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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Sin & The Penance

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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That night he could not sleep – he wriggled in bed, checking from time to time whether she had perhaps called him back or written anything. Although he had tried to reach her at least ten times she did not answer and he was afraid to write her a message.

What if she went to the police with this?

Maybe that's what he deserved, he thought after a while with regret, staring blankly at the bright screen of his phone, wondering if he should try again despite the late hour.

As much as he tried to find some logical justification for what he had done, he couldn't explain what had really driven him.

Admittedly, at first he was guided only by anger and spite, but then these emotions disappeared, replaced by a hot, dark desire that filled his loins, completely overshadowing his cool judgement.

Something about her brightness, her lightness, her joy, made him long to lean over her like the dark sky, like night over the stars, and cover her with his blackness, his emptiness, consuming and devouring her.

He had never experienced such a disturbing and overpowering sensation before and was horrified that he was prone to such thoughts and such actions.

He had completely lost his mind because of her.

She had asked him to let her go, so why didn't he do so?

Alys had always been eager for his aggressive, violent games, he knew that, and he felt no remorse about what he was doing to her or where, but this little girl was terrified, trembling all over with fear, and yet all he could think about was how desperately he needed to feel her.

Perhaps subconsciously her cheerfulness, her attitude attracted him.

Maybe after years of sadness and mourning he wanted to feel at last something more than grief.

He covered his eyes with his hand, sighing heavily at that thought, feeling a squeeze in his throat and heart.

He only fell into a restless sleep in the morning with his phone lying next to his face, and was awakened two hours later by his alarm clock anyway, which he switched off with displeasure, tired, sad and embarrassed by what he had done.

He couldn't look Daeron in the face as they ate breakfast together. His little brother looked up at him from over his bowl of his favourite cereal with milk – he knew he was about to start asking questions about her.

"When will Esmeralda come here to sew our costumes?" He asked finally, stirring the milk with his spoon, looking at the chocolate balls that floated on its surface.

He pressed his lips together, not knowing how to explain to him how much he had fucked up.

What he had done to her.

"I don't know if she'll even show up here again." He replied truthfully, Daeron gave him a quick, horrified look.

"She promised me. She promised me we'd sew them together and go to the ball." He muttered, his eyes filling with tears again.

He decided he wouldn't be so cruel as to let him believe it was her fault, though part of his mind opted for that.

"I know, but I hurt her and I'm afraid she won't forgive me." He said lowly, swallowing hard, fiddling with his coffee cup, not daring to look at him, his heart pounding like mad.

"What do you mean? Did you hit her?" He asked in disbelief, and he clenched his eyes, realising that in his childish mind the greatest harm a man could do to a woman was that he could slap her.

He was silent for a while, not sure how or if I should explain it to him, whether it would be too much.

"In a way. And I did something else, much worse. Against her pleas. I could go to jail for that." He muttered, covering his face with his hand, feeling that even though he hadn't eaten anything he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why did you do that? She's so kind. What did she do to you? Did you get angry with her because of me?" He mumbled through his tears. He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought that, like any child, he was trying to justify the adult in his head, deciding that after all he was smarter and more experienced than him, so his behaviour must have been because he, his little brother, had done something wrong.

"No. No, it didn't and doesn't have anything to do with you. This is our adult business, but she has the right to be very angry with me and not speak to me. However, I'm completely sure she doesn't blame you." He replied quickly, biting his lower lip.

It wasn't until he spoke it aloud that it occurred to him how pathetic, inappropriate and cruel what he had done was, how afraid she must have been of him.

Was she telling herself she liked it so she could somehow survive it? She decided to go along with it so she wouldn't suffer?

"Do you think I can call her?" He asked in a quivering voice, and he looked at him with his heart pounding fast, recognising in the back of his mind that it was an excellent thought, that she might want to at least talk to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll give you her number, but call her from your phone. She's not answering from me."

He stared feeling the cold sweat on his back at his brother's reflection in the mirror driving towards the centre, seeing as he pressed the numbers written on the piece of paper on the keypad of his phone and lifted it to his ear – he heard the quiet beep of a call waiting.

He shuddered as someone answered, trying to focus on the road, complete panic in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello? Hi, it's Daeron. Can you talk? No, he can't hear what you're saying, we're just driving to the centre." He muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a constriction in his chest from which he found it hard to breathe, trying to erase from his mind the image of him slamming into her again and again with the brutal, sharp thrusts of his hips.

"He told me that he had done you wrong and that he had hurt you very badly. I'm very sorry he did that. I just wanted to ask when we're going to sew our costumes." He mumbled out quickly. He felt his eyebrows arch in shame and covered his mouth with his free hand, resting his elbow against his car door, looking ahead in disbelief.

How could he do this to her?

For a moment Daeron listened to what she was saying on the phone with concentration and he was dying inside, afraid that she would explain to him with details of what he had done to her. After a moment he nodded as if he understood what she meant, he saw his face lighten a little.

"Okay. Okay, I'll ask my brother if he agrees to it. Bye bye." He said softly and hung up, sighing heavily.

