#we do not argue or fight‚ she has no performative expectations—

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

white lie - f. langdon x fem!reader

summary: you and frank have always been on opposing sides, but one day when a patient becomes too handsy with you, frank lets out a little white lie to save you.

warnings: SMUT (minors dni, 18+ only), not very explicit smut but smut nonetheless, plot with a sprinkle of porn towards the end (still, minors fuck off), patient grabs your arm, cursing, stereotypical pitt gore, no use of y/n, asshole idiots in love, frank has no kids, angst if you squint?, bad medical terminology/logic but let's be real you're not here for that.

author's note: i lied she's here early! this took seven years off of my life but i hope you enjoy :,) my attempt at something with a bit more plot

wc: 6k

The Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center was known to be many things. A teaching facility, a life saving establishment, and an incredibly fucking noisy place. 

It wasn’t unusual to have patients screaming bloody murder, to have the constant beep of machines and dilators ring in your ears, to overhear a pure teaching moment between an attending and a resident. 

However, a unique factor that all doctors in the Pitt could count on contributing to the decibel level were the arguments between you and one Frank Langdon. It was normal, expected even, for the two of you to be at each other's throats. It seemed like you were always disagreeing on something—a diagnosis, bedside table manners, even down to what kind of coffee should be kept in the staff lounge.

(“We’re not getting dunkin donuts coffee,” you scoff.

“Why the hell not?” Langdon shoots back.

“You two have to be fucking joking.”)

On this particular shift, Frank and you stand on opposite sides of a patient bed, throwing harsh glances like they’re daggers. The middle aged woman below you is bleeding profusely in her throat due to a neglected respiratory tract infection, causing multiple issues with her oxygen levels. She’s practically drowning in her own blood. Your first instinct was to do an intubation, but before you could even begin to ask for the tube, Frank immediately shut you down.

“There’s too much blood, we wouldn’t be able to see anything through the camera. Have you ever done an intubation blind?” He interrogates, his gaze cold and sterile. “I’m vetoing it. We’ll have to do a cricothyrotomy instead.”

“I can do it,” you argue back. “A cricothyrotomy is a last resort, you haven’t even tried intubation yet—”

“We don’t have time to play it safe, last resort or not we should be doing the cricothyrotomy.”

You feel the familiar, fire hot frustration bubble in your chest. It isn’t unusual for Frank to fight against you, and it isn’t unusual for you to want to kill him for it.

The two of you go back and forth like this until Robby approaches the room, finally free from his GSW in Trauma 1. His aging face drops as soon as he realizes the scene before him. Annoyance slowly creeps into his expression, sinking into the lines by his eyes as his mouth presses into a thin line, gritting his teeth before speaking. 

“That’s enough.” His voice booms out, causing the both of you to pause mid argument. “You two are wasting time. Make a concise decision. Dr. Langdon?”

“Intubation is too risky.” Frank begins, trying to appeal to his mentor and somewhat friend. “A cricothyrotomy may be a little bold but at least it’ll work.” 

“And you?” Robby turns to face you. “You believe you can perform the intubation?”

“I know I can, Dr. Robby.”

You see Robby consider both ideas for a brief second, tossing them around and considering the weight of his decision. It’s not just choosing a life saving operation, but choosing a favorite. He—and all the student doctors and nurses for that matter—know whoever loses this war will be enraged, silently fuming for the rest of their shift.

“Get the tube. We’re performing this intubation.”

As soon as the words hit your ears, your stomach somersaults. You try to control the muscles in your face as your lips twitch into a smile. There’s a voice in the back of your head that wants to jump up and down and point to Langdon, screaming I won, I won, I won! You know it's unprofessional, but it's rare when you get to win against him, especially when it comes to Robby. 

You can feel Langdon’s anger radiating off of him as he moves out of the way, watching you and Robby prepare for the procedure. You try your best to hide your joy, but you’re sure you fail.

//

After a successful intubation with the help of Robby, you find yourself aimlessly wandering back towards the ED’s TV screen, bumping into Whitaker. The two of you make small talk as your eyes scan for something interesting to busy your hands with. Whitaker reads out a few promising symptoms, but his words fall away into nothing as you scan the room, your eyes landing on Langdon as he walks out of the staff lounge. 

He stares back at you, something dark swirling in the ocean blue of his irises. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. You know he’s fuming, probably imagining all the ways he wishes you would die a slow and painful death so that you’d never interfere with him again. You’ve been on the losing end of this battle before, and you remember just how much you wanted to strangle him when Robby chose his side.

Your stomach flutters slightly as you narrow your eyes, rolling them and trying to focus back on Whitaker. You don’t care if Frank sees. You mutter something along the lines of approval when Whitaker finally chooses your next case, not quite mentally there as you still feel the heat of Frank’s gaze.

It wasn’t always like this between you and Langdon. In the very beginning, you remember bits of indifference, some semblance of mutual respect. You don’t remember what changed exactly, but one day you two went from innocent coworkers to enemies. 

After the change, you remember him being snippy with you, always avoiding taking you on a case, begrudgingly teaching things to you and fighting you on every diagnosis you made. You just weren’t sure why. 

You didn’t bother to search for an answer. You decided you would simply return the energy that was given to you. If Frank wanted to be a dick, you had no problem meeting him halfway. 

You give him no more thought as you trail behind Whitaker. 

//

Hours later, somewhere around 3 PM, you feel a wave of drowsiness begin to hit you. Despite all your best efforts to go to bed on time, to drink caffeine in the morning and maintain unwavering energy levels, you always seem to struggle in the early afternoon. You know if you slow down, you’ll never pick back up again, so you down the rest of your energy drink and flip through the list of patients waiting to be seen. 

Your eyes land on the chart of an older gentleman: Isaiah Vander, 52, complained of lower abdomen pain. 

Based on past experience, you know abdomen pain has the ability to go south very quickly. You decide to charge forth, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst as you lead him back to an open bed. 

“Please, have a seat Mr. Vander,” you smile. Gloria’s been on everyone's ass about bedside hospitality, so you try to attempt to be a bit brighter than usual.

Mr. Vander, a balding and slightly overweight man plops down in front of you. He’s dressed in jeans, wearing some sort of athletic t-shirt with a pair of cheap sunglasses resting on his head. He returns your smile with a large toothy grin, showing off his coffee stained teeth. 

After a short but concise introduction, you begin your assessment. “So, when did the pain in your abdomen start?”

“Last night, a little after dinner.”

“And what did you eat?” You ask casually. 

“So curious!” He laughs in response. “I had two big macs, a large mountain dew and some french fries, I think. I work late a lot, so I had to grab something quick last night. Do you cook?”

You smile politely. “When I can. Now, do you take any medication?” Your mind prepares to cross off a few different diagnoses depending on his answer.

“Would love to have you cook for me sometime.” He responds, ignoring your question. His boisterous laugh rings out into the hall. His warm breath that smells of cigarettes fans your face. Gross. 

You frown, trying not to assume the worst. You know sometimes patients get a little chatty when they’re comfortable, so you try and steer the conversation back to his condition.

“My cooking may give you worse abdomen pain if you can believe it. And, sorry, just to confirm, no medicine?”

“Only viagra.” He smirks. 

Your breakfast bubbles in your gut. You’re taken aback. You forgot what the shock of a situation like this feels like. You recover quickly though, ignoring his comments by giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Is the pain more throbbing, or like a pricking sensation? And any nausea, vomiting?”

“Throbbing, definitely throbbing. Ever since the wife left me I’ve been eating alone a lot, hence the junk food. So maybe that's where the throbbing pain comes from. Maybe it wouldn’t happen if I ate with someone else. If you get what I mean.” He licks his lips lustfully.

You clear your throat, trying your best not to lose your shit. You’ve dealt with flirty patients before, but he seems… grimey. Clearly this guy isn’t dying of a ruptured intestine, he’s just some asshole with a tummy ache. 

“So, again. Nausea? Vomiting?” There's an edge to your voice as you grit out the question through your teeth. Despite your annoyance, you continue to interrogate him—there’s a part of you that’s fearful that if you left now, he would end up dying of a cause you could have prevented—growing more frustrated as the minutes pass. 

Trying to converse with him feels like torture. The conversation is painstaking slow, and for every question you ask, Mr. Vander responds in a suggestive manner, talking about his lonely late nights while simultaneously giving you no information that could help you treat him. 

It comes to a boiling point when you ask him when his last bowel movement was. He laughs and ignores you, stating that it's ‘no business for a lovely lady such as yourself.’ It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. You mentally decide you’ll probably have to hand this case over to someone else. 

“Well,” you start, beginning to stand up. “Thank you for answering some of my questions, another doctor’ll be in shortly to—”

“You’re not staying sweetie?” 

You choke a sarcastic laugh. “It's Doctor. And no, I have another patient I need to check up on.” Not that its any of your fucking business. “Like I said, someone will be in soon to—”

Before you can finish your statement, you feel his calloused hand wrap around your forearm. It’s warm and sticky, and your eyes widen at the contact before you jerk yourself back. You’re about to yell at the man before you when out of nowhere the half shut curtain opens, revealing Langdon.

His heavy footsteps echo on the linoleum floors. His chest is puffed out, his muscular arms crossed over one another as he clenches his jaw. He looks angry. You can only assume it's because of you.  

“Dr. Langdon—” You choke out. You weren’t sure where he was supposed to be, but you’re pretty sure it's not here with you. You want to explain that this isn’t what it looks like. You have everything under control. You would hate for Langdon to hold this against you, to see you weak. 

“And who do we have here?” He says, taking a look at the chart beside you. “Hello Mr. Vander, sorry to hear about your stomach pain. I’m here to help, I’ll be taking over this case.”

You feel your face become hot. Suddenly, you’re worried Langdon thinks you're incapable of handling this. 

“Excuse me, but why can’t she stay?” Mr. Vander responds, motioning towards you. 

Frank replies without missing a beat. “She’s a very coveted doctor. Her presence was requested by an attending, so she’ll need to assist them instead.”

You hear Mr. Vander suck his teeth, sitting up slightly. “C’mon man, I was just starting to get somewhere. Can you leave? Can’t she just finish me up?”

You wince. You can't explain it, but a feeling of dread runs through your veins at the thought of this guy flirting with you in front of Langdon. 

“No, I won’t leave.”

You watch as Mr. Vander rolls his eyes and averts his attention to you. “Well, since you’re leaving, I’ll get to the point. You should get dinner with me.”

“Wow—um.” You choke. “That’s entirely unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional,” Frank starts with a smile, “And I’m pretty sure her boyfriend wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Boyfriend?” You and Mr. Vander question at the same time. Your eyes are wide with confusion. The last time you checked, you were single. 

“Boyfriend, you have a boyfriend?” He sputters.

You’re positive you don't, but the way Langdon is looking at you makes you feel otherwise. Before you can gather your thoughts to respond, Frank is sliding his hands onto your waist, giving them a squeeze. 

“Yep, she does. And as I said, I wouldn’t be very pleased if you took my girl out on a date.”

It’s so quiet in the room you can hear the conversation in the hall outside. Your mind feels a million miles behind. Mr. Vander is so focused on Langdon that he misses the way your jaw drops. 

“I’m sorry man, didn’t realize she was taken.” He apologizes, looking like a child who was just scolded for staying up too late. Shame blooms in his chest, while something much more sinister grows in yours.

Frank takes a seat beside him, motioning for him to lift his shirt. “No worries. Do you mind if I take a look at your abdomen to assess the area?”

As Langdon begins to work on Mr. Vander, the voice in your head is screaming at you to leave, to take the out that Frank has so clearly given you, but you can't bring yourself to stop staring at him.  You watch as he begins to pat his hand on Mr. Vander’s belly, pressing particularly forcefully, watching as the patient groans in pain.

“Whoops.”

He turns back to look at you. “Dr. Robby wants you.”

You try and decipher the look on his face, but gone is the charming Frank Langdon, and only his colder alter ego remains. 

You nod wordlessly, leaving the room. You don't allow yourself to catch your breath until you round the corner. It feels as though the world around you is blurred, blood rushing to your ears and face as embarrassment and something else creeps up your neck. 

Langdon has never touched you before, let alone put his hands on your waist, squeezing them. 

Many inappropriate things cross your mind. You force yourself to shake it off, looking for Robby. When you find him minutes later, he’s deep in conversation with Collins. You hate to interrupt, but you thought he needed you.

“Did you ask for me?” You say as you approach the pair.

“Me? No, why? Did something happen?” He asks with concern.

“No… Langdon said—Nevermind. Must’ve been a mistake.”

You smile weakly before walking away awkwardly, beelining for the nearest bathroom. You shut yourself inside the single stall, locking the door behind you before you begin to pace around the room, the soft sound of your sneakers scuffing the tile echoing off the walls. 

You’re mainly confused. Why was Langdon lying to save your ass? Did he think you couldn’t handle the patient? How did he manage to step in at the perfect time?

Why did his touch make your brain short circuit?

You brace yourself on the sink. You feel pathetic, and you’re sure you look it. Your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror—you look disheveled. Your face feels warm as you bite your lower lip. Get a fucking grip. 

When you feel like you've recovered as much as possible, you silently slip out of the bathroom. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself now. You really don't want to go back and check on Mr. Vander, and at this point, Frank has probably diagnosed him with constipation and recommended him some miralax. 

But, because you can't help yourself, you walk in the direction you came from, trying to see if Frank is still there. You’re not sure what you’re going to say, but you feel like you should say something. Right?

You realize you’re right as you round the corner, Mr. Vander is nowhere to be seen.

Langdon spots you immediately, and you feel every emotion at once brewing in your chest as he begins to stride towards you. Before you can even begin to pick your fight, he catches you off guard with sincerity. 

“Are you okay?”

Your breath hitches. You force yourself to recover. “What the fuck was that?”

“I was saving your ass. You’re welcome, by the way. You clearly needed some backup in there.”

“I was fine,” you retaliate. 

“He grabbed you, that’s not okay.” 

“I could’ve handled it. I was about to rip him a new one before you interrupted.” You toss your hands in the air. For a moment, Langdon looks at you like there's nothing more to discuss, like he finds no other issues with your previous interaction. 

“And the boyfriend thing?” You whisper, afraid of who might hear.

“Figured he wouldn’t back off until he knew you were taken. Guys are gross like that.”

“And my boyfriend had to obviously be… you.” You raise your eyebrows.

He doesn't reply to this. Instead, he rolls his eyes like you’re the crazy one, beginning to walk away. His face reads like he no longer cares, like it was a miniscule thing to say, like his big hands sliding over your hips is a casual morning activity.

“We’re not done here,” you hiss, trailing after him.

His long legs carry him faster than you can keep up. “Having a boyfriend would do you good, I think. Maybe it would mean you’d finally get laid. It’d also probably help the giant stick up your ass.” He hums.

“Oh, fuck off,” You say, gracing him with your middle finger. You want to slap him. You want to grab him by the collar and shake him. How can such a brilliant doctor be such an asshole? He looks at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say, anything else?

You scoff. 

He gives you a smile in return, looking deep into your eyes before continuing on his journey to the other side of the ED. 

//

In an attempt to clear your mind, you kill time outside with Dana on her smoke break. The two of you chat aimlessly about life, laughing amongst yourself about a few wild cases that have crossed her path today. You’re still talking and gossiping about Gloria when Samira runs up to you, asking to speak to you in private. 

At first, you’re worried that maybe Robby ripped her a new one, or that she had a particularly difficult case while you were running around, but the smile that tugs at the ends of her lips gives her away. You’re relieved it's nothing bad. 

“What?” You chuckle. She’s gripping your arm so tight you think you’ll lose circulation. 

“You’re dating Dr. Langdon?” She grins.

Your heart stops. 

“What?” You stutter, “Where did you hear that?”

“Holy shit, I always knew something was there!” Her eyes are wide with joy as she practically screams. She hops up and down with enthusiasm. 

You feel yourself growing flustered. How are you supposed to explain this? No—funny story actually—the man who I’ve wanted to climb like a tree just saved me from a creepy patient and lied about being my boyfriend, sorry for the confusion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to find the right way to let Samira down slowly. You want to kill this rumor before it reaches anyone else, god forbid an attending. The words are on the tip of your tongue when Dana’s voice rings out into the ED.

“We’ve got a stroke case coming in, 5 minutes tops!” 

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, turning to look at her. When you turn back around, Samira’s already taken off like a shot, killing any attempt to set the record straight.

You bite your cheek in frustration. You just hope Samira won’t tell anyone.

//

Hours later, after unfortunately getting projectile vomited on by a pregnant teen, you find yourself standing in front of a familiar machine, muttering to yourself as you try to get a new pair of scrubs. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to return them when you haven’t given me a new pair to change into?” You mumble. 

You’re so immersed in your own troubles that you don’t hear Whitaker and Santos approach you from behind.

“How long have you been dating Dr. Langdon?” Santos starts, shoving you in the shoulder with her palm.

“Holy fuck!” You wince. You turn around sharply and come face to face with the pair. They look at you with stars in their eyes. “We actually aren—”

“But I thought you hated each other!” Whitaker gasps. 

“Well,” you huff, “It—”

“Holy shit��� you guys have been in love and fooling us this whole time? That's insane.” Santos mumbles.

“Woah, woah, woa—”

“Congratulations, good on you guys for trying to keep it private.” They both nod simultaneously, giving you their stamp of approval. 

You’re just about to slap the two of them senseless when something else catches their attention, and they run off. 

“Jesus Christ,” you say, rubbing your palms in your eyes. You feel the pressure of a headache nestle its way between your eyes. “What the hell is going on with people today?”

//

Your final straw occurs towards the end of your shift. 

You aimlessly crack your bones and stretch your legs after finally leaving Trauma 1. You had spent the last hour resuscitating a 12 year old after they had a seizure, practically jumping up and down with Mel when the child’s heart rate came back up on the monitor. 

You breathe heavily. You still feel the weight of the little girl’s mother as she collapsed in your arms, sobbing as she mumbled thank yous and god bless yous into your fresh scrubs. It feels good, but it's still difficult.

You glance at the clock, grateful your shift is nearing the end. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. You’ve somehow managed to avoid Langdon all day, miraculously being on opposite sides of the ED at any given time. But despite the distance, you can still feel something in the Pitt has shifted—something between the two of you has changed.

You don't have much time to ponder the odd feeling in your chest before Heather jogs towards you, her hand landing on your shoulder.

“You were great in there,” she says with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you reply sheepishly. You’ll never get used to the praise, but you’re appreciative of it nonetheless. “I couldn’t have done it without Mel.”

“The two of you are killers, I’m super proud.” She beams. 

You feel appreciative of Heather’s leadership and kindness, she’s always been someone you know you can count on to be on your side, so it makes it all the more difficult to believe the words that begin to come out of her mouth.

“Also… I always knew he liked you.”

“What?” 

“Langdon! That's why he’s so harsh on you.” She laughs. “It makes sense that the two of you are dating, you're so alike. Robby guessed that something was gonna happen with you two. We even started a betting pool. How long have you been keeping this a secret?” 

Her words ring out into the air like bells, each one sending a wave of pain in your head. Your mouth feels dry, your throat feels tight. Your tongue seemingly swells in your mouth, rendering you speechless. 

Before Heather can notice you choking on your own emotions, Kiara walks up to the both of you, a clipboard in her hand and a determined look on her face. 

“Hey,” she approaches the two of you, distracting Heather from your conversation. 

You give her a small smile, hoping you don't look as nearly out of it as you seem. 

“Good to see you both, and congrats on the save. I just heard.” She says to you, giving you an encouraging smile. You thank her before she turns back to Heather, your mind drifting off as the two discuss a patient down the hall. Eventually, they say their goodbyes to you, walking away to discuss information more confidentially. 

You’ve never been so relieved and frustrated at the same time. 

You feel dizzy. All your mind knows how to do at this moment is flop back and forth between being mad and confused. 

You haven’t been able to tell anyone about what really happened today, and you haven’t been able to be honest with yourself about what it all means. Because, truly, why has this thrown you for a loop the way it has?

You head for the staff lounge, praying it's empty. When you enter the room and see it vacant, you shut the door behind you with the full force of your frustration, watching as the drying coffee mugs rattle on the counter. 

You take out your anger and confusion on a plastic water bottle in the fridge, twisting off the cap with such force it almost breaks the plastic. So many thoughts swim in your head as you down half the bottle in one sip. 

You can't seem to straighten it all out. Suddenly, the stunt Langdon pulled this morning seems so tame compared to everyone else’s reactions. 

I always knew he liked you. That's why he’s so harsh on you.

You guys have been in love and fooling us this whole time?

I always knew something was there!

You drop your head on the table, hearing a dull thud.

“What the actual fuck is happening?” you mutter to no one. You’re furious that a tiny rumour has managed to wiggle its way under your skin. You hate how easily it angers you, how easily it frustrates you, how easily the idea of it being truthful sends shivers down your spine. 

“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.” You remind yourself. You try and think of all the times he’s embarrassed you in front of your superiors, of all the times he's publicly called you out and humiliated you. You remind yourself of his cruelty, of his harsh words and even harsher hands. 

Your mind wanders to his piercing blue eyes and his dark brown hair that falls in front of them. The way they looked at you when he practically ran into the room this morning, taking your breath away.

You try not to focus on it any longer. I’m almost done, you remind yourself. I just need to get through this shift. 

//

You’re not sure how you make it, but somehow your shift ends. 

