#the only things that suffered from it were his morals not his looks
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amphibious-thing · 3 days ago
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d'Eon stated how women are morally superior, sure she's an avid feminist but would that make her a man-hating feminist?
I suppose it depends on what you mean by man-hating feminist.
For d'Eon morality was strictly tied to Christianity. D'Eon believed that God had created men and women as equals but that men had betrayed god by oppressing women. Kates explains:
Although "the intention of the Lord" was that men and women live as equals on earth as in Heaven, men did not live as God intended. They used their physical strength to dominate and exploit women, developing patriarchal institutions that systematically excluded women form positions of status and authority. "Men," d'Eon argued, "who by their strength and their gallantry seem like lions and tigers, have seized authority, all political positions all honors, all worldly riches, leaving women only the pain brought having babies." Men were not simply sexist, then, they used women to indulge in worldly things. Acquiring political power, military authority, material wealth, honors of one kind or another—this is what virility was all about. "The love of vainglory" lay at the heart of d'Eon's critique of manhood. Consequently, for a Christian a man's sexism was only one manifestation of his turning away from God, indulging in pleasures of the flesh. (p284)
In some ways her critique of manhood is mirrored in her critique of the wealthy, she writes:
What will happen to the great Duchesse de Monfalcon, who says that she would prefer to be damned alongside people of her own class than saved with maids and lackeys? Impurity among the privileged is a more dangerous example than among the disadvantaged. This most contagious, most persistent, and most shameful vice makes people suffer more than all the other vices. It has the same effect on the soul as the plague has on the body. (The Maiden of Tonnerre, p103)
Men's privilege makes them more susceptible to the sinful pleasures of the world, in much the same way that the privileges of the wealthy makes them more more susceptible to the sinful pleasures of the world.
It's all very Christian; pleasure is sinful and thus suffering is good.
However there is also themes of war throughout d'Eon's writing on gender and religion. D'Eon is purified by her conversion to womanhood in part because it takes her out of the sinfulness of the male sphere of the dragoon:
I was stripped of male clothing and my uniform, I was dressed in my first dress of innocence and placed among the Daughters of the Holy Mary and the Queen's women only that I might experience a new life and not live the old with a letter of promotion to the war office and the King's certificate sanctioning my service to my rank in the twenty-four regiments of the dragoons commanded by Colonel Beelzebub, head of the dragoons. (The Maiden of Tonnerre, p121)
D'Eon's views on gender were deeply influenced by her own lived experiences, the oppression she faced as a woman and her religious beliefs. As an atheist and a intersectional feminist I don't look to d'Eon for feminist theory and I personalty wouldn't recommend doing so. However her feminist beliefs are an interesting part of who she was and well worth studying in my opinion.
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alienoresimagines · 9 months ago
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*Before the Műnster mission*
Crank : Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with war crimes?
Bucky : Stop romanticizing the past.
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il-miele-che-scrive · 1 year ago
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you know what people are saying when a girl gets cheated on? go for his brother.
a/n not tryna offend anyone, I just love a lil drama
Part 2 here
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username1 Miss Y/n Y/l/n getting cheated on? No one is safe fr
↳username2 Yeah cuz how's he casually cheating on a literal goddess??
username3 they were together for almost 2 years😭
username4 My therapist will hear about this
↳username1 And Arthur is paying the bill
username5 that's it I'm NEVER trusting a man
username6 Isn't that girl Y/n's friend too? Poor girl getting cheated on twice
↳username3 yes it is 😭 guess Arthur got it from his brother
username7 Except Charles didn't cheat 😭 he's a homie hopper but he got morals
username8 I don't worry about Y/n, she's gonna find a new bf, but she wasted almost 2 years on him
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yourusername excuse my state i'm as high as your hopes
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username2 Miss girl about to enter her hoe phase
↳username3 As she should tbh
charlottesiine Lots of fun last night🤍
↳yourusername nothing will beat an ex wags night out
↳username2 best ex wags fr 😭
yoursister Next time I'm going too to keep an eye on you wtf
username4 Wait so Y/n and Charlotte are friends? When did this happen?
↳username5 Yeah cuz we've never seen them hang out back when ChaCha was a thing and suddenly the girls are partying together?
↳username6 I mean it could be just a "we both suffered a Leclerc so let's hang out" kinda thing
username5 WE BOTH SUFFERED A LECLERC 💀 no okay but that's valid
username7 Am I the only one noticing this post was liked by Charles?
↳username2 He knows his lil bro messed up lmao
username8 Okay guys so what are we betting on - did Charles like this post because of Y/n or because of Charlotte? Also, isn't he in a relationship?
↳username3 Charles has been single for a few months now, he's free to like whoever he wants lmao
↳username9 It's just a like it's not that deep
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arthur_leclerc You were my cup of tea but I drink vanilla latte now
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username1 The AUDACITY some men have
username2 and she was her best friend 😭
username3 I really want to believe they broke up before he got with the best friend but I don't think it's true
↳username4 Y/n and Arthur literally attended Charles' race a few days before we got the pics of Arthur with the other girl
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yourusername you don't mean nothing at all to me
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yoursister And I didn't even have to stop you from calling your ex
↳yourusername why would I even wanna call him anyways
yoursister Riiight, you were too busy getting to know some other interesting people:)
username1 What is Y/s/n talking about?
↳username2 Or rather WHO is she talking about?
username3 No Charlotte in the post but Charles is in the likes again 😶
↳username4 Have you seen what this one gossip page posted? Charles being in the likes isn't the thing I'd worry about here
username5 WHAT.
username3 Care to elaborate?
username4 Charles was also at the club with Y/n. It honestly looks like it was organized by a friend of his and he took Y/n there
username2 OH
username2 That's what Y/s/n is talking about
username5 Our girl Y/n is getting promoted from F2 to F1 and I love to see that
↳username6 LMAO it's so funny because it's true 😭
↳username2 Do we know who else was at this party?
username4 Allegedly the party was organized by Gasly, so obviously there was his gf Kika, but also some fellow drivers like Albon, Russell, Sainz, Ocon, Ricciardo and their gfs
username5 I was joking but now it looks like Y/n is actually becoming an F1 wag now lol
username7 Gossip girl on wheels I've been saying it for months
username8 But the caption SLAPS
↳username9 no because it looks like Y/n and Arthur are having a caption war lol it's funny
username8 It's childish but let a girl heal from a heartbreak in peace
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yourusername karma will take it from here
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username1 MISS GIRL?? WHO IS THE MAN??
↳username2 We all know it's Charles (allegedly)
username8 Nah cuz I told yall she's gonna find another boyfriend soon
yoursister Loving to see you happy again ❤️
↳yourusername just needed a little upgrade
username3 I have no proof but I just know it's Charles
username4 Do we think she went for Charles because she genuinely likes him or just to get back at Arthur?
↳username5 Wait until someone starts a "she cheated on Arthur with Charles" gossips
username6 My two favorite red flags
↳username7 The homie hopper and the brother hopper, a match made in heaven
username6 The homie hopper is so real, Y/n recently hung out with his ex Charlotte 💀
username8 What kinda brother gets with his brother's ex?
↳username9 Imagine the next family dinner lmao
username10 Y'all it's not even confirmed that the man is Charles, y'all are crazy
↳username6 The post was liked by all the F1 drivers and their partners that were on the party from Y/n's previous post, it says a lot
↳username2 What @/username6 said and also Y/n is now followed by half of the F1 grid AND the wags
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charles_leclerc Not your cup of tea, but my glass of wine
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yourusername KARMA IS MY BOYFRIEND❤️
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the-one-and-only-elita · 5 months ago
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One thing that I absolutely love about TFOne's writing is that it manages to avoid a lot of the heavier criticism I've seen regarding MegOp's hero/villain dynamic over the years (trust me, the mid-2010s TF discourse was crazy)
*Spoilers Below*
First of all, the narrative benefits so much from the main 4 cast members all being a part of the same exploited mining class. So many takes on MegOp have Orion being of a higher status (an archivist, a cop, etc) while Megatron is much lower down on the social latter (a miner, a gladiator, often in the context of being a slave).
I've seen many people be put off by this, because it feels as if Megs is being villianized for being rightfully angry at the system that deeply harmed and exploited him, while Orion/Optimus is praised for taking a more pacifistic stance despite him not suffering as much from or in some ways even benefiting from the system he claims to oppose. I don't find their dynamic to be as simple as that, and I do find these takes to be a bit reductive, but I do very much see where they are coming from.
I am definitely one of those people who's very frustrated with the way pacifism is hailed as the one true path of morality, and the inherent implication that taking any sort of revenge on the people who abused/exploited you makes you just as bad as them. Also, Marvel's particular brand of demonizing any form of radical political action, despite the system clearly being broken and corrupt, but being completely unwilling to offer any other alternatives to meaningfully change things for the better.
When looking at what I described above its pretty easy to see how a lot of versions of MegOp's hero/villain dynamic unfortunately fits into that trope. Bringing it back to TFOne, you can see how Op and Meg coming from the same political/social status subverts this. The existence of Elita and Bee only further illustrates that out of the 4 people of the mining class who were all deceived, exploited, and literally mutilated in the same way it is only D-16 that completely loses himself to his rage, even to the point where he loses compassion for his own companions and disregarding the safety of the other miners (when he decides to "tears everything down" and Elita exclaims he's going to "kill everyone").
What I think I love most about the characterization in TFOne is that Orion is the radical one. Not only that, but he is praised by Elita and by extension the narrative for it. He is constantly challenging authority, and is the first to have the suspicion that their society is structured in an unjust way.