"And?" He asked looking at him in the mirror, stopping in the car park, feeling like he was about to go crazy. His brother looked down at his fingers.

"Esmeralda said that after your argument she can no longer come to our house, but that I can come to her at the University. She said that the building is modern and wheelchair accessible, there are special toilets, lifts and everything needed. We could do my homework in her room in the dormitory and then walk around the campus, sewing and painting." He said uncertainly, glancing at him pleadingly. He swallowed loudly, feeling disappointed and at the same time understanding of her decision and grunted softly, turning off the engine.

"Would you like that?" He asked him calmly, and his brother nodded quickly.

"Then so be it."

Despite his requests, Daeron refused to tell him which of the boys had called him Quasimodo.

He said that it didn't matter now.

He thought with regret that his younger brother had more maturity and calmness in himself than he did.

Sitting at work he was all nerves, he had not received any notification that anyone had filed a police report on him, so for some reason, perhaps out of fear, she had not done so.

He felt both relieved and ashamed at the same time, unable to look at himself, thinking that he was not only disgusting on the outside but also on the inside.

When Alys suggested that they go to the toilet for a while he simply agreed, feeling that he needed to lash out, to expel the grief, shame and desperation that seemed to fill his whole body.

He turned her body violently with her back to him, thinking with fatigue that he didn't want to look at her face. As he unzipped his trousers he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him, on her panties lowered halfway down her thighs, her entrance sticky with arousal. He closed his eyes and grasped his cock firmly in his hand, giving it a few aggressive, hard strokes.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her sweet moans, about how wonderful she smelled, about how tight she was, about her body convulsing in his embrace.

He got instantly hard, wasted no time and surprised his lover, who moaned with delight at feeling how direct and exceptionally violent he was this day, his thrusts full of desperation and aggression, his groans low and throaty.

Something was wrong – her insides were different, her buttocks were different, her scent was different, too intense, her moans too deep, too sensual, not as innocent and surprised as hers.

He pressed his lips together feeling he couldn't focus or get as much pleasure out of it as he would have liked.

"− shut the fuck up −" He growled speeding up but it was to no avail – when he opened his eyes he saw a completely different woman in front of him. He slowed down, swallowing loudly, feeling that nothing would come of it.

"− fucking bastard − ah, don't stop − what happened? − did I do something wrong? −" She asked as he slid out of her and fastened his zipper in a quick motion, furious, disappointed, humiliated, distraught that he wanted her, this little girl, her moans, her scent, her touch, her gaze, her tight, weeping cunt, being able to spend whole nights with his face sunk between her thighs, begging her forgiveness, muttering between the flicks of his tongue that he would make it all up to her.

"− no − I'm sorry, it's my fault −" He said lowly, not wanting to lash out at her. She grunted quietly, surprised, putting her lacy underwear and trousers back on over her hips, fastening them with a quick, nimble movement.

"− you seem stressed − something wrong? − do you want to talk? −" She asked softly, and he felt a kind of gratitude that she hadn't laughed at him or judged him, that she had acted as if nothing had happened.

He decided, however, that he didn't want to share his thoughts with her.

"− no − forgive me − have a nice day −" He said calmly, opening the cubicle door and left the restroom, moving down the corridor in front of him, clenching his eyelids, brushing his short, slicked-back hair with a quick movement.

What had happened between them, what he had done to her had left a mark on more than just her.

He felt as if he had woken up from a lethargy after five years, everything around him was sharper and brighter, painfully clear.

The next morning, according to the arrangements made between her and Daeron, he was to turn up in the car park outside the University from where she was to pick up his brother.

He dreaded this meeting, dreaded what he would see in her face, disgust, regret and bitterness, all the way to the place he felt like stopping and throwing up.

He felt a shudder and a loud pounding of his heart when they arrived at the agreed spot and he noticed her, standing between the cars dressed in a fitted strapless dress with daisies on it, her beautiful hair the scent of which he could still smell in his nostrils loose, trainers on her feet.

He stopped, swallowing hard, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out, glancing at her – she stood at a safe distance from them and looked away, playing with the fingers of her hands, thoughtful and sad.

What he saw hurt him even more than if she had been staring at him with hatred.

He walked around the car and took out Daeron's wheelchair to which he helped him move from the back seat – his little brother beamed at the sight of her and began to move the wheels himself heading towards her. He saw with regret that she smiled warmly when she saw him, genuine joy on her face.

"Hi. High five!" She said to him cockily and their hands hit each other in the air, even though he was standing a few steps away she didn't give him a single glance.

"So, shall we go?" She asked encouragingly, and Daeron nodded.

He wanted to ask if she was sure he would be safe here, if she would remember to take him to lunch, if she would watch out for him, but he didn't dare, shame took his speech away.

He decided it would be better if he kept quiet and led them away with his gaze, then got into his car and drove to work.

He spent all day thinking about her, sitting over the case files recalling again and again her appearance, her pleasant figure, her warm face that beamed all over at the sight of his younger brother.

Why did she have to be like this?

