#People just keep having bad take about him

[bonkwrites]

OBSESSED with the whole american x 141 man combo. smut ahead!

Not necessarily giving up your identity when you move out of the US, just wanting to explore different cultures and see new things. Then you meet one of the boys, maybe it’s Kyle or Johnny, and they introduce you to your actual, literal husband within a week of knowing you. And Simon Riley isn’t a bad guy, they tell you, just a little rough around the edges. And you’re young, in a new country, you flew on a plane for the first time to get here and it didn’t go down so you feel invincible– and you fuck Simon Riley. 

The mask isn’t even in the equation, he won’t wear it when he’s not on a mission or on base, and he’s got a scar on his cheek that’s textured when you grab his face and kiss him. He tastes like bourbon. You taste like vodka and lime. He lays you down on your hotel mattress and spreads your legs and calls you love while he’s fucking you. 

“Fuck, lovie, like that. Take it like that.” you thought maybe the accent would make it too funny to be sexy but there might be something to be said about pavlov’s dog and the bell here…. 

He’s so big and so on top of you and he’s pushing your legs to your chest to pin you underneath him while he fucks you. You feel sorry for the other people on the floor the next morning but in moment all you can think is Simon, Simon, Simon and all you can do is beg him don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop– 

You’re so happy you got your IUD before you started traveling. 

Simon says sometimes he thinks he did it in the wrong order. You fucked and then he took you out to dinner. You tell him sometimes you wish he would have let you ride him that night. He remedies your wishes immediately, all the time. 

Did you know there’s only one Taco Bell in all of England? You crave chalupa’s so intensely that you once rode a train for an hour and a bus for three just to have the worst Taco Bell of your life. Did you know that almost 50% of Americans own a gun or are proficient with one? Color 141 the most surprised they’ve ever been when you go to a gun range while they’re stationed in Texas and Simon tries to teach you gun safety but you correct him the entire time. 

“I used to go hunting with my dad, Si, I know this.” and then you have decently good grouping that’s just a little to the left and Johnny tries to show you how it’s really done and– misses entirely. 

“Is that how it’s done, Johnny?” you taunt, smiling so cheekily that Simon can’t keep his own smile off his face. 

“Listen up, bonnie, I’ve done more training-” 

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” you mumble. Simon swear he can see the steam coming out of Johnny’s ears. 

“Lass, so help me God, if you don’t-” 

“Poor baby, Johnny,” you frown, still taunting him, your hips sway as you walk up to him and take his face into your hands, “Did you get beat in a shooting contest by a civvie? Will you live to see another day?”  You shake his head in your hands and Johnny goes red for a completely different reason than his pride and anger. Johnny’s hands twitch, Simon can see him reaching for your sides as you release his face and step away from him. Soon, Simon wants to tell him, she’s going to tell you soon.

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part three)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what Ace and Deuce were willing to do for you, you were so touched that you decided to get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Oh poor Idia, where do we even start for him?... poor guy is absolutely shattered as soon as he saw those two tattoos on you through the cameras. He felt his entire reason to live just shatter. He feels his entire world collapsing in on itself. He completely just, breaks down, sobbing to himself on the floor trying to rationalise how the tattoos were not real, to try to keep his sanity in tact.

The days after that disastrous breakdown, he has been stuck in bed, too depressed to frankly do anything but to sulk. He had not eaten, not drank enough, and his personal hygiene is downright awful.

Once Ortho has convinced him to get up because crowley demanded him to actually attend his classes or it's byebye NRC for Idia, his pity for himself has turned into rage. Whenever he sees the dumb duo he can't help but to want to do anything against them, he sure would LOVE to doxx them...

But after some reconciderence from Ortho (statistics show he would be one of the top suspects for it and therefore make the prefect hate him even more (he believes)) he instead chose to take care of himself, putting actual effort in how he looks as to win you over with that. He sure hope it works, please...

Don't think ortho is just hyping up his brother, cuz he is sure helping on the sidelines. Digging up info the students don't want anyone to know abour sure is easy when you have unlimited internet access (and some illegal ways to obtain the info)

That's the easy way of getting students away from you, but getting you trapped up with them is almost just as easy. He starts calling you his siblings as well, subtly telling you how you and idia would be the greatest siblings ever to him, even backing up and glorifying hos brother in your eyes, anything it takes to get you to chose idia.... you will all be a happy family....

Sebek, for once in his life, is stunned to silence. He cant quite grapple the thoughts and feelings swirling within him is making him feel quite sick, making him quiet for the rest of the day..

Once classes has ended, he bolts over to his dorm only to dramatically lock himself in his dorm room and let out the worst crying session ever. He is sobbing,

The whole ordeal and emotions results in him having the need to constantly watch over you, as a way to show that he too can protect you, he can be there for you, just like ace and Deuce, but better! Please, he needed you, he needs you to need him too, please...

Silver don't quite know what to think about this. He cant blame you, the heroic stunts of your friends sure are nice, but why with something so permanent? He could do what they did and so much more for you, give him an opportunity and he will show you.

After "the talk" the four of them had, he has had a hard time sleeping for the first time in his life. He feels exhausted yet can't close his eyes, pictures of you happily being with ace and Deuce clouding his poor exhausted brain. He will take this on the only way he knows, a duel for your love and your hand.

You're not dumb either, you see how tired he had been and the lack of sleep he has been getting, and feeling bad for him you let him sleep on tou if that would help him. He takes this opportunity and sure is greedy with it, wanting more and more sleep time with you. It's one way to claim you, and at the moment it's enough for him, but don't think he won't demand more in the soon future..

Lilia feels heartbroken. First that the prefect, his beloved, has shown this love that he would love to have for someone else (especially two people), it breaks his heart. What breaks his heart even more is how he needs to go against his own sons for his beloved too. But he will do whatever it takes to secure you for himself.

When he meets you after hearing about the tattoo, he tries act as normal as possible, not wanting to scare you away with his desperation. Despite that though, he will also try to advance, because he is NOT losing to all these youngsters, he's old enough to know exactly how to treat someone right. Let him treat your right, please, he begs of you....

Malleus feels like there's a storm inside him, getting worse by every second he thinks about that forsaken tattoo you have. He activately tries to think less about it, not wanting the whole school to be stuck in a storm for weeks, especially when you're situated in that poor awful old and decrepid building. He will try to smite ace and Deuce if he has the choise to though-

After the anger dies down, that's when the sadness flows in. The fact that he was not your favorite, that he was not worth his own tattoo, frankly brings him to tears. He has never been denied something in his life, especially something that he wants so badly. It's a foreign feeling, and a horrible one at that.

He is an attention hungry dragon, give him what he wants and he will give you the world without question. Just, please, give him the love and affection he both crave and deserves...

Chat, im tired. Let me sleep- FINALLY THIS SERIES IS FINISHED! or so I thought- o will focus on other comics/ideas before I come back for the endings tho, because I kinda wanna do other stuff and not just the tattoo shenanigans yknow :) one again huge thanks to @artdolliewishes for lots of support and help lmao

I hope yall enjoyed this shitshow of a series atleast, was lots of fun to create after all

[oediex]

You know what, yeah, that bell hooks quotation wasn't appropriate, it doesn't say what the person who added it think it says.

But I don't think it's fair to say that that man who everyone is pissing on somehow claimed we had to "hold his hand" or "coddle" him or whatever. Or even that women had to do it.

He never once even mentioned the word 'woman' in that post. I'm not excluding that that what he was implying - it's very possible! - but what he said was "the left", and let's be clear, this is his understanding of what the left is. I saw people saying that a "self-proclaimed leftist" should understand that his answer was still drenched in patriarchal thinking. But he never once proclaimed he was a leftist. Perhaps he thinks he is, but all he said was that he got "out" of the "alt-right". For all we know, that means he voted for the Democratic Party and we, who are on the left, all know that's not the fucking left.

The question that was posed was how do we keep young men from turning right wing, and he offered an explanation. An explanation! Not an excuse! Again something that a lot of people just assumed.

And yes, it was a flawed explanation, and yes he has some things to learn, and yes it was uncritical and terribly phrased.

