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nonclassyparty · 2 months

Text

sweet and right and merciful (c.s)

summary:

(A STARRING ROLE SPIN-OFF) Choi San deals with the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

playlist (tba) // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

notes; i bet you thought you'd seen the last of both me and sr!san well you're wrong! tell me if you want to be added to the taglist

snippet;

As he didn't have a disgustingly large amount of generational wealth to back him up nor parents who dabbled in political meddling and occasional blackmail like some of his peers, San always knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for his spot in the world.

This would seem fairly overdramatic if all he was seeking out of life was a stable job and paid bills, of course: he was, after all, the son of a middle school teacher and a man that had several jobs which he never did right because hey, they never had much so San should've been satisfied with anything.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one would look at it), Choi San was too ambitious for his own good. Having been born and raised in the small town of Namhae which was nothing more than an old supermarket some (nobody under the age of fifty) considered a shopping mall and a small beach - the moment he left for college, he swore that he'd never be back there again for nothing more but the holidays. And simply leaving Namhae wasn't enough, no, you see San's goal was money, more money than he would ever need. Bitterness could be considered a man's biggest motivator to get something done and spending his childhood and early adolescence watching his mother work day and night to make sure the bills are paid just for no money to be left spare sure did make San bitter. Call him shallow and materialistic but to San, money most definitely could buy some happiness.

And so, with that thought in mind (placed by no-one else but himself) since the tender age of twelve when he first visited Seoul for a football game and saw what exactly he's been missing out on living in Namhae, San poured everything he had into his studies until he landed a scholarship for Seoul National University in the field of Electrical Engineering. He had been strategic in his choice of career. Electrical engineering required just enough work and brains for it to be considered a lucrative degree and used just enough engineering principles to keep him interested in the job.

And San was excellent at his job. He was quick and efficient, precise and absolutely never wrong. Getting hired to work at one of South Korea's most renowned automobile manufacturing companies not long after he got his degree didn't come as a surprise to no-one. He was competent. The problem with competence and climbing the business ladder though was that it was rewarded with increasingly complex projects almost every month.

And so, our opening scene: A Thursday morning, sometime in January. Amidst the white cubicles on the third floor of Zenith Motor Company, Mr. Kim was doling out new projects to his top engineers with a vengeance.

"Jung, this ones for you," He smacks Jaehyun over the head with the folder before dropping it unceremoniously on his desk, "And try not to get doughnut smudges all over this one."

"Byun, you're continuing the testing from last month." Jaebum nods his head, eyes barely moving from the computer screen in front of him. Mr. Kim continues with an eye roll, "Lim, new model that needs surveillance."

He continues down the room throwing down casefiles as he goes until he stops by San's desk with a smile, "Choi, since you did so well on the Genesis project I'll let you choose."

"What are my options?" San asks, leaning back in his chair as two files are thrown onto his desk.

Mr. Kim looks down onto his clipboard. "Mr. Jinyoung needs help with the 3D design for-"

Mr. Jinyoung is one of San's bosses.

"-the new model that we're ready to turn in for production. You could send him an e-mail but I wouldn't, he's a bit...difficult to be around these days."

Mr. Jinyoung is also the husband of one Son Danbi, the thirty-four year old woman that San got...very familiar with for a groundbreaking six times at his apartment before he learned that Danbi is a bit too clingy and his job actually might be at stake if she keeps calling the office asking for San instead of her husband. Three times in a row.

She didn't handle San deciding it's best to stop seeing each other very well.

Getting fired for sleeping with his boss' wife and probably getting his nose broken (for the second time over a woman) when his boss' wife inevitably has a meltdown and exposes how San fucked her into his mattress six times once San refuses to meet up with her out of newfound respect for the man she's married to (read: he's scared that he'll get sacked) or literally anything else. The choice was quite obvious.

"I'll take the second option." San quips with ease as he flips over the folder.

"Research and development for a new model! I was hoping you'd pick that one and am not disappointed, you never back down from a challenge." Mr. Kim comments with a grin that San returns because he's been kissing his ass too long to stop now. "You're working with another engineer from the second floor."

San nods and, as Mr. Kim keeps going down to the next cubicle, his eyes sweep over the file and stop at the bottom of the page where one out of two people tasked has already signed their name. In neat handwriting;

Y/L Y/N

He bites back a groan, eyes falling shut and he can hear the Head of the office keep rattling off assignments somewhere in the background.

Nothing registers because suddenly, San remembers honey skin, judging eyes and a sharp tongue and wonders if getting his nose broken a second time right before getting fired by Mr. Jinyoung and losing his entire career would've been the wiser option.

#san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #choi san x reader

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flowerandblood · 11 months

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The Prince and The Fox

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual abuse, violence, trauma, panic attack ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist. Song used in this chapter: Feuer Frei! (Rammstein)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure how they became friends. Before she met him she played often with Helaena, they lived in the neighbourhood, and there wasn't much of an age difference between them. They often visited each other to play with their dolls, while her brothers existed for her somewhere in the back, busy with their serious, boyish affairs unavailable to girls.