Why did she have to be what he craved, the personification of his deepest, darkest needs, a ripe peach that someone had placed in front of him on a platter while he was starving?

When he arrived after work to pick up Daeron they both stood in the distance, said their goodbyes, and she turned away without even bestowing a single glance on him. He got out of the car, intent on helping his brother into the back seat.

"And how was it?" He asked lowly, feeling sadness and emptiness, anxiety and a strange tightening in his stomach.

"Great! We studied together in her room and then she showed me around the whole campus. We even looked in the classroom where the students were painting portraits and she told me a bit about how it was done. Everyone was very friendly." He said quickly, clearly excited and pleased. He swallowed hard, sighing softly as he folded his wheelchair and threw it back into the boot.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asked calmly, returning to the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and turning on the engine.

"Yes, we had lunch in the university canteen. I could choose whatever I wanted." He said with satisfaction, a wide smile on his face.

He felt like asking him if she had mentioned anything about him, if she had anything to convey to him, but realised that there was nothing she might want to tell him.

She was doing this to keep her word to Daeron.

For a few weeks it seemed to him that he had locked himself in some kind of circle, looking forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays, days during which he would see her, albeit only from a distance, her figure bright and graceful.

He wondered with pain if she still had the bruises on her neck that his lips had left and swallowed loudly, feeling ashamed that his manhood reacted to that thought with a strong throbbing in his trousers.

He had suspected it before, but now he was absolutely sure.

He was fucking mad.

On the day the carnival ball was to be held, he was supposed to drive Daeron to the centre and pick him up after a few hours, but he decided that it wouldn't be worth going home for such a short time and he would just wait for them somewhere off to the side without bothering them.

As he pulled up in front of the building he swallowed heavily, seeing her from a distance, already dressed in her Esmeralda costume, her dark, loose hair tied with a violet scarf to form a headband, bells tied to her purple skirt, simple black ballerinas on her feet, round gold earrings in her ears, clanking bracelets on her wrists.

However, what drew his attention most was her white, buff long-sleeved shirt, tucked into the the sea-colored corset under her breasts that wonderfully emphasized her waist, it's sleeves lowered so that her shoulders were bare, it was slit down in the middle, showing the bare skin of her chest.

He swallowed loudly, looking away, feeling with horror that the very sight of it made him hard.

He grunted, helping Daeron out of the car and moved behind him, guessing that she wasn't going to help his brother dress after all, not wanting to invade his privacy.

"You really look like Esmeralda! So beautiful!" Exclaimed his younger brother, and she turned gracefully raising her hands with a clink of her bells and bracelets, showing off her costume in all its glory.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Where's my costume?!" He asked excitedly, and she picked up the large paper bag that stood next to her feet and smiled.

"Here. Let's go." She said lightly without looking at him, Daeron immediately pushed the wheels of his wheelchair and headed after her.

He moved behind them, feeling like an intruder, looking everywhere but at her, trying not to think about the sight of her partially exposed back.

She explained to him quickly what needed to be put on first and how – he was impressed that what she had made really did look like golden armour, but when he took out the individual pieces they turned out to be surprisingly light.

He locked himself and Daeron in one of the toilet cubicles, helping him to change, his brother looking extremely pleased.

"Are you two reconciled?" He asked, clearly thinking that since she was speaking to him again she had forgiven him. He swallowed loudly, not knowing how to explain to him that what he had done could not simply be taken back.

"I don't think so. But don't think about it. Hm?" He asked softly and he lowered his gaze, disappointed.

"You look great. What a real knight you are. Come, it's time for you to dance a little with your beautiful Esmeralda." He said calmly, opening the door for him. He wheeled out into the corridor with a smile, his Esmeralda catching her cheeks with a wide smile of delight.

The sight of himself in the armour gave him confidence – it appeared that the whole thing had been designed so that he could flex his arms, elbows and wrists, the parts fitted together.

He thought with a pained grin that she had really made an effort.

"My knight. Promise to protect me from the evil thugs!" She called out theatrically and glared at him – he swallowed loudly, turning his face away in shame, his younger brother assuring her that he would not let anyone hurt her.

Too late, he thought.

For some reason, he felt tears under his eyelids, his throat squeezed so tight he had trouble breathing.

He watched as they moved ahead into a large gymnasium where the lights were slightly dim, a disco ball was spinning on the ceiling, Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper was playing in the background, children and their caretakers spinning around, dressed as various characters and creatures.

Although many of the costumes looked quite impressive, he couldn't take his eyes off her – as she danced she sang the lyrics of the song with theatrical devotion as if she knew them by heart, her hair, bracelets and earrings glistened in the light of the multi-coloured lights, the sweat on the bare skin of her exposed arms glittered like little crystals.

He looked at her leaning with his back against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, covering up what was happening in his trousers.

He looked around the room and noticed a group of boys looking at her and Daeron. He frowned, wondering if they were the ones calling his brother Quasimodo.

He felt some kind of satisfaction at the thought that they were watching his brother dance with a pretty girl.

He really deserved her.