Meanwhile D-16, to be frank, is kind of a bootlicker. He fully believed in the system and that Sentinal Prime, as someone with power, had the right to decided "what was best" for those who are weaker/lesser (I wish I had the specific quote from D-16 to support this, but the movie's still in theaters). It illustrate that D-16 already held certain fascistic ideals, and that he and Orion already have fundamentally opposing moral/political values, it simply hasn't been of any consequence yet. It shows that their eventual falling out was inevitable, even if they had decided to rebuild Cybertron together.
It should also be noted that D-16's feelings of anger and betrayal do not necessarily have anything to do with the unjust system itself, but that said unjust system was predicated on a lie. Hence his fixation on deception in the post-credits scene and him naming his faction the Decepticons. Meanwhile, when Orion learns the truth he's just sort of like "yeah, I always kinda knew something was up" because again, he understood on some level that their system was predicated on injustice.
Even D-16's obsession with Megatronus Prime, while initially an endearing aspect of his character, is also an indicator of the questionably large amount of value he puts on one's strength. It foreshadows the "might makes right" ideology that the decepticons follow, and is a key part of their ideological characterization across continuities.
Instead of the narrative we often see in Transformers media were Optimus is idolized by the narrative for being more moderate and Megatron is villiainized for being radical (or so people often claim), it is instead Optimus who is rewarded and praised by the narrative for being radical, and Megatron who is villainized and punished by the narrative for holding potentially fascistic values.
I do agree with some criticism I've seen that the whole thing with killing Sentinel and D-16's final turn into villainy felt a bit rushed and more than a little cliche, but I also understand it both had a limited runtime and that it is ultimately a family film meant to be accessible to children. More importantly though, I think the movie set the groundwork early on that, no matter how this final act played out, D-16 was always going to turn to darkness, and Orion would not have been able to stop him.
Its perfectly tragic, the way all MegOp should be, while also feeling really well thought out from a thematic standpoint. I love it.
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threebea · 2 months ago
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The Jedi should have done something about Tatooine and the Hutts. If only they sent Jedi to Tatooine and not just ignored it--
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Oh hi Quinlan. How's Tatooine circa TPM?
Anyway the Jedi should have done something about slavery in the galaxy outside the Republic's borders and not focused just on the Republic--
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Huh. The CIS were pretty cool with helping the Zygerrians reestablish their slave empire that the (checks notes) Jedi dismantled.
Anyway, the Jedi should never have joined the war at all. Sure the clone army existed and the clones would have to fight no matter what the Jedi decided to do, and yes, as far as the Jedi knew the clones were created by one of their order and so they had a responsibility to them in whatever capacity they could, and the clones being brainwashed into loyalty for the republic was established so convincing millions of them at once not to fight would be impossible that early on. And sure, Dooku, a Sith, led the galaxy's worst capitalists that wanted to make naboo look like child's play and kill countless civilians if the Republic didn't give in to all their demands, and yes the Jedi were linked psychically to the cosmos in a way where they could feel imbalance, death, and darkness, but they should have taken the moral high road and (checks notes) let both civilians and clones die from droids. Droids who are programmed and aren't going to hesitate about killing anyone. Droids who can't be negotiated with.
Of course they could have... Negotiated with the Sith Lord? Who wasn't actually the head sithlord in charge.
Then again the other Sith Lord who had been duly elected into office wouldn't have allowed that but...they should have tried!
Well they worked with hutts to use hyperlanes for the war they could have chosen not to fight in had actually tried harder! They were lazy and chose the easy path of being forced to dirty their hands because otherwise fascist billionaires and corporations would send programmed droids to kill civilians (like Naboo during TPM) until the Republic gave into their demands (unbridled capitalism which as we recall were totally cool with helping the Slave Empire they previously dismantled become a slave empire again).
The Jedi should have helped people and not tied themselves to the senate. They could have just negotiated with a galaxy worth of planets on a case by case basis.
Listen. Star Wars is a metaphor. It is not a one to one comparison of reality. The Jedi did all they could to help people and they did things that wore them down in body and soul because they had to make that sacrifice or let people suffer and die. There is no alternative in the galaxy they existed in. The Empire that Palpatine made is what they saw the CIS becoming.
Palpatine saw the Jedi as one of the biggest threats to his fascist empire so the plan was always to kill them. It's not illegal to be a Sith he might say, but he certainly made it illegal to be a Jedi.
I would love to know what people think, with the GFFA being what it is, and the size it is, and the Jedi numbering about ten thousand in the end what they were supposed to do as an alternative that would have had any of this end different.
If they hadn't joined the war people would have been enslaved and died and the Jedi would have still been hunted and killed.
If the Jedi removed themselves from the republic in protest of the war but still fought independently to help people they would have lost so much access, more clones for sure would have died, and the Jedi would still be hunted down and killed at the end.
If the Jedi left the republic before the war and were independents they would be slaughtered faster than they were on genonosis because they don't have the numbers. The droid army would get them or the republic run by Palpatine would get them. Keeping in mind Palpatine was elected and the Jedi had nothing to do with his election beyond saving a teenage girl and bringing her to beg her case to the senate on behalf of her people (the death toll was, as we remember, catastrophic).
If they retreated to the mountains and meditated then they just let people die without even trying to help and feel the cosmos become darker and more imbalanced by the suffering they could feel but we're ignoring. And years later Palpatine would show up to kill them because that aspect of his plan would never change.
They should have taken the moral high ground doesn't work in the scenario they were given in the universe they existed in. Not for them. Not when they are powered by empathy. It would have been a corruption of what they stand for if they didn't try to help people. And they tried. It wasn't their corruption that let the galaxy down. The Jedi were aware of their own flaws. They were aware they shouldn't be generals. They knew they shouldn't be commanding a clone army. They were under no illusions that the choices they were being forced to make were good, but even at their most morally questionable they didn't sell out the galaxy. It was the politicians that voted in a mass murdering fascist with thunderous applause to not just be supreme chancellor, to not just have emergency powers, but to be an emperor.
The Jedi even tried a coup. The last thing they would want, but they tried it anyway to hold back a Sith Emperor establishing his empire built on slavery and suffering who would later build a weapon that could destroy entire planets.
The Jedi did not lead to the downfall of the Republic. They were the last shield to be shattered.
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the-knight-of-the-stars · 3 months ago
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Are we gonna talk about how that finale entirely erased any conversation about class divisions or are we too focused on ships?
Are we gonna talk about how Caitlyn for a good chunk of the season willingly enforces violence and opression against the lowest class, no doubt directly causing more deaths and suffering, and she is forgiven by the narrative without any meaningful reflecting?
Her great moment getting together with Vi is right after she JUST had a conversation with Jinx where we see she STILL doesn't recognize any class bias she clearly has, insted making it about HER.
Her and the other enforcers are treated like noble heroes in the final battle, all the blame put on Ambesa. Vi's happy ending is getting into a relationship with the exact type of person who perpetuated all the suffering she endured as a child.
Are we gonna talk about how Jayce never leaves his privilege pedestal, never actually reflects on how he was also enforcing violence to the people of the undercity and living on his bliss of progress at THEIR expense?
Jayce, who got help on every step of the way to get to where he is, who wasn't disabled, who never lived the kind of poverty or class obstacles Viktor did, who never recognized the harm he enabled and was complicit to, HE was the one to tell Viktor "People build their own destiny." and "There is beauty in imperfection" ?????
Not to mention the whole bit where he implies Viktor did all that because he wanted to "eradicate what he thought was weakness"??? Didn't we stablished Viktor wanted to HELP THE PEOPLE FROM THE UNDERCITY TO HAVE BETTER LIFE CONDITIONS?? don't try to gaslight me.
I know this is just a TV show, but I need to remind everyone that what perpetuates opressive, discriminatory and violent systems as long and as deeply as they do is indiference. Is turning your head and enabling others to stay ignorant.
Edit: You guys are misunderstanding me. And I admit it is probably my fault, I wrote this high with emotion I wasn't as eloquent.
Jayce's exact choice of words or his time living in the alternate world is nowhere near my point.
My point is, that the narrative is establishing that the privileged character, is the one that has to show (and is quite literally, textually, always the one to show) the underprivileged character that "he was looking at life the wrong way." Forgetting that Viktor's journey of feeling powerless was greatly influenced by the fact he was poor and from the undercity.
That's what I meant by it erasing the part of the plot about class systems. In the end, the story only requires Jayce to understand Viktor's struggle on a superficial level, but the text never recognizes that it as the product of a deeply rooted SYSTEMIC ISSUE. One Jayce and even Viktor on some level, benefited from and perpetuated.
Understanding Viktor still doesn't give him any moral ground, and nobody ever challenges him on that because the story isn't interested in that anymore.
And the same with Caitlyn. She knows what she did what's wrong, fine, she feels bad. Like I said, she still has a class bias, and no character challenges her on it again because the story derails to magic and fighting and whatnot.
The plot just forgets (or ignores) that layer of the story despite it being so prominent up until now.
And ignoring the class discussion does a disservice to every single character because they were initially built on it. You can see it in how they lose the essence they had on s1.
I know y'all love the characters and want to empathize with all their motivations, okay? But the fundamental issue is that characters also represent things, and more so in a story as political as this one. We also have the right to point out that the show told us they represented something and then abandoned that narrative.
What do I think they could have done differently? If I tell you scene by scene we could be here for an entire year. The gist of it is: I think they should have stuck to the character themes they already had established.