But can we recognise that not everyone has the necessary critical thinking skills to completely dig their way out of the overarching ideology that fucking rules our lives? Critical thinking skills aren't something that we are born with. It's something that is learned, something that you have to train. It's a never-ending project. And from what I know of the educational system in the US? That's not where you get it.

Speaking of bell hooks, at least she understands this. In that book (The Will to Change) she writes that "most men never think about patriarchy - what it means, how it is created and sustained." She writes how the patriarchy sees men's violence and the one emotion they're allowed to have, anger, as "natural". Understanding the patriarchy is something that has to be learned, and you either figure it out yourself by reading, but most of us probably had someone in our lives who talked to us about it, taught us about it, and then we might have started reading more about it.

What if you don't have someone like that? What if all you hear is that the things feminists tell you is bad is what was imprinted on you as "natural" to you?

Here's bell hooks:

Yet no one talks about the role patriarchal notions of manhood play in teaching boys that it is their nature to kill, then teaching them that they can do nothing to change this nature—nothing, that is, that will leave their masculinity intact.

Here's what she says of her own brother:

As patriarchal thinking and action claimed him in adolescence, he learned to mask his loving feelings. He entered that space of alienation and antisocial behavior deemed “natural” for adolescent boys.

She clearly pinpoints the moment of these patriarchal ideas taking hold to be in adolescent, and the question that was posed was, what can we do to stop that from happening? I've seen people say that nothing can be done until we change the material conditions that make it so that men systematically have power over women. And yeah, undoubtedly that is a fight we need to have. But is that truly the only way we can keep (some) boys from falling into the grasp of the (alt-)right? Is there no hope in at least reaching them in the meantime?

I've seen a post saying, "omg of course he goes for misandry" and while misandry isn't real in that men are not systematically oppressed, that doesn't mean that there aren't some out there who express hatred or disgust of men. That's not what the left stands for, obviously, but it is not absent. Here are some comments from the notes on some of these reaction posts (and presumably these are all people who consider themselves leftists):

"you should be hunted for sport"

"makes me want to commit homocide"

"kys right now"

"'leftists constantly said i should die' yeah fucking right"

"we need to double male loneliness and I'm not even kidding"

"I HATE MEN AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. THEY HATE US MORE AND THEY HAVE ALL THE POWER TO DO ACTUAL HARM TO US. Misandry is NOT FUCKING REAL but I wish it was"

"we should kill people who don't get it"

Is that hatred of men (non-systematically)? Not all of it, but some of it definitely or possibly qualifies. And it sure does look like some people (who probably think themselves leftists) think this man (or men in general) are the "scum of the earth" and that they want him/them dead. How else do you interpret some of these phrases?

Now imagine that this is something that you encounter online, and with the help of the stranglehold of the patriarchy, whispers of right wing ideology, confirmation bias, and negativity bias? I can imagine you might end up concluding they "hate you for your immutable traits" (remember patriarchy teaches boys that violence and anger is natural to them) and that they "blame you for everything that's wrong in the world".

Is that the right conclusion? No. But as much as being able to use reason is part of being human, so is not being immune to ideology and propaganda. We wouldn't fucking be where we are right now if that wasn't the case.

How do we teach boys that anger and violence aren't "immutable traits"? How do we educate them about the power of the patriarchy? Well, where does it have to come from if not from the fucking left?

Does it have to be you? No. Does it have to be women? Also no. It's probably good if it's men, and especially men who themselves walked with the right at some point (if someone has already been pulled into the right, rather than catching them before).

It can be a woman though, if there's someone who wants to do it. I don't mind doing it if someone wants to talk about it. Will I be nice? No, I won't hold back and I will tell them if what they're saying is wrong. Will I coddle them? Fuck no. Will I keep trying if someone clearly isn't listening? No. Will I be compassionate? Yeah, I think I will.

Because compassion is really important when you're trying to keep people from falling into the far-right, or even if you're trying to get them out of it (which again, isn't what we were talking about in the first place).

Here's Pete Simi, professor of Sociology, talking about Life After Hate, an American non-profit that tries to help people leave the far-right:

The organization was started by former hate group members who have been doing a lot of outreach in terms of providing testimonials and trainings to schools and law enforcement and other community groups across the country. The focus of their message is the importance of using compassion to inform prevention and intervention efforts and aftercare for individuals who want to change their lives but may need various types of support. I think LAH is a very promising development and I hope it will continue to find the resources that it needs to expand the services it provides.

Being compassionate doesn't mean coddling. It doesn't mean holding their hands and it doesn't even mean being nice to them. It doesn't exclude holding people accountable for their views. It does require patience, though. And I understand that if someone is holding the belief that you are not allowed to exist, that isn't something you can do. And that's fine. It doesn't have to be you.

But somebody has to do it, and it has to be someone on the left.

Now none of that means that the suffering of men under patriarchy, and the fact that this has to be addressed loud and clear, are more important than the suffering that women, and especially women whose oppression intersects with other levels of oppression. I've seen some tags on reaction posts that stated "omg of course centring men in discussions of gender" - but the post was about men. That was the whole starting point!

Because men do suffer under the patriarchy. And it's pushing them to the right, towards misogyny and racism, unless they develop the necessary critical thinking skills to understand their own suffering. And you know who thinks so too? bell hooks.

Often men, to speak the pain, first turn to the women in their lives and are refused a hearing. In many ways women have bought into the patriarchal masculine mystique. Asked to witness a male expressing feelings, to listen to those feelings and respond, they may simply turn away.

Since men have yet to organize a feminist men’s movement that would proclaim the rights of men to emotional awareness and expression, we will not know how many men have indeed tried to express feelings, only to have the women in their lives tune out or be turned off.

It is a form of abuse that this culture continues to deny. Boys socialized to become patriarchs are being abused. As victims of child abuse via socialization in the direction of the patriarchal ideal, boys learn that they are unlovable.

The patriarchal model that tells men that they must be in control at all times is at odds with cultivating the capacity to be responsible, which requires knowing when to control and when to surrender and let go. Responsible men are capable of self-criticism. If more men were doing the work of self-critique, then they would not be wounded, hurt, or chagrined when critiqued by others, especially women with whom they are intimate. Engaging in self-critique empowers responsible males to admit mistakes. When they have wronged others, they are willing to acknowledge wrongdoing and make amends. When others have wronged them, they are able to forgive. The ability to be forgiving is part of letting go of perfectionism and accepting vulnerability. At the same time, constructive criticism works only when it is linked to a process of affirmation. Giving affirmation is an act of emotional care. Wounded men are not often able to say anything positive. They are the grump-and-groan guys; cloaked in cynicism, they stand at an emotional distance from themselves and others. Affirmation brings us closer together. It is the highest realization of compassion and empathy with others. One of the negative aspects of antimale feminist critiques of masculinity was the absence of any affirmation of that which is positive and potentially positive in male being. When individuals, including myself, wrote about the necessity of affirming men and identifying them as comrades in struggle, we were often labeled male-identified. The women who attacked us did not understand that it was possible to critique patriarchy without hating men. Indeed, recognizing all the ways that males have been victimized by patriarchy (even though they received rewards) was a way of including men in feminist movement, welcoming their presence and honoring their contribution.

“in order to create loving males we need to love males” means teach boys that they can be themselves without being less of a man. it means being encouraging and nurturing of their emotions so they don’t become cold and hateful. it means showing boys, early in their lives, that they have value outside of what our society deems proper masculinity. what it doesn’t mean is that it’s our job to handhold men who see women as walking sex toys through the concept of empathy, and maybe if we’re really really nice to them and don’t say things that hurt their feelings they’ll stop killing us for saying no

[gilbertscurls]

Hurt Again ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt gets hurt. again.

You rushed through the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Chris had called you, sounding panicked, but it was Matt’s name he’d dropped—Matt was hurt, again.

You found Matt in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, clutching his side with a blood-stained towel. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed in discomfort, and even though he tried to act tough, you could see the pain etched on his face.

“Matt!” You dropped your bag and rushed to his side, panic clear in your voice. “You’re hurt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt, trying to keep his usual cool exterior intact, looked up with a half-smirk. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You’re bleeding!” You grabbed the towel from him to check the wound, and sure enough, there was a nasty gash running along his ribcage. He winced but said nothing.

“What happened?” you demanded, voice tight with worry as you grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. “And don’t even try to tell me it was nothing.”