Such a good kid.

He left after a while, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket – even though he hadn't smoked in months and was trying to quit, he felt that what was happening was too much for him.

His hands trembled as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his lighter, taking a loud drag, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers on the base of his nose.

There was only chaos in his head.

"We need to talk." He heard her soft, trembling voice and turned around immediately, taking a few steps away, for some reason terrified by her sudden proximity.

He stared at her with his lips slightly parted, his body froze still, his heart pounding like mad, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

God, she was pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I can no longer take care of Daeron. I just wanted to keep my promise and go to the ball with him. I think he's had enough disappointments in his life and I didn't want to provide him with any more." She said shivering all over, looking everywhere but at him – he felt like he was about to vomit from terror and grief.

What?

"But…if I'm the problem, we can arrange it so that I bring him in a while early and you pick him up from under the main entrance. I'll pay you more." He muttered, completely surprised by her words, not knowing what to say, not wanting to imagine how his little brother would react.

She shook her head quickly at his words, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists in a nervous gesture.

"I can't. He reminds me of you. You two are similar in appearance." She mumbled and burst out crying, drawing in air loudly, covering her face with her hand in an attempt to calm herself. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat.

"I haven't told anyone about what you did to me, because in his eyes you are his authority. I don't want to put him through unnecessary suffering, but I expect you to come up with something and find some convincing explanation as to why I can't continue to take care of him, Mr Prosecutor." She muttered regretfully wiping her cheeks swollen from tears, struggling to catch her breath, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows arched in despair.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees in front of her, when he clasped his hands around her waist, dropping his cigarette to the ground – he pressed his face to her womb, breathing loudly, feeling like he was going through some kind of panic, his lungs compressed, tears streaming down his face one after another, everything around him seemed to spin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − please, please, forgive me −" He mumbled hysterically what he had wanted to say to her for weeks – he heard her gasp loudly in shock, raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, felt her place them on his shoulders trying to gently push him away, her stomach trembled under his face in sobs.

"− l-let me go − please, get up −" She whimpered pleadingly, but he shook his head – he thought he couldn't do it, he couldn't let her go.

"− I need you − even if for the rest of my life I will only look at you from afar −" He exhaled helplessly, sinking his nose into the material of her soft skirt, feeling her wonderful scent fill his lungs again, the warmth of her body that enveloped his face.

He didn't care that the people around them were looking at them like they were crazy, didn't care that perhaps they knew who he was.

"− I can't − I've tried − I've forgiven you, but I can't forget − you robbed me of my dignity −" She said in a raspy, broken voice – he felt himself whooping with his own tears, clasping his fingers at her back, his helpless mumbling ripped from his throat as if without the participation of his free will.

"− do what you want with me − fucking destroy me −"

"We needed to talk. I'll be right back." She said quickly, forcing herself to smile – Daeron could sense the tension between them though, his lips tightened, his gaze wandering from him to her.

"Aemond? What's going on?" He heard his brother's frightened voice and immediately rose from his knees, letting her go, both of them wiping their faces quickly, her cheeks pale and at the same time red from tears.

"Have you…reconciled yet? Has my brother apologised to you?" He asked uncertainly and she nodded and laughed lightly, something in her response made him clench his eyelids and swallow loudly – he covered his face with his hand, feeling that for some reason he couldn't stop crying.

You robbed me of my dignity.

"− y-yes − yes, we've already explained everything to each other, we simply got a little emotional − come on, let's go back inside −" She said softly and stroked his head – he smiled at her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" He asked, but he shook his head, choking out that he would wait for them in the car.

He locked himself inside in the driver's seat and put his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling an overpowering emptiness and this awful, terrifying chill, as if someone had gouged out his insides with a spoon like the flesh of a fruit, leaving only a mere shell.

He thought that he had died five years ago, on the day of that accident.

He only existed so that Daeron could live on.

He shuddered, as if awakened from a deep, restless slumber, hearing a knock on the window on his side – he glanced there and saw Daeron waving at him and his Esmeralda, looking at him uncertainly, terrified of his condition, dark night all around them.

He got out of the car, massaging his forehead, feeling a terrible headache, not being sure for a moment where he actually was or what time it was – in an automatic reflex he opened the back door and helped Daeron get in, he could smell her scent beside him, her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure you should drive?" She asked hesitantly, and he swallowed loudly, thinking that since the day of that accident he had never gotten into a car that someone else was driving.

"Yes. Shall I drive you back?" He asked lowly, not looking at her, folding Daeron's small wheelchair.

"No need, thank you, I'll get an Uber." She muttered, his younger brother furrowed his brow, looking at her worriedly.

"We'll drive you back. It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone." He insisted.

She sighed quietly and nodded, walking around the car, sitting down next to Daeron in the back seat.

He got behind the wheel and started the engine, involuntarily glancing at her in the mirror – their gazes met, her eyes sad and tired, full of a regret she had every right to feel.

He drove ahead, trying to wake up and focus on the road, looking at the lights of the cars passing him and thought that maybe if he had killed them it would have been better for all of them.