One day when their mother called Helaena home she was sitting on a blanket on the grass in their garden, pretending that her teddy rabbit had just been drinking tea from her pink plastic cup, when their whole elaborately choreographed scene was destroyed by a dog bumping into her and licking her.

"Vhagar! No! Bad dog!" She heard the growl of a young boy, running up to them and grabbing his happy, shiny labrador with big eyes, who just licked her face, panting loudly, pulling her by the collar, trying to drag her away.

She giggled, wiping her face, and it was only when she looked at him that she noticed a large white bandage on the left side of his face, covering his entire eye and part of his cheek, taped up with plasters. She blinked, curious, and cocked her head.

"What happened to you?" She asked lightly, and he threw her an angry, murderous look, tightening his lips and furrowing his brow.

"Fuck off." He hissed, and she turned all red, close to tears, devastated that he had used such ugly, vulgar words towards her that her parents had forbidden her to use, shouting at him that he wasn't allowed to talk like that, that she didn't like him and for him to go away.

This is exactly what he did, dragging his dog behind him with difficulty, and she took her rabbit and ran to her house across the street, no longer waiting for Helaena to return, distraught.

Her father tried hard to get anything out of her, but he understood little of her loud sobbing and babbling, she could see nothing through her tears, she stood and stammered out mere fragments of sentences from which her parent had by some miracle put together a whole. Her father sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Listen. Helaena's brother, I think his name is Aemond, had a very serious accident. I was told about it by his mother when I met her in the supermarket recently, the whole family is going through a lot. He will have to wear an artificial eye and will be left with a big scar. He feels very bad about it and that is why he is behaving like this. Your question was very tactless." He said finally.

She felt a squeeze in her heart and burst out sobbing even louder, this time because she had offended him, that surely this boy now hated her when she wanted everyone to like her.

"− I didn't − after all − uh − I didn't mean to − I just −" She mumbled in despair, not knowing herself what she wanted to say, breathing hard, almost choking from her sobs, her face all red, she was hot with emotion.

"Come here." Her father said to her, so she walked towards him. He embraced her and stroked her head, saying that she should ask her mother to help her bake cakes for him and bring them to him, wishing him a speedy recovery and apologising so they would both feel better.

She decided that this was indeed a good idea and did exactly that.

The next day she knocked on their front door standing with a box of cakes and was opened by their mother, a beautiful, long-haired woman with a warm smile, she was wearing a thick green jumper.

"Good morning, dear, Helaena is just in ballet class." She said to her in a soft, calm voice, and she shook her head.

"No, ma'am, I've come to see Aemond, I've baked cakes for him and I want to wish him quick recovery." She recited with difficulty what her mother had told her to say, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything, waiting with a pounding heart for a response.

The woman smiled broadly with some kind of gratitude and called out loudly to her son asking him to come downstairs, saying he had a visitor.

Her son came down reluctantly, furrowing his brow, having no idea who might want to see him and when he spotted her he immediately pressed his lips together, furious.

He approached his mother, looking at her distrustfully, and she swallowed loudly feeling a tightening in her throat and tears of shame gathering in her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry for asking you about it at the time, in the sense of what happened to you and that I upset you and that you were sad and that I yelled at you afterwards because I was sad too and − and −" She mused, forgetting for a moment what she was getting at in that sentence, swallowing her saliva loudly and suddenly remembering. "− and − and I brought you cakes that I baked with the help of my mother to wish you a speedy recovery."

She said quickly and held out a cardboard box tied with a ribbon in front of her. Aemond looked uncertainly at his mother, who nodded at him to accept the gift. He did not look at her as he reached out for the package and murmured under his breath, nodding. His mother sighed quietly.

"What should you say now?" She asked him expectantly, and he pressed his lower lip together, looking somewhere sideways, discouraged.

"Thank you." He muttered, turned and headed up the stairs.

"Goodbye." She said quickly, turning and running towards her house, feeling relieved that now she had put things right and now he would surely like her a lot.

She was wrong.

When she came to their house to see Helaena, he immediately locked himself in his room. When they passed each other at primary school he did not respond to her greeting by pretending not to see her even though they were neighbours.

When their parents met each other in the supermarket and started talking to each other, he would approach the shelves and pretend to look at some products, doing everything he could not to talk to her.

He never spoke to her in a bad way again, never shouted at her again, but simply pretended that she didn't exist.

Everything changed when they went to high school and it turned out they would be in the same class. They would then get on and off at the same bus stop, but instead of talking to her he preferred to put his earphones in his ears and browse through the apps on his phone, pretending not to see her.