Matt sighed, leaning against the counter. “I was trying to fix the shelf in my room. It’s been loose for a while. Didn’t realize it was that loose, though. Came down with half my tools.”

You shook your head, your hands moving quickly to clean the wound. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You could’ve called for help, you know.”

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” he muttered, his tone defensive but softened by the pain.

You shot him a look, your eyes narrowing. “Of course you didn’t.”

The room fell into a tense silence as you worked, carefully cleaning the gash and applying pressure. Matt, as usual, was trying to act like it didn’t bother him, but you could see his jaw tighten every time you pressed down on the wound.

After a few moments, you sighed, your voice softer now. “Why is it always you, Matt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt glanced down, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t great at opening up, even to you, but there was something in the way you asked that made him pause. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just unlucky.”

You looked up at him, frustration and concern warring in your expression. “Or maybe you’re too stubborn for your own good. You don’t always have to do everything by yourself, you know?”

He huffed, trying to shrug it off. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice cracked slightly, the worry you’d been holding back leaking through. “You’re always hurt, Matt. Whether it’s stuff like this or keeping everything bottled up. You don’t let anyone help you.”

Matt met your gaze, and for once, his usual walls seemed to falter. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Your hands stilled for a moment as you processed his words. You’d known Matt long enough to understand that he wasn’t great at accepting help, but hearing him admit it—hearing the vulnerability in his voice—hit you harder than you expected.

“You’re not a burden,” you said softly, placing a bandage over the wound. “You never have been.”

Matt looked away, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I don’t know how to… let people in. Not like you do.”

You smiled, despite the situation. “I know. But maybe you could try? You don’t always have to be the tough guy. It’s okay to let people care about you.”

For a moment, Matt didn’t say anything, just stood there as you finished patching him up. When you were done, you stepped back, your eyes searching his face for some sign that he was listening.

Finally, he sighed, his defenses lowering. “I’ll try.”

You smiled, the warmth in your eyes chasing away the tension that had been building. “Good. Because the next time you try to take on the world by yourself and end up hurt, I’m going to kill you.”

Matt chuckled, wincing slightly as he adjusted his stance. “Deal.”

You stood there for a moment, the usual distance between you replaced by a quiet understanding. Matt wasn’t one to show his emotions easily, and you had always known that, but now—now, you felt like maybe you were finally starting to bridge that gap.

“You don’t have to keep getting hurt to prove you’re strong, you know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

Matt met your eyes, and for once, there was no smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just a quiet, genuine look that said more than his words ever could.

“I know,” he murmured. “And thanks… for always being there.”

You smiled, your heart swelling a little at his rare display of vulnerability. “Always.”

And maybe, just maybe, Matt would finally start letting you in.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[iomoru]

Fixing his posture

➢ 𝐀/𝐧: Sitetampo is so fine I swear, I wish people would start making fanfics of him ╥﹏╥ (you can also imagine this with any char you want!)

➢ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Modern! Au, Fluff, Gn! Reader, Implied Tall! Reader (not mentioned), Second Person, Proofread

➢ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When he hunches over while gaming, you can’t resist fixing his posture. He secretly loves it, so he keeps slouching just to get your attention—until you jokingly threaten to sit in his lap. With a grin, he pulls you in, admitting that’s exactly what he wanted.

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

The rapid tapping of keys and muffled, excited mumbling fill the room as he gets lost in the game yet again. You can’t help but smile, watching him from a distance as he leans in, his back arched, shoulders hunched, totally absorbed in his screen.

You quietly step over, and without saying a word, place your hands on his shoulders, gently urging them back. He grumbles, but doesn’t resist, letting you straighten him out. “You know, one day your back is going to give out if you keep that up,” you chide softly.

He just huffs under his breath. “Yeah, yeah…”

But the second you walk away, he slips right back into his usual posture. He knows you’re watching, and he waits for the inevitable sound of your sigh.

“Again?” you say, trying to keep a stern tone, though you can’t hide the amusement in your voice.

He smirks to himself, then, right on cue, mumbles something about“bad habits.” It doesn’t take long before you’re back by his side, nudging him into a straighter stance.

This little dance repeats a few more times, with him sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye, secretly delighted every time you come over. And finally, after the umpteenth slouch, you cross your arms and give him a mock-stern look.

“Alright,” you say, voice brimming with playful resolve, “if you don’t stop that, I’ll have to sit in your lap to keep you in line.”

His eyes widen, and for a second, you think you might’ve actually embarrassed him—until he swiftly reaches out, pulling you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you as if he’s daring you to complain. A hint of a blush creeps into his cheeks, but his grin is anything but bashful.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted all along,” he murmurs, gaze softening as he looks up at you.

Your breath catches as you take in his unexpectedly gentle expression. “Guess I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you from now on,” you whisper back, settling comfortably in his embrace.

And from then on, he doesn’t seem too worried about his posture—as long as you’re there to straighten him out.

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[rosewaterandivy]

vena amoris

Summary: some part of me must have died / the first time that you called me “Baby”

Pairing: s.h. x reader

W.C.: 2.5K

Themes: the usual— repressed feelings, smut mentions, Cabaret quotes, Steve ‘down bad’ Harrington™️

A/N: well ahoy there! Did I take a mental health day and brain rot this into being? You bet! Title is Latin for “the vein of love.”

“Oh god,” You’d remarked, with a knowing smirk and lifted brow. “Can you imagine?”

Your tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t a whimsical, starry-eyed, sigh filled statement coming from a naive girl.

No, instead it was a wry, flippant remark laden with sarcasm and pity as the woman by the college green gleefully sobbed out a yes, yes, of course! to a polite smattering of applause as her newly minted fiancé slipped a sparkling band onto her finger.

“And on graduation day, no less.” You bat away the few hairs that had flown into your face buoyed by the summer breeze, your graduation gown fluttering about your legs. “Damn my guy, let the woman have her moment jeez.”

Steve struggled to laugh and maintain composure, because the thing was, he actually could imagine it, and had even done so himself from time to time. The time honored predicament of “keeping it casual” while remaining friends.

He remembers it clear as day, how you’d met in front of the dining hall as he’d overslept (again) and rushed to shove his pockets full of cereal before his morning lecture so as to not fall asleep during Macroeconomics.

”Hey, Buck-o!” You’d crowed from the table riddled with pens, to-go coffee cups, and clipboards, “Are you registered to vote?”

All he can remember thinking, after the pre-requisite it’s too damn early for this was the ever eloquent, well, fuck me.

Nevermind that you were wearing a Reagan Ruined Everything shirt accompanied by the flaming visage of the man. Nevermind that your friend merely snorted at your bombastic accosting of students for the sake of democracy. Nevermind that several people had shoulder checked him in their rush to get waffles and coffee.

”Ritchie Rich,” You’d said with a smile, “Voting solely for your interests or ready to join the proletariat with the rest of us?”

It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least. You, a blue-blood former ballet dancer until “my tits grew in” majoring in poli-sci and him, the sole progeny of a captain of industry on the ivy-league to corporate office pipeline.

So, it really was inevitable that you’d fall into bed together. Even without your grandparents wheedling and match-making attempts. But still, you weren’t dating— he wasn’t that kind of guy and you weren’t even interested in a relationship anyway.

It was sex and friendship, that was all.

Argento movie marathons because it was “a crime you’ve never seen something outside of a cineplex, Harrington,” underneath mountains of a goose-down duvet. Trips to the Cape just to pass the time, M&M’s riddling the hardwood floors in front of a roaring fire with his head between your thighs. Dragging him out on cold autumn mornings to canvass for local elections. Late nights where you’d pass out in front of the flickering tv screen after watching Bitter Rice.

Sure, Robin side-eyed the entire situation and Dustin never failed to remind him how much of an idiot Steve was being. But, in fairness, it was never something that struck either of you as odd.

It was college, people do weirder and more detrimental shit all the time without the evergreen excuse of misguided youth. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Eddie was the one to ruin it all.

“Dude,” He’d said, surprisingly serious as he loaded up his bike for the drive back to New York. “Not for nothin, but if I were you Harrington,” He inclined his head toward where you were at the coffee cart. “I’d lock that shit down.”

”Whaddya mean? We’re just friends.”