He grunted loudly, tilting his head back, leaning against the backrest, recognising that he had completely lost his mind, that he was sinking into depression and hysteria, that he had reached the very bottom.

It seemed to him that she sensed that something was happening to him – he was catching her on the fact that she was glancing at him uncertainly, answering something to Daeron who was chatting her up, talking about his friends' costumes. She was just nodding, pretending to listen to him, her hands playing with the material of her skirt in a nervous gesture.

God, how he longed for her to drive with him to their house, to go with him to his bedroom, so that he could kneel before her and whisper how sorry he was, how he wished he could make it all right, to slide with his hands the material of her shirt and her skirt, so that his lips could kiss her whole beautiful, warm body with devotion and adoration, her feet, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her face, her….

"WATCH OUT!" He heard her scream of terror and pressed the brake suddenly, at the last moment stopping in front of a crossroads where he should have given way to those driving on his right and left – a man almost rammed into them and started honking at them, gesticulating aggressively, opening his window and shouting, asking what the fuck he was doing.

He looked quickly in the mirror, feeling as if he was deaf, his brother was crying loudly, snuggled into her, shaking with fear, her eyes wide, staring at him in horror.

"… are you all right?" He asked dully, feeling like his head was spinning – he saw her nod quickly, and then suddenly he went dark in front of his eyes, his head dropped limply and hit something hard.

He was awakened by someone's conversation. He felt someone touching him, something pleasantly warm enveloped him – his body was lying on something soft and comfortable, he thought he was lying on the sofa in his house.

"− overwork, dehydration, stress, trauma − anything could have caused this, ma'am − when can his sister come? −" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"− his younger brother called her, but she only managed to buy a plane ticket for tomorrow −" He heard her soft, warm voice – he shuddered and opened his eyes with difficulty, wanting to see her, to make sure nothing had happened to her.

He spotted her blurred silhouette in the warm light of the night lamp – she was sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, still dressed in her Esmeralda costume.

"− can you stay here until she arrives? − are you a friend of the family? −" Asked the man who was apparently a paramedic, packing his suitcase and pulling off his latex gloves. She nodded.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm his little brother's carer −" She replied calmly, the man and she both glanced at him when they noticed he was awake.

"− how are you feeling, sir? − you had a panic attack and fainted − I have given you intravenous sedatives and strengthening medications, you should feel better soon −" The man with the black beard, surely a few years older than him, said to him.

He grunted quietly as he tried to raise himself up on his elbows, feeling everything around him swirl and lay back, giving up.

"− fuck − I'm dizzy −" He muttered, his stomach sore and clenched.

She rose from her seat as the doctors left Daeron's room, sighing heavily in relief when the woman explained that he had only been scared.

"Aemond!" He shouted when he saw that he was awake, riding up to him in his wheelchair, wiping his face red from tears.

"− I thought − I thought you had died − you weren't moving − w-we couldn't wake you up −" He mumbled, and he hugged his head to his chest, closing his eyes, stroking his soft hair with his large hand.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − I've been working too much lately and I fainted −" He lied, swallowing loudly, his brother nodding his head in understanding, cuddling into him like a teddy bear. He kissed his temple, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He thought he needed to pull himself together.

"− Esmeralda said she would stay with us until Helaena arrives − now it's up to us to take care of you − lie here and don't worry about a thing −" He said in a voice hoarse from crying and patted his head – he felt a tightness in his throat at his words, his eyebrows arched in emotion, he smiled involuntarily, feeling his lower lip tremble.

"− then I'm in good hands −"

He watched wordlessly as the doctors and medics left their house, Daeron showing his Esmeralda where she could find clothes to change into – she appeared a few minutes later in his long black hoodie reaching halfway down her thighs, her legs wonderfully bare.

She bustled around the kitchen with Daeron, trying to make dinner – he couldn't get out of his awe at what a harmonious duo they were, his brother talking to her without shame or embarrassment.

If he had been wiser, if he had given her a chance then instead of humiliating her, maybe now they would be preparing dinner together.

He rose to sit down when she brought him tea and sandwiches, thanking her meekly. He sighed heavily feeling he wouldn't swallow anything and although the medications were starting to work, he felt like his head was going to burst.

She only returned to the living room after she had helped Daeron change into his pyjamas and put him to bed. She approached him hesitantly and sat down next to him on the couch, not looking at him but at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, covering her knees with the material of his sweatshirt.

He looked at her, silent for a long moment.

"Exactly as I should after what I did." He replied finally, not knowing how else he was supposed to call what he was feeling.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in pain, regret and sadness in her gaze, but at the same time also some kind of concern.

He thought in disbelief that his fate mattered to her despite what he had done to her.

She lowered her gaze to her knees, fiddling with the material that covered her thighs in a nervous gesture.

"He needs you composed. Emotionally stable." She said sadly, her lips trembling.

He stared at her face unable to take his eyes off her, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch her, dreaming of her hugging him and locking him in her arms.

"I know." He said dryly, understanding exactly what she meant.

