent jealous type. Silent but also petty 
Like if you came back to him after talking to a guy he'd say some petty shit like “thought you'd be around him all day”
“That's your man now, right?” “Stop being childish”
You could tell when he's jealous though cause you'd feel him staring at you the whole time 
I could also see him clearing his throat loud as hell if you're nearby to both get your attention and introduce him to whoever it is you're talking to 
It's gotta be a guy he doesn't know cause realistically what Santo is dumb enough to flirt with you?
I feel like I'm expected to say he'd have this huge outburst but Oscar doesn't give me that vibe. He's pretty patient and I think especially if y'all have been together for an extended amount of time, he'd feel secure enough to know you won't do some foul shit 
I feel like someone touching you would cause him to immediately get involved. He'd walk over and physically take their hand off of you while pulling you closer to him or behind him 
And let's be real, no one is dumb enough to try shit with him. He's 6’1 and known as the leader of the Santos 
But if someone did try him because they're drunk or whatever, I feel that even though he's jealous he'd still put your safety first. His jealousy would go to the back of his mind and he'd try to get you out in case shit gets intense 
Another situation he'd step in is if you're visibly uncomfortable. Typically if someone's flirting with you, he knows you can handle it but if you're so obviously uncomfortable then he'd step in and get you away 
I feel like if you're dating Oscar your safety would go over everything so while he's still a man and wants to play all big and bad in whoever's face, getting you away is his biggest priority 
“Are you jealous?” “Should I be?” “No” then he'd nod or smth 
Now let's say you're hanging around a new guy a lot. Would he get jealous? Probably. He's a guy. 
This is a different situation ‘cause he's not seeing anything. He can't pull you away. What does he do?
Short answer; nothing. Long answer; he doesn't seem like the type to be so jealous he'd snoop on your phone or follow you because relationships require trust and if you caught him, you'd be upset. I could see him asking questions about the guy and then denying he's jealous ‘cause “I have nothing to be jealous about”
And it's like??? Are you telling me  that or telling yourself that? 
Over time it'd become obvious he's feeling a certain way. You'd say you're gonna hang out with whoever the guy is and he'd just make a “mmm” sound instead of actually responding 
“Something wrong?” “I didn't say anything” “Exactly”. Eventually it'd come out though 
And the idea of him flirting with someone else to make you jealous comes up but I don't think that'd happen. He hardly has any relationships besides his gang which means he hardly has any close relationships. He has the kids, who he's like an older brother too (or literally an older brother to) and Mario (and we don't know how much they interact) so I don't see him risking a relationship just to be on petty shit 
He'd say smth petty but flirting with someone else just as payback for some shit you can't control? Nah
You could probably calm him down easily just by being near him. Making jokes about him being jealous would help also because it's you acknowledging that you see how he feels without having a sappy ass conversation 
I feel like this is so anticlimactic and disappointing but realistically I don't see him flipping his shit. He's 19-25, which could make him a bit immature but 1) he's grown up quickly so I think he can handle his emotions. 2) He has two strikes already. He's not popping his shit and risking life in prison because he was jealous. And 3) he knows you know where home is. 
He gets jealous, sure, but all those reasons stacked together makes him act calm, only getting somewhat aggressive if someone is touching you or making you uncomfortable. He’s more petty than anything
Quick story time. So I got away from my abusive dad when I was 13-14, right. I was also obsessed with Spooky. Tell me why my therapist said “I think you love him so much because he’s a strong and scary guy and in your head he’d protect you if your dad came back for you”. The way I almost blocked her-
I’m still seeing her years later😃
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fallstaticexit · 3 months ago
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Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort
AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3
Transcript under the cut
Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?
Nancy: I never really liked crowds.
Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.
Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.
Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.
Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.
Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.
Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.
Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!
Nancy: Hello Mother.
Queenie: Nancy.
Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?
Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.
Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.
Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?
Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?
Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.
Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.
Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!
Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.
Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.
Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.
Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.
Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-
Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.
Nancy: Nathan was your student?
Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.
Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.
Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?
Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!
Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?
Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.
Nancy: What about your husband?
Professor Munch: Husband?
Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.
Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?
Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.
Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.
Nancy: [sobs quietly]
Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?
Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?
Nancy: [nods once]
Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.
Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]
Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.
Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.
Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.
Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!
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stargirlinterludefr · 3 months ago
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BLACK FRIDAY: jj maybank x fem!reader
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synopsis: you struggle heavily with your mental health but you never show it as you’re jj’s pillar and when jj moves in with you to finally get away from his dad, he begins to notice more and more
TW: mentions of child abuse, drug & alcohol usage, talks of an ED, talks of self h@rm, body dysmorphia, mentions of bad mental health thoughts, mention of luke maybank, HEAVY angst, fluff.
notes: if you struggle with any of the things listed within the trigger warnings and feel like this will potentially trigger you then please do not read! If you do continue, read at your own risk. i have created a post here where you can learn more about ed’s & self h@rm and there is also helplines on there! my inbox is always open for anyone who needs to vent, you’re not alone!
-
JJ had never felt a shadow cover the light you bring to his life, not even the shadow his father casted over him could diminish your light. But JJ never expected the light within yourself to be dimming, he blames his own troubles for not noticing it sooner.
Before he took the big leap to completely detach from his father, he was so intertwined in his own mess of a mind that he failed to be the observant boyfriend he’d always been. He forgot to provide light to you like you’d always done for him.
In your opinion, JJ is a consistent light in your life. He always has been and that will never change, but in JJ’s mind it was like this.
You know how bulbs dim over time, they grow duller and make it harder for you to see when you turn the light on? That’s how he felt he’d been treating you because eventually that bulb goes out and you’re left in the darkness.
He’d always known of the issues you had with self harm, of course he’d known, because before he was your boyfriend he was your best friend since third grade…he’s seen the scars.
But he’s ashamed to say he’d never been actively knowing about the problems you had with eating. Sure he’d seen you have off days, the days where you didn’t eat, he’d made the ignorant decision to put it down to the fact that everyone has off days.
But now he’s living with you, in the home you share with your mother who is almost never home, he’s noticed.
He sees you sneaking off to the bathroom after eating things you cook for the two of you, how you’re never hungry, always tired…hell you’d fainted on him a week prior.
He didn’t want to push you to talk or to confront you but when he sees the tell tale signs of you deteriorating before his eyes, he’s not going to allow that to continue to happen.
The two of you have just finished eating, you’ve cleaned the dishes and as you’re about to scurry to the bathroom JJ gently reaches out and tugs at your wrist with a knowing look on his face that makes your stomach churn.
“I- baby…there’s somethin’ i wanted to talk to you about.” He says, never letting go of your wrist as he looks at you with such adoration and so much guilt it makes your lip quiver.
“What is it?” You ask quietly, but you know, you can tell by his eyes what he’s going to say.
Your boyfriend swallows, a heavy breath ringing out through his chest before he speaks out.
“I’m kickin’ myself for never noticing, but…you- you’ve been making yourself sick a-and you’ve hardly been eating, god I’m so worried about you, and I’ve been worried about askin’ you about it but whatever it is that’s going on in your mind…don’t hide it from me, your pain is my pain remember? We gotta share these things, i hate seeing you in so much pain and i-“ Through JJ’s ramble he begins to choke up, cutting himself off as he catches the sob and swallows it as you blink rapidly, tears beginning to well in your eyes.
You chew your lip, hand coming to rub at your arm where past pain resides upon your skin and when JJ notices his face breaks and he takes your other hand as he shakes his head.
“Please baby, just tell me, whatever it is I’ll make it go away a’ight? I’ll take it away, let me be your light now come on.” He pleads, his eyes so beautifully piercing and endearing that you finally crack.
“I-I don’t know with all the scars and i just- wanna better body…better skin, i-i wanna be perfect like all our other friends.” You say, voice trembling and as you mutter the last words, JJ brings his hands to cradle your face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
The Maybank boy shakes his head, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath your eyes.
“You listen to me, okay? You are so beautiful, everything you are is pure gold…I-I’d give up my life for yours because your very existence is more important to me than anything on this godamn planet…n you always look so pretty, l-like the sun or somethin’ you know i could watch forever while you shine on everyone?” As JJ speaks through a watery tone, his forehead gently falls onto your own as you sob quietly before he pulls you into his arms.