She tried to talk to him, but he shunned her, treating her like air. She had the painful feeling that from that moment, from the day she asked him the wrong question, she was already crossed out as a person in his eyes.

And then their literary history teacher gave them a homework exercise to do in pairs. Assigning a person to each, when he looked at her he waved his hand as if realising something.

"Ah, Evans, you and Targaryen live nearby, it will be easier for you to work. Next couple −" He said, and she froze, looking at him over her shoulder, his eye wide open, pointed in her direction, he was playing with his pen between his fingers, his lips clenched into a thin line.

He was furious.

She swallowed loudly feeling a tightness in her throat and turned back towards the board, feeling only the loud pounding of her heart.

She ran after him off the bus, seeing him walking towards his house with his backpack thrown over one shoulder, the hood of his dark sweatshirt pulled over his head, earphones in his ears. She grabbed his sleeve to make him stop, and he flinched and looked back, surprised.

"Wait, can we talk?" She asked, breathing fast, and he furrowed his brow, taking the earpiece out of his ear, she could hear some loud heavy metal music coming from it and recognized the song Feuer Frei! by Rammstein.

"What?"

She blinked, understanding that he hadn't heard completely what she'd said. She grunted quietly, letting him go, looking at him expectantly.

"I asked if we could talk."

He looked ahead, letting the air out loudly through his nose with impatience, pulling the other earpiece from his ear, looking everywhere but at her. She guessed he wouldn't say anything, so she started quickly, not wanting to irritate him unnecessarily.

"I know you don't like me and I promise not to annoy you with anything. Let's just go to your place or mine, do this homework and get it over with. Okay?" She asked in a trembling voice and he licked his lips, indecision and frustration in his eyes, something was going on in his mind that she didn't understand completely.

He snorted, shrugging his shoulders and nodded at her.

"Come."

They entered his house greeted by the smell of dinner just being cooked. Their mother welcomed her presence in the company of her son with joy and surprise.

"Will you eat something? The meatballs in sauce are warm and ready." She said warmly, hoping they would stay down, guessing that they were both hungry after many hours of lessons.

She wished he would agree, feeling a burbling in her stomach.

"No. We're going to go do our homework." He said in a low, slightly hoarse voice. He pulled off his shoes, slipped the hood off his head and walked up the stairs without looking at her.

He walked into his room, throwing the clothes and books lying on the floor into the wardrobe, clearly wanting to do a quick tidy up, his whole walls covered with posters of various bands, Rammstein, Electric Light Orchestra, Deep Purple, Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, his bookshelves heaving with books.

"Sit." He said lowly, pointing to the chair he'd set up by his desk, himself sitting down in a comfortable high-backed leather player's chair, spreading out on it comfortably.

She walked over to him, pulling her pastel soft backpack off her back, pulling out her notebook and the book they had just reviewed.

The Little Prince.

She felt that he was looking at her expectantly, so she opened her notebook in which she had written down the exact assignment the teacher had given them. She decided to read it aloud so they could reflect on it together.

"The Little Prince is a metaphorical story. Talk together about a few scenes from the book that moved you most and compare your thoughts, writing down similarities and differences. Analyse at least two scenes in this way."

She glanced at him, tightening her lips, feeling her heart pounding hard. For some reason she was terrified, he was sitting next to her, resting his elbows on his desk, leaning forward, seeming even bigger and taller to her than usual.

She felt strange thinking that he smelled nice, that he used some ordinary, cheap men's perfume.

He sniffed with his nose, not even looking at her, taking a pen in his hand.

"Have you read this book?" She asked, wanting to make sure he knew what they were going to talk about. He threw her a look like he thought she was an idiot.

"Do you have any more stupid questions, or can we get started?" He asked lowly, and she pressed her lips together, humiliated, feeling for some reason that she wanted to cry.

She felt like asking why he couldn't forgive her at last, but decided it was pointless, that he obviously didn't like her because he had such a whim.

She shook her head and he hummed, taking her copy of The Little Prince in his hand and began looking through it.

"Which scene do you want to talk about?" He asked coldly, dispassionately, and she swallowed loudly.

"About the Little Prince and the Fox." She said quietly, feeling him give her a brief glance.

He grunted under his breath, apparently agreeing with her choice, waiting for her elaboration on the matter. She swallowed with difficulty, licking her lips.

"What moved me most was how true this scene is. That the greatest enemy of friendship, or any close relationship, is haste. That only by respecting someone's barriers, only by approaching someone slowly and with understanding, can you really look at them from a distance.

By taming someone, by making that person grow attached to you, you take partial responsibility for that person's feelings, for making them trust you enough to believe that you won't intentionally hurt them with your behaviour. Until we really get to know someone we are just a crowd of people passing each other on the street."

She said in a trembling voice, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids and a tightness in her throat, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lower lip began to tremble, she played with the material of her white daisy dress in a nervous gesture.

She felt him watching her, an awkward silence fell between them.

She couldn't look at him.