You’re on autopilot as you pack up, making sure you have your badge, your phone, your bag and everything else that comes with it, including your headphones for the walk home, along with your thoughts on the back burner that you plan to continuously overthink and never get over. 

You try to feel relieved that you’re leaving, to be thankful for escaping the rumours that float around like smoke. But when you find yourself finally walking out of the Pitt, saying your goodbyes to the remaining staff and giving your hellos to the first night shift workers, you don't get very far.

When you reach the brisk outside air, your feet feel cemented to the ground. You’re not sure what holds you back, but you can't bring yourself to start your music, to take the familiar route back to your place. It’s chilly out, and you watch your breath come out in puffs. It dissipates into the air, fading to nothing. You’re just about to chide yourself for being so foolish when a familiar voice rings out into the night.

“I thought you’d be home by now.”

You don’t have to turn around to know it’s Langdon.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Me too.”

Your eyes try to focus on the Pittsburgh streets in front of you. You attempt to control the way your body tenses as Frank approaches to stand at your side, but you find it increasingly more difficult to command your body in his presence. 

“Had a hell of a day,” you continue. You’re not quite sure why you’re trying to talk to him right now. It’s odd speaking so calmly with Frank, normally you two would be yelling. 

“So I’ve heard. Apparently, our wedding is in September.”

“Ah. Good to know. I’ll try to make it.”

You’re caught off guard when, unexpectedly, Langdon laughs. You dont think you’ve ever heard such a warm, rich sound before. 

“I heard the betting pool was really big. Bigger than the ambulance one.” He says casually.

You snort. You were brand new when you joined that bet. You remember Frank had chewed you out so loudly in front of Gloria you thought you were gonna cry, so instead of breaking down in the bathroom you bet 50 bucks on ‘drug addict, crash, not in our vicinity.’ 

When you glance up at Frank, you realize how much time has passed since then. You’re both older, more advanced in the medical field, different. The two of you have battled demons no one knows about. 

“Heather said we made a good couple.” 

“I’m not surprised,” He replies. “Robby came up to me to tell me not to fuck it up, so clearly we have a lot hinging on this fake relationship.” 

You laugh at the thought. A beat of silence passes between you two, and for a moment, you're worried this peace may never happen again.

“You were the one who started this mess.” You say, trying to keep the conversation going. Where you want it to lead, you’re unsure.

“I know. And I’m… I’m sorry. Really.”

Frank turns to look at you. You see an unfamiliar emotion swirl in his irises: regret. He’s never apologized to you before, not even when Robby demanded it. You know he must be serious.

“No, I’m sorry.” You confess. “You were doing me a favor and all I did was yell at you.”

“I guess we’re both assholes.”

You toss him a soft smile. It’s weird, talking with him like this, but not unwelcome. You think this is the longest you two have ever spoken without raising your voices.

“I just… It’s so hard to be near you sometimes. You act like working with me is the worst thing in the world.” You say, looking up at him. Your brows crease in such a way that your face floods with sadness, like you’re just finally admitting to yourself that maybe this dynamic isn’t truthful to how you really feel.

“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. You’re a brilliant doctor.” He breathes out. He runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut before continuing. “I just can’t fucking concentrate around you.”

You feel your heartbeat pick up.

“And I’m sorry about the boyfriend thing. I just sort of… I don’t know. That patient was just so fucking handsy and—”

“You saw him grab me?” 

“Yeah. Yeah I, I couldn’t see straight. And I know you can handle yourself, I just really wanted to hand his ass back to him. And, fuck��I’ve really been a dick today—I’m sorry about the whole getting laid thing.”

You laugh out loud, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. “No… No, you were right. I’ve had a stick up my ass all day. All year, actually.”

Langdon laughs with you, and you can see some of his hesitation leave his body as he turns towards you. The two of you chuckle over the absurdity of all. 

“So I distract you? That’s why you’re an absolute dick to me?” You say, feeling brave. You see the way his face flushes and his jaw tightens before he answers. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself this is still friendly territory.

“Listen, I never said it was logical. Nor did I say it was a good excuse. But it’s true.”

You let the words sit between you two as you turn over your response. You’re not sure how blunt you want to be, but the actions of today have pushed you to a place you’ve never ventured before. “I feel like I’ve been going crazy, Frank. All day, all anyone’s told me is how much you like me, how good we look together, how we’ve secretly been in love all these years—”

“Are they wrong?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!” You groan. “I don’t know. Because, really, you’re a pain in my ass. You make me so mad sometimes I want to kill you. And yet, I practically fucking short circuited today when you said you were my boyfriend. So why’s that?”

“And you’re asking me?”

“Don’t you always have the answer to everything?”

You watch as his icy blue eyes scan your face, trailing down the bridge of your nose, the slope of your cheeks, the peak of your soft lips. 

“I got jealous today.” He states plainly.

“Because of Mr. Vander?”

“No. Well, yes, but also today I realized I’m actually not sure if you have a boyfriend. And then I got jealous in case he did exist... Does he?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Okay then.”

The air stills between you.

“Are you still jealous?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you suppose we do to make you feel better?”

//

For a brief moment as you and Frank stop kissing each other to gasp for air, fingers fumbling at the strings of your respective pants before flying back to each other's bodies, you wonder if you’ll regret this decision to end your war.

The two of you stumble into your apartment a few blocks away from the Pitt, lips entangled with one another as you struggle to lock the door behind you.

Frank, being the newfound gentleman he is after your confession session, decided to walk you home for ‘safety reasons.’ Of course, this resulted in you inviting him up, which has landed you exactly where you are now, in your bedroom peeling off your scrubs. 

When you two are fully undressed, your hands fly to his brown locs as he hoists you up on his hips. His strong arms hold you tightly against him before he lays you down on your bed, laughing into your mouth.

“Something funny?” You ask, eyes trailing down his abdomen. 

“Just thinking…I’m basically a genius.”

“How so?” You say, dragging him back to kiss you. His tongue swirls around yours playfully, momentarily losing himself in you before he pulls away, panting slightly. 

“I said earlier today that having a boyfriend would get you laid. And I was right.”

“Hmm… Is that what you are?” You whisper, your voice low and sultry. Frank’s pupils are blown out as they look at you, eyes ravishing your body as you lay bare below him. 

“I want to be, if you’ll let me.”

“I’ll consider it,” you promise. You laugh slightly, but the warm feeling in your chest at the sight of Frank in your bed tells you you’ll never let him go.

For the rest of the night, You and Frank are a tangle of limbs and lips, hands clinging on to each other as he brings you to the edge of atmosphere and back again. He watches the stars in your eyes when his mouth licks at your core, when his dick brushes against the sensitive spot in your walls, when he whispers his dirty praise in your ear from behind. 

You two fall into a comfortable rhythm, working together in sync like you were meant to hold each other. You watch each other with care as your bodies work in tandem, as you aim to please one another. Your name on his lips as he paws at your chest, the softest kisses on your neck as his hips rock into yours. Somewhere in between the clapping of flesh lies the quiet conversations and heartfelt confessions. 

When you two eventually run out of steam, blissfully fucked out and sprawled on the bed in comfortable silence, all you can do to convey your affection is to softly graze his lips with yours, running your fingers through his hair as you fall asleep in his arms. 

//

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[scarlet-star-witch]

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond Taragryen x female reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began

Word count: 17.5 K (I need help)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, Aegon being kind of a good brother, men having the audacity, jealous Aemond, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, but no mention of who her father is

~~

“What?”

Rhaenerya winced and bowed her head at the sharp tone. She knew her daughter would not take the news lightly, but she had hoped she could understand the delicate nature of their situation. 

“Darling, I know I told you-”

“Are you alright with this?” She interrupted, turning to Daemon who was sitting stone-faced, hating the news as much as she was. 

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew insults about her soon to be betrothed, but Rhaenrya’s sharp glare quickly quieted him and she turned desperately to her raging daughter. 

“My love, please understand-”

“What is there to understand?” Her daughter continued, her eyes wide, searing with betrayal. “You told me I would have a choice, that I would never be used as some political pawn for power.”

“We are on the verge of a succession war. We all have a duty to perform and as my heir you have your own to fulfill.”

The mention of the fight for succession, the hint as to who exactly she would be marrying did not register in her mind or it would have calmed the burning fire inside her. All she could make out in the maelstrom in her mind was that she was to be married and it was not her choice. 

She remembered, just moons ago, when Jason Lannister had offered his hand. The thought of being forced into the bed of a man decades older than her, power hungry and desperate to take the titles she could give him, made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She told her mother, her voice sounding weaker, knowing she was facing a losing battle. 

Rhaenerya’s face fell, her daughter’s words cutting her deeply, causing an aching pain to bloom in her chest. 

“Please, if you would just listen, you might change-”

“I might change my mind and accept the fact that I’m to be sold like a mare?” She argued and quickly turned on her heel, storming out of the room. 

Rhaenerya pinched the bridge of her nose as she exhaled loudly, her frustration clear. Daemon tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze remaining on the empty doorway.

“That went as well as I expected.” He spoke dryly, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tiredness in his wife’s eyes. “She’ll get over it. She’ll eventually stop arguing long enough for you to explain.”

“She’s always been stubborn, but she has never raged like this before. She’s been spending too much time with you.” 

Daemon scoffed, though he couldn’t exactly deny the claim. 

“If she had only let me finish, she would have been happy with the news. She used to be so close to Aemond, I know she’s always cared for him. She barely spoke to me when we left King’s Landing, she was so mad that I had separated them.”

“I still say she can do better than that one-eyed cunt.” 

“Daemon.” Rhaenerya hissed, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. “It is already done. The King has accepted the betrothal and their union will finally mend the divide between our families.”

~~

Her breathing was labored as she raced through the halls, unsure of where she was heading. Outside, she heard Vermithor’s loud roar, her dragon sensing his bonded rider’s discomfort and anger. She had a fleeting thought of racing to her beloved dragon and flying across the sea, hiding away from her duties for the rest of her days.

The thought was quick to dissolve. She knew Daemon would catch her before she could get Vermithor off the grounds of Dragonstone. 

So that left her to stew in her anger at being forced to marry a man she didn’t love and probably would never love and her hurt that her mother had broken the promise she had told her years ago as a child, that she would never be used a political pawn, that her hand in marriage would never be forced.

She briefly thought of a young boy with silver hair and quickly pushed the thought away when the ache of longing overtook her. 

The thought of the old, greedy, disrespectful lord she was soon to marry made her want to throw up. This was never what she pictured for herself. 

Defeated, she trudged back to her room, her head down, a picture of broken girlhood too many women in this realm knew all too well. 

“Princess, are you alright?” 

She perked up, her eyes meeting the caring gaze of her guard, Ser Darick, standing vigil at her door. 

A twisted idea unfurled inside her, a half-hearted plan of rebellion sparked by the flames of anger that burned brightly. 

She smiled, the gesture bringing one to his own lips. She had always found him handsome, many late nights had been spent with Baela and Rhaena giggling amongst each other about his broad shoulders and silken hair. 

She had no deeper desires for him, that place in her heart was firmly held by the sweet boy she left behind years ago, but it didn’t stop her from noticing the way her guard looked at her. She knew he desired her and the anger inside of her left her wanting for one thing she could control, one thing the man who would soon own her would never have. 

“I’m afraid I need your help with something in my chambers.” She spoke sweetly. Ser Darick nodded eagerly and he followed her inside. 

She closed the door behind them, causing him to turn back to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he noticed the pristine state of her chambers. 

“Princess-?”

“I see how you look at me, Ser Darick.” She stated bluntly, vindicated from the way his eyes widened and averted from her gaze. “There’s not many things in my life that I get to choose and I’d like you to help me make one last choice before my freedom is taken from me.”

“I don’t understand.” 

She untied the laces of her dress, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her in a sheer slip. The man before her choked on his breath, the hunger in his eyes making her heart race, she knew he wanted her. She stepped towards him, her hands running over the expanse of his chest. 

“We shouldn’t. I swore an oath-”

“To protect me.” She finished his sentence. “I think this is exactly the protection I need.” She smiled cheekily. 

She pulled the shift over her head, leaving her body bare to him and she knew the second he gave in as his eyes took in every inch of her body. He dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword on his hip and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he crashed his lips to hers. 

She smiled in between kisses, feeling like she had her power back as she undid the pieces of armor from his body. 

She steadily ignored the guilt that crept through her mind, guilt for defying her mother and her duty. Moans fell from her lips as her guard took her hard and fast, his hunger for her clear in the way he held her tightly, in the way he refused to part his lips from any inch of her body. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the image before her melt into one of the silver haired, one-eyed man she longed for. A shiver wracked her body, her toes curling at the images she conjured in her mind.

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the wrong name fall from her lips as she reached her peak. As the man above her shuddered to his end, her name bellowed in the quiet room, she thought of how Aemond would sound saying her name in rapture. 

As Ser Darick panted against her lips, his body collapsing against hers, she let herself indulge in the passionate touch of another and mourned for what she believed her future would hold. 

~~

Aemond was sitting stiffly in the same spot he had been for the last ten minutes, since his mother had told him the news. 

He couldn’t make sense of the emotions whirling within him. Relief was the first one he could pinpoint, but it quickly turned to guilt, soon to remorse, and then to the sham of disdain he had tried so hard to feel for her since the night he had lost his eye. 

Though no matter how hard he had tried to hate her like he hated the rest of her family, he found he could never conjure any for her. She never ridiculed him the way Aegon and her bastard brothers had, she was never a part of the cruel jokes and pranks they pulled on him. They were both young Targaryen’s without dragons and had found solace in their shared longing. Despite her own perceived shortcoming, she never wavered in the comfort she bestowed upon him. 

She spent many nights holding his hand, reassuring him he was worthy of a dragon when the teasing became too much for him to handle. She stuck up for him like no one else ever had. She even looked down upon her own brothers, scolding them for their immature teasing and jokes at his expense. 

 He remembered the worst night of his life, as his family splintered with the loss of his eye and the insults he had hurled at the Strong bastards.

But he always remembered how she had tearfully screamed at her own brother for what was done to him. He remembered when hours later, she snuck into his room, hugged him tightly and told him how proud she was that he had claimed Vhagar. 

He remembered how just a year later he had heard the news she had laid claim to the wild dragon, Vermithor. He wanted so badly to saddle his own dragon and make his way to her, to tell her how proud he was of her the same way she had praised him. 

But his mother had never had allowed it 

He could never hate her. She was never just another one of Rhaenyra’s bastard children and as much as he tried to tell himself to remain neutral, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the news of his mother’s reluctant acceptance of their betrothal, one he had longed for but never had hope of ever coming to fruition. 

“Aemond?”

His mother’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention towards her, attempting to remain stoic so he would not reveal his true feelings about the news. 

“Tell me if this is truly what you want. If not, I will tell Rhaenyra the betrothal is off.” 

Panic grew at the thought of his mother, or even his scheming grandfather, taking this away from him before he even got the chance to revel in it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“It’s alright, Mother. I will perform my duty.” 

Alicent smiled and reached over to place her hand over his. She adored her son and his strong sense of duty that was certainly lost to his older brother. Despite his attempts to remain stone-faced, Alicent knew her son too well, she knew what he truly longed for. 

She remembered how close he had been with Rhaenyra’s eldest child and she knew how devastated he had been when she had left for Dragonstone. Aemond had refused even meeting possible suitors for years and she could see his desire to shut her down as she mentioned the betrothal.

Until she had mentioned the Princess’ name.

It had shut him up quickly and he had stayed quiet, taking in the news with a contemplative expression that was all too familiar on her stoic boy’s face. 

But it was the slightest twitch of his lips upwards and the way he seemed to exhale in relief, every inch of his body losing its rigidity that told Alicent this was the right decision. Despite her ire for Rhaenerya and her children, the thought of an impending war was not something she wanted and it would clearly make her son happy, an emotion she did not often see him indulge in. 

She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“They will arrive in a few day’s time. We will start preparations for the wedding as soon as possible.” 

With her parting words, Aemond was left to remain sitting, leaning on his elbow as his hand covered his mouth, trying to make sense of the emotions he was feeling that were so foreign to him. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. 

It didn’t seem real. 

~~

By the next morning, with an awkward passing smile to Ser Darick, she was headed towards the dining hall, her pace slow, as if she could delay greeting her family. She felt as though there was now an enormous target on her back, letting everyone she passed know what she had done the previous night. 

“Darling,”

She startled, placing a hand over her chest and plastering on a smile as she greeted her mother stiffly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Rhaenyra frowned and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “I know last night was difficult, but I think you’ll come around to it.”

She tensed, picturing the cruel, power hungry lord she’d be chained to for the rest of her life.

“Mother-”

“If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I have betrothed you to Aemond.”

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, almost causing her mother to trip over her own feet. Rhaenyra looked back at her daughter, expecting to see pure joy cross her features but she was confused to see the anguish in her expression.

She stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand caressing down the length of her hair.

“Darling, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with the news, I know how much you care for him.”

The lump in her throat grew so tight, she worried she’d choke to death before she could voice her mistake. The guilt that had already been lingering beneath her skin grew tenfold, threatening to knock her right off her feet.

“But… the Queen… she’d never agree.”

“She did.” Rhaenyra confirmed, still perplexed by her daughter’s reaction. “The King made his decree, something even she cannot dictate. With you as my heir, Aemond will be King Consort. I guess she realizes that was as good a consolation as she would get.”

It was real. She was to marry Aemond, the man she had longed for for years. She hadn’t even been reunited with him and she had already betrayed him. 

“Mother-” She paused, taking in a ragged breath, her hand holding tightly to her mother’s arm for stability. “I… I did something stupid.”

Rhaenrya’s face twisted into an expression of concern and she quickly ushered her daughter through the halls into the privacy of her chambers. She sat on her bed, her hand held tightly to her daughter’s as she tearfully explained what she had done the night before.

The first emotion to rise was a dangerous protective anger. 

Rhaenyra sprang to her feet, her hands clenched into fists and she grinded her teeth. 

“If that man did anything to pressure you-”

“Mother, stop. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” Her daughter assured her, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at having to explain her indiscretion. 

Her words caused her mother to sigh and begin to pace. 

“Aemond can never- Alicent can never know about this.” 

“What?”

“This betrothal is tenuous, it took months for Alicent to give in, it took months for the decree to even make it to my father. The first sign of a crack, she’ll tear it apart, her and that lecherous father of hers.” Rhaenrya ranted.

Guilt burned through her veins, the thought that her stupid decision could ruin her family made her feel sick. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I just… the thought of being married to some old man-”

“Oh my love.” Rhaenyra took a seat next to her daughter, taking her hands in her, pressing a kiss to her shaking knuckles. “Do not blame yourself.”

“This was the path to peace and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, as if speaking it into existence with her mere words. She gave her daughter a weak smile, her actions all too familiar to her.  “You know I was about your age when I had the same idea of a rebellion against duty.”

Her daughter looked at her curiously, but Rhaenyra’s heavy sigh was indicative that she didn’t want to spare too many details of that fateful night when Daemon had taken her to a brothel that led her to bring Ser Criston to her bed. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her dragon of a daughter had rebelled just as similarly as she had all those years ago.  

A half-hearted plan began to form, one based on tenuous lies, but it was all she had. 

“We’ll switch rotations, you’ll never have to see Ser Darick again. We’ll go to King’s Landing, you will marry Aemond and they will all be none the wiser about what happened last night.”

“Will you tell Daemon?” She asked fearfully.

Rhaenyra let out an amused huff of laughter. “Not unless you want your guard tortured and torn limb from limb.”

Sensing her daughter’s lingering anxiety, she placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“No one will ever know.”

A shuddering breath escaped her. She prayed to the Seven her mother’s words were true. 

~~

Aemond stood tensely in the courtyard with his family, his hands firmly planted behind his back, the picture of royal stoicism. He just hoped no one could see how his fingers fidgeted behind his back, his nerves getting the better of him.

It had been six long years since he had seen her, since that last visit she had paid him where she had mourned his injury with him and kissed his cheek, a moment that left him wondering if he would live with a blush on his cheeks for the rest of his life.

An elbow to his side forced him out of his daze and he turned to see Aegon’s smug smirk as he gestured with his head at the oncoming carriage. 

“Creaming your pants yet?”

Aemond sneered at his brother, his jaw clenching as he turned himself to face straight ahead, steadily ignoring the amused smirk sent his way at his expense. 

His heart began to race as the carriage door opened, anticipation heavy on his shoulders. With every face he saw that wasn’t hers his impatience began to rise, holding back a glare to her brothers who exited first. 

He didn’t pay attention as his mother and Rhaenyra greeted each other awkwardly. He didn’t spare his nephews a second look. All he saw was her. He perked up the moment his gaze found her, his lips parting unknowingly, no longer holding strongly to the passive facade he had forced all day.

She had grown into a beautiful woman in the past six years. He had pictured this moment for so long and none of his late night fantasies could ever compare to the woman before him. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as she stepped towards him. For years he had tried so hard to push down the feelings of longing that arose at the thought of her. For so long he had forced himself to believe she was nothing more than an enemy, a bastard girl that deserved nothing. 

But as she stood in front of him now, grown and more beautiful than he could have ever conceived, he realized it was all a farce. Every hateful thought he had forced into his head about her was nothing more than a lie. 

“Prince Aemond.” She greeted with a small curtsey, the small smile curling on her lips capturing his eye effortlessly. 