You feel the abundant amount of kisses he places to your head as he cries quietly and you know the guilt he’ll feel…that’s why you tried to hide it from him, any pain in your life and JJ immediately feels guilty that he can’t retract any inch of unhappiness from your being.
“I don’t know how to stop Jay, i-i feel like i suck the life out everything.” You sob against him and the boy violently shakes his head as he gently strokes your own.
“You don’t, believe me baby, every time you touch me i feel adrenaline like you’ve sparked me with life and you’ve always managed to see the light for me in my darkest times…so I’m gonna do the same for you, you hear?” His words hold so much sincerity that you feel some weight lift off of you and for the first time in months your body relaxes as it allows itself to feel all the pain you’d had bottled, JJ knows so he gently lowers you both to the floor while he holds you securely.
“I’m gonna help you get better, I’m gonna be here for every dark battle with your mind…you’re not on your own okay? I love you so godamn much.” The boy says, voice thick with tears as he sniffles while placing a kiss to the top of your head.
You cling to him because now that all that pain is out, what else are you supposed to do?
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acewritesfics · 11 months ago
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Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: No
Fic Type: Imagine
Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.
Word Count: 1,876
TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP
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⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.
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"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.  
"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot. 
Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit." 
Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket. 
Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love." 
"Thank you, mummy." 
"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play. 
The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too. 
"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?" 
Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was. 
"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place." 
"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister." 
"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever." 
"How is she doing?" Ada inquires. 
"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.  
"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time. 
"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!" 
"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her. 
"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise. 
"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl." 
"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.  
Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter. 
"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel. 
Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel. 
"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?" 
"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around." 
"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?" 
Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."  
"Will you tell him?" she asks. 
"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.  
"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something. 
She looks at her suspiciously. "We are." 
"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin." 
"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.  
Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel." 
Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.  
"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.  
"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up. 
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Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.  
She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.  
Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.  
“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it. 
“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.  
She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.  
“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant. 
He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?” 
“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.  
“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?” 
“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.” 
“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits. 
“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.” 
“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs. 
“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin. 
“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.” 
She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone. 
“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago. 
“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.  
“I can keep her safe.” 
“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.” 
“I want to see her,” he quietly demands. 
“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.  
The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.  
“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.  
Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.” 
Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” 
“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.” 
“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.” 
“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.” 
“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.” 
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him. 
“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.” 
“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel. 
“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea. 
All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.  
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TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee
Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG
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paddockletters · 3 months ago
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lover | george russell
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pairing: george russell x reader summary: you and george at a taylor's concert
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George and you have been buzzing with excitement all week about the Taylor Swift concert. As you both get ready, George can’t help but tease you about your obsession with the singer. “I just hope you don’t faint when she comes on stage,” he jokes, adjusting his hair in the mirror.
You roll your eyes playfully, grinning back at him.
“You’re just jealous you’re not a Swiftie like me,” you retort, holding up a charm bracelet adorned with Taylor’s signature.
George chuckles and lifts his wrist, showing off a matching bracelet he secretly made for you both.
“Well, I’m committed now, aren’t I?” he says with a cheeky smile, and you can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is.
Arriving at the venue, the atmosphere is electric. Fans are dressed in their best outfits, some donning glittery clothes and others holding homemade signs. You can hardly contain your excitement as the lights dim, and the crowd erupts in cheers when Taylor takes the stage.
“Look at that!” you say, pointing at the sea of fans.
“I’ve never seen so much glitter in one place!” George laughs, slipping his arm around your waist.
“Just wait until the first chorus hits. You won’t be able to hear yourself think.”
As the concert unfolds, you sing along to every song, feeling the music wash over you. The energy in the arena is contagious, and you’re lost in the moment, swaying to the rhythm and reveling in the magic of live music. George keeps stealing glances at you, a soft smile on his face as he watches you sing your heart out.
“Are you having fun?” he asks, leaning in closer so you can hear him over the music.
“More than I can express!” you shout back, and his eyes light up with happiness.
He grins and leans down to kiss your forehead, causing your heart to flutter.
“Good, because I was worried I’d have to fight off any Swifties trying to steal you away,” he quips, his playful tone making you giggle.
In a sudden burst of inspiration, George turns to you with a mischievous grin.