She thought he was going to say something cruel, that he was going to tell her to stop wailing, but he said nothing. After a while he spoke up.

"I see this scene differently. They're both moving towards each other because they're determined to do so. They are both going their separate ways. There is a balance. The Little Prince doesn't force the Fox to approach him, just as the Fox doesn't force the Little Prince to approach him. They do it of their own free will. They tame themselves because that's the decision they made. You can't tame someone who doesn't want it." He said lowly, and she looked up at him feeling tears begin to run down her face.

Was he talking about himself?

Was she the Fox who wanted to tame him even though he didn't want it?

"I'm sorry." It burst out of her chest before she had time to think about what she was doing.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, clenching his hands lying on the desk into fists, his nostrils moving restlessly in accelerated breathing.

She covered her face with her hand, embarrassed that she just couldn't stop crying, feeling pain in her heart and feeling sorry for herself that she just wasn't able to give him a break, that she kept seeking his attention and interest when he just clearly wanted her to leave him alone.

She couldn't bear the thought that she wasn't liked by every man she knew.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she had been so selfish.

"I can't stand that you don't want to talk to me. That you don't like me, that you pretend not to see me. I think it's driving me crazy and you're right to think that I'm an attention-seeking girl. I'm ashamed and I apologise to you for that because it's not your problem. I promise I'll stop." She said between laboured breaths, shrugging her shoulders, lowering her gaze.

He just looked at her.

"You exaggerate everything too much. You care too much." He said finally, his voice calmer as was his gaze.

She saw him fidgeting involuntarily with his fingers in a nervous gesture, the cuticles around his fingernails peeled and red, they must have caused him pain, but he plucked them nonetheless.

"Stop." She whispered and placed her hand over his, his fingers froze in mid-motion. She heard him swallow loudly, completely taken aback, his healthy eye open wide, his whole body concentrated. She stroked his palms with her thumb, and he didn't push her away.

"I'll leave you alone." She said softly and took her hand away, not believing she had dared to do so, and he just nodded and grunted, looking in her book for the quote he wanted to talk about.

They wrote down silently next to each other what they had talked about, and when they had finished she took her books, packed up and left without saying goodbye to him.

She no longer sought his gaze when he stood next to her at the bus stop, when he sat behind her in class, when she passed him in the school corridor. She realised that she had been conceited and vain in thinking that she would make him like her. She thought there was nothing wrong with someone not fancying her, not wanting to talk to her.

She had to get over it.

She attended extra volleyball classes, loved this sport and had good results at inter-school competitions. The captain of the men's team was Cregan Stark, a tall, well-built, funny black-haired boy who caught her eye from the start.

He would occasionally wink at her from afar seeing her gaze, and she would blush, lowering her eyes.

They were good mates, chatting sometimes during breaks and laughing. Cregan often approached her between classes, throwing in any topic, sometimes accompanied by his colleagues who were also fond of her. She felt butterflies in her stomach when he invited her to a house party that Aegon was organising.

She knew that Aemond would certainly be home at that time, but she figured that he would lock himself in his room and not go downstairs to them anyway, so she readily agreed, glad to see Helaena there as well.

She dressed in her favourite suede black dress reaching mid-thigh with a boat neckline, not revealing her breasts but showing her shoulders, and she wore her favourite shiny black boots. She let her hair down, deciding that she looked the prettiest this way, and literally ran out of the house when she heard a knock on the door.

She and Cregan hugged each other as if they were friends and moved arm-in-arm across the street hearing the loud music in the distance. When they entered she saw a crowd of people, most were her friends from the estate, so she greeted everyone around her, one of the guests handed her a cup with probably the cheapest wine possible.

She took a sip, glancing at Cregan and he winked at her as he always did, this time embracing her, pulling her close.

She felt the heat in her lower abdomen and the flush in her cheeks.

For most of the time they sat together on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, she saw no one around him but him, looking into his big dark eyes as if enchanted. She swallowed loudly when she felt his hand on her thigh, trailing up and down, and pressed her lips together, unsure if she liked it or not.

However, she didn't reject his hand, not wanting to offend him, some part of her happy that he reciprocated her interest, that he liked her too, that he found her attractive too.

"Shall we go to the garden?" He asked loud enough for her to hear him, and she nodded with a smile, feeling her own heart beating fast, happy that he wanted to be alone with her.

They walked out into the garden through the kitchen, through a back entrance she knew very well, on the way she felt him grasp her hand in his, she had a feeling her heart would leap out of her chest. They sat down on the terrace bench, he embraced her and hugged her close, and she snuggled into his chest.

She wondered with a blush on her cheeks if he would want to kiss her.

She swallowed loudly and a shudder went through her as, from her shoulder, his hand slowly began to move up to her neck, slipped under the material of her dress and touched her bare breast. She squeezed his wrist, terrified.