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken a word, a brief flash of panic racing through him at the embarrassment that he had been merely staring at her like a fool.

“Princess.” He responded slightly bashfully as he bowed his head. 

The air surrounding them was awkward, both with so many things to say that had been left unsaid for years, complicated feelings that went unresolved for so long. 

But they were to be married in a mere week's time. The family drama that cut through their childhood bond did not need to be addressed, they had no choice but to accept the inevitable. 

He would be her husband no matter if he came to terms with the delusion he had forced for years. He would be her husband no matter if he had unlearned everything his mother and grandsire had instilled in him for years. 

~~

A welcome feast had been thrown in their honor. The table of royals had been a sight of strain as the ailing King gave his remarks to the room, welcoming his dear eldest daughter back to King’s Landing, lamenting the union of their divided family through the marriage of his first granddaughter and his second son. 

The stifling tension among their family remained throughout the celebration. With the secret weighing heavily on her, she felt as though she couldn’t even spare a glance at her betrothed without choking on the intense guilt she couldn’t shake. 

As the heir of the heir and a coveted Targaryen Princess, her mother’s only daughter, she was practically forced to remain on the dancefloor all night, indulging in the many noble Lords and their sons that offered their hand. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

She almost audibly sighed in relief at the sound of her brother’s voice, taking the place of the obnoxious boy who had accosted her for three dances. Since the feast began, she’d been approached by more Lords than she could count. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as he began to dance with her.

“I’m fine.”

“You say the word and I’ll take you back to Dragonstone.”

“Jace.” She scolded, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Sister.” He defended. “You’re about to marry the man that tormented us as children.”

She frowned, her eyes drifting to Aemond who sat at the head table, eyeing the dancing couples with disinterest. The sight of his eye patch was like a punch to the gut, the memory of what had happened that night was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“If I remember correctly, it was you, Lucerys and Aegon that tormented him as children.”

“He called us bastards.”

“And he lost an eye.” She reminded him tersely. “I’d say that more than evens the odds.”

Jace sighed heavily, the conversation weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t proud of his actions that night or how he had treated his uncle as children, but the guilt wasn’t enough to allow him to feel happy for this union. 

“He’s different now.” Her brother mumbled. “He seems… angry.”

“Can you blame him?” 

Jace sighed again to which she sent him a pointed look. It was as if it pained him to admit his guilt, to admit that their uncle wasn’t the villainous enemy he had built up in his head. He looked at his sister thoughtfully, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Jace.”

“It does. Especially if you are to be married to a man that would make you miserable.” 

She remained quiet, contemplating his words with confliction. Misery was never a feeling that followed the thought of her uncle. She knew their marriage could be great, that they could foster a beautiful love, but only if he let it and only if he never discovered her betrayal. 

As the song ended and Jace moved from her side to spare a dance with an impatient Baela, she floundered for a moment, eyeing her brother and his betrothed for a moment, their delighted smiles, the clear fondness they held for each other stirring envy within her. 

She wondered if her own marriage would bear the same smiles. 

She looked around, dread settling inside her as her gaze passed over the many other noble sons that wanted their chance to dance with her. It was the last thing she wanted. 

With a heavy breath, she pushed her way through the throng of dancing couples and slunk out onto the balcony, hoping no one had noticed her swift exit and moved to follow. It had been years since she’d been in King’s Landing, it seemed the novelty of her family had not waned. 

It was as if everyone wanted a piece of her. She loathed it. 

Only a minute later, she heard footsteps approaching and she grit her teeth, her peace seeming to be taken from her as quickly as she had gained it. She turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of Aemond stepping out onto the balcony. 

He startled slightly when he noticed her and smiled, a gesture that was weak and awkward, though it managed to bring an equally weak smile to her own lips.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” He began, sounding slightly stilted. 

“You aren’t.” She assured him. “I can leave if you wish to be alone.”

He eyed her for a long moment, as if surprised by her request, but he just shook his head and approached her slowly so he was standing at her side. 

“This is where I seem to find myself during these events, when I need to get away. I presume you are out here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I fear my feet have grown too tired to indulge in another dance.” She replied, hoping her words didn’t sound as dour to him as they did to her own ears.

Aemond seemed to grimace, the reminder of the many lords who had taken her hand for a dance stirring something within him he didn’t quite recognize. He didn’t care for it. 

“I probably shouldn’t have left, I just…”

“Needed a minute.” Aemond supplied as she trailed off. She nodded bashfully, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her appearance as she realized this was the first time she had been alone with Aemond in years.

They were no longer childhood friends, they were betrothed. It was enough to drive her nerves to a boiling point where she could no longer meet his eye.

He stepped closer to her so he was leaning against the railing next to her, mirroring her position, an act that signaled ease.

“I had an interesting conversation with your brother.”

Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. She was surprised Lucerys even listened to her request, that he had even attempted to approach the man he had scarred.

“I have a feeling that was your doing.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and every fear she had that she had crossed the line faded in an instant as she saw the gratitude in his expression. 

“You have no obligation to forgive him.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh and bowed his head slightly. “Those were the exact words your brother said as well.”

She inwardly cursed her brother. He wasn’t supposed to say word for word what she had asked of him. 

“I just wished to solve the rift in our family. We can’t very well expect a happy marriage if we spend our time hating each other.”

“I never hated you.” Aemond responded quickly, his brows now furrowed as he moved in closer to her. “I may have.. complicated feelings for your brothers, but I… I never felt any of that towards you.”

She felt her breath hitch, her throat feeling tighter, as if she suddenly forgot to breathe with him so close to her. 

“Are you truly content with marrying a bastard?” 

Aemond flinched, her words so unexpected, he involuntarily took a step back, asif his instincts were telling him to run far from this conversation and never look back. He spoke her name softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve whispered about our parentage our entire childhood. Am I to believe the sentiment now means nothing to you?” Her voice was cutting, but not with anger. She just sounded disappointed and somehow, Aemound found it so much worse.

“I never called you- it was never…” He stammered for a moment before sighing heavily, his teeth gritting as he looked out onto the horizon, desperately trying to find the words he needed to tell her she was never a part of the ire he held for her brothers. 

She watched him, a deep part of her feeling satisfaction to see him flounder as he was. She held much affection for Aemond, especially in their childhood, but his affliction for calling her brothers ‘Strong’ was always a source of hurt and caused many petty arguments between them before they had been separated.

“It was never about you.” He admitted quietly.

“They are my brothers, Aemond. I am not absolved from what you say about them.”

“But you are.” 

Her breath was stolen from her at the gravity of his words, at the sincerity she heard from him. She eyed him cautiously for a long moment, trying to gauge just what she felt for the man before her now, no longer the shy and sweet boy she had once known. 

She longed for him, but she wasn’t sure if the person she desperately desired even existed any more. 

But with how he looked at her, how hard he seemed to be trying to appease her, left her feeling defenseless against her own fears. 

“Why did you never write to me?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she regretted even posing the question. 

An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t recognize. He looked tortured, as if the mention of the part he played in their loss of friendship all those years ago brought him pain. The letters he received from her that were left unanswered had grated on him for years. 

Years ago, he had even written a letter to her to apologize for his silence, but his mother had caught him, tore the letter to shreds and warned him not to reach out to Rhaenyra’s bastard daughter, that he would only get hurt again if he dared to reconnect with them. 

“I never wished to ignore you.” He spoke softly. “It was just, after what had happened on Driftmark, my mother-”

“I understand.” She interrupted. The state of their family wasn’t the fault of themselves alone, their mothers had a complicated relationship they could barely comprehend. It was no fault of their own that they listened to the vitriol their mothers spoke in their years of hurt. 

“I never wanted to ignore you.” He repeated, as if he was desperate for her to believe him. 

The years of hurt that had cut her heart deeper and deeper with every unanswered letter she had sent slowly began to heal as she looked into his eye and saw the reverence with which he gazed at her. 

“I am willing to put the years behind me. If we are to be married, I don’t want there to be animosity between us.”

“There isn’t, at least on my part.” He assured her, looking to her hopefully, almost holding his breath for her next words.

“There is none on mine either.”

He nodded, the relief coursing through him feeling like the antidote to the years of guilt and sadness that surrounded his thoughts of her. His gaze met hers and the small smile, more genuine than the one she had greeted him with, caused his own to grow, a gesture that was no longer forced, but now one of hopeful excitement. 

The prospect of marriage no longer seemed so daunting.

~~

In the days leading up to the wedding, they didn’t see much of each other. 

She felt more lonely in the place she used to call home than she had expected. While she had her family, it was clear they were all on edge about the upcoming wedding and hadn’t exactly settled being in the Keep where the Hightower influence reigned supreme. 

She found herself taking Vermithor out daily to escape the tension among her family. 

The only peace she found was amongst the clouds, where the air was thinner, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was as if the reminder that there were things more dangerous than her own family was a comfort to her situation.

Suddenly, the earth shattering roar of a great beast sounded behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, her eyes widening as she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar taking to the skies, her gargantuan form heading towards her.

She watched the creature in awe, the great war dragon, centuries older than her, gliding through the skies like a beautiful relic. 

“It’s alright.” She soothed the dragon below her who grumbled at the unexpected presence of another. 

She kept her head turned, her eyes trailing the hulking figure that grew closer. A small smile curled on her lips as she spotted the silver hair of her betrothed atop his mighty dragon. 

As Vhagar approached, their eyes met, shared smiles passing between them. She gripped onto the reins in her hands and directed Vermithor forward, her large dragon diving towards the water below them. 

A trilled call from behind made her smile, knowing Vhagar was following suit. She looked over her shoulder, a warmth building within her as she saw Aemond guiding his dragon to follow her every move. 

The two of them didn’t share any words as they flew together in solidarity. She laughed as Vermithor let out a grumble of content. Her dragon suddenly titled, moving in closer to the dragon at his side, almost bumping the dragon beside them. 

She froze momentarily, gripping onto the reins tighter, preparing for an adverse reaction from the surly war dragon, but she could only watch in disbelief, her lips parting in awe as Vhagar crooned, a sound she had never heard from a dragon before, and bumped her head against Vermithor’s, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.

She laughed, the warmth within her chest that had been stirring, now in full bloom. She turned to Aemond who watched the dragons with a small, amused smile. His head turned, their eyes meeting and as though a force greater than anything they had ever felt before, they couldn’t look away. 

As he looked at her, that lone blue eye encroached by a softness that was so familiar to her, she felt as though she was once again face to face with that boy she had loved all those years ago.

~~

Their wedding was a beautiful affair. 

No one would know it was a union between a fractured family. Though, it seemed as though their wedding was already stitching their broken family back together. Or it may have something to do with the amount of wine consumed. She noticed Helaena smiling happily as she danced with Jace. Aegon was drunkenly laughing with Luke who was smiling awkwardly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else as Rhaena laughed on in his playful torment. 

Daemon sat next to his brother King, his smile soft as they spoke together intently. Her mother sat with Queen Alicent, the two of them deep in conversation, their hands finding each other as they descended into bouts of laughter like they were nothing more than two young girls again.

The sight made her happy. She knew her mother missed her old friend dearly and it looked as though Alicent had missed their friendship just as deeply. 

“Are you ready?” 

She turned on her heel to find Aemond, her husband, standing before her anxiously, his face a mask of anxious anticipation as he held his hand out to her. 

She swallowed and nodded stiffly, taking his hand as nerves as heavy as lead built within her. It was time for the bedding. Every happy thought in her head was gone in an instant as she suddenly could focus on nothing but the secret she kept from him. 

As he guided her out of the hall, her eyes met her mother, her face now serious, giving her a slow, knowing nod, reminding her to stay silent, to perform her duty and act as an untouched maiden. 

They walked in silence, the tension between them growing. 

They had been in a daze practically the entire day, their smiles shy yet glowing as they spoke their vows in the Sept, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

Their true first kiss had been years ago when they were merely eight years old. She had kissed him after he had yet another unsuccessful bout in the dragon pit and had stolen a chaste kiss as she brushed the dirt from his cheeks. 

She had never seen him turn so red before. 

They were a long way from those innocent children they had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, startling her out of her long lost thoughts. She looked at him and was surprisingly relieved to see he looked just as nervous as she was sure she looked. 

“I am.” She assured him with an awkward smile. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly to portray any calmness about their current predicament. 

Their hearts were racing as they stepped inside their new marital chambers. She immediately moved to the vanity, working on removing the many pins from her hair that had been pinching her all night.

She sighed dramatically as the pressure on her skull was relieved and the sound of an amused hum, an almost sounding laugh, caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder to see Aemond watching her thoughtfully. 

The sight of him, the small upturn of his lips, the desire in his eye, should have stirred her own, but all she could feel was all consuming nerves. 

Tonight she’d have to lie to him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

His words startled her, her eyes widening slightly, not having expected the compliment. She smiled bashfully, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as her gaze fell to the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t told you that yet tonight. I haven’t told you since you’ve been back.” 

She was surprised by how forward he was, his words so sincere yet so different from the man she knew stood before her. 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who longed for this marriage to be one of peace, to heal the wounds that had been so deeply ingrained in their family for so long. 

He approached her slowly, the look in his eye one she had never seen before. Desire. He reached out, his hand moving to her jaw, his touch light as he held her as if he were afraid she would flee. 

Her hands almost shook as she laid them across his strong chest, beginning to slowly undo the intricate buckles that covered him. 

He let her undo each one, the sound of his own heavy breath betraying his nerves. Once his chest laid bare before her did he finally pull her in close to him, his gaze locked on hers as he leaned in close before finally kissing her. 

He was soft, though as she responded to his kiss, he met her with fervor, portraying every ounce of pent up desire he’d unknowingly held for her for so long. He kissed her as if she were the very air he breathed. 

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, swirling with desire and agony as she desperately wished his lips had been the first she kissed so passionately, that his touch that tightened on her waist as he undid the laces on her gown, were the first hands to touch her so intimately. 

She couldn’t break herself from the thoughts as they moved to the bed. She couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of regret that tainted every one of his touches and fervent kisses. 

Her chest heaved, her guilt portraying as nerves for a perceived first bedding. Aemond ran his hands up the length of her thighs, his touch, which should have caused butterflies to fly rampant within her, only reminded her of the man who had touched her previously. 

He kissed her softly as he settled himself atop her. 

“I’m sorry… this- it might hurt you.”

The claw of guilt inside her turned into a fist that clenched tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“It’s alright.” She breathed out.

He kissed her again though the gesture, filled with so much affection, did little to soothe her as he intended to. 

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, the guilt keeping her from looking at her husband, from seeing the eagerness in his gaze as he took her for the first time.

He eased inside of her slowly, the sound of his breath stuttering catching her attention, almost enough to incite her own arousal if her mind wasn’t tainted with worry, of suddenly being found out and ruined before she even got to enjoy her marriage.

With hatred for herself burning hotly within her she mimicked a sound of discomfort as he settled inside her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked slightly breathlessly, his gaze looking down at her in concern. 

She nodded stiffly, her throat tight as she met his eye. She soon wondered if the guilt would stop her breathing before he could even finish. 

She tried her best to forget about the glaring guilt, she tried not to think about her night with Ser Darick, of the man who touched her before that shouldn’t have. She should’ve been in ecstasy to finally be laying with the man she had dreamed of for years, but as he moved inside her, she couldn’t help but wince, her lack of arousal keeping her from enjoying what she had desired for so long. 

It at least helped with her charade of the innocent maiden who feared the marriage bed. 

She watched her husband with barely contained emotion as his eye closed in pleasure, his lips parted with heavy breaths, the sound of his quiet moans had her wishing she could go back in time and never invite that Knight into her bed. 

As she watched him find his pleasure, as he stuttered out her name in delight, she knew she could never hurt him. She could never reveal her secret for she could never cause him pain. 

Above her, Aemond stiffened, his hips losing momentum, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself to his pleasure, a loud grunt falling from his lips as he reached his peak. 

She exhaled loudly, an empty feeling settling within her, the guilt and anger at herself melding into self-loathing despair. 

“I hurt you.” He breathed out, sounding pained as his hand cradled her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. 

“I’m ok.” She assured her, though with how stilted her voice sounded, she knew he didn’t believe her. 

He pulled out of her slowly and moved to lay next to her, his worried gaze never leaving hers. He moved his hand to rest at the back of her neck, gently urging her forward so his forehead could rest against hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and she felt her eyes sting with more tears, his affection stirring the loathing that lashed her like a whip.

She shook her head and leaned into him, grasping onto his hand, holding tightly. 

“I wish we could have had this earlier.” She whispered, the only admittance she could allow herself. 

Aemond smiled softly and kissed her again, his touch gentle and careful, as if he worried about hurting her more. 

“So do I.” 

He held her as she struggled to sort out of her emotions, unaware of the torment within her. 

~~

By the next morning, she woke from a tumultuous sleep to find herself alone in bed. 

Her heart began to race as she propped herself up, dread coursing within her veins as she suddenly feared the worst. That, somehow in the night, Aemond had figured out the truth and left in a rage, leaving her behind before she could even enjoy what they could’ve had. 

“Good morning.”

The sound of his voice broke her out of her dark thoughts and she turned abruptly to see her new husband strolling in through the open balcony doors. He smiled lightly, looking slightly bashful to see her in such a vulnerable state, as if he hadn’t laid with her just hours before. 

“The maids brought breakfast.” 

She nodded and moved to peel the covers off her, hiding her wince at the flare of discomfort at the back of her thigh from where she had given herself a small cut after her husband had fallen asleep, using the small wound to stain the sheets with her blood that would not fall between her tainted legs. 

She stood from the bed, oblivious to how Aemond’s eye followed the length of her body with intrigue as she reached for her robe. They shared small smiles, the air of awkwardness lingering as they stepped out onto the balcony together. 

She immediately moved to pour herself a cup of tea, taking a much needed sip of the hot drink, praying it would soothe her frayed nerves. As Aemond took a seat next to her, she poured a second cup, adding a spoonful of honey before sliding it over to him. 

His gaze remained on her, as if in awe, as she took another sip. 

Feeling his eye on her, she turned, her brows raising in question at the beseeched expression on his face. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked slowly and he nodded, clearing his throat, leaning his elbow on his knee as his curled fist covered his lips, covering the smile that began to grow. 

“You remembered how I take my tea in the morning.” He spoke softly. 

She felt her stomach twist, this time for reasons completely different from the regret that had been staunchly drowning her since the night before. 

“Of course I did.” She said quietly with a shrug. “I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

Her words, the knowledge that she had thought of him just as he had thought of her, had longed for him just as he had longed for her all those years they were separated, had a warmth spreading through him he had never felt before. 

Any trepidation he had about the marriage, any qualms he had about Rhaenyra taking her place on the throne, of his nephews back in King’s Landing, shattered in an instant. Everything else seemed so inconsequential to him now that he married her, now that he got to call her his wife. 

He reached out, slightly hesitantly, his heart racing as he placed his hand over hers. 

Their eyes met and it was as if an understanding passed between them, a final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

She nodded quickly and smiled as he leaned in. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss that was filled with quiet affection, the meeting of a new husband and wife who had just come to an understanding, who had put away years of complicated feelings and settled to live as the pair of childhood companions that felt nothing but love for each other.

As he kissed her, she forced herself to move past the pain in the back of her thigh. Under his assured yet gentle touch, she forced her guilt and regret to the depths of her mind, desperate to find peace with him. 

~~

Over the next couple of months, their marriage flourished in ways neither one of them had expected. Their time spent together had seemed to heal every slight from their childhood, leaving the both of them feeling lighter, no longer shrouded in the guise of hatred. 

It would take time for Aemond to come around to her brothers, but he was finding it easier to let go of the fury that used to permeate every thought of them. They were by no means friends, but it was at least becoming easier to simply look at them, to exist among them. 

One morning, as Rhaenyra and Alicent took their morning tea together in the gardens, they caught sight of the newly married couple, arm in arm, barely an inch of space between them. 

“They are quite the match.” Alicent remarked with a smile as she looked at her son, the easy expression on his face a far cry from the scowl that had become all too familiar from her second son. 

“They are.” Rhaenyra agreed, relief flowing through her as she heard her daughter’s laugh from across the yard, watching as she leaned into her husband. 

She was more than thankful her dear daughter’s secret remained. 

“I am sorry I took so long to agree to their union.” Alicent admitted almost shyly. “To see my Aemond as he is now, so carefree, so… unburdened with her. I regret that my hesitation caused him to suffer for longer than he needed to.”

Rhaenyra frowned and reached out, taking her friend’s hand, curling her fingers around her own. 

“There is nothing to forgive. They are happy now… we are happy now. That is what matters.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes filled with emotion she hadn’t let herself reveal for so long. She squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand in silent comfort. 

“I have heard the maids gossiping. It sounds as though it will not be long until there is a new babe to care for.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, a scandalized laugh escaping her as she looked at her friend, usually so demure, in disbelief. 

“Oh gods, do not let them know they are being gossiped about.” 

Alicent giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“I would never. I do not think my son would ever return to court if that were the case.”

“They are late to every dinner. Surely they know it is not much of a secret what they are doing.” Rhaenyra commented, descending them both into laughter once more.

While the both of them laughed as though they were young girls again, the two of them couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from their shoulders, allowing them to breathe easier. 

The union between their children gave them what they needed, what they were desperately hoping for. The fact that their children were just as happy with each other was everything they needed to heal themselves. 

They soon lost sight of their children and, judging by the gossip they heard from the maids, they thought they preferred not knowing exactly what they were getting up to.  