He couldn't be unpredictable, distracted while driving in the car, at work and on a daily basis.

Could not be distracted by her.

"Why did you do it? Then when I wanted to leave?" She finally asked in a voice quivering with grief, and looked at him, the depth of disappointment, sadness and emptiness in her bright eyes.

He licked his lower lip dry with stress and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he stared straight into her face.

"Because I wanted to feel you. You were so sweet and soft. You were melting in my hands. I couldn't stop." He muttered at last, feeling with shame how pathetic that explanation was, thinking he was just a fucking pervert.

He drew in a loud breath as she slid the blanket off him and sat on top of him, pressing her buttocks against what was under his trousers – he wanted to grab her hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline from disbelief, but she grabbed his wrists.

"No. Don't touch me. If I feel your hands on my body I'll start screaming. I will tell Daeron everything you did to me and that you tried to do it a second time." She said with a seriousness from which his breath caught in his throat; he immediately placed his hands as before on either side of his body, watching in disbelief as her tiny fingers undid his button and zipper, his cock immediately swelled and began to pulsate, a loud shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

God, was she really going to do this?

As if in response to his thoughts, she spread the material of his trousers to the side and slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection, twitching with lust, the head of it pink and glistening. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, swallowing loudly when he felt her grab it's base with a gentle flick of her hand and direct its thick tip between her warm thighs.

She had no underwear underneath.

She lowered herself onto him a tiny bit, barely sinking the fat head of his cock inside her, teasing him with the lewd click of her moisture – the sight of him stretching her slit and how wet she was turned him on so much that a low, helpless groan escaped his throat.

"− be quiet or I'll stop − do you want me to stop? − you didn't give me that choice, but I'm not that cruel −" She said with regret as he shook his head quickly, feeling how desperate he was to feel her again.

"− please −" He heard his own pathetic voice, not believing he was allowing it, but he no longer cared what she would do to him, he wanted to fuck her in any way she would let him.

He felt some relief at the thought of being humiliated, he wanted her to do to him what he did to her even though he knew she didn't have his awful nature.

"− what are you asking me to do? −" She whispered softly, almost tenderly, as if her superiority over him was giving her back what he had taken from her, her power over her own body, over what was happening to her.

"− use me −" He breathed out in a voice hoarse with emotion, saw that something had changed in her gaze, her lips parted in a shuddering breath.

He clasped his hands on the fabric of the couch and leaned his head back, gasping out loud as he felt her let him all the way inside her, his hard, fat cock throbbed aggressively with desire squeezed wonderfully by her hot, tight walls – he knew he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment and that she felt it too.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him, but not moving, waiting for his manhood to stop twitching inside her – her pretty, flushed face surrounded by her dark, shiny curls, her bright eyes fixed on him, her plump, swollen lips parted in a quickened breath.

"− use you? − mr. prosecutor wants to make me feel good? −" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and arousal, as if she herself was shocked by what she was doing and by the fact that he was listening to her, by the way he was responding to her, by how much he desired her.

"− yes −" He mumbled out and closed his eyes with a low moan, feeling that with flick of her hips she slowly slid his cock out of her only to push it back in with a loud click of her wetness.

"− why? −" She exhaled, moving on top of him painfully slowly, her tight fleshy muscles giving him a wonderful squeeze each time she forced him back between her plushy folds, they both began to breathe louder and louder. He bent his legs at the knees, involuntarily tentatively responding to her thrusts with deep stabs of his hips.

"− God, don't you see that I crave you? −" He groaned low, with the last of his strong will restraining himself from tightening his hands on her buttocks and forcing her to move faster.

There was something wonderful about this slow agony, in the way she teased him, rubbing herself at the spot from which she felt the greatest pleasure, a sweet moan escaped her lips at his words.

"− are you always like this when you see me? − like you are now between my thighs? −" She mumbled in embarrassment, speeding up, their naked bodies began to slam against each other with splats of her moisture – he dared to buck into her harder, they both began to pant loudly, looking at each other with their mouths wide open, her lips puffy with desire.

"− of course − I jerk off every day thinking about you − fuck −" He muttered with difficulty, feeling the tickle and heat in his lower abdomen, his cock swelling with desire so much that he felt like it was about to explode if he didn't come inside her, their naked bodies slamming against each other.

He delighted in the sight of her throwing her head back at his words, her hot core pulsed hard around him, sucking him inside, her fingers clenched on the material of his sweatshirt, her buttocks slapping loudly against his thighs, soaking him all over.

"− touch me − touch me −" She cried out and he caught her quickly, one of his hands weaved into her hair and pressed her face against his, their lips joined in an aggressive, thirsty, sticky kiss, the fingers of his other hand clenched on the soft, firm skin of her ass.

They moaned loudly into each other's mouths as he began to pound into her like mad, almost not sliding out of her anymore – he embraced her and hugged her body to his, gripping her around the waist, her hands stroking his cheeks, his neck, his scar, his cock thrusting into her weeping folds twitching and throbbing like crazy.