"N-no." She mumbled, but instead of stopping, he tightened his fingers on her flesh.

"No, stop." She said terrified, aggressively pulling at his hand, feeling tears in her eyes, cold sweat on the back of her neck, her whole body screaming for him to let her go, wanting to run away, but he wouldn't release her.

"Didn't you hear?" She heard a firm, low voice beside her, and Cregan jumped away from her suddenly, rising from the bench.

Aemond stared at him with his lips tightened, an expression of disgust on his face, his healthy eye wide open, his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't you fucking understand what 'no' means?" He asked him again, louder this time, furious.

She was just sitting and shaking, breathing hard, looking down at her shoes, tear after tear running down her cheeks, she was unable to move or get anything out.

Cregan grunted back.

"Fuck off." He growled, wanting to get past him, but Aemond grabbed him by his shirt and pressed him against the door frame with all his strength.

She stood up quickly, terrified, and covered her mouth when Cregan hit him on the forehead with his head and he took a few steps backwards, Aemond's fist hit his face in return, Cregan half-curled and coughed. They moved away from each other, panting heavily.

"Fucking bastard." He hissed, holding his red cheek with his hand and walked back out into his house, loud music, screams, laughter and conversations of people inside around them.

She sat down on the ground, feeling her whole body shaking, clenching her eyes shut, a strange, high-pitched sound and a sob came from her throat as it finally dawned on her mind what had actually happened.

That he touched her in a way that made her uncomfortable and made her unable to breathe, that she had asked him to stop and he hadn't, how bad it made her feel, how frightening and humiliating it was.

She felt so dirty.

She wasn't sure if what came out of her mouth could be called crying, she felt like she was whimpering and howling, holding her hand to her mouth as if trying to shield herself from what was happening, to no avail.

She heard the rustling of the grass beneath his feet, she felt the gentle touch of his large, warm hand on her back, casual, tender, friendly, comforting.

She snuggled into his black sweatshirt and cried out loud, disappointed, distraught and devastated that she had trusted him, that she had believed him and he did something like this to her.

Why?

Was it because she didn't push him away when he touched her thigh, that she went out with him alone?

Did he think that was what she wanted?

"Shall I go and find Helaena?" He asked in a trembling voice clearly not knowing what to do, how to help her, horrified by what he had seen and her condition. She shook her head quickly, feeling ashamed, she didn't want anyone to know.

She heard him swallow loudly.

"If you want I'll go with you to his parents tomorrow. I'll tell them what I saw. He's been groping you all evening." He said low with some kind of tension, and she froze, drawing in the air loudly at the thought that he must have come downstairs, that he must have seen them as they sat on the sofa, watched them.

Follow them out.

She wondered if he had done it to make sure he wouldn't do anything to her against her will.

It was her fault.

She did not push him away when he touched her thigh.

She went off with him herself.

"No. They won't believe me. He'll say I wanted it myself." She mumbled in a trembling, weak voice between one shattered breath and another.

She could feel his heart pounding hard, that he was nervous too, that he didn't know what he should do. He put his arm around her in a friendly manner, feeling subconsciously that she needed it, that she was terrified.

They both stood up quickly when they heard some girls come out for a cigarette. They raised their eyebrows, looking at them with amusement, one of them waved at them.

"Hey, Cyclops, do you have a girlfriend now?" She asked, the second girl laughed out loud, the third looked at the others disapprovingly, lowering her gaze, pretending she hadn't heard this.

"Fuck off, you stupid bitch!" She growled at her so loudly and with such fury that the girl froze, it seemed to her that she had never called anyone that out loud before in her life.

In a frenzy of desperation, anger and humiliation, she pulled her boots off her feet and, one by one, started throwing them at them until all three of them fled inside the house screaming that she was insane.

"Fuck, calm down! Jesus." He called out to her in shock, grabbing her by her arm. She raised her eyes at him, breathing loudly, his gaze softening a bit.

"Do you want to go home?" He asked lowly, almost indifferently, and she nodded, feeling that she wanted to cry again at the thought of Cregan's touch on her chest.

His hand tightened on her bare breast, refusing to let her go.

An unpleasant shiver ran through her, she felt like she was going to vomit.

First, though, she had to find her shoes, one of which had ended up in the bushes, the other behind their barbecue, all dirty from the coals. She put them on anyway, she was already indifferent to everything.

He didn't even ask if she wanted him to walk her away.

He just followed her.

On the way out they came across Cregan and his mates smoking a cigarette on the road, some of his friends whistling at them, laughing out loud.

"Are you guys going to fuck?" He called from a distance in amusement, she felt that her whole body was shaking, that she was afraid of them and she thanked God that he had gone with her, that he had not left her alone.

She wondered if this was what he experienced all the time at school.

Humiliation.

He stood with her in front of her door with his hands tucked into his black trousers, his face turned in profile.

She knew she shouldn't do this, but she needed it.