It was for the better because the second Aemond had enough of the desire raging through his body, he had dragged his wife back to their chambers, only a mere hour after they had left it for the morning. 

He couldn’t get enough of her. 

He could barely get through his day without succumbing to his fire that burned hotly for her. Their walk in the garden, their duties for the rest of the day were long forgotten as he took her roughly atop her vanity, the wooden legs shaking beneath their passionate affair.

“Aemond!” She called out, her hands tightening at the back of his head where she had fistfulls of his hair. He groaned and quickened his pace, thrusting into her with the ferocity of an animal. 

Over their time together, she had been able to relax around him, thinking less and less of that horrible night with her guard that could have ruined everything. She allowed herself to fall into him, to let herself think of nothing but him, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

He took her daily, their union fiercely passionate, the two of them quickly becoming insatiable for each other. 

“Fuck, darling, you are perfect.” Aemond growled, his hips never faltering in their harsh rhythm as he took her roughly. 

The way he took her now and had been for weeks was a far cry from the tepid and shy man she had seen on their wedding night. 

Cries fell from her lips as she desperately held him, her only tether in the haze of pleasure he now could so easily spiral her to. 

“Don’t stop.” She begged breathlessly, her head falling back to her shoulders, her eyes shut tightly as he fucked her so hard it was all she could do to hold and enjoy the ride. 

“Never, my love, I'll never stop.” He promised her, the desperation in his voice clear. He panted heavily as his hips moved with precision, eager to reach that spot he knew ruined her completely. 

He longed to see her unravel, he longed to hear her scream for him. It had quickly become the greatest thing he had ever been fortunate enough to witness and his greatest accomplishment. 

His grip on her hips tightened, his awed gaze fluttering over her form, eager to take in every inch of her. 

Her toes curled, a high pitched moan sounding as her body tensed, as she felt herself creeping up on the crest of blinding pleasure. 

“That’s it love, cum for me. Do it for me, I need it.” He rambled, his voice rough, causing shivers to race down her spine. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders and his answering grunt of pleasure undid her completely. She screamed his name, her hips jolting against his as she reached her peak. Aemond held her tightly, his arms moving around her back to hold him to her as his hips stuttered, becoming frantic in his final moments.

“Fuck… fuck!” He yelled as he felt her tighten around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting sloppy kisses along the delicate slope before he felt the curling of hazy pleasure unfurl within him. 

His eye squeezed shut, his jaw fell slack as a breathless moan escaped him as he came. Small cries left him, his hips continuing to move, losing their intensity as he spilled inside her. 

Their shared heavy breaths echoed throughout the room as neither one of them moved an inch. He continued to hold her tightly, wrapped around her completely. He shivered against her as she began to caress the length of his back, her soft hands moving up and down gently, causing him to sigh in delight. 

After a few long moments, as they caught their breath, he pulled away, nudging his nose against hers, smirking lightly at the sight of her so thoroughly spent. He kissed her assuredly, his tongue tangling with hers, his touch still firm, as if he were still desperate for her. 

They parted with the need for air, soft smiles shared between the two, almost bashful, as if they hadn’t just fucked debauchedly as though they were in a brothel. He pulled out of her and began to clean the mess between her thighs, delighting in the way she’d twitch against his touches, thoroughly overstimulated from his hands. 

“Do you remember when you put jam in my hair?” He asked suddenly, causing her to look down at him with a raised brow in disbelief. 

“You are thinking about that now?”

The childhood memory was not forgotten but she certainly hadn’t been thinking of it after he had ravished her.

“With how you were just pulling on it, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of vendetta against my hair.” He remarked with a smirk as he pulled his breeches back up and grabbed his discarded doublet that she’d torn off him. 

She laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing his every move, pouting almost reflexively as he dressed himself, covering up that beautiful body from her eager gaze. 

“It is beautiful. Perhaps I am trying to sabotage you out of jealousy.” She smiled coyly.

“Jealousy?” He echoed in disbelief. “Darling, you are the most stunning woman in the realm, you have little to be jealous of.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she half-heartedly rolled her eyes. Since they had become more comfortable with each other, his compliments had been never ending, never failing to make her swoon each and every time. 

“So, same time tomorrow?” She joked, to which he snorted and looked over at her, nothing but adoration in his eye. 

He stepped toward her again, pulling the fallen sleeve of her dress back in place.

“Oh, darling, I will have you again tonight, surely.” He drawled, reveling in the way she seemed to shiver against him, already eagerly anticipating the night and agonizing over the hours between. 

He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers, as if he needed a moment longer with her before parting from her side. 

“I will find you once I am finished.” He assured her. 

As he left her to continue with his duties for the day he had steadily been ignoring, she finished cleaning herself up and fixing her disheveled hair. 

Her smile remained as she righted her dress, her legs trembling slightly as she made slow steps across their chambers. She just knew Baela would be dragging their salacious actions out of her the second she saw her. 

The giddy feeling within her crumbled into dust the moment she opened the door and came face to face with the one person she was content to never see again.

Her face fell, a look of horror overtaking her features.

“Ser Darick.” 

Her voice shook as she greeted him, which seemed to only deepen his smug grin. 

“Princess.” He bowed dutifully. “It has been too long.”

The sarcasm that laced his words cut her deeply and she averted her gaze, her heart racing wildly. The memories of that fateful night, the guilt that she had been able to push into the depths of her mind resurfaced with the force of a punch, almost enough to knock her off her feet.

She didn’t spare the man another look as she took off down the hall, her face crumbling into a deep frown as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

He would ruin everything.

~~

Her hand was clutched to her mother’s, her retelling of the day striking a need for her motherly touch. 

“I will take care of it.”

“How?”

“I will find a way.”

She remained silent, her face twisted with fear and disgust.

“What if he knows?”

“He doesn’t.”

“You cannot know that. Why would he be reassigned to me? Surely this is some plot to ruin me.” She rambled, her worried mind not allowing her to think straight. 

“The guards are spread thin here. We needed more help so guards from Dragonstone were requested here, but I… I had no idea he would be assigned to you.”

She sighed heavily, her mother’s words doing little to reassure her.

“I can’t keep lying to him.”

“Darling-”

“I love him and I can’t stand the fact that our marriage is built on a lie.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, her teeth pulling her bottom lip tightly. Before she could even attempt to soothe her daughter the door opened and Daemon stepped into their shared chambers. 

Both women tensed, sitting up straighter in their seats at his unexpected arrival. 

His eyes flitted between both women curiously, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, my love.”

His wife’s words did little to soothe the awkward energy in the room.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Guard rotations.” 

Daemon looked at his step-daughter with narrowed eyes, the topic one he had not expected. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, that he was being lied to. 

“Is someone not to your liking?”

“Ser Darick has been assigned as her guard and we hoped we could find someone else for her.”

“Why?”

“No specific reason-” Rhaenyra attempted to diffuse the situation, but he had seen right through it, he knew something was amiss.

“I don’t understand. Ser Darick was your guard for years, he was loyally by your side, he watched over you, he cared for-”

Daemon’s sentence stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly realized the double meaning in his words. His eyes narrowed, the angry fire burning within him so hotly she had to turn away from his gaze. He looked to his wife, as if needing confirmation to the thought burning in his brain.

When Rhaenyra sighed disappointedly, her gaze moving away from his, he felt as though he had the answer to the horrible explanation he had conjured.

Within a second he unsheathed his sword, causing his daughter to flinch and Rhaenyra to get to her feet. 

“Daemon-”

“Where is he?”

“You need to calm down-”

“I will strike every limb from his body and string him-”

“Please stop!” She yelled, stopping her father’s detailed description of the torture he would inflict on the man he believed to have committed an egregious crime.

“You cannot seriously be protecting the man that took advantage of you. He touched you, he raped you! He should be fed to our dragons!”

“He didn’t rape me!” 

Daemon remained quiet, taking in her words slowly. His face twisted, an expression of confusion soon morphing into dread and she shifted in her seat under his intense glare.

“You didn’t.” He spat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Daemon, please.”

“You let that guard into your bed?”

She leaned her elbows on her knees, her head falling into her hands as she breathed heavily, embarrassment washing over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drown her. She would surely welcome it. 

“It was a mistake.” Rhaenyra chimed in, trying to ease the fury in her husband. 

“Of course it was a fucking mistake.” Daemon bellowed. “How could you be so simple minded?”

She raised her head, staring plainly at the man before her. She’d heard about his tales before he had married her mother, the Prince of Flea Bottom, the many times he had been banished by the King and he had the audacity to shame her about who she bedded.

“Your hypocrisy is astounding.” 

“Don’t be cute.” Daemon scolded. He tightened his grip on his sword, his anger still burning. “I’m still going to kill him.”

“You are going to do no such thing. Rumors will spread if a guard mysteriously winds up murdered. We will solve this quietly and reassign him so he will never lay his eyes on you again and you will never tell a soul about what happened that night.” Rhaenyra countered, her eyes locked onto her daughter sternly.

She could only nod, the guilt she’d steadily buried in the face of her happiness, in the bliss she’d found with Aemond, now clawing its way forward, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

~~

“There you are.” Aemond greeted her with a smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Their chambers had been empty when he returned from training and he knew the first place to look for her was Helaena’s chambers. 

Her heart skipped as she saw him, her mind racing, screaming at her to blurt out her secret, to spill everything that was weighing heavily on her, darkening her soul, but she found no words could escape her. 

She smiled stiffly, forcefully pushing past the overwhelming regret and sadness that threatened to choke her. 

“Are you finished with your training?”

He nodded as he took a seat next to her, his soft smile directed to the children who played at his feet. 

“I am and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of my wife’s company.” 

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were just about to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“We are going to the markets in Flea Bottom.” Helaena answered happily, oblivious to the way her brother’s expression darkened at her words. 

Aemond looked to her desperately, as if pleading with her to tell him his sister was mistaken, that she wasn’t going to roam the dangerous streets of Flea Bottom. 

She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

“She wishes to find gifts for the twins’ name day.” She spoke softly so the children would not hear. 

“Send servants.”

“She wants to pick them out herself.”

Aemond exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He startled when his wife stood from the couch and he reached out for her hand, but she was already walking away. 

“Come with us brother.” Helaena offered, oblivious to the torment unfurling in her protective sibling. “We will be taking guards, but we will be more protected with you at our side.” 

She smiled widely and linked her arm through Helaena’s, looking to her faithful husband.

“Well, you heard her.”

Aemond let out a long sigh, the thought of his beloved and his dear sister venturing down the dangerous streets of King’s Landing loathsome, but with one look at his wife’s stare, he was powerless to refuse her wishes. 

“Just for a short visit.”

The wide smile she gave in return was all he needed to stop himself from refusing the offer. 

He followed behind the two women, their group of guards walking behind him faithfully as they made their way into the city. 

Aemond kept his eyes fleeting between his sweet sister and his beloved wife as they perused each vendor they passed. He admired his wife as her face lit up at the sight of a beautiful trinket that had caught her eye. He admired the way she smiled at each vendor, politely asking them questions, dignifying their compliments about her beauty and kindness. 

She was truly a marvel, the most beautiful sight to behold. 

“Aemond, look, isn’t this beautiful?” Helaena called out to him, breaking him from his trance as she held up a butterfly figurine. “I think Jaehaera will find this absolutely divine, she’s always admiring the butterflies in the garden.”

“She will love it.” He assured her with a small smile, following her as the ever protective brother he was as they ventured to the next vendor, caught up with another bout of glasswork she had found. 

He felt as though he had only taken his eyes off his wife for a minute when the yelling started. A fight had broken out between two vendors and the crowd around them had responded to the sudden surge of violence with equal measure.

His arm immediately went around Helaena who cowered and covered her ears as the crowd yelled and became insufferably loud. He briefly made eye contact with a man in the crowd, the lowborn recognizing the pair of royals before him and, as most disparities of power result, decided to direct his anger towards them. 

Aemond guided Helaena into the capable hands of her guard as he unsheathed his sword menacingly, warning the crowd not to try their luck with the famed one-eyed dragon prince. 

The crowd soon became raucous, screaming, shouting and pushing at anyone they could get their hands onto. 

Aemond quickly spotted his sister being scurried away from the action, though his stomach dropped when he could not spot his wife. 

He yelled her name, the sound lost in the chaos of the riotous crowd. He pushed people out of the way carelessly, elbowing his way back to where he had last seen her. His heart dropped at the sight of her absence. He became more desperate, his voice sounding weak as he stood atop a vendor’s booth, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

The longer he did not see her, the more fear encased every inch of him.

~~

A muffled scream left her as a sturdy hand latched over her mouth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried away from the action of the riots ensuing in the streets of King’s Landing. 

She hadn’t seen Helaena or Aemond. As soon as the fighting started she had been dragged away, seemingly against her will. She had thought it was a member of the King’s Guard but as the hand stayed steadily over her mouth and the painful arm carrying her through the streets of Flea Bottom refused to recede, she became more and more fearful of who had latched onto her.

The grip on her slackened and she quickly pushed her way out of the grip, her expression a mask of derision as she faced who had manhandled her so roughly. Her face fell, an icy feeling of dread spreading through her veins as she met the gaze of Ser Darick. 

He sneered and gripped her arm again, pulling her into his side. 

“Stop struggling, Princess, we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He warned, though it sounded more like a threat as he pulled her along with him back to the Red Keep.

She remained still, allowing him to drag her forward, her face passive as they made their way through the halls of the Keep. She felt equal parts relief and dread as he forced her into her chambers. 

He slammed the door shut behind them, his face dark with anger, his hand still sturdily gripping her arm.

“You have brought me back, now leave.” She ordered harshly as she wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“You invited me into your bed, let me fuck you and then ignored me. I deserve to know why.” He argued angrily. Her face twisted with derision, at the reminder of that night she had acted so carelessly.

“I am truly sorry for how I treated you, it was wrong of me to take such liberties. But the night we had was simply a night of desperation. I am married now. I love my husband and you need to move on.” 

He scoffed, looking at her with nothing but derision.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What?”

“That night. It didn’t mean nothing to you. It couldn’t have.” 

He stepped towards her, forcing her to take frantic steps backwards, but he was quicker. He gripped onto her shoulders, his touch strong and harsh. 

“Let go of me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing, the beginnings of dread seeping through her, chilling the blood that ran through her veins. 

“I know you felt something that night. No one could fake that passion. I know you feel something for me. I know you have for years.” 

Her eyes widened, staring back at the man completely dumbfounded as she squirmed under his hands.

“You have gone mad.”

“I gave you pleasure that night, Princess. I made you cum under me. I made you moan for me.” He spoke earnestly, making her wince and shake her head, desperately trying to pry his hands off her.

“It meant nothing.”

“Of course it did!” 

“Get off!” She yelled as she pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a few paces back. 

The door suddenly slammed open, her breathless and worried husband storming into their chambers. He seemed to deflate in relief when he saw her, every ounce of fear dissipating in a second, though when he noticed the guard in their chambers, his expression twisted into confusion.

“Are you hurt?” He asked worriedly, stepping towards her hurriedly, assuming she had been injured in the fight and that was the reason the guard was in the room with her alone. 

“No, I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice quivering. 

He grabbed her trembling hands in his, looking over her in concern briefly before his untrusting eye turned towards the guard who couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

The anger in his gaze did not go unnoticed by Aemond who stiffened, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip instinctively. 

The guard smiled sardonically to his wife, the sight setting the blood in his veins on fire. 

“Princess.” He bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The fact that he did not address Aemond only angered him further. 

“Who was that?” Aemond questioned the second the door closed behind him. 

“He was my guard at Dragonstone.” She answered monotonously, her chest aching in fear as her waking nightmare unfurled before her.

“Did he hurt you?” Aemond’s anger flared as he looked at her questioningly, his gaze searching her frantically for any indication that her guard had stepped out of place. 

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She spoke quietly, omitting mentioning the bruises she was sure would be blooming on her arm from his harsh grip.

He stared at her quizzically, knowing deep within him that something was wrong. The look on her face, one of muted horror, was striking and the fact that she couldn’t meet his eye had worry stirring within him so strongly his hand twitched towards his sword once again, ready to strike down the mysterious guard at her command. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I-”

“Yes, you’ve said that, but I do not believe you.” He interrupted, fighting between his confusion and his worry as she flinched at his harsh tone. He wanted to reach out to her, but something held him back, something he didn’t quite understand. 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned away from him. He called her name slowly, his critical eye never leaving her. 

“Who is he?”

“He is no one.”

His heart raced and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as a multitude of answers swirled through his mind, none of them bringing any kind of peace.

“Do you love him?” He asked abruptly, jumping to the worst conclusion he could have possibly conjured.

“No, of course not!” She yelled, perturbed by the mere question. 

“Then why does he look at you as if you have a history?”

“I swear to you, Aemond, he is nothing to me.”

“So nothing has happened between you two?”

She remained quiet, her mind racing with a million different answers to the question, most lies, but only one truth, the one that spoke the loudest.

Her silence rang loud in the room and Aemond’s face shifted instantly, first to shock, then disbelief, then betrayal, and finally to fury. 

“You… you and him…” He startled slowly, trying to find the words to explain the blinding anger that overtook him so greatly it soon became hard to breathe.

The images that his mind created, visions of her tangled in the sheets with that man, her soft touch on his body, her sweet moans he relished given to him. 

“Aemond-”

“You fucked him?”

“Please-”

“Answer me. Did you fuck him?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

“Yes.” She breathed out weakly.

A bitter laugh left him, a sound filled with so much anger it made her wince, tears beginning to burn in her eyes. 

“Aemond, please, I can explain-” She began as she approached him, reaching out for his hand, but he yanked his arm away from her, staring back at her with such vitriol it was as if a dagger had been lodged in her chest.

“Explain what? That you have been lying to me this entire time? That I married a whore?” 

Her eyes widened, his words striking her harshly. She had seen him angry before, she had seen him vindictive before, but it had never been directed at her, he had never spoken to her with such hatred, as if he were eager to hurt her. 

“It was before our marriage. I have never even looked at another man since I knew you were to be my husband.”

He shook his head, his chest heaving, an ache settling deep within him. Jealousy tore through him roughly, all he could think of was her tangled passionately with another man, and it made him see red. 

She reached for him again and he shut her down with a vicious scowl. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

She breathed heavily, her own anger beginning to rise at his stubborn refusal to listen to her. She knew if he ever found out it would cause a rift, but she had thought after the time they had spent together, that what they shared would be too special to let a mistake from the past rupture the beautiful love they had carved for themselves.

“Are you serious?” She snapped, her patience wearing thin the longer he directed his fury towards her. 

She thought of Daemon’s reaction, of Aemond’s disgusted scowl, and it made her seethe. If she had been a man no one would be batting an eye and she wanted to scream at how entirely unfair life was simply because of what lay between her legs.

“I had one night and I am penalized but you can do whatever you want with your body and I am just supposed to accept it. As if you haven’t followed Aegon to the brothels.”

“I am not my brother!” He yelled fiercely, his overt anger making her flinch. 

She stayed quiet, her anger receding as quick as it had come, leaving her with nothing but guilt. She knew she had crossed a line. 

Anybody could see how different the Targaryen brothers were, how much more accustomed to duty and honor Aemond was, how he refused to defile himself and shame his family as Aegon continued to do. 

It was deadly silent between them, neither one of them with anything productive or relatively polite to say to the other. 

With a clenched jaw, Aemond stormed out of the room without sparing her a look. 

His breath left him in uneven pants as he stormed down the hall, unaware of where he was headed. 

Images of her, his sweet wife, his beloved, wrapped up in another man’s arms replayed in his head torturously. He felt his eye sting with emotion he desperately attempted to hold at bay. 

He loved his wife, but this was agony. 

He loved her, but she had lied to him. 

He didn’t know what to make sense of the situation. He didn’t even know what to make sense of what he was feeling. 

He was at a loss as to what his marriage held. 

The only thing he could make out in the whirlwind of thoughts was pain. 

~~

He avoided her for the rest of the day and the next, choosing to sleep in his old chambers instead of returning to her. 

He couldn’t bear to face her, not after what he had yelled at her so callously, not after he had called her a whore, not after he had spent hours picturing her with that guard. 

It was agonizing to think of. 

He avoided dinner, giving flimsy excuses to the maids that dared to approach him. 

He sat out on the balcony of his old chambers, gazing out sightlessly into the night before him. The sound of his chamber doors opening had him rolling his eye, looking over his shoulder at the intruder with a scowl.

Aegon gave him an annoyed look. 

“You know you have mother worried sick? She sent me to find you, you twat.”

Aemond remained quiet as he turned to look back out onto the horizon. 

“What are you doing out here?” Aegon asked as he took a seat at his side, causing him to sigh loudly, not bothering to hide his disdain for his presence. “I figured you would be busy fucking your wife. You seem to do little else lately.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he steadily refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What? Has your paradise been ruined already?” Aegon joked, though when he received no reaction from Aemond, not even anger, he knew something was truly wrong. “What happened?” He asked, sounding more sincere than even he expected.

Aemond remained quiet for a long moment, dreading to say the words aloud, as if it made them more real than they already were. 

“She had a dalliance with a guard.”

“She has been unfaithful?”

“It was before she came back to King’s Landing, before the wedding.” He mumbled.

Aegon was quiet for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s words and eventually shrugged nonchalantly. 

“So?” 