Vi as someone fiercely loyal to the undercity beyond her relationship with Powder/Jinx, and being "cursed" by the role of the older sister. Jayce as someone with good intentions but who is ultimately limited by his blind idealism. Mel as a cunning politician who thinks she is on the right path because she isn't violent like her mother, not realizing she is still perpetuating it. Caitlyn as someone kind and compassionate who realizes the institutions she believed in are fundamentally flawed, and because of the way they are built will never be on the side of kindness. Etc, etc.
None of that gets any meaningful resolution.
I am glad if you liked it, or got something from it, you are entitled to your opinion.
I wanted to say this because I was angry, and still am. Because there was so much incredible potential, and honestly, to me, it feels like the writers chickened out on actually saying something in the end.
That's all I have to say about that.
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zhukzucraft · 7 months ago
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=> Joel: Do what must be done
You are doing what must be done when you are very rudely interrupted by a short shouty man,
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Bdubs: Hey. HEY!!! Stop that. What do you have against horses anyways! They are beautiful creatures… and don’t even drop anything worthwhile - just leather!!! You wanna' know where else you can get leather?! Cows! They drop beef too!!! All horses drop is sadness and a pained death scream…
The horse you were punching lets out it’s final neigh in a melodious cadence,
Bdubs: See?!
Joel: Music to my ears-
Bdubs: Don’t tell me you enjoy that sound?! No sane person enjoys that sound!!! It’s horrible… like you. You’re horrible.
Joel: Well, would you look at that, it dropped a leather. Don’t you need three of these to craft a saddle? 
Bdubs: ...maybe
Joel: Do you want it so you can make one and ride a horse in the SINGULAR DIRECTION that isn't immediately blocked off by blummin' water!?
Bdubs: ...
Bdubs: ...I don’t want your dirty horse leather!!! I refuse - on moral principle!
Joel: Fair, you need all the high ground you can get-
Bdubs: ARE YOU MAKIN’ FUN OF ME?!?! You’re shorter than I am.
Joel: Only if you count the hair, lad. It constitutes at least a third of your height.
Bdubs proceeds to make some kind of unintelligible grumble and starts punching the two cows you saw earlier, looks like he does want leather after all. 
As for you, while you would love to finish off the job you started, Bdubs did raise one good point: horses don’t drop food… begrudgingly you pause your equestrian extermination in favor of sheep slaughter.
However you don’t get that far on mutton mutilation before your communicator goes off a ton of times. You keep getting interrupted…
docm77: To whoever my soulmate is: You are about to take about 5 hearts of damage. docm77: Return to spawn. docm77: We need to talk.
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As Doc’s message goes off you lock eyes with Bdubs’ uncomfortably large ones. Those things are uncanny... Well, it looks like neither of you are paired with the cyborg goat man.
But since you two were so close to where he fell you decide to check up on (read: tease) one of the servers newest members after he made such a ruckus in chat.
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It turns out his soulmate was right there at spawn, and it just happened to be the other newbie. What are the odds of that?
Bdubs: Pssht, what amateurs. Don't they know it's traditional to check soulmates with the ol' fashioned punch test?
Joel: Punch test?
Bdubs: Yep. Like this-
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Joel: What was that for?!
Bdubs: I told you, a punch test. 
Joel: That’s not what I meant! Why so many times!?
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Bdubs: I had to be extra sure that I wasn’t soulbound with horse punching' scum like you.
Joel: …
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Bdubs: HEY, OW! EXCUUUSE YOU!!!
Joel: Sorry, double checking... I had to make extra sure I wasn’t soulbound with a stupid horse lover like you.
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Bdubs: …yooouuu-
Joel: at least now we definitely know we aren’t linked, 
Bdubs: For goodness sakes. If I was linked with you, I might’ve just ended my series right then and there!
Joel: Just to take me out with you!? You are an idiot. 
Bdubs: To save myself from suffering. Not everything is about you! 
Joel: Yes it is.
Bdubs: No it isn’t.
Joel: Yes it is.
Bdubs: No it isn’t!!! And to prove that, I’ll stop talking to you!
=====>
Start Over -- Go Back
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venusbyline · 1 month ago
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Jacaerys Velaryon — Nine Moons.
chapter two
(previous chapter)
(next chapter)
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— summary: After Lucerys' death and the arrival of the dragonseeds, Jacaerys no longer wants to be betrothed with Baela. He wants to marry his twin sister, even if it means going against Rhaenyra's decisions and sealing suffering in your life and his.
— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader
— type: dark, sequel to Sleep (but can also be read as a standalone series)
— word count: 2.5k
— chapter's warnings: female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), forced pregnancy, mild angst, pregnancy kink, manipulation, sexism, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, verbal abuse, sadism, dark content, referenced underage sex, crying, threats of violence, forced marriage mentioned, marriage of convenience mentioned, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), minor Addam Velaryon/reader, jealous!Jacaerys, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.
— author's notes¹: Nine Moons is a shortfic, sequel to the one shot Sleep, written for Kinktober. Both Nine Moons and Sleep can be read as standalone.
— author's notes²: Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.
— author's notes³: Happy Holidays guys <3 <3 <3 I hope 2025 will be an amazing year for all of you. Thank you so much for supporting me this year and my fics. Despite some spam and haters, being able to share my stories with you and interact here were my favorite experiences in 2024.
— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin)
— crossposting: AO3
❥ Nine Moons masterlist • Jacaerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist
❥ about me • main masterlist
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During the fifth moon of your pregnancy, the whispers around Dragonstone continued in full force. Jacaerys was busier than ever with the development of the war, preferring to constantly fight with his mother and the Council about the situation of the Dance of the Dragons than to sit for hours inside a stupid library with Baela.
Rhaenyra was determined to keep her son close to her stepdaughter and prevent him from having too much free time to visit his twin sister in the private chambers. Whenever Jace tried to spend more hours than necessary with you, she would find a way to give him some order, whether it was something about Baela or a political opinion.
No matter how much you tried to reassure Jacaerys, the boy was always grumpy and complaining about your mother, complaining about her ridiculous interference between the two of you.
That was why when Baela and Jacaerys were forced to fly together, he did not make any effort to even discuss something with his betrothed. The only sound on the hill being the typical noises made by the dragons after their riders descend at the tip.
As the minutes of silence passed, Baela felt her jaw clenched, watching her cousin sit down on the floor and look away from her, seeming more interested about the sight of the horizon.
Poking the inside of her cheek with her own tongue, the princess finally opened her full lips to speak. "Remember when we were younger? We always used to fly together... Train together..." Jacaerys looked at the girl with some disapproval, ignoring her words and looking back at the sky. This angered Baela again and she pushed him a little more. "You wanted me a lot back then."
Jacaerys snorted, his body still sitting up, but his mind quickly wandered to the days where they had fun together, taking advantage of the fact that Daemon and Rhaenyra were always too busy with their own relationship to worry about whether their children were doing something morally wrong or not.
Either way, not that there were many things morally wrong from the Targaryen family's perspective.
"I was young and brainless. Any tight cunt delights an inexperienced virgin little boy."
As bitter as his words were, Baela could not help but chuckle. "Oh, so now you admit my cunt is good?" She teased, not caring about the furious gaze the prince gave her. "Do not be so surly, Jace. There was a time when I was your favorite girl."
It was Jacaerys' turn to scoff, his face beginning to flush, both from the sun's rays hitting the hill and from the anger that began to course through his veins, fire burning in his eyes as he stared at her, his jaw hard almost like a stone. "My favorite girl has always been my twin sister. You were a cunt for me to fuck and use as I wished. Nothing more than that."
The amusement in Baela's face disappeared immediately, her eyes widening with a mixture of indignation at the lack of respect and hurt at his harsh words. Despite her abrupt silence, Jace did not look guilty at all, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is that? You do not look as tough as your father anymore, dear betrothed." He mocked the nickname that was supposed to be sincere and affectionate. "You sound a lot more like your mother now. Two melancholic and annoying women. Always the second option. Never truly chosen and loved. But at least Laena was useful as a broodmare for Daemon, something you did not even get from me."
Baela's eyes darkened, thousands of thoughts running through her mind, from angry insults to possible ways to push Jacaerys off the damn hill. However, anything about those thoughts could just end up with her dead afterwards, and that was out of the question.
Instead of retaliating against his cruel behavior, Baela bit her lip, choosing to follow his gaze to the horizon too and feeling the wind slightly messing up some strands of her white braids.
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"Your nausea seems to have subsided, Princess." Addam Velaryon's voice echoed inside the dining room, your head turning so you could face him, pausing your meal for a while so you could continue talking. It was good to have someone other than Jacaerys to talk, even if it did not last long.
"The Maester said that they started to subside from the fourth moon, and now during the fifth it is really easier than before." You wiped your lips with the white napkin, and then pointed to the chair in front of you. Addam nodded, giving you a soft smile and moving to join you at the table. He was not the biggest appraiser of blackberry jam, however, asking the castle's servants to prepare something more nutritious only for him did not seem like a good idea, so he tried his best to hide his discomfort, using the knife to spread some on the toast. "You do not like blackberries so much, do you?"
Addam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his lips pulled into an embarrassed smile. "Unfortunately you are right, Princess. But I do not mind eating a little bit just to enjoy Your Grace's company."
A chuckle escaped from you and you put your hand up to cover the mouth, still chewing on a piece of toast. "My apologies for that, Addam. My brother Jace has been very strict with my diet since I was pregnant.'
Despite the playfulness in your tone, a glimmer of concern crossed Addam's face, and he tried to hide it by clearing his throat and pointing to the glass of almond milk next to your hands. "There is a belief that some foods and drinks help with breast milk production." He said and your gaze dropped to the glass and then back to him, waiting for him to keep telling you about the curiosity. "I mean... I do not know if it is true, Your Grace. There are many foolish beliefs that continue to be told and reproduced from generation to generation... But many times I have heard women whispering among themselves about this subject. And apparently both almond milk and blackberry were on their list."