“Sure buddy,” Eddie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

But did he really think about it after that? Of course not, just continued to careen toward graduation and the inevitable.

He was destined for great things, according to his father: continuing the family legacy and filling the coffers, working abroad in Europe for year post-grad and securing those overseas accounts.

So when he wasn’t suffering through mind-numbing lectures, and being at dear old dad’s beck and call, Steve was doing what he did best: wilding with the gang or hanging out with you.

Which mostly resulted in fucking at increasingly creative locations at your place or his, but he digresses.

His graduation was uneventful— his father sternly nodded his approval while his mother posed them like dolls for a family photo. They’d drug him to a prolonged who’s who of his father’s connections under the guise of a celebration dinner, to which none of his friends had been invited.

Steve had schlepped himself back to the apartment, less drunk than he would’ve preferred given the circumstances. Only to be greeted by you at the door, in one of your more creative get-ups consisting of a 1920’s boudoir set with stockings.

Plum-painted lips split like a ripe fruit, white pearly teeth gleamed in the dim hallway light. And his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,” You gently kick the door of his apartment the rest of the way open to reveal people packed to the brim inside— Robin, Dustin, Eddie.

“Fremde, étrange, stranger.”

Because of course you’d throw him a going away party, themed no less (“Cabaret only seemed appropriate since you’re Berlin-bound come morning,”). The drinks are flowing and the music is thumping and all he wants to do is kiss you, so he does.

And the world doesn’t cease to turn, the music doesn’t stop, his friends don’t give a damn. No one is shocked by this turn of events, not even the elusive ex of Stanford fame Nancy Wheeler.

Because if there’s one thing that everyone knows, well everyone excluding you because if you somehow caught on to him Steve might actually drop dead right then and there—

What everyone knew was this: Steve Harrington was not and had never been a casual guy.

He heard Eddie mumble something about Sisyphus into his drink before pulling him off of you. Your lipstick was smeared and a little patchy now, but he sure as shit didn’t care, his own mouth was probably branded now too, bruise-colored as if he’d bitten into an overripe stone fruit.

A big deal is made about getting the King a drink, as Eddie all but frog marches Steve to the bar.

“So,” He greets, clapping him on the back, “You’re down bad.”

Steve nearly chokes on the beer, the frothy foam ticking at his nose. He swallows past his heart lodged in his throat, and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell that to your mouth, Liza,” He sweeps a thumb against Steve’s bottom lip, it comes back riddled in purple lipstick. “You know you leave tomorrow, right?”

Steve turns back to the bar and signals for a shot of something, anything really. He sips at his beer in the interim, letting Eddie’s declaration linger in the air between them.

They drink in silence until Robin stumbles in, dragging Steve away claiming “besties before the resties!”

He spies you and Dustin chatting nearby, you catch his eye with a lascivious and exaggerated wink before throwing your head back in laughter at something the dingus had said.

The party rages on for hours— he’s already packed and ready to go for his flight tomorrow, and he knows you’d put a lot of effort into this send off, but Steve would like nothing more than to wrap himself around you and fall into bed. Eventually someone catches onto this and alerts the guests that they “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Steve doesn’t know who to thank for that, Nancy maybe. He’ll figure it out later. At that moment, he was more concerned with getting those glasses out of your hands and that garter belt on the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You’d asked in the early morning light, watching as he stumbled into his pants and threw on a shirt.

Your face was freshly scrubbed of your makeup from last night, soft and open as your eyes trailed him from your spot in his bed.

He was a weak, weak man when he’d sat down with a sigh and asked, “Tell me not to go?”

He can hear you shuffle across the bed, can feel the warmth of your body as it drapes against his back.

“Tell me not go to,” Steve continues, “Tell me to blow off my dad, the Harrington destiny, tell me to fuck it all and that I can figure something else out.”

You nose along the column of his throat, lips settling at the nape of his neck. His hand finds its way to yours, arms wrapped against his shoulders, fingers dancing along his collarbone. He links a solitary finger with yours crooking into each other like monkeys in a barrel.

“Oh babe,” You sigh, the pet name rolling prettily off your tongue, “You know I won’t do that, as much as I would delight in smearing the Harrington name.”

You grip him all the tighter.

“You have a plane to catch and a life to start. A life you were dragged kicking and screaming into but you know what?”

“What?”

“The only way out is through, Steve.” You rest your head on his shoulder, continuing, “The changes you want to make? Well, it’s your life so make them. Who’s going to stop you? You’re a blue-blood white man in a world built to serve people like you.”

“Are you going to lecture me about the patriarchy? Because it’s too early for that—"

“I’ll spare you, just this once.” You tease, “But no, I’m just saying that you have options and it’s a year away from your father. Take advantage of it.”

Steve knows you mean well, that you’re trying to put a positive spin on his departure but still, it hurts.

He stands back up with what he hopes is a believable smile on his face. He expects to see you settled back in the sheets when he turns around, not hopping on one leg as you attempt to jam your foot into your Vans with one hand, while clawing into a bra with the other. Somehow, you’re already in sweatpants.

He can barely restrain his laugh, “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, accompanying you to the airport, duh.”

And if his heart wasn’t already broken, surely this would’ve been the nail in the coffin.

“No, don’t get up.”

“Too late for that.”

“My bags are already in the car,” He tries again, trailing after you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

“Great! Do we have time for coffee?”

“No, seriously,” Steve catches your hand before it can land on the doorknob, tugging you back from the door.

“But,” Your voice has lost its joking tone and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I have to say goodbye. I have to wave at you from the gate.”

“They won’t let you past security.”

“Then I’ll wave from there,” You say with a sniff, blinking the tears from your eyes. “I have to go, please.”

Steve, in that moment, chooses to glance up at the rafters of his loft apartment in an effort to keep his emotions in check. So he misses how greedily your eyes take him in, as if it’s for the last time, how you’re biting your lip so hard as to draw blood.

And by the time he looks back down again, you’ve found a spot on the floor to stare steadily at.

“Hey,” He says, curling a finger under your chin prompting you to glance up. Steve gives you a watery smile at best before imploring, “I need you to listen to me, please.”

He waits for your nod of assent before continuing.

“Everything is all set— I’ve paid the rent on the apartment for the next year, so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you won’t use the car service, but there’s a few more weeks left on that too, so.”

Your face falls with the finality of it all. That Steve is actually leaving, that he’ll be in Europe for the next year “growing up” as his father intended. And that maybe you should’ve done more to help him want to stay.

“There’s a ticket for you on the counter for after midterms, I’ll meet you in London and we can do whatever you want, just like we agreed.”

You nod quickly and take a short breath. He kisses you on the forehead and promises to call once he lands.

As his hand twists open the door, you blurt out:

“Please don’t do this. Let me come with you to the airport. You’re going to be gone for so long and—"

“Baby.”

And you know he’s serious because that diminutive is solely reserved for when you’re at least two orgasms deep and he’s got your knees up by your ears. Sweat-slick and ruddy-mouthed, your whole world narrowed to focus on him, desperate longing veiled by throes of passion.

Steve doesn’t even turn back, and you can hear how his voice shakes. “If you go with me, I won’t get on the plane.”

Your arm drops from where you’d reached after him, hadn’t even registered the action as you did it.

In a small, guilty voice you say, “I know.”

The muscles of his back feather as he sighs, his grip on the doorknob knuckle-white. He knows you can’t really mean it, that it’s the scared, vulnerable part of you stumbling as you offer him an olive branch; a way out.

In the end, he got on the plane anyway.

Smash-cut to a year later, the same college green but this time it’s not him in the graduation cap and gown. Steve took the week off for your graduation festivities, flew back into Logan then rented a car for the drive to Cambridge. Made nice with your parents and grandparents, shook your grandfather’s hand politely when he’d said that Steve was a “fine boy from a fine family,” and tried in vain to forget the fact that this is the same man who’d learned his granddaughter was sexually active with him, mind you, in front of no less than a missionary, a minister, and a rabbi.

But all of that is neither here nor there, as you clap politely for the newly engaged couple, pinning your mortarboard beneath your elbow. And because he knows you, Steve catches your eye roll sequence, surely at the audacity of That Man who proposed on his girlfriend's graduation day, from Harvard no less.