Aemond glared coldly at his brother, the flippant response sparking his fury once more. 

“Finding out your wife let another man into her bed isn’t exactly comforting news.”

“It happened before she was your wife and, judging by how infatuated she seems with you, I’m willing to bet it happened before she knew you were the one she was to marry.” 

Aemond sighed loudly, no matter the circumstances, no matter whatever explanation he could think of, it did nothing to quell the green eyed beast that took over him. He had grown to deeply love his wife, the girl he had latched onto in childhood, the only one who seemed to root for him. 

The thought of her in the clutches of lust with anyone that wasn’t him was enough to incite his anger. 

He had never had a passionate, loving embrace. He certainly didn’t count what he endured on his thirteenth nameday, the moment that brought him nothing but shame. To think that she could so easily bring someone into her bed, have someone touch her lovingly, bring her pleasure, just as he could to her, stirred a fury in him he could barely comprehend.

“So, she betrayed you, what happens next?” Aegon asked, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips, striking Aemond’s anger before he could even speak of the depravities that mingled in his mind. “How about I take you down to the Silk Street and you can get back at her.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, his face drawn tightly with fury, his angry glare locked onto his brother who laughed raucously at his reaction.

“Easy!” He yelled, shoving his brother’s hands off of him that gripped his shirt, ready to throttle him. “Gods, you have no sense of humor.”

“You know you don’t have to be here.” Aemond growled, sending his brother a final fierce scowl that silently threatened him of saying anything untoward about his marriage, before settling himself back in his seat. 

Aegon watched his brother carefully, noting the agony within him and he sighed.

“Look, you clearly care about her. She is your wife and you two have been able to build a bond which is more than many can say.”

Aemond looked at him, surprised by his honest words, surprised that he wasn’t slurring as he spoke. 

“Are you willing to give that up for a mistake she made before you loved each other?”

He looked taken aback at the question. The mere thought of letting her go was unfathomable. The thought was so horrible it turned his stomach more than his jealousy ever could. 

“I cannot stop picturing her with him.” He admitted quietly, almost shamefully. 

Aegon sighed, while he didn’t have anyone he loved as Aemond loved his wife, he had to admit, it didn't sound easy to picture the woman you loved in the arms of another man.

“So, let’s say you give up, what then? She marries someone else and warms their bed instead?” 

Aemond grit his teeth and sent a wicked glare to his brother who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Just think about it, brother. Get over it or let her go.” Aegon stated bluntly before parting from his side, leaving him to bury his head in his hands, a long slow breath falling past his lips. 

He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want to end what they had, he didn’t want to lose her. 

He breathed deeply again, forcing the green-eyed monster within him to retreat, to let him think clearly for once. 

He pictured her face, her teary eyes as she stared at him in disbelief as he threw horrible insults her way. He winced, his eye squeezing shut, as if the memory itself hurt him physically. 

He had to make this right. 

~~

He stepped into their shared chambers, his body rigid with nervous anticipation. He startled slightly as the sight of her was suddenly blocked, Baela having immediately got to her feet at the sight of him, standing in front of her half-sister protectively. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” 

Aemond rolled his eye, sending a glare to the stubborn woman. 

“These are my chambers.” 

“Are they now? They haven’t seemed to be yours the past few days.” Baela responded sarcastically, forcing him to hold back a wince at the reminder of how he’d left his wife alone and worried for days on end in his fit of anger and jealousy.

He looked past Baela to find her looking back at him worriedly, wondering if this was the moment he left for good. The sight pained him deeply and he sighed heavily.

“I came here to talk.” He spoke softly, looking past her human shield, trying to appeal to his kind wife. 

“I think you’ve said plenty.” 

“Baela, it’s ok.” She said softly, hoping to stop her half-sister before she ended up in a physical fight with her husband. With how angry Baela had been on her behalf she knew it was certainly a possibility. 

Baela looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, silently assuring her she would be ok. 

With a sour expression, Baela left her side, her glare darkening as she passed the one eyed prince.

“If I see any more tears fall from her eyes, not even Vhagar will save you from me.” She threatened before stepping out of their chambers. 

Aemond let out a long breath. The sight of his wife upset cut him deeply, he knew he would let Baela inflict whatever pain she wanted on him if he hurt her any more. 

He looked at her, subtly wincing as he noticed she was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. He moved forward slowly, never taking his eye off her as he approached. He sat on the opposite couch, making sure to leave space between them.

He didn’t think she’d be comfortable with anything else and he didn’t think he deserved to be so close to her, not after what he had said to her just days ago. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my words.” He started quietly. 

She remained quiet, her gaze yet to meet his. The longer she didn’t look at him, the quicker his heart raced.

“I want to understand. I know you have no feelings for this man, but… it may kill me, but I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Why would that change things?” She asked stiffly.

“What?”

“You know I have no love for this man, you know I only care for you. So what more do you need to know?”

Aemond swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat. Aegon’s words came back to him, that her dalliance could have happened before she even knew they were to be married. 

“I need to know that I wasn’t the cause of this.”

She turned to him fully, her brows furrowed as she looked at him in bewilderment. She was sure a piece of her heart had shattered. He thought she had chosen to jump into bed with a guard because the news of her marriage to him was so horrible she was desperate to seek comfort. 

She let out a shaking breath and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. 

“Do you remember Lady Eleanor?”

Aemond looked confused for a moment at the sudden turn in conversation, but took a moment to think deeply before nodding. 

“She was your friend when we were children.” He answered softly. “I remember I could scarcely find any time with you without her presence.”

She smiled at the onslaught of memories that rushed through her mind, all hazed in the happiness of childhood innocence, though she was quick to be reminded of the grief that rose at the mere thought of her old friend. 

“She was married off to a Tully Lord. The man was older than her father. His past three wives all died mysteriously, no one dared to question why.” She explained stiffly. “I could tell from her letters that she wasn’t happy.”

Aemond watched her, frowning slightly at the dull tone of her voice, of the tortured look in her eyes, as if she was recounting something too painful to ever speak of again. He sat up straighter, longing to reach out to her, but he held back, suddenly reminding himself of the rift between them. 

“She birthed him a daughter, just as his previous wives had. The next day they found her body by the river.” She spoke quietly, her voice growing hoarse with emotion. “They could barely recognize her, she was black and blue, every bone broken by his hands.”

Aemond shifted in his seat, an unsettled feeling growing within him. He remembered the annoying little girl who followed his niece around and now felt nothing but horror at the memory of her. 

“Her husband faced no punishment. No one dared to question why yet another young girl was dead. I don’t even know what happened to the babe, if she-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish the thought. 

Her vision blurred with tears which only began to steadily slip down her cheeks as she felt his hand take hers, their fingers intertwining. 

“His name was in consideration for my hand in marriage.” She admitted, finally bringing her gaze to reach her husband’s, immediately noticing the dread that shrouded him.

Despite the fact that they were married and had been for months, the mere prospect of her being forced into marriage with a man so barbaric left him feeling sick. 

She let out a shaking breath, pulling her hand from his as she wiped her tears furiously, forcing her expression into a mask of indifference, refusing to show him her weakness. 

“I’m sure that changes nothing for you, but I figured you should know.” She spoke hoarsely. “My night with Ser Darick meant nothing. I had no idea you were my betrothed. I thought I’d have one more night for myself before I was forced to be a silent, battered wife who would wind up dead in a matter of months.”

Aemond exhaled shakily, his gaze watching her curiously. Her sadness cut him deeply and while he could never understand the fear she felt, the fear almost every woman in the realm faced at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t help but ache for her, for what she feared. 

The thought of her so scared, resigning herself to be abused, forced into a marriage with a man that would treat her horribly, had his hands clenching into fists, forcing back the desire to draw blood from men that weren’t even present.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, her teary eyes finally meeting his, causing the lump in his throat to swell.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do. I betrayed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I acted as nothing more than a lowly street whore.” 

Aemond clenched his jaw, a flash of pain striking him deeply. His previous words he had thrown at her in anger caught up to him, hurting him as if they had been directed at himself. The guilt that overcame him was overpowering, enough to knock him off kilter, enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t mean it.” He told her, his voice weak, portraying his pain.

“You said it.” 

His chest ached yet again at the sadness in her voice, her teary eyed gaze hurting him like a sword to the heart. 

“I was angry and I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I let my jealousy rule me.” He explained to her, reaching out to take her hand in his again. “But you mean more to me than my anger, you mean more to me than a single mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, derision crossing her features, as if she didn’t believe him, as if his forgiveness was too good to be true. As she shook her head, he felt his heart crack yet again. 

“You’ve forced yourself to feel nothing but derision for me for years, I’m sure you can do it again.” She spoke tersely, her eyes betraying her hurt as they brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell my mother we wish for an annulment.”

“Stop.” He demanded angrily, looking at her with barely contained hurt.

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”

“Love, please-”

“You can be married to a pure maiden within the next moon.”

“Stop!” He yelled, finally cutting off her frantic rambles. She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes, the sight causing his chest to hurt in ways he couldn’t even fathom. 

He breathed heavily for a moment, allowing his anger to fade. 

“I won’t let you end this. I care about you too much to let you go.” 

Her heart jumped at his words, her emotions beginning to stir once again. She let out a trembling breath, a glaringly bitter thought in her head she couldn’t move past from.

“Please, do not hate me for asking…” She started quietly, swallowing thickly as she looked to him hesitantly “Do you forgive me because you wish for power? Because you will one day be consort, because your heir will sit the throne?”

Aemond tensed, his gaze full of bewilderment. He had to admit, maybe in the beginning, the prospect of being consort enticed him, but now, it wasn’t even a thought in his head.

It hadn’t been since the moment she stepped out of that carriage and their eyes met for the first time in years. 

“I forgive you because I love you.” Aemond answered, as if it was the most simple explanation he could have given. 

Her breath caught in her throat, completely taken aback by his admission, one he gave freely, the genuine look in his eye making her crumble within. 

“You love me?” She choked out and he smiled sadly, the sight of her reluctance to believe it causing the ache in his chest to throb once more. He moved to sit closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I have loved you for a long time. Much longer than I would like to admit.” He spoke with a soft laugh. “The things you did for me in our childhood…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who cared.”

She frowned, her hand holding his tightly, her heart aching to hear him so vulnerable.

“I could never turn my back on you. I could never let you walk away from our marriage, not for anything.” 

He was more than surprised when her lips descended on his with a fierce kiss, one that was filled with hunger, longing, and relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, responding to her kiss with equal fervor, moaning against her as her hands winded through his hair, the gesture so intimate, so familiar to their last months together. 

They pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered, sounding pained, as if she would have to repent for his forgiveness for the rest of her life. 

He shook his head and held her tighter. He leaned his forehead against hers, swallowing thickly against the small ounce of doubt that creeped within him.

“He truly means nothing to you?”

She seemed pained by his question, her expression twisting as she placed her hand against his cheek as she looked at him with reverence. 

“He is nothing to me. I have not had a single thought of him since I’ve loved you.” 

He perked up, his wide eye searching hers, as if looking for any sign of dishonesty. But he found none. 

He wouldn’t, for she loved him just as he loved her. 

He crashed his lips to hers, his hands holding her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, eager to place his touch upon her and equally as eager for her greedy hands to bestow their pleasure upon him. 

He preened under her gentle caresses, her hardened tugs at his hair, her eager hips that grinded against his. He longed for everything she was willing to give him. 

He could feel the jealousy that had blinded him, that green-eyed monster that threatened to ruin it all, fade to nothing while he was in her arms. 

He would not let a single mistake tear apart what they had, what had been growing since their childhood. 

He loved her and she loved him. 

It was all he needed.

~~

They mended back together with ease. With Ser Darick transferred, no longer a glaring reminder of her indiscretion, they were able to put the incident past them. 

Her brothers questioned what had happened, why there seemed to be a rift in her marriage then, as quickly as it had come, disappeared as she and her husband soon proved themselves as a united front, more infatuated with each other than ever. 

She didn’t give them any answers. She only assured them she was happy, that Aemond treated her well and that their marriage was a success. 

They were back to the blissful, wonderstruck and obsessed couple they had been before her secret had been revealed. 

Until the dinner for the King’s nameday. 

Her arm was locked with her husband’s as they stepped into the dining hall, their smiles mirroring each other as they spoke quietly. 

Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body becoming stiff as stone. She looked up at him, her smile falling at the sight of the murderous rage in his eye. 

She followed his gaze and paled instantly, her stomach twisting with fear as she found Ser Darick’s smirking face staring back at her. She swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat and held tighter to Aemond’s arm. 

“Let’s sit.” She spoke quietly, having to basically drag him along with her to take their seats at the table. 

Aemond’s glare remained on the man as he took his seat, his eye cold and unflinching. His wife had told him about that day the guard confronted her, explaining his strange possessiveness, the harsh way he held her. 

He wanted to kill the guard the second he saw the bruises on her arms, but she held onto him tightly, begging him not to leave her alone, begging him to drop the matter completely. 

She so desperately wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew if Aemond killed him, it would invite questions she dreaded to answer. 

The fury he felt at the sight of her bruises, at how scared she had been because of that guard, hadn’t left him. He had kissed every mark on her body, though it did little to soothe the storm inside of him, the desire to draw blood from the man that dared to hurt her. 

His fingers tapped erratically atop the table, his deadly scowl never wavering from the man who smugly smirked back at him, inciting his rage. 

Her hand covered his, startling him out of his haze of anger. He looked over at her and she gave him a weak smile, her eyes pleading with him to not act on his anger. There was a look of regret in her gaze, as her guilt returned tenfold, as if she were the one angering him. 

The sight tore his anger away in an instant and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly, silently assuring her, promising her he wasn’t upset with her, that her guilt was for naught. 

“I love you.” She mouthed to him, wanting to remind him in the face of her dreaded mistake and he smiled, mouthing the words back to her. 

The days they had spent together over the past weeks were enough to heal him of the fierce jealousy that had wracked him at the news of her night with her guard. She had spent night after night worshiping him, bestowing pleasure upon him that left his mind spinning, proving to him over and over again that he was the only one she wanted, he was the only one she had eyes for, and he was the only one she would pleasure so intently. 

Their thoughts of that damned guard were gone swiftly as the King was carried into the room, the sight of his decaying and weak body stealing their attention completely. 

King Viserys smiled, a sad yet relieved looking gesture as he looked at the table full of his family, smiling faces around him, easy conversation flowing, no sight of derision or hatred he had seen just months ago that had broken his heart. 

He raised his cup of wine with a shaking hand. 

“A toast to my family.” He began with a hoarse voice. “To my daughter, Rhaenyra, who will make a fine Queen. And to my dear grandchild.”

She perked up at the sound of her name, seemingly growing bashful under the King’s eye. 

“My beautiful darling and my dear son. May your union be fruitful and prosper with a love the realm has not yet seen.” Viserys toasted them with a warm smile. “My dear you will make a wonderful Queen after your mother. You will be a fair, peaceful ruler and a wonderful mother when the time comes.”

A bitter scoff echoed through the room, causing everyone to tense, their gazes searching over the faces of those present to find the culprit. 

Her throat went dry, embarrassment washing over her as she noticed Ser Darick rolling his eyes. Beside her, Aemond stiffened, the murderous glare glinting in his eye once again. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat on, mere seconds away from getting to his feet to beat the guard into oblivion. 

“Is there a problem, Ser?” The King questioned, looking at the guard incredulously. 

Ser Darick didn’t even seem intimidated to have the attention of the most powerful man in Westeros. He seemed to preen under all their gazes, straightening his shoulders as if he were of importance. 

“Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace.” The guard began, his sickly sweet smile never wavering as his eyes landed back on the culprit of his anger, the shaken girl who seemed to shrink under his harsh gaze. 

Aemond clenched his jaw, his hand twitching, desperate to reach for the dagger at his hip.

“You are kind to dole out praises to a whore.” 

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Viserys’ face darkened and he struggled to get to his feet, his voice hoarse as he called for his guards to seize Ser Darick. 

Daemon sprung to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way, his expression dark and full of hatred as he approached the dead man walking, swiftly pulling the sword from his hip. 

But it was Aemond that acted quickest. 

He ignored his wife’s warning as he got to his feet with agile precision, his steps heavy as he marched his way toward the guard. He pulled the dagger from his belt, his teeth grit as he stared the man down with nothing but pure hatred. 

With a swift kick to Ser Darick's hand, Aemond disarmed him before he could pull his sword. Aemond gripped the front of his armor, dragging him forward harshly and swiftly plunged his dagger into the man’s neck without hesitation. 

Gasps and screams sounded behind him at the violent display, but he paid no mind to it. 

He watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes went dull, the life leaving him slowly as he bled out, finally erasing the smug smile from his face. 

He eased his grip, letting him drop to the floor. 

He turned, coming face to face with Daemon, who had his sword drawn and at the ready. His uncle eyed the dead guard at their feet, with slight disdain for the mere fact that he hadn’t been the one to end his life, before slowly raising his gaze to him, staring at him for a long moment before nodding, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. 

Aemond nodded back, a dark and twisted respect blooming between them in that moment. 

He turned, ignoring the chaos that continued as his family watched on in horror and confusion, a mix of questions, admonishments him for his brashness, praises for his actions, but he heard none of it.

He stepped towards his trembling wife and quickly guided her into his arms, holding her tightly. 

Her eyes were wide, shocked by the violent display, though she couldn’t deny the immediate relief that coursed through her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered shakily.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her, his silent promise to always protect her. 

~~

Hope you enjoy and sorry it's so long, I can't stop myself xx

[washingtonmarvel]

Since my first post about Charmion only scratched the surface, I thought I'd give some more info about a few different aspects of her story here. I hope everyone finds it worth reading.

First, Charmion was a marketing genius. She was one of the most photographed people in show business, her flexed arms ubiquitous in the newspapers of the era, and she gave out free pinback buttons with her image on them at each show. Charmion herself reported in 1905 that she’d given out a quarter of a million buttons over the previous year. I don't know how accurate that number is, but there was definitely a huge number produced and you can often find them for pretty affordable prices on eBay to this day. Charmion would also sometimes give away chocolates, clothes, and other souvenirs to the women in the audience.

Second, during her travels, Charmion made time to personally advise women who needed help with their fitness goals. During her time in New Orleans in 1902, for example, she let it be known that the hours of 5 to 7 would be set aside for any woman wanting a “conference” with her to discuss matters relating to “physical culture.”

Third, Charmion could be considered one of the first female bodybuilders. Through rigorous workouts (including curling fifty-to-seventy-pound dumbbells and one-hour bag-punching sessions), Charmion intentionally tried to build her muscles as large as possible, which was incredibly rare for a woman in that era. Even circus strongwomen, who showed off their strength publicly, often downplayed their muscularity, but Charmion was eager to show off her muscles and actively tried to grow them. Apparently, it worked. By her own account, when she began her career the (already very fit) Charmion weighed 98 pounds at a height of 5’1”. She afterward gained enough muscle that by 1902, she was a solid 130 pounds. Charmion would’ve also felt at home with modern bodybuilders in the sense that on-stage posing was a major part of her performances. After she had finished disrobing on the trapeze, she would conclude her show by standing onstage and flexing her biceps before turning around and displaying her back muscles. The audiences were as flabbergasted as you’d expect. “When she hunches her back,” said one newspaper, “it looks like a cage of boa-constrictors interlaced in a snake-fight”; “her shoulders and arms appear a knotted mass of muscles,” said another.

The less pleasant aspects of Charmion's story are the misogyny and prudishness that Charmion dealt with with throughout her career. There were attempts (some successful, some not) to ban her act in New York, New Orleans, London, and Berlin, and she had to contend with right-wing attacks throughout her career. Here are a few newspaper quotations to show the kind of opposition she encountered:

Times Herald (Washington, D. C.), May 10, 1898: “Her performance is a simple attempt to provoke all the lower passions of which mankind is capable, without passing the limit the law has placed on such an exhibition. It is for this reason that Charmion is revoltingly disgusting, coarse and disagreeable. It is because of this that no man, who realizes what he is doing, or respects himself, will care to take his mother or sister to the National Theater this week.”

Sioux City Journal, May 15, 1898: “Charmion’s object in her trapeze act is indecency.”

The Times (Washington, D. C.), May 15, 1898: “It seems revolting to think that men would go to a place of amusement with the sole idea of witnessing such a performance, but that women should willingly accompany them is nothing less than disgusting.”

The Courier and Argus (Dundee, Scotland), Aug. 5, 1898: “…it is scarcely possible to conceal the fact that Charmion’s performance takes us very much nearer to the frank indecencies of the Parisian variety theatres than we have hitherto strayed.”

Daily Gleaner (Fredericton, New Brunswick), Oct. 26, 1898: “we hail with gratification the drastic criticism by a section of the New York press of such debasing performances as those first given by a woman called Charmion…Charmion’s act had grace and beauty to recommend it, and except that it was performed by a woman it was no worse than the undressing act of the equestriam [sic] acrobat in the circus; but it was the natural forerunner of the others, and so should never have been permitted in a theatre making pretence to decency.”

The Times, January 1, 1899: “Charmion’s ‘turn’ was revolting.”

Toronto Saturday Night, January 18, 1902 [speaking about Charmion disrobing on the trapeze] “There is an unpleasant suggestiveness inseparable from such an act.”

The Kansas City Star, September 19, 1904: “Her turn is offensive to modesty.”