As random as the topic was, you could not help but smile at Addam's knowledge. You watched him while he went back to eating his toast with blackberry jam, trying to hold back your laughter when you noticed the slight frown on his eyebrow. As much as you felt tempted to ask the servants to prepare something different for your cousin, you just kept thinking. "You seem to know a lot about pregnancies, Addam. Do you have any children we do not know about yet?"
Addam chuckled after hearing his joke, coughing a few times after he choked on the piece of toast. "No... Gods, I do not. Not at all." And chucked again when he managed to breathe, awkwardly wiping his lips. "I do not believe I would be a good father or even a good husband."
Your excited facial expression faded, your eyes widening slightly and your lips parted, thinking about something to say. Even though Addam's tone was playful, you were feeling a hint of insecurity and self-loathing in what he was saying.
Without thinking so much, your fingers reached out to try and hold the man's hand and say something reassuring about the whole situation. However, the sound of the dining room doors opening made you step back, straightening up in your chair as Jacaerys and Baela entered the room.
"Dear sister..." Your twin greeted you, cold eyes wandering between you and Addam, an eyebrow raised at the somewhat unusual scene.
"Idaña." You forced a smile at Jace, finishing cleaning your lips dirty with the crumbs from the meal. "Did Vermax and Moondancer have fun?"
Since the last few weeks, you have felt forced to stop asking directly if Baela and Jace were having fun, due to the rudeness your cousin and future sister-in-law said whenever you asked something like that after the tense and obligatory flights. Then, the only possible option to make some effort to lighten their mood was to focus on the subject of their dragons.
"You could say that." Baela muttered without any real emotion, pulling out a chair to sit at the table as well, but far away from you and Addam.
Silence followed while Baela and Addam were eating their toasts and you were drinking the remaining almond milk in the glass. Despite the effort between the four of you to avoid eye contact with each other, you could feel that Jace remained standing in front of the table, probably waiting for you to finish eating so that both of you could have some time alone.
When you placed the glass on the table, a maid came with a tray to remove the used utensils. You murmured an acknowledgment with a soft smile, trying to get up from the chair, the strange twinge inside your belly making you stop immediately, whimpering and placing your hands tightly on the corner of the furniture.
"What is wrong, love?" Jacaerys asked confused, practically moving with the speed of a dragon towards you, his hands on your shoulder to form you back into the chair safely. Addam had stood up and walked around the table, keeping a respectful distance between both of you. Baela continued to sit in the other corner, but her attention was focused on what was happening too. Even the maid was worried, the tray still in her hands as she waited to understand what had happened and call someone else if necessary.
Jacaerys' fingers immediately approached your round belly when he realized you began to hold onto it, your face remaining in a frown, trying to understand what was happening. When your brother called your name louder and more worried this time, you blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. "I... I do not know. I felt some strange twinge, like something was moving inside me."
Jace parted his lips, frowning and about to ask if it hurt too much, but Baela's voice caught everybody's attention. "Your baby moved."
Her words made everyone else in the room look at the younger Targaryen princess. Jacaerys remained with his hand on his stomach, staring at Baela with shock, just like you and Addam. The maid did the same, but soon her face became a little excited, wanting to explain the situation about what was happening in the princess's body. "It is normal to start feeling your baby moving inside your womb from the fifth moon, Your Grace. They are softer than the next ones to come."
"Will they be even stronger?" Your question came with rosy cheeks and wide eyes, looking down and thinking about what it would be like until the end of the pregnancy. You were carrying a true strong boy or strong girl.
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After the maid and Jace made sure you were okay, your twin decided to take you to breathe some fresh air in the garden, walking arm in arm with you as if the two of you were a perfect couple, straight out of the romantic tales that people told you when you were younger, always making you blushing, giggling and kicking your feet.
When you were still a little girl. Younger. Even more naive. Even more vulnerable.
An easy target for Jacaerys' obsession and manipulation.
"I am happy that our baby is developing very well in your womb. I bet it will be healthy and brave. An admirable future king or queen." You raised an eyebrow at Jacaerys' ramblings. "It will be merciful to the loyalists, kind to the people, and fearless against those who do not support it, and—"
"What would be disloyalty to you?" The question stopped him. You did not want to continue arguing about the fact that your brother would be sentencing your child to a similar fate like both of you, Lucerys and Joffrey, four kids always being mocked by a large part of the own family for being "legitimized bastards". You had tried to explain it for many months and you were already giving up on bringing some rationality to Jacaerys's mind and his heart.
The boy seemed to think about your words for a while, furrowed brows as you walked and sat on a bench in the garden. "Well, I would say that disloyal will be those who do not bow down to my choices and opinions, those who dare to try to contradict me or those who stand in my way and make it difficult for me to achieve my goals. When I become the King, I will not be merciful in the face of these people."
You agreed silently, despite finding his thoughts a bit extreme for a future king. Considering that no one on your mother's own council seemed to agree with the heir's peculiar actions committed as a way of marrying who he truly wanted, you could not help but worry about their well-being.
Of course you chose not to say anything about that, thanking the Gods when Jace mumbled something off topic. "Since when did you and that mongrel become friends?"
The offensive nickname caught you off guard and you shrugged. "Addam and I are not exactly friends. I barely talk to him. We just sat together today for breakfast. And it was cool, I supposed..."
Jacaerys nodded without enthusiasm, his hand clenched into a fist as he looked at the garden, thinking of something to say and allowing you to admiring the flowers. He liked to stay like this, enjoying the minutes by your side to rid his mind of the hateful thoughts against your family in the last few weeks and be able to be with you, no worries about whether Rhaenyra would curse him later or not.
However, the moment of peace was not going very well, not after your recent sentence. Jacaerys changed the focus of his concentration, stopping admiring the flowers so he could grab your arm and pull you closer to him. It was not exactly a rough or aggressive movement, but it was sudden, making your eyes widened and a few brown strands of your hair swaying against the soft wind, messing up your braids.
"I know very well what Addam is trying to do. Keep allowing it and I will rip that bastard's tongue out with my own hands, Idaña."
Jacaerys' verbal sadism cut like a knife, the cruelty in emotionally threatening you seeming scarier than the violence about the hypothetical act. Even though your eyes remained wide and a single tear ran down your cheek, Jacaerys did not bother wiping it away, a smirk playing on his lips before he placed a kiss on your forehead and walked to the halls, leaving you in the garden, standing and looking at his back. For a moment, you could almost swear your skin felt like it was on fire due his kiss...
Being with Jacaerys was like being burned alive little by little every day, never free from his fire, never free to breathe fresh air, but also never warm enough to allow yourself the peace of dying.
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pruneunfair · 3 months ago
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Tropes in manhwa are awful yet people still defend them
I'm in a bad mood right now so what better way to release all that pent up anger by ranting on what can ruin a good story.
1: Slavery being inserted only for cheap plot and slaves being demonized as obsessive/greedy monsters for "not knowing their place"
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Theres nothing wrong with wanting to insert slavery in your story AS LONG as it's not just cheap plot to make your MC look "better" by buying from a single to all of the slaves because let me tell you this: there is no such thing as a good slave owner, you cannot morally own another human being. A lot of manhwa like to have slavery be a part of their plot completely ignoring that just because the MC goes "wow this is terrible" doesn't make them a good person after they buy a slave.
Remarried empress does this with its villian Rashta by pushing the notion that she's being greedy for not wanting to stay in poverty so Navier won't suffer because apparently a slave wanting what the silver spoon mouthed nobles were born into is so terrible not to mention they justify slave owners and slavery in general as a punishment for criminals (neglecting the fact that children can be sold by their parents)
The villainess has fun again justifies a child slave being bought by the lead and he becomes an obsessive shouta love interest, fans continously justify by using the ancient lolicon excuse "he may look young but he's actually 99182823 years old!"
In divorcing my tyrant husband, Robelia buys 30 slaves and the only 2 that consistently show up have no other personality other then "we love you FL we will worship you till the end of time!"
There's a damn manhwa out there literally called the order of slave breeding and even when a story tries to do this correctly such as VADTD with Penelope being portrayed as a bad person for what she did to Eckles, fans have been so deluded by the idea that FL's buying slaves is "girlboss" that they think Eckles should be grateful to be Penelopes "pet"
2: ML's murdering innocent people after one guy hurts the FL
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I already made a specific post about it before and I'll say it again: all this does is make your male lead/father figure look like a horrific monster. While you could say it's because its a medieval kingdom (objectively that is true that they would do this) manhwa and OI is the same place where despite in those times taking a mistress was considered normal they still view it as cheating and "how could you pick that slut when you have such a perfect wife!? 🤬" in most stories. So yes, modern morality is still inserted within these tropes. While I can get it's a way to show that the man in questions loves the FL so much he's willing to go to such lengths to protect her I think just mutilating the guy that actually did the sin would be enough because try imagining yourself as a faithful servant who was amazing at your job getting brutally slaughtered by the Emperor because your boss attacked his daughter or lover.
Into the light once again does this with Aishas dad murdering all the relatives and close friends of a count that tried to kill Ysis and Aisha, Aisha doesn't seem to care despite being in a situation where she was wrongfully executed in her past life.
Remarried empress does this too. After Navier is nearly killed by Krista's brother, Heinrey tortures and kills the dad and slaughters the servants of the zemensias. I can't remember if he also murdered the remaining family members but I wouldn't put it past him.