"− fuck − fuck, baby, m gonna cum −" He babbled between the flicks of their lips, tongues and teeth. She gasped and came at his words with a loud mewl of surprise – he felt her moisture run down her thighs onto his lower abdomen, her muscles began to clench on him greedily, squeezing him wonderfully. He threw his head back and moaned in relief when he felt his warm seed spurt out inside her.

"− oh God − oh my fucking God −" He mumbled, experiencing such an intense orgasm for the first time in his life – for a moment he went dark before his eyes, he could see or hear nothing, there was only the wonderful hot pleasure spilling over his whole body, his hands clenched on her hot skin.

He hugged her close, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck, covering their bodies with his blanket, not wanting Daeron to accidentally find them in this position, while having no intention of changing it.

He felt wonderful.

He stroked her soft hair placing tender, wet kisses on her temple, his other hand trailing reassuringly down her back, feeling that she was trembling all over with emotion, unsure as he was of what had really happened between them.

"− sleep here, little one − I won't touch you against your will − I promise −" He whispered, but her silence answered him – she breathed loudly along with him, lying still, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

"− I know −" She replied quietly after a moment, rising on her shoulders, sliding him out of her with a soft motion of her hips, his hands clasped helplessly on her thighs.

"− please, don't go −" He muttered, looking at her in horror, his heart pounding like mad.

Please, let me go.

"− I'm sorry −"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please, let me go.

She rose from the couch, trembling all over, covering her thighs with his sweatshirt, his semen mingled with her moisture ran down her naked skin.

He wanted to touch her fingers but she turned and left the living room, hiding her face in her hand as if she was crying again, disappearing down the corridor.

"− I'll sleep in the free room next to Daeron's bedroom − I'll lock myself in − don't come to me and don't ever touch me again − we're even −" She said in a calm, quivering voice full of sorrow, sadness and emptiness.

He lay looking dully at the spot where she had stood just a moment before, feeling a squeeze in his throat – with trembling hands he slipped his boxers back on and zipped up his trousers, feeling tears of disappointment running down the sides of his face onto the pillow under his head.

We're even.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

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kate-bridgerton · 6 months

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Daenerys and Aemon

On Braavos, it had seemed possible that Aemon might recover. Xhondo’s talk of dragons had almost seemed to restore the old man to himself. That night he ate every bite Sam put before him. “No one ever looked for a girl,” he said. “It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought … the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King’s Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it.” Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. “I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger.” The old man had been so determined that he had even walked up the plank onto the Cinnamon Wind on his own two legs, after Sam made arrangements for their passage.

“No,” the old man said. “It must be you. Tell them. The prophecy … my brother’s dream … Lady Melisandre has misread the signs. Stannis … Stannis has some of the dragon blood in him, yes. His brothers did as well. Rhaelle, Egg’s little girl, she was how they came by it … their father’s mother … she used to call me Uncle Maester when she was a little girl. I remembered that, so I allowed myself to hope … perhaps I wanted to … we all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that … light without heat … an empty glamor … the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam. Daenerys is our hope. Tell them that, at the Citadel. Make them listen. They must send her a maester. Daenerys must be counseled, taught, protected. For all these years I’ve lingered, waiting, watching, and now that the day has dawned I am too old. I am dying, Sam.” Tears ran from his blind white eyes at that admission.

That had been one of his last good days. After that the old man spent more time sleeping than awake, curled up beneath a pile of furs in the captain’s cabin. Sometimes he would mutter in his sleep. When he woke he’d call for Sam, insisting that he had to tell him something, but oft as not he would have forgotten what he meant to say by the time that Sam arrived. Even when he did recall, his talk was all a jumble. He spoke of dreams and never named the dreamer, of a glass candle that could not be lit and eggs that would not hatch. He said the sphinx was the riddle, not the riddler, whatever that meant. He asked Sam to read for him from a book by Septon Barth, whose writings had been burned during the reign of Baelor the Blessed. Once he woke up weeping. “The dragon must have three heads,” he wailed, “but I am too old and frail to be one of them. I should be with her, showing her the way, but my body has betrayed me.”

#daenerys targaryen #daenerystargeryenedit #gotdaenerystargaryen #maester aemon #house targaryen #targnation #targaryensource #gotedit #asoiaf #asoiafedit #hotdedit #tvedit #tvgifs #userblorbo #usergif #dailyflicks #fantasyedit #userbbelcher #creations

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sailboatdreamer · 1 month

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Back to the Night We Met - Chapter 2

After an awkward first encounter, you try and get back in Angus' good graces.

I had made myself scarce for the next day, only really encountering the others when necessary at mealtimes or right before falling asleep in the cold, dark infirmary.