As infuriating as these comments are, the happy irony of the conservative attacks on Charmion is that they only made her more powerful. As even her critics sometimes admitted, the controversy stirred up by those critics served to make her act more intriguing and helped increase her popularity. For a woman devoted to liberating women from the constraints placed on them by the society, her message must have been even more meaningful because so many men tried to constrain her and she overcame that adversity. You can see how little success her critics had by the fact she was one of the most popular vaudeville stars in the world, sometimes earning the equivalent of almost $20,000 per week in today’s money.

Of course, not all men disapproved of Charmion’s act, and she had her fair share of male fans. But almost all her critics were men. And though there must have been lesser-known female critics, there’s only one example I can find of a woman (at least initially) disapproving of her. That woman was Elizabeth Grannis, president of the Purity League, an organization that supported the kind of repression and prudishness that Charmion fought against her whole career. Grannis, with a committee of Purity League members, attended a performance one day in 1901 to “judge for themselves” whether the act was as “impure" as alleged. After the performance (during which Charmion daringly threw a garter into Grannis’s box), a local newspaper said, surprisingly, that Grannis “was pleased by the things done and undone by the actress” and “was delighted with the actress’ control of her muscular system.” Charmion, likely not a fan of the Purity League, was not mollified by the praise. Asked about Grannis later, she bluntly said, “I scarcely approve of her.”

If you all are still interested, I’ll share more posts about Charmion. I’m mildly obsessed with her and there’s loads more fun facts and stories about her. Thanks for reading.

EDIT: Here's a photo gallery for anyone who's still interested in Charmion:

[sweetmariihs2]

Random yap: talking about sexism in Corona and discussing about the whole "convent" situation we saw with Cassandra (Idk what to chose as a title but I promise it makes sense)

After I saw the scene in Tangled The Series where Cassandra says that she would be sent to a convent if someone found out she helped Rapunzel to sneak out, it stuck with me until now, I mean... what???

Because, what do you mean?? The world of Tangled has no traces of sexism or other prejudices (at least not much), and we see many female warriors by the way. The female characters are never diminished for being women, if a character is picking on them, it's usually by making fun of their job/position like the princess and the lady-in-waiting ones (and this is ARGUABLE, because why would these positions made fun of if it weren't for them being mainly feminine and delicate ones?). We can safely assume that the Disney fantasy world that Tangled takes place is similarly socially evolved as ours. Not perfectly, just similar to us today. We still face many prejudices but not as much as we would in 1600. Despite Tangled having elements from past eras, it doesn't exactly takes place in any specific one. Keep that in mind.

Changing the subject: As far as we know, the captain seems to be very protective of Cassandra, always keeping her from entering the guard somehow. But at the same time he taught her fighting skills and when she is actually allowed to work as a guard, he accepts her there. What I mean is that the reasons for the captain to keep Cassandra away from the guard are not rooted in sexism, just protectiveness, based on what it's shown in the series. Keep that in mind too.

Other thing I would like to mention is how the Tangled universe is not sexist as our world was in the past, even though it has elements from other eras, but Cassandra still have to fight against gender norms, even though that's very implicit in the show, it's there. She is expected to be "lady-like" due to her lady-in-waiting job, but once she is able to wear whatever she likes, she presents herself a lot more masc and less delicate compared to character like Rapunzel, for example (like... why do ladies-in-waiting are expected to be dainty and delicate in Corona? It's not related to the job itself, but they have to do it. If that's not sexism I don't know what it is). Some can argue that Cassandra's preference of clothing and the obligation of wearing a standardized uniform is not directly related to sexism, since she has to wear them due to being the uniform, and it's merely a difference of style. But I think we forget to mention that, even though it is a uniform, it is a very delicate uniform, tight and with accessories (even a choker!), which in itself is questionable when we take gender performance into account. We also see that the castle guards are all men, but the cleaning ladies and ladies-in-waiting are all women. I know that the captain had a spare fem guard uniform that Cassandra wore but still we don't see any female guards besides Cassandra in some small scenes: an exception. It's not terribly sexist like our world was in the past, but is just as much as we are today. It has modern ideas in a period setting like many shows today, but our modern ideas still aren't perfect, making the show also imperfect in this feature. You got what I mean?

If sexism does not exist in Corona, it would be very very different. Think of all the things we have in our world and how sexism affects them: it's in everything. Our society is rooted in gender norms, the way we act, dress, and judge. So to make Tangled similar to our world in a way we will identify with, it has to be inspired by our world and culture, thus having those traits, even if they're lighter. All the media is like that and we can't run from it. So saying that there is NO sexism in Corona is a lie.

"Rapunzel and The Lost Lagoon" is a novel written based on the season one of Tangled The Series, and it's not considered canon. But I find it relevant to mention Cassandra's monologue about being a lady-in-waiting. She mentions things like sewing, applying powder in hers and Rapunzel's face (meaning that she has to wear makeup, supposedly), make flower arrangements, and she HATES IT. When she discovered she was going to be Rapunzel's lady-in-waiting, she literally ran out of the room in a panic attack to scream in the forest. She took off the high heels, saying they're awful. She also had to wear a dress she described as "layers of tulle and silk," with her hair up, and said she felt like she was playing dress-up and putting accessories on dolls. She hates it. All of these things are gender performances, and if she "has to wear them," it's because she's a woman. But the book is not canon. I don't think the knowledge that this isn't canon undoes any of the things shown about this aspect of Cassandra in the series, honestly.

Now the whole convent thing:

Alright, alright, going to the convent topic. When it got mentioned in the show I got a bit weirded out, like if she had annouced something very dark and serious in the plot like a character trauma, I took it very seriously. Because every time a period drama character is sent to a convent, is in a form of silencing. I am no expert in history, but in media, at least, female characters are sent to convents mainly for sexist reasons. If they were caught misbehaving (like in Cassandra's case), if they are sexually humiliated, such as being exposed as having lost their virginity or something similar, if they do not behave femininely enough (quiet, delicate and passive), if they are lesbians, and many other reasons. Female characters are sent to convents as punishment, and so I find it very strange that this was reported in TTS, even minimally. From this we can also get the idea that Christianity exists in the TTS universe, and I don't need to go into too much depth on this subject for "those who understand it" to understand what I'd like to say. Let's say it speaks for itself...

I made a quick research about the subject not to base all this post in my own knowledge. I saw someone on Quora saying "Convents and monasteries were gender-segregated places to stow inconvenient people" and went on to using female examples, "This is what you did with inconvenient daughters."

In addition, women were also sent to mental institutions and subjected to torture and diagnoses such as "female hysteria", but this is another layer of our history, and there is nothing like that in TTS. I just want to say that it is not new for families to place women in institutions with the intention of domesticating or punishing them. I don't mean that Cassandra's father or the king are directly sexist towards her, but would her be put in a convent as a way of punishment if she were a man?

Also there's the thing about Cassandra's sexuality. It's irrelevant to the story and it's never explictly mentioned (and it's likely that homophobia doesn't exist in Corona, but we never even saw gay couples there because DISNEY, so like...) but... but like. Well. Idk. Girls were sent to convents for less

Let's make a list of "things I would like to point out" and why this situation is weird to me:

Cassandra is not traditionally feminine, so she challenges some norms in Corona and this is undeniable (there are warrior women in OTHER kingdoms, not very much in Corona);

Her father, the captain, was the one IN THE BOOK who put her in the lady-in-waiting position (this was never explicitly said in the series but no one ever said who put her there, certainly it wasn't herself), knowing very well about her avertion of traditionally feminine things, which is all the stuff she does and has to be in the lady-in-waiting job (her father knows her but still put her in this);

She was going to be sent to a convent as a punishment for helping Rapunzel to sneak out (Convents were used as a way of punishing and silencing women in the past);

I rewatched some scenes in the show and we aren't sure if this was the captain's decision or the king's decision and he just went with it. He says he's not pleased by it, but will visit her when he can, and try to find a way to get some kind of arrangement, to take her out, if it's possible... and Cassandra says she's very dissappointed at him. Maybe for not protecting her from this decision (if it's the king's)? Or because he choose this as a way to protect her? I also find it weird how in the first episode Cassandra tells Rapunzel she must not tell anyone because she would be sent to the convent. Who told her that? How does she know about that information? Have this ever happened to other women in the castle? Or it's her father who said that before she became a lady-in-waiting?

I don't know, I just find all that very weird. Please tell me your opinions, theories and discuss about the subject if you have something to say about it.

[kopilot-pop]

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #1

-imagine.

Summary: You’re the oldest member in NJ. With that title comes alot of responsibilities, from being the support beam for your (not so official) leader to protecting your maknae from rude interviewers. (This is just a bunch of moments of a very protective/warm Y/n.)

Warnings: sickness, fighting(?), protectiveness, cursing, rude people, etc.

A/N: Hey, it’s been a while. So sorry for disappearing for like… 20 days..? I’m back with another NJ fic because alot of people liked the bodyguard one haha. It’s mostly platonic love from Y/n btw. Oh, and lil background info; Y/n's is a 03(a year older than Hanni/Minji) and used to be a dancer before being casted by Hybe.

———————————————————————

#1

“What do you mean she has to come?!”

‘Oh god..’

Minji is furious to say the least.

You’re currently holding a sick Haerin in your arms, rocking her back and forth. The poor girl has been feeling off for a few days at this point and on the day of an important performance, her fever had become unbearable.

Last night, Minji woke up to Haerin crying in pain and woke you up in a panic. Since then, 3 hours has passed and the girl’s fever doesn’t seem to want to go down. Minji quickly went to call the manager to adjust the schedule while you decided to keep watch on Haerin.

“She can’t even stand straight oppa! You seriously can’t expect her to-”

“Listen Minji. This is an important schedule and the producers aren’t gonna be happy if the whole team doesn’t show up. As much as I want to help, it’s just not possible!”

“Ugh!”

Due to all the yelling, the younger girl stirred awake. She stayed quiet, but it was clear to you that she was listening to the conversation.

“Unnie-”

“No. You’re not going to the festival.” You cut her off before she could say anything.

“I.. I can go..! It’s fi-” Haerin fell back into your arms in a coughing fit. After a stern look from you, she finally sighed and snuggled into your chest. Soon after Minji came in - grumbling in frustration.

“I can’t believe him! He-“

“Hey, sweetie, calm down first.” You put Haerin back down on her bed, tucking her in.

“How do you expect me to be calm?! They’re forcing Haerin to perform in this condition! To make things worse, the performance is in the morning, the weather forecast even says it could rain, and, and-” Haerin sat up in the bed, covering herself in the thick blankets. Her wide eyes looked back and forward you and Minji worriedly.

“WOAH, woah, Min, you need to calm down. You’re stressing out Haerin here.”

“Speaking of Haerin- you! Why would you hide the fact that you were sick?! If you told us sooner we could’ve-”

“Kim Minji.”

The moment you saw Haerin’s eyes become watery you decided to shut everything down. Minji, realising her mistake, immediately stopped talking and looked away. You decided to grab her arm and pull her out of the room to talk.

After a few moments of silence, she decided to talk.

“Unnie… I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me. Minji. I know you’re stressed out from all the schedules and practices, and I understand you’re just worried for Haerin. However, that doesn’t mean you can let your frustrations out onto your members.”

“…”

“I know you’re just trying your best and I really appreciate it, but you need to calm down.”

“I just… I’m just worried….” The shorter girl slowly came up to you. You hold her in a tight hug as she sobs quietly into your shoulder.

“Hey, I know, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll give the producers a call, okay? Go get some sleep with Haerin.”

“Mmph..” You wipe away her tears with your sleeve and give her a smile. Minji decides to give you a final hug and go back to her shared room with Haerin.

———————————————————————

#2

“Nope.”

“Y/N!!”

You’re currently in a tiny meeting with the producer of a well known music show. Since you’ve been in the entertainment business for a while, you recognized alot of their faces - including the fuming man you’ve been arguing with for about 20 minutes now.

“Hyein’s 15. I’m not letting you put her in that and that’s final.”

“It’s just a damn skirt-”

“Nope.”

“The fans would want-”

“Nope.”

“We’ve had other idols-“

“Nope.”

“For gods sake! This isn’t about you! The stylists already prepared everything and we aren’t going to change things just because YOU think ‘the skirt’s too short’.”

This whole debacle started with a slight comment from Hyein. She’s preparing for a solo special stage on Music Bank, and you decided to tag along for support..

(1 Hour Ago)

“Hey! You really came!!”

Hyein - in her tall glory - came running towards you, capturing you in a tight hug.

“Oof- Hey bub, good to see you too.”

You give her a slight pat on her head, holding her tightly to your body.

“Hehe, oh-! Have you seen my makeup for today?! It’s really pretty, with jewels, and…”

You watched as the younger girl went on and on about her excitement. It was her first ever stage alone, and you knew the amount of practice and effort she put on just for this moment.

“- and, and the jacket! It’s pink and so cute! Everything’s amazing - well, there is the skirt - but the dancers are just amazing!!”

“Whoah- what? What about the skirt?”

(1 Hour Later)

So you’re now in the waiting room, arguing, while Hyein is practicing in a different room with dancers.

You are extremely protective over your members, and everybody in the building probably knew that. A video of you almost physically fighting with a rude staff (that decided it was okay to threaten Hanni) went viral in the past, so the staffs were looking between you and the producer nervously.

It didn’t help that your face was gradually becoming more sour as the man went on about ‘pleasing the crowd’.

“What do you mean this isn’t about me? That’s your excuse? Hyein’s my teammate, she’s our maknae, and you’re trying to put her in and outfit she’s clearly uncomfortable in - for what? To appeal to disgusting perverts sitting in the crowd just waiting for a wardrobe malfunction?!”

“Of course n-”

“Listen. I’m not telling you to completely change everything in the crowd, all I’m telling you, is to let our stylist change the skirt to the pants she already prepared just in case. I genuinely don't see a single problem with that."

"I-.."

"Unless you're one of the 'perverts in the crowd'."

"How dare y-!"

"I'll take that as a no."

You quickly pushed past the fumbling man - bowing to the stressed staff members - and let out a deep sigh to calm yourself.

You promised to help Hyein rehearse after all.

———————————————————————

#3

There is no doubt in your mind that Danielle is one of the sweetest human beings in the world - and you hate it.

Not that you hate Danielle, god no, it's just that you absolutely hate the people around her that try to take advantage of her sweet personality.

Thankfully, she has scary dog privileges (you).

"Um...haha.. really...?"

You were getting drinks for the group at the vending machine when you faintly heard the younger girls voice from the hallway. In your mind she was supposed to be with the makeup artist, so why was she here?

"Yes! I really, really like you Danielle!"

You dropped the drinks in your hands and sped to where the conversation was.

Near the bathroom you could see Dani gripping onto your jacket(she was cold), nervously smiling at another idol practically cornering her and... confessing his love..?

"I took a long time trying to build up the courage to ask you.. and I was hoping that maybe we could go on a date some time?"

"I'm really flattered... but.. um.."

You could tell she was uncomfortable. She was stuttering, trying her best to form a refusal, but you knew your Dani hated saying no - especially when she knew the other person would be heartbroken by it.

You hesitated choosing between stepping in and just watching until either Dani says something or the boy leaves, but that was all thrown out the window when he decided to grab her before she could back away.

"Hey."

The young boy visibly froze up at your deep voice.

He was tall for his age, but still alot shorter than you. He nervously turned around and the moment he saw your face he could tell you were not happy.

"Oh! Um hello su-"

"We need to prepare for the stage Dani. Come on."

You lightly slapped his arm way and pulled her into yours, quickly making your way to your group's waiting room.

As soon as the door shut, you were finally able to check on her.

"You okay? He didn't do anything did he?"

"I'm fine unnie! Thank you so much.. I just didn't know how to tell him I wasn't looking to date anyone... He's one of my new friends, and I didn't really want to lose him, and I didn't want him to feel bad - oh no! I just left him there! Oh, maybe I should go back-" The younger girl started to ramble her worries, making you slightly panic.

"Hey! It's okay! He's gonna be fine.. And Dani! You can't always say y-........ nevermind.." You sighed.

You definitely hate how her puppy eyes make you weak, too.

———————————————————————

#4

It's a casual day off at the New Jeans house.

Just like any other break day, you decided to take a long nap on the couch. Quiet, peaceful, and not a single soul wanting to bother y-

"Nevermind..." You sighed.

That thought was shattered into pieces when you woke up on the couch with Hanni on top of you.

You have a warm body in general and all the girls usually used you like a heater whenever they were cold, huddling into you like baby penguins surrounding their mother.

That included cuddling into your arms whenever they caught you taking a nap on the couch.

So when you stirred awake, you weren't surprised to find Hanni (Y/n Heater's #1 fan) lying on top of you, spread like a flying squirrel.

'Ah, who cares.'

You decided to just go back to sleep, right hand holding the younger steady just in case she falls like last time.

-

You woke back up abut 30 minutes later to find that your chest has gotten heavier.

You tiredly opened one eye to see that another body - Hyein - has been added to your napping form. You were honestly used to this by now, and decided go back to sleep - already expecting at least one more addition to the pile when you wake back up.

-

"Unnie..."

'There it is.'

20 minutes later, you woke back up to the sound of a soft voice calling for you.

You lazily opened your eyes to see Danielle standing next to you awkwardly.

"Hmm? Need somethin' sunshine?"

"...Can I join..?"

You stared at her in disbelief before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah sure, might be a tight squeeze though- oof!"

The moment you approved she rammed into your side, squeezing next to Hanni. She was slightly hanging off the edge, so in a second you held on tight to her arms - just in case.

You let out content sigh while falling back asleep.

-

It was 4 hours after you started you nap when you awoke for the 4th time.

You opened your eyes to see two lumps on the floor next to the couch. Minji was awake, watching the TV on a low volume, while Haerin was lying on the floor with her head in Minji's lap - lightly snoring.

"She's practically purring, huh?"

Minji - slightly jumped by your voice - let out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, she seemed tired."

"Hmm... aren't you?"

"I just enjoy seeing you guys like this."

"This? This is basically going to the gym. Have you ever carried 3 bodies on your chest?"

She let out a giggle.

"No, but what I meant is that I enjoy seeing you guys happy like this."

"Hah."

"Don't laugh! I mean it."

She lightly leaned back for her head to rest on your shoulder.

"It's peaceful. And I love it."

———————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading. Love y'all <3

[seriouslycromulent]

Now That I've Binged All of Mid-Century Modern ...

... here are just a few of my thoughts on the show.

Warning: Below, be spoilers! If you haven't finished the 10-episode season, please keep scrolling by. If you have watched all of it, then by all means, feel free to agree or argue with me in the comments.

Now on to my blatherings:

Here on Tumblr, we need an acronym or abbreviation for this series to use as a tag. Because if we put it under the #midcenturymodern or the #mid-centurymodern tag, we'll have to weed through all the posts about interior decor and Googie architecture. Not that I don't love Googie architecture. Might I suggest #midcmod. Although, I guess we can also use #desertqueens. I'm open to recommendations.

I love how quickly the actors on the series seemed to find their characters. Most new series take at least 3 or 4 episodes before the actors get comfortable in their characters and truly feel like they know who that person is (you can tell because it often shows in their performances). But with this cast, they pretty much found it after the 1st episode. Kudos!

God, I'm going to miss Linda Lavin. 😔 She was such a great balance to the cast. Not just in the form of estrogen or age, but in the form of perspective. Like in ep. 6 ("Maid Serviced"), where she checked the guys about hiring a housekeeper for his looks and not for his ability to do the job, I appreciated it when she said something to the effect: "At my age, you have to fight to be seen. And I'm not going to fight to be seen in my own house." Respect. You go, Mama!

At first, I wasn't really feeling Pamela Adlon as Nathan Lane's sister, Mindy, because I thought she was too young to play his sis. But it turns out she's only about 10 yrs younger, so it's not that weird at all. Plus, the more we saw them together, the more I liked them as a duo. Especially when he put her in a headlock in ep. 8 ("Sour Pickleball"). 😏

I saw some people here on Tumblr bristle at the portrayal of Jerry (played by Matt Bomer) as the dumb, handsome one. But I kind of love this for him. Bomer is usually pretty serious or sarcastic in most of the roles he's known for, so seeing him kind of play against type is a bit refreshing. And it's clear that his "stupidity" comes more so from being sheltered in his Mormon/ultra-conservative upbringing than from simply being not very bright. I say let him cook.

My favorite episode of the 10 so far was the one where they go to Fire Island. I think it's ep. 5 ("Hello, Fisty's"). I appreciated how that episode subverted our expectations. Instead of the guys enjoying an evening of sensual debauchery, they got to share a part of themselves that reflected the person underneath the façade. A sexual interaction was replaced with a heartfelt one. 🫂

I know it shouldn't have been as funny as it was, but when Mindy made Jerry cry at pickleball in ep. 8, I literally laughed out loud. I don't know what it was -- it could've been how Bomer chose to play the scene -- but that moment was absolutely hilarious. Again, I can see how this role is allowing us to see Bomer's skill at comedy a lot better than anything we've seen him do in the past.

Speaking of comedy, call me a filthy foul-mouthed radical, but I appreciate how the show doesn't tiptoe around swearing or sexual interactions. I'm sure some folks at home will be clutching their pearls when they hear the first f-bomb dropped on the series. And don't get me started when they openly brought up pegging like it was nothing. But I like that it's a series clearly intended for mature audiences in every sense of the word. In that respect, it reminds a little of Grace and Frankie.