He snatches the satin covered cardboard from you, and throws an arm around your shoulders walking you toward the rager of a graduation party Eddie was throwing at your apartment.

“I know,” He says conspiratorially, relishing as you lean into him. “God forbid a woman do anything.”

Your laugh is a good distraction for him, something loud and joyful to focus on as the ring box in his left pocket sinks like a stone.

[ultralightpoe]

Sticky - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Yeah the fandom is EATING with this song and that trailer so I figured I might as well feed into my own obsessions. -Ultralight

Song Inspo - Sticky from Tyler The Creator

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Fighting, reference to smexy times

Requests: OPEN [working on the first round now]

MAIN MASTER LIST

[Thank you for the gif @unearthlydust ]

Enjoy!

It’s the bitter laugh that no one wants to hear, that’s the moment when the realization begins setting in. The chill down his spine, locking in the fear as the cold sweat begins to form, knuckles tightening around his glass of whiskey. 

The room wasn’t cold, with the fire crackling just a few feet away, so there wasn’t really a reason for him to be shivering. But that cold embrace of fear was wrapping Declan Morarie like a blanket. He was a man coming to the realization he was about to die. 

It was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, sat at the end of the long table she hadn’t been invited to, in a home she hadn’t been welcome in but still sat in nevertheless. In the beginning of Declans career he always wondered how people remembered her full name, but watching the women now he understood. She was completely untouchable. 

“Oh come on now,” She teases, clapping her hands together in excitement as that same bitter laugh passes her lips. “I’m excited for the show.” 

“You think this is funny?” He bites out.

“Well from my seat I think it’s pretty great. I, however, would never want to be the one getting hunted down by Bucky Barnes and his fucking wife.” She chuckles, pulling a piece of lint off her dress. 

“And how….” He has to take a breath in to compose himself, slamming the glass on the table before him. “How did they get to me?”

“You tortured her for years, your very own project….. Well her and 20 others. Honestly it was only a matter of time before they tracked you down.” She explains, standing up and walking herself to the bartop. 

“And you didn’t happen to put my name in their ear?”

“Barnes will be my problem….. On another day.” She nods, pouring herself a shot and turning to him to cheers before downing it. “But today, he’s yours.” 

She slams the glass down until it splatters across the entire floor, her heels crunching into it as she waltzes to grab her coat. “I do apologize old friend, and I am….. Hopeful? Yes, that seems like a decent word, I’m hopeful you will succeed surviving.”

“I will.” He sneers, but even the words fall flat.

“Oh I’m sure you will.” She laughs, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Though I do hear things get a bit sticky when those two decide they want someone dead.”

- 

“Who would have thought that this… hunting down the bad guys of the world could be soooo… hmmm.” You tilt your chin up in a quiet contemplation as your husband frets over your suit. He busies himself with checking all the safety measures you both had designed for the suits when you decided they would be worn again. 

“Tiring.”

“Cathartic,” You hum back, sliding your hands down to snatch onto his own and bring them up so he can stop fretting. “You’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You are.” You argue, kissing the knuckles of his metal hand before doing the same to his flesh hand. “You didn’t get much sleep and now you’re tired and grumpy. I don’t like when you do this grumpy.”

“No more with the word grumpy. You have overused it.” He huffs, leaning to kiss your forehead. 

“Fine, ill-tempered.”

“Hardly,”

“Testy.” 

“Not even close.”

“Crotchety.”

“Really? We’re going that far?”

“Hmmmm. Waspish. How about that?”

“I….. will allow it if it means we can just get this over with.” He kisses around your face, using his metal hand to tilt your face for easier access while you fight off a smile and push him back. 

“You know what to do.”

“Straight to business then.” And though he turns his back to you he keeps you close while using the tech pad to monitor the halls of the building you both were about to enter. 

“He doubled up on guards. Someone warned him.” He analyzes, shifting a bit to show you the footage. “Valentina.”

“Hmmm.” You choose not to actually respond, allowing your husband to work through his own anger and suspicion while you watch the guards to begin learning the patterns. 

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” You defend, passing the tech back. “But I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself. That is a hunt for another day.” 

“You ready?”

“Of course.” And it’s easy, the way you two fall to the plan so naturally, having worked together for years now. He lets you pass by him, his flesh hand catching a strand of your hair as you strut past, casting him one more glance before disappearing to find your entrance. 

Once you are at your mark you place the comm in, tapping it twice to make sure it works as you begin slicing the door with the silent laser. 

“Placed?” Bucky asks after a moment, meaning he had made it to his own mark. 

“You know it.” You mutter, pushing the door open in the small place you had cut before easily sliding in, your feet near silent on the ground as you watch the hall and begin trekking through. 

Moving like a shadow should never have been this easy, and yet it was, all thanks to the man you were here to kill. 

“будь в безопасности.” He mutters in your ear, his voice a soft caress in the first moment you hear steps approaching. ‘Be Safe’, his favorite thing to say since he knew you didn’t need luck. 

“être en sécurité,” You repeat his saying back to him, this time in french just to bother him since he could never speak it fluently. 

And then you finally meet the person walking closer, but before he can even prepare himself you are already sliding across the floor to kick out his legs before you swipe the overly large gun from his hip and knock him out with it, sliding on your knees to face forward with the stolen gun and raise yourself back to your feet. 

Each movement is a simple glide, one in front of the other as you trace the hall for movement. The plan was simple, meet in the middle and make your way up. You just had to shut down all the exits first. 

You started with the elevators, opening the first and shooting the controls until the light within it flickers and marking it useless and moving to the second one. When the doors slide open a guard moves to rush out, and you use his outstretched arm to heft him over your shoulder until you are throwing him to the floor and twisting until you hear a snap. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, kicking him away as you hear Bucky grunt within the comms as he finds his own issues. You mimic the movements you had used on the other elevator before rushing to the front entrance and using their own night time security gates against them. Locking anyone from leaving and keeping anyone from entering. 

And now that you were finished with that you began you started your way to meet your husband. 

It only took 15 minutes and by the time you do find him he’s leaning on the wall like nothing else mattered, tilting his metal hand under the light above him to admire the etching done for your wedding. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” You murmur, your tone seductive as you lean next to him. “What’s a place like this doing in a guy like you? …….Wait, don’t I have that backward?” 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m sure we’ll find a lot of things backwards.”

“Oh,” You blink, staring at him. “I honestly can’t tell if that was sexual or a threat.”

“Then why can I practically hear your heart beating through your chest?”

“I never said I wouldn’t like it as either.” You huff, turning on your toes and signaling him to follow you. “You’re very beguiling.”

“Another big word. Should I be worried?”

“You got me the dictionary. Which I was slightly offended by.” You huff, twisting your body up the stairs as you see a figure in the corner of your vision, working with grace to pull him down and over the railing. “Stop flirting with me Barnes.”

“You stop flirting with me, Barnes.” He snaps back, making sure that guard stays down before using his gun and following you as back up. “Almost there.”

“Noted.” You murmur, shooting the tech pad to enter the door from the stairwell. The second the door swings open there are guards swarming you both, but it is lightwork when you both work together. 

The man that went to punch you met Bucky's metal fist before he could even make contact, the knife that almost hits Bucky’s mid section is easily lost the second you kick the wrist holding it. Like a bloody tango, every motion has a repercussion. 

“Любовь [love],” You huff, spinning to take out two men while facing Bucky. He reads your idea the second you make eye contact, allowing you to use his thigh as a stepping stool and throw one leg over his shoulder. 

He shoots the men in front of you both as he makes his way down the hall, you taking out the men coming up to flank you. 

By the time you reach the double doors holding the enemy within,  you swing off his shoulder with ease before an unknown figure rushes you both. 

You are thrown back, back meeting the floor as you slide while Bucky is thrown into the wall. 

“What the…..” He starts. 

“Fuck.” You finish, upon seeing who just hit you both. 

He was tall, with red eyes and a sneer on his face, yet another over drugged super soldier. 

Bucky is the first to regain himself, standing quickly and pushing himself into the soldier to knock the weight off and send him down. Only he pushes back, both men stuck in the hold, so you launch up. 

Your hands hit your husbands shoulders and you vault over him to lock your thighs around the neck of the soldier and twisting your body to send him flying back with you. 