“You know what would make this night even better?” he asks, his voice a little conspiratorial. “A matching shirt for us! Like those super cheesy couple shirts.”
Your eyes widen in delight.
“Yes! But they have to be Taylor-themed!” you insist, practically bouncing on your feet.
“Let’s find one after the concert!” He nods enthusiastically, already plotting the most ridiculous shirt design he can come up with.
As the night goes on, the atmosphere only intensifies. Taylor surprises everyone by inviting a fan on stage for a duet. You watch, your heart racing as the lucky fan takes the stage with her. George nudges you, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Imagine if that were you up there!”
“I’d probably freeze!” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it would be amazing!”
As the concert continues, the energy in the arena is palpable. You can see the joy on everyone’s faces, and it makes your heart swell. George leans in closer, his voice barely above the music.
“I love seeing you this happy,” he admits, looking deep into your eyes.
You blush, feeling warmth spread through you.
“I love being here with you,” you reply, leaning your head against his shoulder.
He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you can feel the affection radiating from him.
After a particularly emotional song, you both catch your breath, and George suddenly has an idea.
“Let’s capture this moment,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“A selfie with the queen herself in the background!” He angles the camera, and you both make silly faces as you snap the picture, laughter bubbling up between you.
“Perfect! Now I need to post this as proof that I survived the Taylor Swift concert with my favorite racer,” you joke, and George rolls his eyes playfully.
“Just don’t let the other drivers see it. I have a reputation to uphold!”
With the concert nearing its climax, you notice fans nearby recording the spectacular moment.
George leans in closer to you, whispering, “I bet they’re capturing us being ridiculously in love right now.”
You can’t help but blush and smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“Maybe we should give them something to record,” you suggest, looking up at him mischievously. With a glint in his eye, George pulls you in closer, hugging you by the waist.
“How about a kiss for the fans?”
You giggle, leaning in for a sweet kiss, and just as your lips meet, a flash goes off nearby. You break the kiss, both of you laughing as you realize you’ve just made someone’s night.
“That’ll definitely end up on social media,” George chuckles, winking at the fan who snapped the photo.
As the concert winds down and the last song begins, the crowd sways together, united by the music. George wraps both arms around you, holding you tightly against him.
When the final song concludes and the lights come up, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. You both stand in a daze, still buzzing from the magic of the night. Just as you’re about to leave, you notice a group of fans nearby who are excitedly holding up shirts.
You point excitedly.
“Look! That’s the one I wanted!” George’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
“You know what? Let’s go ask if they’ll trade shirts with us!”. George says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Before you can respond, he’s already walking over to the group, your hand in his.
As you approach, the fan looks starstruck.
“Oh my gosh, it’s George Russell!” she gasps. “Can I get a picture?”
“Just if we trade shirts for a pic” He ask, grinning.
You can’t believe how sweet this is. The fans are thrilled at the idea, and laughter fills the air as you all decide to switch shirts for a quick photo opportunity. George helps you swap your top for one of theirs, and you do the same, both of you bursting into laughter as you don the fan’s shirt, emblazoned with Taylor’s lyrics.
“This is so epic!” she exclaims as she poses with both of you in your new matching shirts.
“Now this is a proper concert outfit!” George declares.
As you exit the venue, George looks at you, wearing the shirt.
“I’d say this is the most memorable concert I’ve ever been to,” he says, a soft smile on his face.
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georgerussell63
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Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 561,372 others
Best night ever with my favorite person. Ended up trading shirts with some fans and officially became a swiftie!
Comments:
ynuser:Had the BEST time with you! Also, you totally rock that shirt! 😆
georgerussell63: I think I might start wearing fan shirts to the paddock next. Thoughts? 😂
landonorris: Bro, what happened to you? Next thing we know, you'll be blasting Taylor in the garage
georgerusell63: Don’t act like you wouldn’t join me in a “Shake It Off” dance-off. 👀
charles_leclerc: So… are we all wearing matching shirts to the next race? I need to be prepared for this level of fashion. 🤔
georgerussell63: I’ll send you the link to the fan merch. We can coordinate! 😂
user1: I can’t believe you traded shirts with fans! uou’re such a legend, george! 😍
georgerussell63: Best decision ever! Might make it a race tradition now. 😂
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