I hope if we get more seasons where we get to see more guest stars that we know the cast has worked with in the past. I loved seeing Judd Hirsch, Rhea Perlman, Richard Kind, and Jesse Tyler Ferguson on the show. If they get another season, I can only imagine how many people will jump at the chance to guest star.

I pretty much knew I would like this series when I saw that James Burrows was an executive producer and director on the show. I don't think I've ever watched a TV series with his name attached where I didn't like it.

With that said, the one running theme/joke that I'm not a fan of is the mini-dance breaks the guys do every now and then. It was kind of cute in the pilot episode, but every time after that, I would kind of watch through my fingers. 🫣 Now, I don't have anything against characters dancing in TV shows or film, but far too often ... well ... they just aren't very good and I often wish they wouldn't. I know that seems bitchy, because everyone should be allowed to dance if they feel like it. And it's totally realistic that this group would dance around their own home if the spirit moves them. But ... they really aren't very good and I find myself desperately wanting them to be better so I don't have to cover my eyes. All of them have lovely singing voices. And of course, they're fantastic actors. But as dancers ... um, yeah 😬. Well, they're certainly dispelling the stereotype that all gay men can dance.

So now that I've nitpicked about the one thing I don't like about the show, let me share my thoughts on ep. 9. ("Here's to You, Mrs. Schneiderman"). I was really shocked that the writers included Lavin's death in the show in the first season. I'm sure they probably had to, but instead of just easing into it, they really faced it head on and I respect that a lot. And can we give it up to Nathan Lane for his performance in that episode? 👏🏽 He was genuinely heartbreaking to watch and he played every beat so brilliantly. I knew Lavin passed before the show could air, but I just assumed that she died after they had finished filming, and they were likely going to address it if they got a second season. So the shock that hit me when they dedicated an entire episode to her in the first season was 🤯. It was so wonderfully written and genuinely moving that it just made me adore the show even more. Certainly this episode is more sad and sentimental than the other episodes, but it was not without the right dose of humor at just the perfect moments to make it match the tone of the series. God, I'm going to miss her. 😔

Final thoughts:

Even though it's just a 30-min sitcom, I can't reiterate how much I think the show gave us the laugh so many of us need right now with everything else going on in the world. I know some folks feel like the world has stopped or should be stopping and every day should be about focusing on fighting the power and death to tyranny and all that.

But I know my anxiety and overall psyche appreciates a break from the constant fear of dread, doom, and despair that permeates my thoughts every day. A laugh, a harmless distraction, a moment to remind us of our collective humanity is very much appreciated right now -- at least by me.

Also, I can't speak for anyone else, but I like sitcoms that deliver laughs while also delivering a reflection of our flaws, quirks, and humanity back at us. And by the time you reach the 5th episode, I think the writers had clearly found that sweet spot where comedy, pathos and heart intersect. And I couldn't be more grateful. 🫶🏽

[rei-ismyname]

Crucible and Krakoan bodily autonomy

X-Men (2019) #7 introduced Crucible, Krakoa's answer to the problem of millions of depowered mutants. One of the promises of Krakoa was resurrective immortality though The Five. They couldn't stop mutants being killed but they could 'right that great wrong' by returning them to life in a new body. Krakoa held different meaning for those affected by The Decimation - the return of their stolen powers, and their right to bodily autonomy and living as their true selves. Crucible was provocative and shocking for readers, but this was intentional and it's much more than senseless violence.

Melody Guthrie wants to be herself

Crucible was created to address the problem of the sheer number of mutants who were depowered and were willing to do anything to reverse that. Mass suicide or euthanasia might be acceptable to some, but it would put a massive strain on The Five's already staggering workload (primarily Genosha's 16 million dead.) Apocalypse proposed Crucible, ritual combat where the depowered mutant chooses their slayer and then fights them to the death. It also serves as a way to ensure the participant has made an informed choice before committing to a big change.

In the panels above, Apocalypse is performing ritual - call and response, confirmation of identity, baldly stating the reality, and repeatedly asking for verbal consent. It's a public/communal statement of intent and consent - so everyone can see that Melody wants this. She's not here under duress and she's willing to fight and die publicly to (re)gain the body she wants.

Her brother Sam interprets it as cruelty, but her sister Paige stops him - 'this is what she wants.' Apocalypse's words can be interpreted as cruelty, but they can also be interpreted as giving multiple opportunities to change her mind - at every stage ensuring consent and understanding is present. He stresses that a LOT of people want this opportunity and that it's a privilege. 'Do you understand?'

'Yes.' After repeat explanations, offers to back out, and establishments of consent, it's her turn to state that clearly for all to hear. To confirm that she understands and that she chooses to do this. Only then does the ritual violence commence. If nothing else, we know it's ritual because Apocalypse could kill her instantly if he wished. He doesn't wish.

Apocalypse obviously overpowers and disarms Melody, but he's not being overly cruel or brutal. Kurt and Scott are troubled, but note that the general response is positive.

After Melody is knocked down, Apocalypse pauses again to offer medical treatment and the chance to change her mind. I'd argue he's genuinely trying to convince her to accept it, but he's pleased at her reaffirming consent and understanding.

Melody is completely disarmed, her sword shattered. She's on the ground stuttering. After encouraging her to get up, only then does Apocalypse offer 'the gift,' confirming she has 'earned it.' With everyone watching he kills her in what's implied to be a single thrust. Note how Melody has injuries, but they'd be generously termed 'light.' A little blood on her face, an arm injury of some kind, but no broken bones or open wounds. Certainly no missing limbs or the kind of cuts you'd expect from that gigantic fucking sword.

It's ceremonial combat - a ritual and a test - one Melody Guthrie passed while agreeing to it every step of the way. Her family are beside themselves, but who wouldn't be when witnessing a sibling die? At the hands of an old enemy no less. As Paige said, 'this is what she wants.'

Melody, Aero, is resurrected immediately with tears of joy streaming down her face. Bathed in light she stands, overwhelmed with the feeling of being her true self again.

Before doing anything she turns to Apocalypse and thanks him for helping make her 'whole.' He acknowledges that she did the hard work but humbly accepts it when she offers thanks again. Then she does what she's been missing for so long, the reason she went through this ordeal. She 'shows them who she really [is]' and takes to the sky.

It's framed as something miraculous, divine especially contrasted with facing Apocalypse in mortal combat. He and his sword are gigantic next to her slight frame, and Nightcrawler (a sympathetic character) expresses doubts the whole time in voiceover. I think the juxtaposition of commentary plus Apocalypse's presence with Melody's POV during and after are designed to wrongfoot the reader, or at least challenge us to think about what's happening. Ultimately it's Melody's body, Melody's choice, and Melody's happiness that matter most here.

Crucible is disturbing to our sensibilities but in the context of a society with resurrective immortality and many wrongs to right, it might be the best option available. It also resonated with a lot of trans folks and others whose body doesn't match the one they were born with. I can speak on my own body dismorphia, and I say with certainty that if I had to go through Crucible to 'show who I really am' I would. In a heartbeat. Apocalypse here is kinder than 99% of doctors that gatekeep gender-affirming care of any kind.

The metaphor isn't perfect, and Krakoa isn't perfect, but Crucible is much more than grisly murder. It's food for thought, it's transhumanist parable, it's an exploration of bodily autonomy and the pain we'll endure to have it. It's Apocalypse stabbing a young woman with a giant sword. Crucible unflinchingly shows us what Krakoa's bounty might look like and invites us to think about it, to ask questions. It's uncomfortable and it's beautiful. It privileges the brave and reckless over the timid, yet depowered mutants line up for their turn.

[lunar-and-ardent]

The relationship of Tecna and Timmy is so romantic.

It may be not as visible, because the show has couples being romantic in a more classical way, but Timmy and Tecna actually have so many tender, gentle and vulnerable moments. They are so sweet together, and awkward, and then out of nowhere hit you with the deepest scenes imaginable. They are so Jane-Austen's-characters'-coded lol.

Like this short scene of a game from season 2 (first gif)??? This is so romantic and sensual, you wouldn't expect it from them.

Their conflict in the second season was that Tecna at first cared about rather performative bravery (literal fighting, close combat) + wanted something more than just talking about their hyperfixation. Timmy, on the other hand, thought in a more logical way: he knew his strengths, and that he's better at strategy and computers, and wasn't interested in posing as a hero just to feel good about himself (this scene where he realizes he isn't strong enough against Trix and so he gives away the Codex). He also wanted to get closer to Tecna, so it makes sense he tried to connect on their common hobby, at first not realizing that Tecna, with her emotional growth, started to want a little more than this. And you can understand them both, and both have good points.

And Timmy is a freaking badass. He always thinks logically (I'd argue that even more than Tecna, like this scene with Codex, where she called him a coward for not doing something that was doomed from the start), and so the scene in the third season hits so much. You know which one. All Winx cry and Riven tries to comfort Timmy (I really like the fact it's Riven who does that btw, but this is a material for another post), trying to bring reason to him, politely saying that there's no way Tecna is still alive, and Timmy says in a calm and sure way that he knows she is alive. If Timmy says something like that, you know he's right.

I guess the scene from the second season, when Winx go to fight Lord Darkar and specialists stay at the back, sums up their relationship in the best way: Timmy stays inside the ship, because it is his role to navigate it, and he and Tecna look at each other, just sighing each other's names (though they cannot hear it). Their love is so, so deep. And a relationship like the one they have wouldn't fit everyone, since both of them don't need to spend as much time together as others, nor do they have to say as much (but if they say how much they love each other, oh they say it), and they both share their hyperfixation/special interest, but all of this works perfectly for them. They're a match made in heaven. And come to think of that, we have this popular fanon that Tecna is on the spectrum of autism, but I wonder if there is any fanon like this for Timmy? I also feel like being demisexual or graysexual fits them both (maybe I just like the idea of Tecna, a character whose main arc is understanding and expressing emotions, feeling sexual desire only to someone who she has a strong connection with, I guess it feels kinda poetic to me).

[vegaseatsass]

Bangkok Boy Ep 11

Ahhhh when episodes 11 are good they're often my fav of the series, and this episode 11 was so good!!

- I didn't expect Junho to bring that Kentacore energy in at the last minute but 1. I am compelled. You gave me life so you're allowed to take it away. Crazy insane stuff. Also hot. 2. My immediate thought when he walked out on Jihoon was damn Jihoon, you did such a good job planning ALL of this but you forgot one critical detail: seducing your foster brother so he's devoted to you body and soul.

Lmao honestly I largely support most of what Jihoon is up to - it's the patricide! The glorious, deliberate patricide!! I just wish instead of trying to kill Sun and Peace he went from plotting to get them together to give his dad a heart attack <3 to plotting to get them to go on honeymoon somewhere out of Bangkok to free up his empire while they're away. That would work out so much better for you baby! As it is right now I'm not sure YOU are gonna survive this... just gotta do more gay schemes and fewer gay murders, is my perspective.

- Main other sentiment is how much I love Peace as a character. I honestly wasn't expecting that he was present for Songphoom's murder or aware (vs. suspicious) of the full extent of his father's role in Sun and Mei's lives, because I think part of me would have expected him to use that to warn Sun off of his father and family more actively. But that's what this reveal clinched for me so beautifully: he has never been active, in any of this.

I love a character whose trappedness and learned helplessness run so deep they legitimately can't imagine that there are other options but to obey and to endure. In past episodes he's aware his father is planning to kill Sun eventually and has no belief that he can stop it, so he just lives, miserably, with that knowledge. Of course watching his father use and manipulate Sun with his eyes wide open since the beginning has never empowered him to do more than give Sun vague, general warnings to choose something different. He can't betray his father. He can't fight or argue with Sun, or with his circumstances, or with any of it. The quiet protests ("my dad could kill you") he's managed to get out have the air of like, someone forcing out their last breath before drowning, not someone really believing they're saying anything that's going to change anyone's trajectory.

The way that Mei recognizes Peace's passivity with such familiarity and is so much readier to still accept him and forgive him speaks volumes. She understands, intimately, how it feels to be trapped with no way out, to not like or want violence but to be caged inside it for someone else's purposes.

Idk if I can even articulate it well but I have really appreciated the restrained, tortured, deeply inward pain of Sihyun's performance throughout the series. It felt like this episode we were given a new facet to that pain - not anything that dramatically changed what we've already seen and known of the character, but something that just enhanced it and made it click, hit that extra hard and deep. For me at least.

[oh-stars]

Eternity

Love is being willing to wait for them.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2085 words | CW: anxiety, sort of unrequited love | Rating: T

--

“Can we talk?” Eddie whispers, a hand on Steve’s elbow, “Just us?” 

Steve nods, a tight smile on his face that he hopes doesn’t come off as uncomfortable as it feels. “Later?” He motions to the bowl of popcorn he’s carrying. “I can come over after?”

“Later,” Eddie says, his eyes warm and bright as he gives the tiniest smile in return. He doesn’t seem to notice how tense Steve’s body is as he squeezes his arm and leaves him in the kitchen, slinking back into the Wheeler basement. 

It takes all of three seconds before Steve’s face is falling and his heart is threatening to explode. He knows what this is about. Knows that when he heads over to the Munson trailer, he’ll have to face the music. 

Over the past few months, Eddie Munson has filled a gaping hole in Steve’s chest – with his wicked sense of humor and strong convictions that flip the norm inside out. He’s given Steve something he’s been missing for so long, long before he and Tommy H stopped hanging out and the social pressure became too much: a friend. 

But he’s more than that, isn’t he? 

Steve takes a deep breath and shoves everything into a box deep in his mind, like he’s been doing since he saved Eddie back in March (since Dave Easom used him to train the new lifeguards, his bare chest rubbing against Steve’s back, strong arms holding him up as big hands held him tightly). He has to perform, has to be the guy everyone expects him to be, just a little while longer. 

Robin pats the seat beside her when he finds his way back to the basement. 

He hands her the bowl and drops down onto the creaky couch. “What’d I miss?” 

“Jeff came up with this plan for the guys to split up, but Nancy thinks splitting up is a bad idea and will lead to a trap. And since they know that one of the pathways is an illusion, she’s not sure it's worth the risk. They’ve been arguing in circles and I’m pretty sure their in-fighting was a part of Eddie’s plan all along,” she says in between bites of popcorn. “Honestly, they all need to listen to Erica and just trick the wizard into revealing the illusion so they eliminate one of their choices.” 

“So more of the same?” Steve asks. 

Robin hums. “Precisely.” 

Steve slouches and rests his head on her shoulder. She wiggles under him and the next thing he knows, he’s laying on top of her while her non-buttery hand runs through his hair and she shovels popcorn into her mouth with the other. 

The drill of the game and the soothing motions of Robin’s hand in his hair lull Steve into that space between consciousness and sleep he both loves and hates. His thoughts wander, circling Eddie like a flock of vultures ready to swoop in and rip the false sense of security Steve has. 

Because he knows Eddie wants to talk about them. And Steve wants there to be a Them, but… 

How can he give himself over to another person when time after time everyone has proven he’s unable to provide in a relationship? When he doesn’t know how to open himself up and be vulnerable with the person who is meant to know everything? He’s just a bullshit version of who he thinks he’s supposed to be – he doesn’t know how to be a real person. 

And Eddie deserves that! He deserves to have someone who can be there for him wholly and with enthusiasm. 

Steve’s just not sure he can do that. Not when he’s barely acknowledging the flutter in his stomach when Eddie says his name or looks his way. Not when he genuinely feels like he could be sick when he thinks of his father finding out. Not when all he wants to do is hold Eddie’s hand while they walk down on Main Street, but they can’t without risking their goddamn lives. 

Eddie can barely exist on his own, was already the town pariah for his music and clothing choices, for the things he’s interested in that were completely harmless long before the murderer propaganda started. Being in a public relationship with a man is not going to do him any favors. 

And Steve’s not sure he can sneak around. That’s just… He doesn’t know how to contain himself in small increments; he’s either all in or burying it all deep for no one to find. 

He buries his head into Robin’s shoulder. She has an idea about his feelings and the labels he refuses to give himself. She knows how flustered Eddie makes him, is ready to tease him for falling for the man whenever Steve is, but until then, she’s a rock. Solid and steady, offering support when needed, but letting Steve process it at his own speed. 

“I need to come over tonight,” he whispers to Robin. “Eddie wants to talk.” 

“Oh,” Robin says, cupping the back of Steve’s head briefly. “I’ll have all your favorites ready for you when you get to my house.” 

Steve doesn’t have to say anything or force a smile. She gets it. 

The game ends too quickly and the kids are dropped off to their respective destinations even quicker, so Steve makes his way over to Forest Hills and tries to capture whatever confidence has escaped him over the last few weeks. Wayne’s truck is gone when he pulls up, but the lights on the van are still on, Eddie must have just gotten home. 

He can do this. 

Steve climbs out of the Beemer and pockets his keys. He makes it up two steps before Eddie’s opening the door for him, grinning way too big for the heartbreak Steve’s about to give him. 

Because that’s what this is: Steve’s about to break Eddie’s heart. 

He wants to be able to be with Eddie fully, but he knows that’s not fair. Not when someone else could give him more before Steve’s able to. 

“You got here quick,” Eddie says as they settle on the couch. He’s so open with his body language: back against the corner of the couch, one leg crossed over the other so his ankle dangles off his knee, arm along the back of the couch, elbow propping his head up on the arm of the chair. There’s this easy going smile on his face too, like he’s luxuriating in whatever he’s experiencing. 

“Yeah,” he says. Steve doesn’t feel too bad about still wearing his shoes, needing them for a quick escape, when Eddie’s boots are still on his feet, laces undone. He doesn’t let himself lean back into the couch, no matter how much it wants to suck him in. 

Eddie waits a full beat before he jumps up, shifting so his body faces Steve and his hands are in his lap, fingers worrying around one another. “So,” he draws out, “I have something I need to tell you.” 

Part of Steve feels like he should stop Eddie, to cushion some of the blow before Eddie puts his heart on the line, but he can’t. He’s frozen in place and foolishly thinking there’s still time for Eddie to say something else. For all he knows, Eddie’s about to invite him to play Dungeons & Dragons or something! 

Who is he kidding? 

“Okay,” Steve says, feeling like he’s outside of himself. 

Eddie clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back as he reaches for Steve’s hand. “You have been a really great friend, probably the best I’ve had who knows my secret. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I… I can’t imagine my life without you, man.” 

“Eddie,” Steve whispers. 

“No, no, just hear me out,” Eddie says, scooting closer. “I’m alive because of you. And I was able to recover and stay alive because of you. I… Dude, I’ve shared more with you than I’ve ever been comfortable sharing with anyone.” His voice drops down to a whisper as it trembles a little. Eddie blinks harshly and looks up to the popcorn ceiling. “I’m tired of running, Steve, so I’m just going to say it. There’s… something here, Stevie. I can feel it. And maybe it’s one-sided and I’m projecting how I feel onto you, but I don’t think so. I think you can feel it, too.” 

Steve feels himself shifting back, his leg bouncing with the need to go. 

Eddie takes another deep breath and moves so they’re eyes are locked. “I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

His eyes are watering. How long has he waited for someone to say those words first? And now he can’t even accept them. 

“Eddie, I…” 

Eddie’s smile dims as his eyes grow softer. “I know,” he says softly. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It is,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hands. He’s so close their knees knock against one another. Steve feels like his body is about to split down the middle, one half needing to be closer to him and the other wanting to get as far away as possible. “Because we’re going to be okay.”

Steve cocks his head to the side. “What?” 

Eddie just nods like it’s the most obvious statement possible. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Steve and Eddie will be okay. “Do you trust me?” Eddie asks, his voice a little stronger. 

“Of course,” Steve says quickly. 

That gets the bright smile back on Eddie’s face. “I didn’t tell you how I feel for you to act on it,” he admits. “I needed to tell you so you knew, in case you were scared to say it first, but I don’t expect you to get down on one knee and profess your undying love to me. But our friendship is special and strong enough that I think I can tell you about my feelings and it won’t change things too much. I know you won’t hate me for it and maybe you’ll reciprocate one day, maybe you won’t,” Eddie shrugs, “but at least I’m being honest with you.” 

Steve has to look away. “And if I can’t?” 

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” 

“Be honest with you?” Steve says through the lump in his throat. 

There’s a big, heavy pause as Eddie pulls away from him slightly. Not enough to leave the bubble they’ve created, but Steve feels his absence anyway. “Are you… are you keeping the truth from me to hurt me?” 

“No,” Steve says, looking back to see a very pensive Eddie. 

“Are you doing it to deceive someone or something?”

“I’m not like that,” Steve says. 

Eddie nods. “I know, I know. But if those things are true, and you’re keeping the truth because you need to for yourself, then we’re okay. I’ll always be here; so whenever you’re ready to tell me whatever it is, I’ll be here to listen.” 

“Even if it takes forever?” Steve whispers. 

“Baby, I’d wait an eternity to hear what you have to say.” 

Steve turns his body fully to Eddie and fills his chest with the same air Eddie’s breathing, the air that's fueling him to push through the nerves and put himself out there. “I’m working through things. You said you’ve, um, known you liked boys since you were a kid?” 

Eddie nods, takes Steve’s hand in his again. 

“And you’ve never done the relationship thing, have you?” 

“Not exactly a large dating pool for kids like me,” Eddie says with a hollow laugh. 