3: protagonist centered morality
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Protagonist centered morality is the biggest indicator that a piece of media is dealing with a mary sue FL. Whatever the protagonist says is right is immediately morally correct. This is actually used to justify the last 2 examples with "it was for the FL!" Things like slavery, murder, workplace abuse, union busting, pedophilia, and being a POS to your loved ones are all justified if the protagonist finds a cheap way to justify it and you HAVE to agree with her because her backstory is very tragic 🥺. Protagonist centered morality also ruins the chance for good characters since the FL herself never has to grow as a person so she stays the same exact thing as she was just with more enablers and random characters will be treated as villains even if they aren't actually wrong about being suspicious of the Protagonist or calling out her behavior. It twists the narrative in such incomprehensible ways that you don't even know what your reading anymore. I can't even list all of the manhwas that do this given how many there actually are so I'll just list some that are at least self aware there Protagonist is awful/morally grey or isn't even a bad person but they still have flaws that can be pointed out
Villains are destined to die
My in laws are obsessed with me
Not sew wicked step mom
Depths of malice
The villainess turns the hourglass
Beware of the villainess.
4: villains being dumbed down to make the lead look smarter
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This is unfortunately another common staple often used as a quick way to make the FL look smart and witty but is that really hard to look smarter when everyone else around you is an idiot? Not only does the FL not have to put in actual effort to best her enemies but you just start to pity the villain for basically being a punching bag. Dimwitted villains aren't always bad in fact they can be some of those most entertaining characters no matter much they lose but that only works when they are meant to be seen as a goofy character that your not supposed to take seriously. Villains that are written as extremely childish and stupid but your still supposed to treat them as serious antagonists on the other hand are just annoying since you wonder how the protagonist even got killed by them in the first life if they're so stupid.
Isabella de Mare while admitly having a good reason for being dumbed down (she's a teenager in the 2nd life so it's reasonable she wouldnt be as smart as her adult counterpart) is still a joke of a villainess who keeps flipping back and fourth from a snot nosed whiny brat to a mastermind only at convenient opportunities when the plot needs conflict.
Mielle from the villainess turns the hourglass was first portrayed as extremely conniving as she arranged for Arias downfall in the shadows but in the second life she fails at every scheme she has even though she has Emma and Isis to help her out.
Ragibach is a literal demon possessing the body of another woman with the goal of setting demons loose on the word to start another human vs demon war and she succeeded in that the first time, the devastation was all there so clearly she has to be a formidable antagonist right? Well no, she's another case of being dumbed down further and further so Keira can succeed and while they do understand some plot holes such as Ludwig not trusting her as much in the second life it doesn't change the drastic character change from evil genius to bumbling idiot.
In short: dumbing down your villains so your lead can look smarter is essentially going to give the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb vs a coughing baby.
5: feminine women being demonized as basic "other girls" sluts
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Okay this one isn't nearly as terrible as the others on this list because we all love the good old "a demon makes itself look beautiful to deceive humans" kind of villain, in fact as you probably know by me by now, white lotuses are my favorite kinds of character and even in media outside of manhwa I always find myself drawn to angelic villains but it seems like this is less of that and more of "Oh those are all the other girls who just want a man to save them, look at how much better my badass rich boss babe is for working for herself while taking all of their men at the time 😎" in manhwa. As soon as a traditionally feminine girl shows up, comments are already calling her a two faced bitch and half the time protagonist is already skeptical of her. This is the opposite of what being a feminist really is, a real feminist wouldn't be putting down other women just because they dress with more pink with bows and skirts and while I do think for most manhwa this is unintentional I do wish that we could have more characters like Psyche, Helena, Athy, and Jennette that prove that being overly feminine doesn't make you a backpedal on feminism. This doesn't make the badass or sexy fl's bad either, it just means they can co-exist.
An angelic villain should be treated as evil for being a well calculated schemer, not because they have a light colored color scheme
6: toxic relationships being romanticized as good
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You know for a large community that claims to be about girl code a good chunk sure likes to look the other way when it comes to toxic relationships as long as the abuser is "hot" and theres always the terrible excuse such as "he has trauma!" Or "he doesn't know how to show his love normally!" No just no we aren't doing that here. Cry or better yet beg has this problem with not only the narrative claiming that Matthias graping Layla is okay because she actually loves him and doesn't know it but a large part of the fanbase also defends it, the same goes with try begging, a manhwa written by Solche who also wrote cry or better yet beg and once again despite Leon being an abuser everyone's ready to justify his actions because he's just a soft little boy who ends up falling in love with Grace awww 😍 (what the hell?) Everyones all about not justifying abusers because they had a sad past until it's the "sexy" male leads with daddy issues.
7: maid slapping
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This shit isn't asserting your dominance as a boss bitch it's just work place abuse. This trope has gotten so out of hand of being justified by narratives and readers that there is an entire webtoon called this isekai maid is forming a union that's all about criticizing twisted manhwa tropes that get brushed off with maid absuer being at the biggest one. It's funny because a lot of people complain that Isekai maid union villainizes the nobles too much but they never ask the same questions when a OI is demonizing maids as greedy and lazy in order to deserve a beating. This doesn't just stop at hands either it can escalate to threats of mutilation just to assert dominice which is absolutely sick. Most of the time these leads used to be office workers or terminally ill patients, they know how terrible it is to be treated like garbage by their superiors yet they continue to absue every maid who isn't getting on their knees for them. Most maids in real history would not mistreat a noble even if they were the most hated in the house and even if they did they'd be fired without a letter of recommendation so why can't the FL's just fire the rude maid if they care about dignity so much because I'm pretty sure getting violent with a maid isn't very dignified either.
8: disgusting age gaps
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Very similar to #6 but in this case while the ML/FL isn't a cruel monster to their partner it doesn't change the fact that grooming and pedophilia is still a crime worthy of life in prison. You'd think "oh no way, this can't be justified can it?" You'd be wrong. Now I belong to house of Castillo thankfully has a larger fanbase of people who think that a relationship between a girl who got groomed by her knight is bad but in cases like into the light once again a lot of people like to say "Well Aisha is technically 28 so it's fine!" When it really isn't since Aisha is still mentally 14. Taming my ex husbands mad dog is another one that does this with Reinhardt grooming a 16 year old boy and its apparently meant to be "cute".
9: claiming a character as unattractive yet giving them a perfect body and appreance
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I just think this is a major cop-out since there's time where they want to make a realistic story yet also wanting a fantasy fufilment. I don't think its a coincidence that the only woman in tears of a withered flower that yout supposed to support is a Victoria's secret model body type. Even though she's meant to be an overworked exhausted 33 year old woman being mocked for losing her beauty she sure as hell isn't drawn that way, the only other women around hae soo are all women with smaller boob's and in general more common body types that are either classed as stupid or jealous that Hae soo is so beautiful that all the attractive men want her
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how about we don't pit all the women against each other for once? And let's especially not villainize other women because their jealous they could never be have large boob's and tiny arms+waist at the same time?
10: the commoner protagonist actually being a noble rich person all along
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Look I know most of us had loved those "the hated child is the lost princess" GLMM but we need to drop it because it's kinda disappointing that the nobody who had to work their way to the top is actually a secret magical princess who had royal blood in them all along. While I did think the villainess turns the hourglass was a pretty decent read I was super disappointed finding out that Aria was of noble descent all along. I liked seeing a commoner protagonist for once and it really felt like it was critiquing the idea that all commoners and poor people who want nice things like the nobility are greedy animals. Something similar can also happen with certain saintess manhwas that decide to twist itself into "the villainess was the true saintess all along!" And I'm just sitting here thinking "well there goes the hope that you didn't need the super duper rare power to be a strong character"
I feel way better now after writing all this.
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princessbellecerise · 2 years ago
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Worth The Wait
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──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
summary | Jace spends your entire courtship denying you the pleasures of what you really want. Now that it’s the night of your wedding, he has every intention of making it worth the wait
warnings | husband!jace, first time wedding smut, creampie
this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter
divider by @princessbellecerise
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Jacaerys never let himself have his way with you until your wedding night.
Before that, he’d always cut you off, not letting anything get too far because of his honor. He was so righteous that it nearly made you blind with rage every time he stopped you when you were right there, so close to having him inside of you but stopped every time by his last minute morals.
Jacaerys was a good man and you suffered for it; always being left aching and denied what you truly wanted. But of course, as heir, he knew he couldn’t touch you until your wedding night. The gods, his mother and his reputation frowned upon it. Jacaerys would do not such thing as dishonor you, so he waited.
And waited.
And suddenly, it was the night of your wedding feast and Jacaerys could not bring himself to think of anything expect for you. How good you looked in your gown, the lights seemingly adorning your face.
Marriage looked so good on you that he can hardly contain himself. He grows desperate with each passing minute, strained smiles and polite yet brief words being exchanged with everyone that approaches to congratulate him. A few people even make him laugh and like the future king he is, Jace does not show his true emotions.
He does not show how desperately he wants you, his wife whom he’s denied pleasure so much. He keeps his composure but Jacaerys is suffering, agonizingly and and eagerly awaiting for the sun to go down.
Of course, you take note of his angst and worry that something is wrong with your husband. Or worse—that he’s unhappy to the point where he doesn’t even want to eat.
He hasn’t touched his food since it was brought out and worriedly, you lean over to ask him about his lack of appetite.
You have to admit; you weren’t expecting the response that you got. Words from his mouth that send pure heat through your body and made you feel hot from your heels to your head.
“I am fine, my princess. I am simply not hungry because it is not roast I wish to feast upon right now,” He tells you, and suddenly everything makes since.