She walked up to him and hugged her face to his sweatshirt, standing in front of him like that. She could feel his warm breath on the top of her head, she knew he was looking at her.

She swallowed loudly as she felt his forehead pressed against her hair, he let out a loud breath, something in his voice that she could call sympathy.

"Try not to think about it. If you change your mind and want to go to his parents, I'll go with you. Hm?" He asked lowly, and she nodded.

"Are you going to keep seeing him?" He asked coolly after a moment, and she shook her head, feeling that it made her sick at the thought.

"Good." He muttered, raising his head. She pulled away from him and looked at him, swallowing loudly.

"Gonna give you my phone number. In case you decide to do it." He added quickly, wanting to make sure she didn't understand his proposal ambiguously. She nodded her head.

He dictated a string of numbers to her, which she typed into her phone and added him to her contacts under the name 'Prince'. He saw this and lifted his gaze to her, but made no comment.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"I'm sorry." He said finally. She nodded her head in understanding.

"Thank you for everything. That you… you know. Have a good night." She said softly, without looking at him anymore, and disappeared behind the front door of her house.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

346 notes · View notes

mixtapedoh · 20 days

Note

ahh idk if you’re still doing the concept moodboards but if you still are, may i request junhui + fake relationship or secretly dating au? thank uuu <3

olive notes: hi jen! i am still doing the moodboards ♡. also, yesterday i saw that the fic i wrote for you didn't post but went to my drafts instead??? genuinely, wtf, i'm so sorry that happened, and i'm going to post it tomorrow 😭😭😭.

⋰˚☆ wen junhui x secret dating! au . . .

"if your advice is to be so trusted, why aren't you in a relationship, jun?"

a sigh. immediately followed by a snort from you and inspired laughter from shua, who was never one to be afraid at finding enjoyment in his own jokes, of course, but a sigh all the same and a roll of his eyes. shua was asking for his opinion, was he not?

"yeah, junnie" — and your eyes sparkled with something infectious, like to coax a grin out of anyone you hoped to conspire with, barring, of course, someone with a willpower as strong as him — "why aren't you in a relationship?"

the man in question nudged you playfully and you leaned into the sway, silent laughter still coloring your breathing, fading and impressionistic, inspiring anyone with a desire for more.

"first i'd have to get rid of you. scaring everyone off."

and the conversation drifted from there. eventually, you all finished your meals and played the game of 'i've got the bill!' 'no; i'll pay." 'really, i owe you from last time.' and once you were all sufficiently fed and satisfied with your dance of politeness, you parted ways — joshua had to go help jeonghan with something or another, and you were easy to make an excuse of needing to run some errands. jun offered to accompany you, shua left with advice and more than enough mirth to fill his week, and that was seemingly the end of your little lunch date get-together.

it was when shua was confirmed gone that the true teasing begun.

"poor little junnie; all this affection, but no one to spoil."

"poor little (n/n), with all this teasing, but no one endeared enough to receive it."

you scoffed, and jun pulled you to the inside of the sidewalk, his fingers lacing with yours. you brought your intertwined hands to your lips to kiss them, and the two of you kept walking, indeed stopping at the supermarket like you'd told shua you would.

there was no real reason, truly, why you had jun had been dating for the last 4 months but hiding it from everyone else. just a 'why not?' sentiment that filled the both of you with giddy laughter — a silly secret that gave you an inexplicable rush. because kissing jun for the first time in the middle of his living room had been so addicting, and then immediately having to play it off afterward, when woozi walked in, oblivious to the encounter that had taken place while he was in the kitchen, had been even more exciting.

and then playing off the teasing that hoshi always entertained, trying to thoroughly convince the ever watching eyes of hao... it was a simple thrill, a cheap enjoyment. seungkwan had almost been the unfortunate friend to stumble upon your clandestine love-affair more than once, and the way that jun stumbled over the awkwardness of being near-caught would never fail to be wholly adorable and a silly kind of charming that made these first experiences between you all the more entertaining. why not? you already had your cake, why not indulge in the feeling and eat it, too?

and jun was so lenient with your every desire, in no small part due to the fact that he enjoyed the exhilaration of it, too.

after all — he thought as he came up behind you to grab a package of ramyeon off the shelf and, sticking it in the basket you held, rested his chin on your shoulder only to receive a peck on the cheek from you, absent minded, but offhandedly pulled from the deep well of where your affection for him resided — having a secret with you was all he'd wanted for longer than you could possibly know.

send me an idol + a concept & i’ll give you a little moodboard & blurb

#weekend ask game #olive.writes #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x reader #svt x you #wen junhui imagine #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui x you #jun is my silly little dude and i just think that HE #i hope you like it lovely <3 #wen junhui please come grocery shopping with me i promise i'll make it a grand old time. i'll indulge your humor.#no none of these are edited. if you see a spelling mistake that's on YOU not me. you're reading my clearly correct spelling wrong as a plot #specifically against me

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aroundevil · 2 months

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I saw the tv glow moodboard

Time wasn't right. It was moving too fast. And then I was 19. And then I was 20. I felt like one of those dolls asleep in the supermarket. Stuffed. And then I was 21. Like chapters skipped over on a DVD. I told myself, "This isn't normal. This isn't normal. This isn't how life is supposed to feel."