Steve nods, biting at his lip. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “I need time to, like, figure my shit out. Because you’re not… wrong. It’s not one-sided,” he admits, glancing up to see the surprise and hope fill Eddie’s eyes. “But I’m not… I need time.” 

“So take it,” Eddie says. “However long you need.” 

“I can’t ask you to wait for me–” 

“You’re not,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s face in his. He runs his thumb along Steve’s cheek. “I’m offering it. I’ll wait as long as you need.” 

Steve just nods, leaning into Eddie’s touch. He’s going to have a lot to talk with Robin about tonight. Eddie may be willing to wait until the end of time for him, but Steve wants to feel this – the hope, the energy shared between them, the love that lies in the undercurrent of every word, action, and breath – as soon as possible. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as he kisses the palm of Eddie’s hand. 

--

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Vampires you say tell me more

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

YEsssss vampires.

87 for 🩸:

---

“What kind of disturbance?”

Elaine frowns. “It looks like someone… Well, performed a very crude exhumation.”

Athena feels a swell of nausea in her stomach. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry, Athena,” Elaine says. “We’re putting all we’ve got on this, okay? We will find out what happened to his remains.”

Remains. She hates that word. Always hated it at a crime scene. Hates it even more now that it’s being applied to her husband. 

“Wait,” May says. There is a frantic edge of distress in her voice. “They took Bobby’s body? Who would do that?”

Well, Athena has an idea. A grim, heinous sense. Because none of this has sat right with her. Not from the moment it began. 

“We aren’t sure,” Elaine tells May gently. “But we’ll find out.”

May’s eyes water. She covers her hand with her mouth. She’s been taking it hard; losing Bobby. He meant a lot to her. Athena wishes she had more soft, motherly comfort to provide her daughter with right now. Her beautiful, loving daughter. But all she’s become is angry, hard edges.

“Take me to see it,” Athena asks. “I need to see it.”

“It’s upsetting,” Elaine warns. She knows Athena won’t relent. She has to know.

“Nevertheless,” Athena says. 

Elaine nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Give me five minutes to get dressed,” Athena asks.

Elaine nods again. 

“I want to come,” May says. 

“Absolutely not,” Athena replies sharply.

May’s expression flinches a little.

“Yes,” she argues. “He was my stepfather, he… He was a father to me. If someone did this to him, I want to know.”

Shit. May is as stubborn as Athena, when she wants to be. But no. No, she’s not putting her daughter at risk. If this is what Athena thinks it is, May can’t be involved. 

“May, no,” Athena says. “Not until we know more. That’s final.”

Anger washes over May’s face. She wants to fight. To argue. To state her right to grief, just like Athena’s. Athena knows all that. She doesn’t begrudge her that. She just can’t risk her children, too. 

“Fine,” May grits. She is giving Athena a window grace, she figures. Because of Bobby. Athena knows there will be an expiry date on that. “I’ll go wake Harry. Tell him what happened.”

“Thank you,” Athena says.

Her daughter walks away, angry. 

Athena can’t worry about that right now. 

▪️▪️▪️

It’s somehow worse than Elaine’s warning had Athena thinking. She had expected some sort of method. Sure, the word crude had been used. Athena thought, maybe a guy with a shovel in the cover of the night. Something out of an old movie. A grave robber. 

It’s not like that. That would be preferable. That would be intelligible. The scene before her? It’s not. It looks like a wild animal dug her husband out of the dirt, broke into his coffin, and tore his body away. 

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 3]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything up until the end of this patch’s story. Please turn away if you haven’t completed the whole mission yet.

I’m not entirely sure why I briefly thought that Trianne would return after Trinnon said this, maybe it’s because I thought of all the clones and how there could be another Trianne out there, but after finishing the quest I realize that this hope has very very slim chances of becoming true.. but if I can witness Tingyun return, then anything is possible!

Such a troublesome predicament that eventually lead Mem to so graciously offer us up to try and take on the Time Titan’s trial. I haven’t a clue on how well that’ll pan out for us. If we do successfully become a Chrysos Heir/demigod, wouldn’t that sorta tie us down to Amphoreus? I’m sure they would allow us to leave (once we figure out how to) if it ever happens, but still seems difficult. I really didn’t think we would become one of the flame chasers with the already huge cast, but we shall see.

Eventually Mydei encounters his old teacher again and while he does agree to rake his place as king, he also trashes the traditions and the cycle of bloodshed his people hang onto so proudly, which of course sends said teacher into a panic.

I’m so happy with his decision though. Mydei genuinely looks so pleased as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

Kinda wild how they learn about their end once becoming a demigod and how different they could be. Can’t argue with Mydei’s logic about Aglaea’s though; if that were my prophecy, I’d be hesitant to take those fancy golden baths too.

I’d love to see how Mydei’s immortality fares against Castorice’s deadly curse and I can only hope we get to see more of these two interact more in the future somehow, despite Mydei now returning home. I feel like they would have such an interesting dynamic too.

I can never pass up the opportunity to be a complete nuisance to these people, especially Dan Heng. This dude is totally gonna get sick of me by the time we board the Express again.

I’m sorry I can’t think of anything other than them having a library date. I swear I didn’t intend to become so invested in whatever kind of relationship of theirs they have going on.

All hail the king! The king has come home! Let me sit on your lap!

Thanks to the makeshift grave for Trianne, the emotion in Castorice’s voice and how she stayed behind because she knew Trianne hates being alone, this scene brought tears to my eyes. It was such a small moment and yet I never expected how such few words could get me emotional like that.

Not only that, but Castorice also brings a little Trianne plush with the red gemstone attached that she bought from the merchant before and we learn a while later while venturing into the past with Phainon and Trinnon how special such stones are: “if someone gloriously died for destiny, the Holy Maiden must pick a piece of glass from the volcano's quarry and polish it, then give it to the deceased's family.” I thought I was done crying but I guess not!

This girl is so brave and has a heart of gold. And the biggest kudos to Hayden for their performance throughout the entire patch using so many different voices for these girls.

Lies. All lies! Mom knew too well that she wasn’t gonna see her precious kid again. What’s with this game and giving me false hope about “tomorrows,” huh?? First we got “things will be better tomorrow” from Seele (& all of the Underworld), then“to the imperfect tomorrow” from Gallagher.. and now all this!

I am once again fighting conflicting feelings. I’m so stunned by her beauty, but also sobbing alongside her. Hayden nailed the breakdown.

Okay, this art style though? Soooo pretty! I wish they used it for more little scenes like this. But learning that we sorta helped Tribios escape/gain the coreflame in the past is pretty crazy, but that’s time travel for you I guess.

Oh sweetie, you deserved such a better life! I think it’s also kinda funny how they didn’t even bother making a full Tribios model and instead used a crystallized Tribbie to portray her during this part of the quest. They probably knew we’d beg to have it available.

Again this reminds me of Seele’s “things will be better tomorrow” because right after reciting it she goes on to say “Everyone knows it’s a lie, but it gets them (the Underworld children) to sleep with some hope.” It’s sorta similar to what Tribbie mentions but darn it, it makes Trianne’s final words that more painful too.

Oh SURE. Give me Trianne joining Tribios as they both wave goodbye to Tribbie. I DEFINITELY WON’T cry now. Aaaaaaahhhh..

We took so many pictures for our sweet girl that the camera’s photo album became full. We gotta find another camera QUICK. I shall not disappoint her by not capturing every moment of this trip!

By now I was wondering how this patch was gonna end because they always manage to land that final blow to us to keep us hanging on until next time and.. yeah, this works. Seeing us practically fading away and dying in death’s arms is a major concern.

Maybe this has something to do with us accepting the Time Titan’s trial. Or maybe we’re helping with Castorice’s trial instead? Regardless on what’s happening, the next patch ain’t looking too pretty for us.

[regencygossipgirl]

Last Week Was a Fever Dream

Hi guys, I’ve been so busy with work and life that I haven’t been able to post, but I couldn’t miss Luke’s birthday!

As busy as I’ve been, I’m aware of everything that’s been going on. Last week was pure chaos—I can’t believe we survived, lol. So many accounts deactivated, but oh well.

Starting with Nicola attending the Dior show in Paris—there were mixed opinions about her look, but I loved it. I thought it was bold and fearless, and it went perfectly with her makeup. She looked so powerful, and we got so many new pictures. Loved that!

We also got a random clip of Luke at a restaurant in Brazil. They went to Brazil in May—it’s been so long, why are we still getting new clips? I can’t let myself go there. Whatever happened (if anything even happened—probably not, but who knows) was a long time ago. Reality is different now.

And then, everyone got a huge reality check on Thursday. You guys know I’ve always thought Luke was still with Antonia, but I’m not going to lie—seeing him arrive at the Boss party hand in hand with her was shocking. I just wasn’t expecting it, you know? He’s been so reserved and private that I thought if we ever got confirmation, it would be through third-party pictures—like the ones Antonia posted, or the ones his cousin shared from the funeral. But to see him take the lead and basically say, “She is my girlfriend, deal with it,” was not something I thought would happen. And yet, it did.

It made me think that maybe he’s been private because of all the hate he got after June 13th. But maybe he feels safe again—safe enough to share this part of his life with us. And you know what? He looked happy. That video of him talking to her and to David Beckham was painful for many, but after the initial shock wore off, I realized—he looked happy. He was smiling, he was engaging. This was the first event we’d seen him at since GQ in July. He looked so, so handsome. I have to stan, I’m sorry, lol.

I love Luke, and I respect him. He’s been with Antonia for over a year now, so the least we, his fans, can do is accept and respect it. You don’t have to like Antonia, but you don’t have to hate her either. I have to trust Luke. I believe he’s such a sweet and kind person, and I have to trust that he wouldn’t date an awful person for so long. I have to trust that he surrounds himself with people who reflect the kind of person I believe him to be. That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a fan of this relationship or of Antonia—it just means I love and respect Luke enough to respect his decisions, stay out of his private life, and extend that respect to the people he cares about.

Also, I’m really hoping for a Luke x Boss collab because that would genuinely break the internet. Not kidding.

We also got two new interviews with Nic, which I appreciate so much because it’s January—Season 3 has been out for over six months, but the hype is still strong. I think that’s thanks to the fandom, and we’re still getting content because of it. Nic got to talk about her role as Penelope, her process as an actor, and seeing Kathy Bates praise her performance was such a highlight. I’m sure it was for her too.

And today, on Luke’s birthday, he posted about the fundraiser started for him on Twitter. Nicola also noticed hers—she even left a comment on the IG page for the fundraiser. That’s incredible. That made me feel really proud. We fight, we argue, we have differences of opinion—sometimes this fandom is exhausting—but we show up. We support them, we love them, we give. And that’s what it’s supposed to be about.

After Luke’s appearance on Thursday, there’s been a wave of accounts deactivating, and it saddens me. It tells me they were only here for the ship and not for them individually. It tells me they never really cared—they just had this fantasy version of them in their heads, and since it didn’t play out the way they wanted, they left. I respect their choice—everyone has the right to do what’s best for their peace—but it still makes me sad.

I think it’s what I’ve been saying for months now. We can still ship them—that’s okay—as long as we do it respectfully, as long as we acknowledge and respect that they are in relationships with other people right now, and as long as we’re not invasive about their private lives. We can hope for a future where they’re together while still supporting them individually and supporting Polin. But I’m not going to tell you what to do or what to believe—that’s up to you.

Let’s hope for a much calmer week. I think we need it. Let’s see what else happens in this novela—I’m just a spectator now.

[skaruresonic]

I'm reminded of the split opinion on whether Sonic Gens and Mania are suitable "first games" for people who want to approach the series.

I personally don't think so, because the appeal of those games is precisely revisiting old levels in a new format, with a new design: you're not going to get the subtle jokes as a newcomer (and Mania can get very obscure with it). But some do think they're nice pastiches for newcomers to at least get an idea of Sonic's history as a franchise, and it helps that they're both solid games.

I assumed Shadow Gens would be the same, but you make a good point, because this game has an actual story. For veterans, it's more of the same thing, if you know Shadow's story this adds very little new, and it's mostly a repeat of what he already went through in ShTH. But newcomers who want to learn more about the cool black hedgehog from the new movie would still be confused: why did Shadow become a hero? Who is Black Doom, why is he obsessed with Shadow, why does Shadow hate him? Let's not even talk about things like Mephiles' boss fight lol. (although personally I find Gerald's mention of the time portals of '06 rather cute)

So I guess this game is for veterans who just want to soak in the Shadow vibes once more, but this time with Good Writing™

If you based your knowledge only on the information provided by SxS Gens - so no supplementary material, no Dark Beginnings, no manga, no movie, no paratext - you would learn the vaguest and broadest strokes of maybe two games, SA2 and ShTH, at most. But nothing specific.

Everything else would just come off as garbled nonsense. Hell, it appeared that way to me and I've been a Sonic fan for (checks notes) 22 years. God I'm old.

I approached this game not with my purist hardhat on (though that wasn't always the case given some lines here and there lmao) but from the perspective of a newcomer who knew nothing about Shadow's past. If everyone was going to argue that this game's existence is necessary on that basis, I thought, how well would it perform as an introductory piece?

From that perspective, I don't think the game does a very good job in giving us a crash course on Shadow's history. Gerald and Maria do nothing - I hate to say it but they're ultimately window-dressing. They don't accomplish anything that, for instance, a posthumous diary or recording could have just as easily provided.

(Tbf, the NPCs in Gens also pretty much did nothing but cheer Sonic on, but it's not like, given this sheer gravitas as seeing your dead loved ones return to life via the power of timey-wimey shenanigans.)

I was actually surprised at how little plot progression there is, given my previous expectations of there being, you know, a coherent story. The plot doesn't really kick in until you've completed 4 out of the 6 available levels, and by then you've pretty much halfway done lol.

Shit happens in weird, patchwork, nonsensical ways. We get boss fights for characters that don't matter but not a boss fight against Sonic, AKA the guy we play as in Gens proper and in a context that echoes a game dynamic where we get to fight each character as the opponent. Shadow is the ultimate life form who gets his ass handily kicked by Sonic. Maria has a delayed response at the news of Shadow's heritage; she's not instantly shocked the first time, but when Gerald says it for a second time she suddenly becomes distressed. Omega claims they showed Metal "mercy" at the end of Heroes, despite questioning whether he should destroy Metal or Sonic to prove his strength. We have to fight Mephiles even though he doesn't matter because reasons.

Characters appear who aren't relevant to the plot, but are given the screen treatment as though the game expects the player to know who they are and why they might (or might not) be relevant.

---

Who is Black Doom, why is he obsessed with Shadow, why does Shadow hate him?

>>gets Silent Hill 3 flashbacks as Black Doom waxes poetic about "possessing" Shadow

---

Let's not even talk about things like Mephiles' boss fight lol.

No. Let's. :P

Mephiles' boss is one great big time-wasting in-joke that amounts to an MCU-esque "Well, that just happened." I can easily see newcomers mistaking him for one of Black Doom's minions or something, especially given that his boss arena is found in a cave under Chaos Island and not in Kingdom Valley. Because the latter is where you find Metal Overlord instead.

Yeah, this would definitely confuse newcomers.

As I've said before, the game does the "don't think about a polar bear" thing by bringing up the matter of Shadow's blood, only to backpedal immediately afterwards with "his blood doesn't matter, I swear." At times I felt like I was playing Parasite Eve with talk of mutations and what-not.

And like, sure, the game does stress that Shadow determines his own destiny, but if that's the case, why bring up his blood eighty million times? Why turn it into a friggin' gameplay mechanic? The guy turns into a squid FFS

Oh, and I forgot to mention: the light of God that shone down on IDW!Sonic during his Sermon on the Rock also shines down on Maria when she tells Shadow the reason she gave him his name. Just in case you couldn't get The Symbolism. Very subtle, much cinematic, felt like I was playing SA2 all over again.

[swifty-fox]

Okay, so I'm rereading the chapter of KFAK in which they're at the party (when a new chapter uploads I'll reread other parts as well) and it's interesting trying to parse what's going through John's head in this chapter. Is he envious of Gale, for knowing who he is and what he wants and being able to compartmentalize all of it behind a facade that he gets to share with someone who also knows who *she* is and what she wants? John mentioned being annoyed with his mother clearly being impatient for him to find a wife and he's making a show of flirting with women all while struggling with his feelings for Gale and his realization that Gale has feelings for him, and is maybe confused and frustrated with how Gale's able to bury all of it and find a convenient lavender arrangement with a woman who understands and accepts him? When I first read this chapter I read it as John resenting Gale for leaving him behind and calling him a coward and was shocked, but if it's him not knowing how else to vent his frustration that Gale seems to be so cool and composed over everything he's repressed then it was still a hurtful thing to say but seems more in line with him and what we find out about him later. Sorry for the ramble I just kind of went, "ooOOh!" when looking back at it.

There's a lot of scenes I want to explore from John's POV in the sequel fic, especially those times where he and Gale are apart!

But yeah John definitely can hold his feelings and motivations very close to his heart when he wants to, which is a direct contrast to how he is with everything else, which is what throws Gale off a bit. he isn't used to not being able to read John and that's why he also starts pulling away. He's confused and hurt and questioning himself

I think at that point John is still considering his own sexuality only in the VAGUEST of terms, if it all. He understands that things feel wrong, that he's feeling 'broken' but chalks it more up to what he went through in the war (which is not entirely incorrect. He IS traumatized)

I do think he's looking at Gale with a very 'minemineminemine' mindset, especially when James is hanging off him and that kinda shocks him. He's hurt at not being chosen over a hookup but also what do you expect John is he going to just sit there faithfully like a dog for you to get your rocks off? His feelings aren't logical, he understands this, but he lashes out anyways. And maybe there is some small part of him that does resent Gale for getting out and him not. Especially considering what he now went through to protect Gale. Is it fair of him to feel that way? Not necessarily but is it understandable? Sure. He may not even realize he feels that way and that's part of the problem.

These boys don't have therapy!!

But I can say, John did not even sleep with Eunice. They got a little hot and heavy but when it came time to perform he choked. Blamed it on too much to drink but ultimately they ended up just talking about nothing much in particular before the sound of the fight interrupted them.

I think John's just...in a bad fucking mindset that day. If we look at the timeline, he spends most of the morning trying to be sober. He fails at that which is gonna lead to some self-resentment. paired with Gale poking fun at him about it, even if it's smoothed over. That's strike one on his bad mood.

Then he goes out with his mother and like he said, was having girls thrown at him. He feels like his mom is trying to force him to be fixed and better and normal. Not even in a sexuality sense per se, but just 'i have seen manmade horrors beyond any of these girls comprehension how am I supposed to marry them and love them and put that whole part of me aside' How is he expected to come home from war and pretend to not be damaged. GOSH John if only you had a FATHER you could talk to about that who KNOWS FIRSTHAND.

Third thing is seeing Gale with James and having Feelings about it. It's them arguing in the car. it's Gale's PALPABLE disappointment in him for drinking again. So he lashes out at Gale. He's only human. But yes some of it is "how are you so calm, how are you so composed how are you so put together all the time do you ever feel anything?"

meanwhile we know Gale feels so much all the fucking time he just doesn't know how to let it out

sorry this got so long LOL

[redhatmeg]

So now we get to the controversial part of Sanji's subplot: him calling Robin for help while being held hostage by Black Maria.

Earlier Sanji asked Black Maria what she's going to do with Robin, and the spider-woman told him about various tortures she's going to perform on Robin. She even describes traps she prepared for the archeologist.

Now, giving the various declarations of protection Sanji said throughout the series, and his strong sense of camraderie and defience, one would expect for him to never yield. The other women even think that he will say: "Screw you!"

But he doesn't. He calls for help, which from outsider's perspective looks probably pathetic, as if Sanji was preferring to save his own skin than not get Robin captured.

The thing is... Robin is fucking badass. She can handle herself and I would argue that she would perfectly suit with Monstrous Trio (making them a Monstrous Quartet, hehe) with how she effortlessly handles most of the bad guys. She also is smart enough to detect traps, so really they underestimate her (which is weird considering that she's called Demon Child).

I would say that he could ask for help anyone else, not necesserily Robin (he was, after all, okay with Zoro fighting Monet, so a guy friend could do too), but maybe he didn't know if they are busy with something more pressing than him falling into a trap. Besides, maybe he also wanted to show his enemies that Robin will mop the floor with them.

But I've heard this scene is controversial because people had seen Sanji's inability to hit a female opponent as something he has to overcome; as some kind of mental obstacle. Therefore him calling Robin for help is him refusing to fight with Black Maria and delegating someone else to do it.

However, I think it's like with characters who have no-kill rule. Yes, it would probably be easier and the character in question would avoid many troubles on the way if they broke the rule... but it's a moral issue, a line that, if crossed, would change them drastically and maybe even break them. Besides, there is always a deep reason for the rule that is rooted with the character's origin and way of thinking. With Sanji, it's Zeff's teachings... but also Germa's disregard for human life in general (we could see that Sanji's brothers also share his pervert reactions to women, but they treat them poorly, like tools; they even beaten up a female chef just to screw with Sanji). He doesn't want to be a man who hits women, even if said women want to kill him.

And I get why people are frustrated that he gets a female oppontent he can't fight yet again, but I don't want him to break his moral code. I don't want him to lose part of what he is. Especially because, other than that, he's still one of the heavy hitters of Straw Hat crew. Let him call for help once in a blue moon.

Also, he's not running away after he gets saved. He runs to save the samurai. He's still fighting.