Unlike you, however, he doesn’t manage to catch himself and falls on his back. Bucky is there, foot on his neck as you pull the gun and finish him off before moving to kick in the door and find Declan Morarie.

He doesn’t say anything, merely turning to the door with a bottle in hand as he staggers for balance. 

“Fuck.” 

“Fuck.” Bucky mocks, giving you a look before you both rush at him. 

-

“I think you need to go to bed.” You huff, watching your husband pull out the paperwork the second you both got home, after dropping your duffel bags by the doors. “No work.”

“I need to review her bills, she’s hiding something in plain sight-” His conspiracy theories about Valentina were interrupted by you slipping your shirt off and throwing it at him. 

“A hunt for another day then.” He amends, following you into the bedroom as quickly as he can.

[minimomoe]

The Little Things

AN: I was listening to Sexy to Someone by Clairo and thought of Nanami. short, fluffy drabble

You stood in front of the elevator and waited for the metal box to ascend to your floor. It was 8pm, well past office hours, but time waits for no man and you had work to finish. All that mattered now is that you were done. You could slip out of your drab work clothing and crawl into bed as soon as you got home.

You had hoped that you could ride down alone, but you found yourself holding the door open for Kento Nanami, your unrequited work crush. He swept in, his cologne filling up the air and you didn't find it nauseating in the slightest. It was clean, green, and oh so sexy.

"Thank you for waiting for me. Most people would let it close in my face."

"You're too not bad of company," you teased.

He smiled back down at you and you felt heat rush up to your face. It wasn't fair at all. He couldn't be this gorgeous with pretty brown eyes and be one of the nicest people you have ever met. You might not even make it down the elevator with how fast your heart thumped in your chest.

"So why did--"

"You look--"

You had both started talking at the same time. He laughed, apologized, and asked for you to go first.

"I was just gonna ask why are you staying so late?"

"They're pulling a lot of people from my department. Someone had to pick up the slack," he sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and it fell over in perfect tresses. How annoying. How gorgeous.

"Tell me about it. They're doing the same to us in the marketing department. The quarter's almost over so hopefully the workload will lessen."

You could do this with him. Small talk. Safe talk. There was nothing that could go wrong here. Nanami couldn't hear your heart racing in your chest. You just had to keep your cool.

"What were you going to say?" You remembered.

"Oh-- it... I don't think it matters anymore."

The handsome, suave Nanami was stuttering. You had the man stuttering. You snapped your head forward as if you were afraid you messed with the balance of the universe. He cleared his throat and looked at you once again.

"I hope that this doesn't come off... inappropriate. I think that blue looks wonderful with your complexion. And you got new glasses last week. I never got to compliment them."

Your ears were ringing. Did you hear him correctly? Nanami watched you, has kept you in his sights to know that your glasses have changed and complimented your favorite work dress. You peered up at him and his ears were flaming red. Your unrequited work crush could possibly be requited after all.

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami," you said softly with a shy smile. "It almost looks like were matching, right?"

He looked down at his own blue suit and chuckled. "It does, doesn't it."

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly slid opened. Nanami held his hand out for you to leave first and followed behind. You were keenly aware of how close he was to your body as you both said goodnight to the security guard on your way out of the building.

"Well... Good night to you too, Nanami. Try not to work yourself too hard this weekend," you waved. You started on the opposite direction before he called out your name.

"Would you... like to have a meal with me? I know a place," he asked.

You bit back a smile. Never would you have imagined that Kento of all people could get so shy. He patiently awaited your answer but you noticed his jaw tightening.

"I don't know. It's getting pretty late," you teased.

"This place is only open from 8pm to 12am. And a meal is always better with someone to eat with."

He was practically begging you to come with. You gingerly took your step towards him and his smile widened.

"I can take your bag," he offered. He slipped it off your shoulder and you softly hissed at his fingers grazing your shoulder. His eyes darkened at the sound but kept on strutting down the street. Once again, his ears were blushing and you internally squealed. To think that you were rushing to go home only to end up on a date with Nanami. Was this a date?

Only your brain to mouth filter was broken, and you actually asked the question out loud. He gave you a fond look. "I would like for it to be."

You hooked your hand around his raised arm. All this time you thought that your feelings would never be reciprocated, but it looks like you were sexy to someone after all.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[redrose10]

This was a request for fake dating with Jungkook and prompt #40 I think I have always been in love with you for @yoongznme. I hope you like it!

< Lemonade >

Warnings: Hints of body insecurities

#40 “I think, I have always been in love with you.”

*******************************************************

“I’m sorry what?”, you asked them to repeat themselves for the third time still not believing what you were hearing. When your boss asked to have a word with you about a promotion you thought it would include a few extra responsibilities and hopefully a much needed raise because being a makeup artist for an award winning kpop group did not really pay as well as you’d think.

You never expected to be told that you would be pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend though. It was some crazy plan that the company’s PR team came up with after he had recently gotten some bad press over something dumb and out of his control but at the end of the day it was still bad press effecting numbers which effected profit.

They thought that it would be a good idea to make it look like he was a loving, sweet, devoted boyfriend who could do no wrong. Somehow or another your name got thrown in the mix because you yourself were nice, polite, and you had this kind of the good girl next door thing that they were looking for.

You were nervous to say the least. Jungkook was attractive, no one would deny that. He was also always very kind and thoughtful when you interacted and you definitely had a small crush on him but you were a professional and knew not to let your emotions get in the way of your work plus there’s no way a global superstar would ever actually want to date a struggling makeup artist.

However you agreed, though you had the suspicion you really didn’t have a choice anyways if you wanted to stay employed, and they told you to be back at the building tomorrow night at 8pm.

So you did just that. You were in the dress one of the stylist left for you and you’d done your makeup and hair. Jungkook was styled perfectly as usual and he smelled so warm and comforting as he gave you a hug, “You look really nice Y/N.”

“Thank you.”, you whispered hoping he couldn’t see you blush.

The plan was to drive over to a very well known hotspot for dinner. Idols frequented the place constantly so there was also a stream of paparazzi and fans trying to catch a glimpse.

When you arrived the amount of people shocked you. As soon as Jungkook appeared there were earth shattering screams and so many flashes of light you couldn’t see a foot in front of you.

“Y/N, just stay close behind me.”, he said taking your hand and helping you out of the car while making sure to block the view of the cameras so you could get out comfortably in your dress.

Once you were in view the screams got even louder although maybe angrier. The camera flashes definitely increased though giving you a headache. The bodyguards began to push through the crowd with Jungkook close behind, his hand tightly gripping yours as you tried to keep up.

Inside, the restaurant was significantly calmer which you appreciated. Jungkook sipped on his beer while you stuck to a lemonade.

“I’m sorry the company is making you go through this.”, he said finally after a bout of silence.

“It’s okay. They’re paying me quite a bit so it’s worth it.”, you chuckled not noticing the slight grimace on his face.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Jungkook was a great guest and you relaxed enjoyed hearing about his travels and all the funny stories he had, especially the one about Yoongi tripping and falling face first into a cake that Namjoon had decided to leave sitting on the living room floor for some strange reason. He showed you a picture of Yoongi’s face covered in frosting and you couldn’t wait to tease him about it when you saw him next.

After dinner the crowd outside had died down a little bit was still enough that you had to put on an act. Jungkook pulled you close against him as he took you outside and right into the waiting vehicle where he continued to hold you against him even as the car sped off. It sent a wave of emotions through you so you made sure to create a little bit of space between you both just to remind yourself that none of this was real.

It looked like the plan was working perfectly because the next morning there were several headlines questioning who was the cute woman Jungkook was photographed with last night. The fans were also loosing their minds over it, posting over and over about speculations and rumors. You did your best to try and avoid most of them because while a good chunk were generally in favor of the relationship there were still many, mostly fans, that were not happy about Jungkook possibly being in a relationship. This resulted in you seeing some hurtful words about yourself m before deciding to log out of all of your social medias.

The next several weeks were filled with much of the same. Various stages photo ops took place so that fans and photographers could catch moments between you both. When the rumors finally started to become out of hand the company released an official statement confirming the relationship between Jungkook and you, a sweet, down to earth makeup artist that he had fallen madly in love with. The media and fans lost their minds.