#i saw the tv glow #a24 #cult films #a24 films #Jane Schoenbrun #Justice Smith #brigette lundy paine #fluorescent moodboard #films moodboard

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purlturtle · 1 month

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Hey y'all, a PDA: it's not autumn yet before my birthday, which is still in summer. Which is, in fact, tomorrow.

I get the longing for cool breezes and colorful leaves and pumpkin spice everything.

But please respect my need to feel summer until my birthday has come and gone.

It's bad enough that supermarkets are already selling godsdamned CHRISTMAS COOKIES over here.

(I'm only kidding. Please keep posting your fall moodboards; they're pretty! I'm just kvetching for the fun of it.)

This has been a PSA 🌞⛱️🍧😎

#fall #autumn #NOT UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY #i even forbade my wife to decorate for Halloween until after tomorrow #übermorgen ist früh genug seriously

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rosemarysndthyme · 1 year

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✞ The Summer of Ravenswood Manor: A Haunting Tale ✞

Honey Dreary moves the desolate town of Angels' Creek in the Midwest, desperately trying to escape her troubled past. Unexpectedly she becomes entranced by the mysterious and brooding owner of a rundown mansion on the edge of town, Ravenswood Manor. The two begin a tumultous romance as she begins to uncover the dark secrets of his past.

Character Moodboards here

Chapter 1: Milk, Honey, Harmony

Considering Jesus died almost two thousand years ago in sanction for our sins, seems he had failed. At least in Honey Dreary's eyes.

The trees in this dismal town seemed to howl and shriek, their brittle bare branches reaching out like bony fingers, waiting to pick and pluck every morsel of life from its residents. Often things would vanish. Cars were parked and never to be seen again. Small children would wander off from their parents, never to return.

Honey, in her cherry red 1967 Ford Mustang raced down the road, blazing a fiery red trail to a new beginning. With a Marlboro gold hanging from her opulent cherry lips, and the wind in her hair, it was enough to distract her from a possible grave mistake. No, she wouldn't let herself admit she'd made an impulsive decision, upping and leaving her old apartment in the city in the middle of the night. Not telling anyone where she was going or for how long and with no plans of a job. As her mother always said ‘every cloud has a silver lining’. She'd found an ad for an old chapel converted into apartments, using what little savings she had on the small deposit and gathering the rest for her first months rent. She decided the rest would work it’s self out. The apartment had a pretty little porch out front for her to sit out and read, smoke or play her vintage Billie Holiday vinyl. If nothing else, that would be this cloud’s silver lining. She was looking forward to an escape from her previous city life, one where she could do as she pleased without the torments of being a city girl in her 20s, or the ever-looming disapproval of her family.

Angels' Creek was a sleepy rundown Midwestern town. A place that was no one’s destination and not even somewhere you’d be passing through. It was surrounded by open fields of forest and farmland. Honey had chosen it for its lazy hazy atmosphere, now closing in on her late twenties , she decided a more tame lifestyle was due. There definitely wasn’t much in the way of modern amenities or entertainment. From what she could make out, the town had one singular main road that ran from one end of town, Angels’ Entrance, to the other, Ravenswood End. She lived at the far end, like a guilty child banished to a dark corner. The street was littered with tattered shops: Daisy's Diner, The Cloudy Laundrette, Pembrooke Supermarket, and somewhere called Ray's. All are in need of a good refurbishment, their lit up signs flickering and dying, as was the life from this town. There was a heavy sense of faded glory, with the town's best days behind it, the barren remnants sit gathering dust in the middle of a vast plain of deathly trees.

Honey's tyres screeched as she pulled up to her new apartment. Flicking what was left of her cigarette onto the pavement, she takes off her sunglasses and adjusts her windswept blonde hair in the rear-view mirror, as she leans over to the passenger seat to gather her bags before grounding her wedged heel onto the pavement. Her perpetual hazy cloud of cigarette smoke, amaretto perfume, and bad decisions, pervaded the air around her.

A sweaty outstretched palm startled her, 'Miss Dreary' a voice spoke before she'd hardly put her other foot down on the pavement. She shifted her gaze up drinking in the sight, brown trousers, starched shirt, round bald head with friendly overly enthusiastic blue eyes. ‘Mr Bluebell. I’m your new landlord.’ Honey grasped his hand, using it to hoist herself up from the drivers seat bringing her to eye level with her new landlord. ‘My gosh! What a beautiful car you have. Must be a 1974.’

‘It’s actually a '67.’