Why he’s so tense. Why Jacaerys looks like he cannot wait to leave this damn dinner. And suddenly, your mouth drops into an ‘o’ shape. A smirk slowly adorning your lips because now Jacaerys knows what it feels like. He knows what it’s like to be left waiting, wondering and lusting for the opportunity.
In a way, it sort of makes you satisfied that he has to wait.
Only when the sun goes down is it proper for him to finally announce your fair wells, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you towards your now shared chambers.
Everyone is looking at the two of you, cheering and congratulating you both as you walk though the congregational of people. Friends and allies alike clap Jace on the back and wink at you as your grip on his hand tightens.
With a strained smile, Jace politely nods back but does not entertain their jesting. You’re grateful, because even though what you’re about to do is an open secret, it’s still embarrassing.
Thankfully, there would be no bedding ceremony, Jacaerys way too much of a gentleman to let that happen to you. Instead, it’s only you and him and the flames of desire that grow between the two of you as you walk through the halls.
It burns—it really does. The heat and the longing between you two is almost unbearable as you finally make it behind closed doors, barely locking it before Jacaerys grabs you and jumps you.
You’re surprised, yelping when your husband scoops you into his arms and kisses you without so much as a word.
His hot mouth covers your groans and while it is unexpected, you welcome it.
His kiss is fierce, so passionate that it nearly knocks you to your knees. Jacaerys has clearly grown desperate during the hours of waiting, the future king nearly rabid as he pokes and prods at your clothing.
Never have you seen him in such a way, so ungentleman-like as he drags you to the floor. You don’t even make it to the bed because Jacaerys is so needy, getting you naked in no time while also landing sloppy kisses on your neck.
It ignites an unimaginable fire in your belly to see him so frantic for you. To see him finally give in and want to fuck you like you’ve previously begged for.
Now that his honor isn’t at stake, Jacaerys is not holding back. He’s adamant about what he wants and he wants you; all of you.
You two lay bare before one another and then it’s time; Jace settling himself at your hole and running his cock head against your slick folds.
He’s done this many times before. You’ve been here before, and every time this was the moment that Jace pulled back. Just when he was about to push into you, his sense would smack him in the face and off of you he went.
This was always the stage of stopping but this time there was no return. You found yourself almost opening your mouth, so used to having to beg him for friction.
“Just the tip, at least the tip. Please Jace.” Is what you used to beg for.
Now, it shocks you when he says nothing. Does nothing to pull away, only kisses you so hard it makes your head spin and your lips throb from where he cut it earlier.
He’s so feverish that it hurts, hurts so good to know he finally desires you. To know that this will be the time he doesn’t stop, the time you don’t beg.
Now, it is him that is at his wits ends as he lays his forehead against yours. When it’s time to push himself in, Jacaerys finally speaks. Brown eyes blown from desire, the future king is barely able to hold himself back, but he does.
“Do you wish for me to warm you first, sweetling?” He asks, and it’s not so much as an offer as it is his morals shining through. Jace wants absolutely nothing except to fuck you into oblivion, but he’s kind.
He asks before taking your maidenhood even though he’s shaking at your entrance, will power faltering the longer you contemplate your answer.
He almost cries when he sees you shake your head, breathing a sigh of relief and pursing his pink lips together while nodding. He understands.
“They’ll be time for that later,” You tell him and he’s relived. Back to the mission of penetrating you before you suddenly get an idea, finding yourself stopping him one last time just to be cruel.
“Wait!” You take the role of Jacaerys, and he you as he stares at you with wide eyes. Hungry eyes that are confused and frustrated as you look at him.
“What is it, my love?” He asks slowly.
A crude smirk falls upon your lips. “Maybe we should wait,” You tell him bashfully, loving the way he reels back. The bewilderment in his expression is finally enough to satisfy your revenge for a lifetime, and you want to laugh when he finally feels what you feel. “Maybe we shouldn’t…dishonor ourselves this way. We should wait for marriage, you know? That way—”
You gasp to the high heavens as your cruel joke is suddenly cut off by Jacaerys pushing himself inside of you. In no mood to jest, he takes what he wants and finally eases himself in your core.
You were being cruel to him, he justifies. Jacaerys is a kind man that does not take lightly to cruelty.
You moan out as pleasure graces your lower regions and stare at your husband in shock as his face shows all seriousness. Out of all things, you weren’t expecting for him to do that. To take control in way he’d never shown before.
“Do not jest with me, wife. Not tonight of all nights. Do not deny your husband such pleasure,” He growls in your ear as he finally stills.
Still stunned, you simply lay there and relish in the feeling of him on top of you. Seven hells, you have half a mind to cry with relief but you don’t want him to mistake yours tears for pain.
In fact, it’s quite the opposite and though you told yourself no more begging, you find that you do it anyways as you wrap your legs around him. Pulling him close so that Jacaerys is really and truly inside of you, just as your husband should be.
“I’m sorry, my love. Please forgive me—I won’t do it again,” You whisper desperately, desire clawing at your every atom. You need him to move, you need him to finish what he started; to complete what you’ve craved for what seems like forever now.
It would only be fair after denying you that pleasure for half a year.
“Good.”
Jacaerys growls this and that is when you feel him start to move, his hips snapping into yours as his lips find your own. You moan as his cock thrusts his way through your unexplored folds, reaching depths and pleasures you never thought possible.
You clench around him and move your lips, loving the way he groans and pants into your mouth. Your legs still find themselves wrapped around his waist, enticing your love to go deeper, faster, harder.
You need him and he needs you.
His strokes are those of desperation, chasing every feeling he had ran away from you. Chasing those previous nights where he had denied you his cock, denied himself of the pelasure that he was feeling right now.
The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was one that was indescribable. If anyone ever asked, which he doubted they would (expect for Luke, maybe) then Jacaerys would simply have to stare at them, mouth open like it was now.
For what could he say, other than his beloved was inciting things from his body that he had never felt before? Providing him with pleasure and ecstasy that took his breath away more than his first dragon ride.
These feelings lifted him higher than that, higher than Vermax souring through the clouds and he screwed his eyes shut as he saviored the flavors of your cunt.
Soft and wet and warm and his prison that he’d gladly rot away in. If Jacaerys could spend the rest of his days inside of you he’d be a happy man. He’d give up the iron throne, burn the skies and every village if it meant feeling your warmth.
He’d do it all.
He would give you his all, steadying his pace so that you might taste the same drops of pleasure he was experiencing. So that you might throw your head back in ecstasy like he did, identical moans leaving the two of you as you came undone.
For you, it came in the form of clenching down on Jace’s cock, crying out as your peak hit you violently. You panted, biting into his shoulder as he did yours and rocking your hips to the sensation.
For Jacaerys, it came in the form of hot spurts, coating your walls with his seed like a good husband should. Like a good king, who would surely need to provide heirs one day.
You were all too willing to compete this task, sucking him in, milking him of his children until Jacaerys had nothing left to give. Until he was an empty shell above you, eyes closed and utterly exhausted as he rolled to the floor beside you.
It took a few minutes for anything expect for your heavy panting to fill the room. Both you and Jace were dazed, still out of it and not quite sure what had just happened. Still experiencing the bliss from your first night of marriage. One, that if anything, indicated that a good marriage was on the horizon indeed.
For you, the night had been everything you hoped for and more. Worth the wait, which you were sure that Jacaerys appreciated now that his honor and his cock reminded satified.
Perhaps the two could co-exist now, you concluded. Staring at your beloved as he turned to face you too, a small smile peaking at his lips.
“Iksin ziry worth se umbagon syt ao pār, ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asked, as shallow breaths overtook his body still. (Was it worth the wait then, my love?)
You grinned as you looked into his brown eyes and eagerly nodded, reminiscing on your peak that had happened only minutes before.
You were still dazed, still hazy but your mind was clear enough that you knew your answer before you uttered it. You loved this man, and you knew that you had made the right decision.
“Kessa, īles worth se umbagon indeed, ñuha jorrāelagon,” You promised softly, using the High Valerian he had taught you. Gazing into his eyes that had gone soft for you. That held love for you and silently promised you that this was it, that Jacaerys would always be worthy of anything till the end of your days. “Kesā va moriot sagon worth ziry naejot nyke.” (Yes, it was worth the wait indeed, my love. You will always be worth it to me.)
3K notes · View notes
drgnflyteabox · 19 days ago
Text
red ochre [5]
series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder
> summary: big nun, little nun > tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab
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When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 
Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.
He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.
Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.
So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.
There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.
Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you
You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.
On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.
“What's that?” you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.
Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.
Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.
Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.
“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.
“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”
“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.
He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.
“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.
“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.
I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?
“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”
“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”
“Like a bairn?”
“A what?”
“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.
You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?
“You punished me,” you settle on.
“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”
“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”
He turns to you.
“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”
Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.
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You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.
When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.
You have to admire that. At least a little.
“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.
“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”
He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.
“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”
That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.
“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.
“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.
“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”
Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.
Some spirit of confidence grips you.
“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”
“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”
“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.
Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.
“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.
“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”
“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.
Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.
“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“
“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 
“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.
“How else..?” you frown.
Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.
“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”
“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.
Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.
“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.
Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.
“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”
You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.
The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 
Such was the world.
Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.
“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”
“So, those scars…?”
“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”
Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”
“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.
Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”
“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”
“A fight to the death.”
“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”
They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.
Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.
“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.
“Yes,” and it’s honest.
He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.
“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”
Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.
Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.
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Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.
Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.
His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.
You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.
“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.
In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.
“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.
You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.
So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.
Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.
A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.
After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.
“Why me?”
“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”
It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.
“Don't you think it's cruel?”
“No,” finally, he turns to you.