You went into this whole thing thinking it would be easy. You were getting a big payday to basically hangout with Jungkook and let your photo get taken. You didn’t expect for your crush to grow into being full on in love with him but it was hard not to fall. He was so incredibly thoughtful and sweet. He was always ordering you lunch or bringing you a coffee even when the cameras weren’t around. When your cat needed an unexpected emergency surgery he paid for it in full after overhearing you cry to one of your friends about how you couldn’t afford it. He was always telling you how pretty you looked or complimenting your clothes with a slight hint of a blush on his cheeks. When you were visiting a friend and missed the last bus and you called him as a last resort hoping he could ask the company to send a car he drove over an hour at 2am to personally pick you up himself while staying on the phone with you the whole time so that you wouldn’t be scared.

After a few months of this it was getting harder and harder to remind yourself this wasn’t real.

Up until this point things were going great. Your relationship was doing exactly what the PR team had hoped. People pretty much completely forgot about his previous scandal and were focused on how he was a sweet and generous boyfriend. His image had never been better.

Then there was an incident. Jungkook was very protective always keeping you close to him. Even when the bodyguards reminded him that they were there for your protection as well he still insisted on personally seeing to your safety.

So one morning you were set to board a flight to New York. Of course the entrance to the air port was packed full of paparazzi and fans all screaming and trying to get photos and videos of you two. The airport had put up barriers but with the amount of people all pushing and shoving some of the barriers got knocked down allowing the crowd to surge in.

Security did their best to surround you guys and get you through the crowd but they were greatly outnumbered.

Thanks to the loud noises and flashing lights and amount of people surrounding you it all became too much and you began to panic. You held onto Jungkook, squeezing his hand that was interlocked with yours to try and ground yourself and remind yourself that you were okay.

“It’s okay Y/N. I’ve got you. We’ll get through this.”, he said trying to comfort you.

The crowd surged forward again. Thanks to your blurry vision and panic you aren’t sure exactly what happened but somehow you tripped ending up on the floor. You were trying to get up fast before you got trampled on but you kept getting pushed and shoved down until you felt someone grab your waist and pull you up. Instantly you recognized the familiar cologne and tucked your face into Jungkook’s shoulder as he quickly pulled you through the rest of the airport.

On the plane where it was quiet and safe you started full on crying. You felt so silly but you couldn’t hold it in any more.The fear and anxiety became too much.

Jungkook came over handing you a bottle of water and some ice for your bruised knee. He rubbed soothing circles on your back as the plane took off, “It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”, you whispered starting to feel a little better.

After a while you managed to fall asleep and take a small nap. When you woke up Jungkook was still sitting next to you. He was staring intently at your face.

“Stop looking at me. I’m always so ugly when I wake up.”, you chuckled feeling much better than earlier.

“Impossible. You are never ugly Y/N.”, he whispered.

He was fidgeting with his shoe lace. Something you had picked up on being a nervous habit of his.

“Hey Kook, is there something on your mind?”, you asked.

He waited a moment before nodding, “When we get back from New York I’m going to tell the company that we need to end this fake dating thing. I can’t do it any more.”

You felt like you wanted to cry again but you swallowed it down because maybe he thought you were too weak or why would he want to be with the girl who tripped an embarrassed herself and himself, “O-Okay. It’s up to you.”

“I just…I’m so selfish”, he chuckled, “I’m not going to keep putting you in danger though. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you Y/N, especially if it was my fault. What happened back at the airport…that was a wake up call. I’m sorry I ever suggested this.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion., “What do you mean you suggested this?” You were under the impression this was all the companys PR team but now it seems like he had a part of it.

His cheeks turned a bright red before he ran a hand through his already messy hair, “Well I guess I might as well come clean now.”, he turned his body to look at you fully, “Y/N when the company suggested this fake dating thing I was against it at first. But then…then I thought maybe I could use it as an excuse to spend more time with you. I’ve always thought you were really cute and sweet and kind and I had a bit of a crush on you. So I convinced them to get you to be the woman I fake dated. I was too shy to ask you to hang out so I thought it was a way to spend time with you and get to know you better.”, he made eye contact with you for a brief moment and you could see the fear in them. He continued, “I think I have always been in love with you. I love you more and more every day.”, your heart was practically beating out of your chest at his confession. You tried to stop him but he continued, “And that’s why we have to end this. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. You don’t deserve this.”

He looked as if he was about to cry and it made you want to just cuddle him and make everything go away. Instead you chose to grab his hand and hold it on your lap, “Jungkook I love you too. I have for quite a while. Honestly, I didn’t think you would ever see me like that so I thought this was all your company’s idea.”, his shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words so you went on, “I know that dating you comes with lots of hardships but I think the positives greatly outweigh those negatives and I don’t mind going through them. If…if you want to I would like to continue to date you, but maybe actually date and not fake date anymore.”, you chuckled.

That got a big smile out of him too which warmed your heart. “I would love to keep dating you Y/N.”, he nodded. You cuddled in closer to him spending the rest of the flight talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s presence.

When the plane landed he had already arranged for a car to pick you up straight from the tarmac so that you wouldn’t have to endure the stress of walking through the airport with him again.

When he finally made it out front and jumped into the car he smiled at seeing your face, “I missed you Y/N.”, he then leaned in and kissed you like it was nothing new. “You already got into the lemonade didn’t you.”, he chuckled after tasting it on your lips.

“Kook we were only separated for like ten minutes and of course I did. You know lemonade is my favorite.”, you giggled.

He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, “Doesn’t matter. It was ten minutes too long.”

You gave the top of his head a kiss as the car sped off to your new destination.

[ghostlymakercat]

It hurt, everything hurt.

The ground underneath him was ice cold and send shivers down his spine, Sirius couldn't feel the tip of his fingers and the tremors were getting stronger. His head was throbbing with pain and his shirt was getting more and more soaked with something warm and sticky. He desperately tried to keep himself conscious, even when his vision was blacking out, if he dropped it was over- the door was charmed nobody could enter only leave, if he passed out nobody could help him. But just thinking of the effort it would take to get up made him heave. There was something he was forgetting, his eyes shot wide-

Reggie, he was there alone to Walburgas mercy, the sentence really didn't make sense and if his head wasn't clouded with fear he would've have laughed. His baby brother was alone he could be hurt or- No he wouldn't let her, he will protect Regulus, he will be there for him. His head was spinning, and his whole body was screaming painfully in exhaustion, his limbs heavy but he got himself to stand up, only to topple over catching himself on the wall before crashing to the ground. Every step was terrible and his urge to give up was getting stronger, but Regulus might be the only person that loved him, would love him no matter what, would still love him even if he snapped because they were brothers and they promised- brothers first.

The door was so close he could reach it with an outstretched arm, but relief hardly cut it because he still had no idea what was happening outside those walls. They were soundproof, and there was nothing more terrifying than silence in this house, silences held a promise of something deeper - unspoken.

Sirius hated silence and made sure to fill every moment with sounds, music, talks, laughter and even at night he made sure that there was something making sound when he woke up, he couldn't stand it.

Regulus was different, he lived in silence, preferred it over all the sounds - he couldn't 'read between the lines' of what people said so what difference was the silence really? it was just as untelling and much more peaceful. But even Regulus who treasured his peace over anything, hated that silent room, hated waiting because there was really nothing more he could do just Wait.

Waiting was torturous, waiting for any sigh that Sirius was alright that his brother was alive, breathing.

The doors handle was hard to turn and his fingers were slippery on the metal, his eyes turning into his head with the effort, when the door budged the wood opened with a groan, and his legs finally gave out on him, he was swept in a wave of nausea and finally he let himself let go all of it. His thin frame was shaking with sobs as he nearly choked on vomit. He wanted so badly to go on, to save Regulus but he couldn't force himself to.

He really was useless, couldn't even take care of the one person he cared the most about. He couldn't see anything anymore and the only reason he hasn't tapped out already was because of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but he knew that will pass. And then... Well wasn't his life just hilarious, failure of a son, hair, brother, friend... quite the list- maybe his death wouldn't be a tragedy at all-

"-rius, Sirius!, Sirius! Hey wake up! Look at me c'mon LOOK AT ME." Regulus's heart was racing his mind a loop of no's. His big brother was bleeding out, shaking and choking on his tears. He paid half mind to vanish the vomit, and the blood as he looked frantically over his wounds. This time it was bad, it hurt to look at it wounds deep angry and red everywhere. Worse than anything was the lack of response he got from Sirius.