‘Yes. Of course. You’re correct. Anyway. Would you like me to show you inside? Your particular apartment is named ‘Garden of Eden’ …controversial these days. ’ Mr Bluebell turns around with Honey on his tail… she guesses he’ll offer to help with her bags after the tour. ‘I bought this property years ago now. It was a derelict church before I had the idea to convert it into quaint little apartments.' It was an insult to call it an 'apartment' really, she thought.

Mr Bluebell continues... 'The previous owners weren’t too fond of the idea, but they came around once they saw how much I was offering! You have the ground floor, it’s cosy with excellent bones, well lit in the mornings with east-facing windows.’ They pass the sweet white porch before entering the small living room with a kitchenette attached. ‘This is your living space, as you can see it comes with a sofa, and a TV cabinet.’ The ‘sofa’ he was referring to was more of an armchair, and the ‘TV cabinet’ was a single television plonked on the floor in front of said ‘sofa.’

He leads her down a narrow hallway. ‘Down here is your bedroom. And to the left is your bathroom.’ They come to a halt in front of a large window overlooking the street opposite. Mr Bluebell quickly snatches a glance out before snapping his head back into place. ‘I’ll leave you now to settle down and get comfortable,’ he huffs. The middle-aged man makes his way back to the front door, still rambling on. He comes to an abrupt stop. He leans uncomfortably close to Honey’s uninterested face. ‘I will say, be wear. Of the Manor on the hill. Strange things happen in Angles’ Creek. Just… be careful.’ His serious demise reverts back to his usual friendly cheerfulness. ‘Toodaloo! You can always find me at Ray’s,’ with no more than a wiggle of his chubby fingers he nearly vanished from Honey’s porch.

She wasn't even sure exactly which manor he was talking about. All she could see were brittle twigs for miles in the bleak distance. But. There was a murky grey space, what looked to be an opening in the whispering trees. If she squinted hard enough, yes, there was a tattered house in the distance. One that combined a lavish art deco style with 1950s Americana brilliance. There were holes in the brickwork that looked to be poorly boarded over with scraps of rotting wood. The old hanging porch lights, once a crystal shiny glass, now swung smashed from its socket. A gate of exquisite design once stood guarding the house and its glory is now ripped off its hinges lazily swinging and creaking with the wind's force.

Retrieving her suitcase and what little belongings she brought with her from her car, Honey begins to unpack. With interior design not being her strong suit, her judgement told her the framed Elvis photograph looked best on the already dusty glass shelf in the bathroom, ironically. Her American flag was pinned above her bed in all its failing glory. The small vintage trinkets she considered her prized possessions: a little bone China jewellery dish with hand-painted pink roses, a porcelain doll her grandmother gave her for her first birthday, and a wooden box of teeth she found in an antique shop. All neatly placed on her brown dressing table in front of the infamous east facing window. The cramped structure left no room for any kind of wardrobe, meaning her few items of clothing had to be hung off the end of the cream curtain pole, supporting the flimsy mesh lace curtains that provided a very minuscule amount of privacy. She supposed in a run down town like this, not enough goes on for her to need more modesty.

The crinkle of her cardboard cigarette carton simmered off the walls as she fished one out to light between her supple lips. That’s how quiet Angles’ Creek was. How drab, how dull, how dismal. Not even the sound of footsteps from passers by, nor a car engine. Only the howling wind. Honey wanted quiet, and that’s what she got. The urge to fill an unfamiliar void of anonymity had her unpacking her record player to put on ‘I Call My Baby Pussycat’ by The Funkadelic. Leaning back on her new bed, she’d stripped herself of her plaid miniskirt and wedged heels, left in only her soft white thong that read ‘rockstars only’ across the front and a white lace tank top. She decided to unwind with the one of the only ways she knew how. Slipping her fingers into the front of her knickers, thinking thoughts of James Dean in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’, and Marlon Brando sweaty in a wifebeater. Her brain and body was nothing but oozing chocolate pudding and sticky melted marshmallow- a tapping on her window drew her out of her dreamland and anchored her down into reality. She padded over to see where the sound was coming from, expecting it to be that annoying old man again, just to find it was nothing but a tree branch blowing in the wind. So dead and bony, making a sound akin to dry fingers tapping and scraping at glass. No one was there. Not a soul in sight.

The old manor atop the hill in the distance caught her attention once again. A yellowish light bulb now glowed through one of the second-floor windows, right at the top of the house, beneath the deteriorating roof. It was almost as if a deathly shadowy figure created a colossal silhouette. If she squinted, the figure had a pale face. One of a handsome gentlemen, younger than she would expect of a manor so old. Stood there in nothing but a lacy vest top, nipples hard and protruding, and her knickers. An ominous figure of broad stature remains staring back at her.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #writing #harry styles soft goth #harry styles smut #harry styles story #harry styles lizzy grant #lizzy grant

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