“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.
“You were scared.”
“Yes.”
“Are you still scared?”
“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”
“Not at first.”
“Then when?”
His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.
“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”
“You were cruel to me then, too.”
“I’m a cruel man.”
There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.
You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.
A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 
Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 
The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!
The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.
He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.
You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.
Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.
With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”
“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.
“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”
“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”
“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.
“I know.”
“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.
“Mm,” Simon confirms.
You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.
How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.
Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.
You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.
 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.
“No.”
You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.
Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.
The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.
He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.
“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”
“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”
He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.
“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”
Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.
“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”
“I haven’t asked for anything else.”
He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.
“Haven’t you?”
Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.
But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.
“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.
There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.
“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.
Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.
“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.
God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.
You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.
Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.
Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.
Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.
Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.
When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.
It’s like flying.
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In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.
More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.
When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.
He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.
Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.
“For you,” Simon says.
You look up at him, heart dancing.
His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.
Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.
You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.
“For me?”
Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.
“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.
 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.
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Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.
Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.
You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.
Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.
“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 
“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.
“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.
You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.
“Yes.”
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star-girl69 · 8 months ago
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After Midnight
Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader
—-
synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.
feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶
a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!
After Midnight - Chappell Roan
warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”
—-
“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”
This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.
You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.
“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”
Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”
You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.
It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.
Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.
This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.
“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”
You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.
“My ass does look really good,” you concede.
“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”
It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.
“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“You’re good?”
“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”
“That’s my girl.”
Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”
She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.
“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.
“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.
Ugh.
Dylan.
Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.
After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.
Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.
“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.
“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”
“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.
The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.
“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.
And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.
—-
Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.
You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.
When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.
Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.
Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.
Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.
Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.
It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.
God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.
It was impressive.
What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.
Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.
You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.
“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.
You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.
Besides, it’s not like she noticed.
You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.
“Y/N, babe.”
Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.
“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”
“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”
You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.
“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.
She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”
“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.
Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”
“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.
“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.
“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”
Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”
You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.
You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.
“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.
You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.
“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.
“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.
You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.
“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.
You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.
But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.
Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”
She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.
“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.
She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.
“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”
You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.
And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.
“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”
Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.
Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.
“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”
“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.
Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.
Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.
“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.
Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.
“Okay if I touch you?”
God in Heaven.
“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.
Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.
“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”
You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.
“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”
You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.
“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.
A frown immediately forms on her face.
“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”
She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.
Not a bad way to go, though.
“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”
“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”
“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”
It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.
You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.
“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.
She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”
You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.
“That’s a pretty good price.”
You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.
“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”
You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-
“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”
“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.
The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.
It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.
You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.
“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”
Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”
You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.
“Ladies, hold your applause.”
“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”
“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”
“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”
“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”
“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”
“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”
“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”
“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”
“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”
“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”
“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.
“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”
You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”
“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”
“Um… why, though?”
“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”
“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.
“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”
“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”
Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”
“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.
—-
You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.
KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.
You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.
A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.
“Y/N?”
Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.
“Yeah-?”
Oh.
“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.
“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”
“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.
“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”
“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”
“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”
Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”
“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”
KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.
“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”
“No, Y/N, come on-”
“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.
“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”
“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”
He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”
“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”
“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”
“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”
“You aren’t?”
“Well, yeah. But I know him.”
“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”
You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”
You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”
—-
With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.
You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.
“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.
She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”
“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”
“No, I would say you look even better.”
You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”
She laughs. “Workout routines?”
You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”
She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.
“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”
“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”
She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.
“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”
“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”
“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”
You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.
“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.
“Course, baby.”
You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.
You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.
You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.
You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.
“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.
“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”
She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.
You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.
You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.
“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”
You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”
She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.
Fuck.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”
You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.
“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.
Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.
Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.
You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.
Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.
“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”
She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.
“Are you really just any girl?”
“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.
And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.
“Text me when you want your jersey back.”
You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.
“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”
“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”
“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”
This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.
“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.
“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”
“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.
“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.
And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.
But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.
—-
laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔
y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her
jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm
dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering
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revehae · 8 months ago
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Could you do something from dream 00line + mark bullying, dub con and non con? 🥺
well… this is basically what you asked! i changed it up just a little bit tw // noncon, forced oral (m receiving), gangbang
“come on,” jeno groaned playfully, grip on your hair tightening. “that’s not how you used to do it.”
you whimpered weakly, the muffled sound sending a tiny tremble through jeno’s cock as he kept your warm mouth around him in spite of your protests. not that you could expect anything less from him. he was never afraid of forcing you into something you never wanted. 
jeno had never seemed afraid of anything, now that you thought about it. you still remembered the risky exploits they made you tag along on. how could you not? it was only some years ago, back when they would force you to please them in the boys’ locker room. 
haechan laughed, both at jeno’s encouragement and the miserable look on your face. he always did like seeing you suffer. “you want her to gag on your dick like a virgin?”
jeno shrugged. “call it nostalgia.”
“guys, come on,” mark said, as if he was trying to put a stop to this. but you knew better. time after time of being disappointed, getting your hopes up thinking he would make them leave you alone, you learned years ago that mark was hardly any different. “aren’t we a little too old for this now?”
haechan rolled his eyes in annoyance. “jesus christ,” he sighed. “will you ever get off your moral high horse?”
“he can do whatever he wants. he can leave, if that’s what makes him happier,” jeno said, in spite of knowing mark wouldn’t go, the same way you did. he yanked your hair harder, forcing your mouth further down onto his cock until you were damn near suffocating. “i’m not stopping until she gags.”
jaemin laughed out of nowhere, having been quietly watching the entire situation unfold. “maybe she’s had practice since then, jeno.”
“you mean, our little slut has been whoring herself out to other guys?” haechan chimed in, snickering. the thought amused him. no guys used to ever come near you, like you were the most unfuckable thing in the world. you were obscure and unnoticed. 
jeno felt you pushing at his thighs like you used to do when you desperately needed to come up for air. “in that case, what’s the fucking problem? why are you being so difficult?”
your eyes winced closed when jeno slapped your cheek, the burn of his palm sizzling on the side of your face as you jolted back. your eyes watered, and before you could bother to recover, jeno was forcing his cock back inside your throat, thrusting his hips. 
that was when you finally and inadvertently gave him what he wanted, gagging around his cock and scraping at his thighs for mercy that he wouldn’t give you, keeping your mouth on him by your hair. 
“that’s it, babe,” jeno told you, looking down at you with a blend of scorn and amusement. “choke on it just like that.”
mark shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed. “jeno, dude. you’re gonna hurt the poor girl.”
jaemin crouched down beside you when jeno pulled out of your sore throat, having finally gotten what he wanted. “don’t be such a prude, mark. she can take it,” jaemin replied, looking at you almost dotingly. he pressed two of his fingers into the corners of your lips and forced them into a smile. “isn’t that right, baby?”
you shook your head, backing away from them until you crashed backwards into the side of the hotel mattress. when you started to crawl towards the door, haechan kicked your ass with his shoe, making you slump onto the floor for all of two seconds before you scurried onto your feet.
and nearly tripping over them, you made a beeline for the door. the same door mark was near, as if he was toying with the idea of turning around and heading out too. but rather than let you go, he gripped your arm. 
your eyes were stinging. you glanced up at him desperately, hoping that maybe he would show some remorse. “please. you said you were sorry. you promised.”
it’s not right, mark told himself, swallowing as he looked at the fear in your stare. after graduating, he told himself that he would be a better man and not a stupid boy.
and that was why on the last day of school, he took it upon himself to apologize for everything the four of them had done to you that senior year. he promised that he never meant for things to go so far, that he meant every word of what he told you, that he regretted everything he had done to hurt you. 
and even now mark wanted to make them stop, he really did. but that desire was outweighed by the one to feel you again, to lose himself in the heat of you as his thrusts became more and more restless. 
and a moment or three later, that was exactly what he was doing, all the while holding your smaller body down as his eyes fluttered closed, hypnotized by the sweet squeeze of your vice-like cunt. he became increasingly feverish with every passing second, unable to hear the thoughts that told him to be gentle. 
jaemin nudged haechan playfully. “you know, this is exactly how i remember it.”
“ah,” haechan replied with a pleasant sigh, a little smile on his lips as he watched mark fuck you mindlessly. “some things never change.”
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shadysadie · 2 years ago
Text
I love that Raine got to be part of the final battle.
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With as many people as Belos hurt, pretty much all the characters deserved to be there to help deliver the final blow (or final *stompstompstomp*) but short of doing a giant Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood style showdown in the middle of the castle (which would not suit this show like it did FMAB) there was just no way that everyone who deserved to see Belos destroyed was going to get that satisfaction. 
I really love that the one extra person that got to join the Owl Family for this was Raine. 
Because Raine has given absolutely everything to the revolution. Idle Scree has a fantastic video on the subject, but to sum it up, Raine went into the bard coven with the explicit goal of working their way up through the ranks and uncovering the truth behind Belos’ plans. It has taken them decades of espionage to get where they are. They cut themself off from all of their relationships, crossed moral boundaries, and even asked the woman they love to give up her life in order to take Belos down. 
So when Belos takes control of them they fight back.
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While Hunter’s possession is a lot more brutal, simply because Belos specifically wanted to make Hunter suffer as much as possible, while mocking Luz and friends, Raine’s struggle is almost harder to watch.
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They’re getting tossed around, their arms are getting dislocated at the very least, they’ve vomiting Belos goop, but they are still fighting with everything they have to regain control because they did not spend their life trying to take Belos down just to end up his play thing. 
Hunter had to crush his best friend with his own hand in order to break free of Belos, Raine is fighting with indignation and fury alone.