Panic took over as he shook Sirius by his shoulders, he screamed and screamed the first thing to came to his mind. He knew, he knew, somewhere deep down that if he kept making this much noise mother would come for him, for them. He didn't know what to do, he felt insane nothing was quiet anymore, but he had to make Sirius respond to him, to let Regulus know his brother is alive.

Than something happened, something that made Regulus stop everything - Sirius opened his eyes, just for a moment but Regulus was sure of the movement, his heart finally calmed, but he couldn't be so foolish to let himself hope he spoke again, as calmly as he could having to clear his voice from all the shouting " Sirius can you hear me" he got a slow blink "good that's good, I know you're tired- b-but I need you to focus on not falling asleep again alright?" He tried for his voice to come out as held together as possible but his voice was shaking and the sentence was interrupted by his sobbing.

He didn't even realized that he was crying, but at the moment nothing really seemed more important than his brother. He tried to fight the fog that was filling his thoughts and find something useful to do. Potter.

Righ-right he just needed to get himself closer to the fireplace, rather quickly, judging by the state Sirius was in. " I'm so sorry Siri" that was the only warning The older one got before Regulus hoisted him up on his back, Sirius couldn't even bring himself to voice his pain, that was just spreading further with the sudden movement. Regulus was crying, his shoulders shaking - that was weird - he couldn't remember ever seeing Reggie cry outside of the privacy of their room. He didn't like the sight of it, his brother didn't smile much but when he did, his honest smile, not the one forced around family, it was the prettiest thing of all. Sirius frowned, Reggie used to smile all the time when they were kids... Why did he stop?

He felt the space shift from the dark to candle light, and the atmosphere was so...different and familiar...

That was the last thing Sirius remembered before the dark came over him. Regulus panted under his weight( which really want that much Sirius seemed to piss of Walburga by merely breathing it seemed this summer, leading to denial of most lunches and breakfast, dinners were sacred and there was no questioning the attendance of such thing.) Breathing deeply before shouting for help and shout he did. His ears were buzzing with the loud sounds but there was no way he was stopping now.

He felt two hands wrap around his torso, gently pushing him off of Sirius, but he didn't want to let go he caught his hand. He recognised Voices talking all around him but he kept his eyes firmly on his brother. He was crying again and when he lifted his gaze he was met with his reflection staring back at him "help him... Please" his voice broke and he felt somebody hoist him up- Potter and them sitting outside of the guest room that Effie turned into a nursery, and Potter holding his shaking hands making little controlled circles despite his panicked eyes that were glued to the door.

Regulus hated waiting. And he was so tried but he could never just fall asleep when Sirius may- no he must think positively. He didn't really want to think at all every second passing mocking him and his inability to have everything under control. But despite all his fighting against the dark he couldn't keep his eyes opened, he won't sleep of course there was no way he'd allow himself that but he couldn't control his heavy eyelids anymore.

He pressed himself into Potters side trying to make himself as small as possible.

Part1

The old house

[forthegothicheroine]

I've made a post about great lesser-known noirs, but it occurs to me that some of you might not be familiar with the classics, and might want to know where to start. This is a ridiculously short list- I have a million more to talk about- but here are some of the big stars of the genre.

The Maltese Falcon: Sam Spade, a clever but callous private detective, gets wrapped up in intrigue relating to an artifact that is functionally cursed. If he's an unscrupulous character, just wait until you meet everyone else. The whole damn cast is electrifying, lending charm and cruelty in equal measure.

The Big Sleep: Philip Marlowe, a kinder and more poetic detective for Humphrey Bogart to play than Spade, is called upon to deal with a wealthy, dysfunctional family, and it keeps on getting weirder from there. Is the sharp-tongued Vivian Sternwood the femme fatale she seems, or is she just another person trying to find the right thing to do in desperate circumstances? And will she and Marlowe keep their hands off each other until the plot has had its last twist?

Double Indemnity: Rich housewife Phyllis Dietrichson and sleazy insurance agent Walter Neff are, by their own admission, rotten people. It's only natural that they should plot a murder together, and that they should turn on each other the very second things go wrong. Every single domestic murder movie since 1944 has ripped this off.

Kiss Me Deadly: This is nominally an adaptation of a Mike Hammer story. Screenwriter Bezzerides hated Mike Hammer. As depicted here, he is one of the worst people in the world. Depending on the cut of the film you see, he may inadvertently cause the nuclear apocalypse. (For once, the theatrical cut is darker.)

Sweet Smell of Success: Cruel, all-powerful columnist JJ Hunsecker wants his sister's boyfriend out of the way (for reasons that are, um, ambiguous.) To accomplish this, he enlists the biggest weasel in New York, Sidney Falco, and the two completely deserve each other as they spend the rest of the movie trading elaborate insults. Popular on tumblr for its dialogue and chemistry between the leads.

Sunset Boulevard: Broke screenwriter Joe Gillis thinks he can con a has-been into hiring him as a script doctor, and that's the last free decision he ever gets to make. From then on, his life is in the hands of Norma Desmond, silent film starlet turned crazed recluse, terrifying yet intensely pitiable. This is as much gothic horror as noir.

Ace in the Hole: The story of a man trapped in a cave is turning out to be a big hit in the newspaper, and if the publicity will make a reporter's career, then what's the harm in delaying rescue just for a little while? This is as vicious as noir gets, but damn it, you've just got to see what happens next. (Watch Jacob Geller's video Fear of the Depths after this.)

Sorry Wrong Number: Of all the films on this list, this is the one that really scared me. In the days of switchboards, a rich hypocondriac woman is connected to the wrong phone line and overhears a murder being planned. It doesn't take her long to figure out she's the intended victim, and each call she makes or recieves makes the situation darker. But how can she escape her fate if she can't- or won't leave her bed?

The Asphalt Jungle: The heist movie. Maybe the only heist movie ever made. Every line is quotable. Every member of the team is an unforgettable personality. When things go wrong, they go horribly wrong. One minute you're laughing, and the next minute you think you'll never laugh again.

Gun Crazy: Laurie and Bart, two practiced sharpshooters, are perhaps the most perfect match in all of noir- and that's a bad thing. When one half of the duo gets a criminal idea in their head, the other can't say no. When the opportunity to ditch her man like a sap comes up, the femme fatale throws it away to be doomed at his side. He fell in love with her when she first aimed a gun at him. Quentin Tarantino kissed star Peggy Cummins's feet at a showing of the film, and I hope she kicked him in the head.

Laura: Everyone was in love with Laura Hunt, and somebody killed her- or did they? Did they get the right person? Is the cop on the case in love with a dead woman? Was her columnist mentor just her gay best friend, or was there something darker beneath that facade? And what would Laura think of all this? A big inspiration on Twin Peaks.

In a Lonely Place: Bogart isn't at all heroic here, as a screenwriter with a drinking habit and a violent temper. He's obviously a bad idea to date, but just how bad an idea? He's not the type of guy who'd kill a woman, is he? Bogart and Gloria Holden give perhaps their best performances here, and they'll wound your soul.

Touch of Evil: A Mexican cop (played, unfortunately, by Charlton Heston) finds out a nasty secret about the big hero cop Hank Quinlan: he's framed the culprit in most of his cases. Not because he's crooked, but because his intuition tells him they're guilty. Director Orson Welles as Quinlan is frightening, grotesque, and a little bit tragic in what some consider the last classic noir.

The Killers: The first twenty minutes or so are an adaptation of a Hemingway story, where out of town hitmen gun down a man so depressed he won't even bother to run from them. The rest of the film is an investigation into how he got that way. It had something to do with a radiant gangster's girl, and something to do with a few botched crimes. Sometimes a man can die before the bullets even touch him.

The Third Man: Everybody is lying about the whereabouts of an American expatriate named Harry when his friend comes looking. Did they do something to him? Or, more frightening still, is he the one who's been doing things to other people? Orson Welles is a more charming monster than he was in Touch of Evil; the light and shadows on his face cast him as a vampire, while his fingers sticking up through the sewer grate look like something terrifying emerging from the earth.

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.