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And they keep fighting.
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Even without their weapon, as soon as they have enough control to get their fingers to their mouth, they cast Belos out. And after that, they could have given up. They were free. They must have been exhausted, but they are clever, probably the most clever person on the Boiling Isles, so they realize exactly what’s going to happen and they can not let that happen.
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The way they fall up the stairs here shows just how hurt and tired they are. Think of what their timeline has looked like from their perspective: the Day of Unity happened, they nearly died from the draining spell, they fought through excruciating pain to save Eda as what they thought was their final act, then the eclipse ends and they are still alive, but suddenly these evil stars are attacking them, then they spend months “sequestered in a darkness like onto death” only to be awoken and have their most hated enemy take over their body. 
And through all that THEY KEEP GOING.
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And again, this fight is brutal, they are basically suffocating in Belos’s flesh towards the end, and they still don’t give up.
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They shatter their weapon in one last ditch effort to stop Belos, but it doesn’t work.
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They lost. They were a second too late and now everything they fought for is for nothing. Belos made it to the heart. He can take control of the very Titan itself, and there is nothing Raine can do to stop him.
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But even then, they don’t give up. They keep whistling, even if it’s weak, even if it doesn’t do much, they whistle to keep themself alive, because they are going to keep fighting until their very last breath.
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So after all of that, the fact that they get to be one of the people who actively take Belos down…well, I think they say it best for themself…
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n0tamused · 12 days ago
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Could I request Dr Ratio's s/o defending him when people insult him (calling him a boring lover and a man of loose morals)?
A/n: This request was long coming, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless! Dr. Ratio defense squad, assemble! I feel a little rusty writing this, so I hope it's all good :,)
Contents: Veritas Ratio x GN!Reader, fluff, headcanon format
Words: 1163
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-It is well known that Dr. Veritas Ratio is well known throughout the entire cosmos for his feats, but however good or grand those accomplishments may be, not everyone looks at them fondly
-Not to mention that one particular hater he has noticed posting about him for 10 years, without a stop? He honestly admires their persistence. It takes a lot to be a hater too y’know
-There was a time where even Veritas wasn’t made of tougher skin, when the comments really did get to him; thankfully, he had the patience and pride to get him through without publicly reacting in a way that would only fan those flames further. Still, some words have left their mark on him - even diamonds can suffer scratches and cracks
-You, as his partner, naturally knew of these things. You’ve picked up on them from the things he has told you and from his body language when put in certain situations. And when you did openly ask him about it, although he appears stiff, he did not lie to you in private
-Knowing his innermost opinions and his background was, probably, what drew you to be particularly defensive over your the plaster-head-donning professor. They were all so quick to judge, yet none of them took a moment to think how much hard work it actually took for Ratio to reach the position he was in now. Knowledge does not fall into your hands, you have to work for it.
-And one day, this inner justice seeker had gone short of patience. The academy was always filled with wandering students and professors alike, all chattering among each other during breaks. And you just happened to pass by a couple conversing about him. 
-Ears perked and focused on the little group, you heard them speak rather unsavory words about a professor. Words ‘hard exam, unpassable, books that were too thick and chalk being thrown’ were all mentioned in their conversation, and it truly didn’t take a genius to figure out who the person in question was. Then they began to throw out insults they wouldn’t dare speak in front of another professor, let alone Veritas. But worst of all, they touched upon the subject of his relationship, your relationship, making such wild claims you had to wonder whether they were really talking about Veritas or someone else. Even worse - since it can always get worse - an assistant professor joined in on this gossip, spilling a “fact” that he even had other lovers than you and that he had loose morals.
-WHAT?
-Feeling your blood boiling and teeth grinding together, you couldn’t hold it within yourself. It was wrong! Ratio worked for his place and knowledge and pay, and sure - his exams and classes were tough, but he was neither a bully or an unjust professor! 
-That little group heard you loud and clear, and one did try to argue back but was quickly silenced. And one tried to walk away - you didn’t let that happen either. The people close around stopped and gaped, and perhaps they saw similar or shared characteristics between you and Veritas, maybe that’s why they also didn’t feel brave enough to keep talking or leave before you’re done. Who is to say? But what’s true is that they listened to you. 
-As you were getting to the end of your speech of defense, a familiar figure walked out of one of the classrooms close by. Clearing his throat he sent you a look, ‘enough’ he said without a word, but he was not angry. The students were dismissed after he feigned ignorance to the situation, as if he hadn’t heard a peep outside of those four walls of the classroom. 
-”I am done for today, have you wanted something of me? Anything you need?” 
-He spoke calmly, but his eyes showed some softness you barely ever saw. It was a rare sight, a look reserved for when he looked at you in bed, having you in his arms or when you held him, when he told you he wasn’t staring or being ‘too sappy’, but he was just looking at you, perhaps even admiring ‘if he may be so bold as to say that’.
-”A walk would be nice, I even got us a spot at that restaurant for lunch”
-And so it was. The walk towards the location was unusually quiet, and somewhere along the way he uttered “You shouldn’t have caused such a scene in the hallway”, his tone once more lacking the anger many expected of him. 
-”I should have, and I did. They were being rude and such behaviour is not fit for any student” You have been a student once, and there were terrible professors and your own opinions of them had been sour at some points in time, sure, but to openly spit venom? That was ridiculous. Or were you perhaps being stubborn, hypocritical? You wouldn’t say so. They were being rude, period.
-”They are students, they are also young. Gossip, however much unsavory, and however much I do not like it, is natural for them. It is not something that needs to be challenged, especially in a situation like this”
-You gave him an unsatisfied look, and he returned it in equal measure. It would take a while to convince him.
-”It doesn’t matter.. I did what I did, because I had enough of hearing people spread lies about you.. Disagree with me as much as you wish, but I’d do it again”
-He sighed and shook his head. He wanted to say something more, but for once he chose to keep quiet. It was better to leave it be as you were still not cooled off from the encounter 
-The rest of the evening went well, and you touched upon the subject briefly, not going too in depth. Ratio told you about his day, the upcoming events and plans, and you told him about yours. It was enjoyable, and it certainly helped to calm you both down
-But once you both came home and changed into more leisure wear, you told him of the thorn you felt whenever people spoke badly about him. He only looked at you, told you he understand, but “My name has been through a lot, I can take it”
-You weren’t sure if you wanted to slap some sense into him or kiss your reasons into his skin. He may be used to it, but you weren’t and you didn’t plan on getting used to it. And even as you took his face firmly between the two of your hands and brought him closer so he could hear your crystal clear, even as you saw the defiance melting from his eyes, he looked more vulnerable than ever; not angry, not sad or shocked or disappointed - vulnerable.
-So with conviction you kiss his face more times than you care to count and tell him he is someone worth defending, no matter what
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Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
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wizzard890 · 13 days ago
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The fact is that David Lynch treats the subject of evil better than just about anybody else making movies today—better and also differently. His movies aren’t anti-moral, but they are definitely anti-formulaic. Evil-ridden though his filmic world is, please notice that responsibility for evil never in his films devolves easily onto greedy corporations or corrupt politicians or faceless serial kooks. Lynch is not interested in the devolution of responsibility, and he’s not interested in moral judgments of characters. Rather, he’s interested in the psychic spaces in which people are capable of evil. He is interested in Darkness. And Darkness, in David Lynch’s movies, always wears more than one face. Recall, for example, how Blue Velvet’s Frank Booth is both Frank Booth and “the Well-Dressed Man.” How Eraserhead's whole postapocalyptic world of demonic conceptions and teratoid offspring and summary decapitations is evil… yet how it’s “poor” Henry Spencer who ends up a baby-killer. How in both TV’s Twin Peaks and cinema’s Fire Walk with Me, “Bob” is also Leland Palmer, how they are, “spiritually,” both two and one. The Elephant Man’s sideshow barker is evil in his exploitation of Merrick, but so too is good old kindly Dr. Treeves—and Lynch very carefully has Treeves admit this aloud. And if Wild at Heart’s coherence suffered because its myriad villains seemed fuzzy and interchangeable, it was because they were all basically the same thing, i.e. they were all in the service of the same force or spirit. Characters are not themselves evil in Lynch movies—evil wears them. This point is worth emphasizing. Lynch’s movies are not about monsters (i.e. people whose intrinsic natures are evil) but about hauntings, about evil as environment, possibility, force. This helps explain Lynch’s constant deployment of noirish lighting and eerie sound-carpets and grotesque figurants: in his movies’ world, a kind of ambient spiritual antimatter hangs just overhead. It also explains why Lynch’s villains seem not merely wicked or sick but ecstatic, transported: they are, literally, possessed. Think here of Dennis Hopper’s exultant “I’LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES” in Blue Velvet, or of the incredible scene in Wild at Heart when Diane Ladd smears her face with lipstick until it’s devil-red and then screams at herself in the mirror, or of Bob’s look of total demonic ebullience in Fire Walk with Me when Laura discovers him at her dresser going through her diary and just about dies of fright. The bad guys in Lynch movies are always exultant, orgasmic, most fully present at their evilest moments, and this in turn is because they are not only actuated by evil but literally inspired: they have yielded themselves up to a Darkness way bigger than any one person. And if these villains are, at their worst moments, riveting for both the camera and the audience, it’s not because Lynch is “endorsing” or “romanticizing” evil but because he’s diagnosing it—diagnosing it without the comfortable carapace of disapproval and with an open acknowledgment of the fact that one reason why evil is so powerful is that it’s hideously vital and robust and usually impossible to look away from.
-David Foster Wallace, "The Theme of Evil in the Films of David Lynch"
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