I hated it. I felt like my initial failings had only managed to continue into the next day, when i could barely make eye contact with the others. I’d learned their names at least. The sour-faced blonde was Teddy Koutnze, and while he didn’t really seem- to me at least- very physically intimidating, he had a way of irritating the rest of us, and when Mary snapped at him over dinner, nobody said a word. Then there was Jason Smith, a mild mannered wealthy son of some business guy, practising civil disobedience by not cutting his hair, and therefore missing out on winter vacation. The two youngest were Alex, a mormon kid who’s parents were away on missionary, and Ye-Joon, a korean kid who couldn’t fly to see his family. Then there was Angus, who i’d regretfully embarrassed myself in front of only the day before. It didn’t bother me so much to run into Teddy as much as it did running into Angus, who’s snarky and annoyed attitude made me feel incredibly nervous. My avoidance of them all (except really for the younger boys) did not go unnoticed.

I was passing time in the expansive library certainly better than the one i’d been used to, when I encountered Mr Hunham doing his rounds.

“Oh! There you are.” He’d said. I gave a shy sort of wave. I was halfway through my copy of Catcher in the Rye when he’d arrived.

“You know, if the young philistines back there (pointing towards the hall) are giving you any trouble, you don’t have to stand for it, i know how utterly undignified some of them may be.” This had made me laugh slightly, only because it couldn’t be further from the reality, and it was the second time i’d been approached with this concern.

“No, no honestly they’ve been…. accomodating” i recall the help i’d gotten from Angus yesterday with a slight wince.

“Sincerely? Well-colour me surprised. I didn’t think they had it in them.” He expressed with a surprised look. I’d of thought Mr Hunham would’ve been a much nastier person, considering the disparaging ways the boys talked about him late at night. He was actually quite kind, and respectful, i’d noticed how much care he paid to Mary especially.

“Yeah, Angus even helped me with my bag yesterday.” I could see his expression turn to a slight shock, followed by a grin.

“Really? i- wow.” He gave me a nod of acknowledgement before turning and leaving, undoubtedly to go back to monitoring the boys, now with the newfound idea that they may not be entirely without saving.

Unsurprisingly, it took a lot to move me from my place in the library’s old leather couch. I’d even found a soft blanket that i’d used to cover myself, somehow avoiding Hunham’s exercise sessions, though his voice echoed through the walls. ”Without exercise the body devours itself!” I’d heard him cheer. It wasn’t until later in the evening, still in the library, trying to finish my copy of Emma, when i’d encounter another student.

He’d waddled in, perhaps not seeing me at first, after all i was pretty quiet. I watched him over the nose of my book, huffing angrily, and slumping down at one of the couches across the library hall. Angus. I didn’t dare approach him, he looked pretty upset already, but just as i was thinking so, he saw me. A silent exchange, i can only imagine i’d looked as startled as he did.

I noticed the small wound on his cheek had been patched up with a small band-aid, and an associated rip in his sweater had been stitched over.

“Have you been in here all day?” His tone is more accusatory than i would’ve hoped. His anger from whatever he’d been putting up with was seeping through.

“I may have… i mean, i went to go see Mary in the morning.”

He just nods with a huff. “And Wall-eye isn’t on your ass?”

I shake my head “I saw him. I let him know you helped me with my bags yesterday, he.. looked surprised.”

He just rolls his eyes, i don’t push it further. I know they all hate Hunham, he’s tough on them, a fan of discipline and ancient philosophy makes for a particularly tough chaperone.

“What’re you reading?” I hear him mumble after a minute.

“Emma. Jane Austen?” I watch as he studies the cover of the book, still seeming a little shaken up. “Right yes… matchmaker.” I nod with a slight smile, he’d read it.

“So… i see you got patched up.” i say, pointing to his bandaid. “yeah… fuckin’ koutnze…”

“What happened?” I press the topic gently, in a way I wanted to know if it was something more serious or just general scuffling between boys.

“I.. had this picture- in my luggage” He sees my expression change to confusion as he mentions luggage, if he was staying over, why had he packed up luggage?

“I wasn’t, actually supposed to be here. My mom decided the only time of the year she gets to see me would be the perfect time for a honeymoon with my new stepdad.”

God, what a shit situation, i think to myself, though i only manage to get out ‘im so sorry…’

He brushes it off with a wave of the hand, “Its me and my parents when i was a kid. Koutnze took it, i know he did, but he refuses to give it back.” He grumbles.

I wonder to myself if i can get it back…. i should. It would mean the exchange between Angus & i would be fair, and hopefully it could help us move on from our awkward first impression.

“What a dick….” I say with a scowl, met by Angus’ own.

“I know right.” I see him pick up my copy of Catcher In the Rye and we read together for another hour until we were called to dinner, and back to the infirmary.

A fair few of the boys were using the showers, and the ones that weren’t were outside, looking for Alex’s lost red mitten. I take this fruitful opportunity to find that picture, hoping it would bring me into Angus’ good graces, and restore a little of his faith back into this holiday.

After a quick and careful scavenge through Teddy Koutnze’s luggage, i find a small compartment, something that had been cut out in the side of his suitcase. A secret pocket of sorts, and low and behold, i reach in, and out comes the picture. It was unmistakeably Angus, though ten years younger, his stark and angular features, and soft brown eyes confirmed it in my mind. I slip the picture into my pocket and leave his things as i’d found them.

I left to find Angus, and just as i’d expected, he was in the midst of comforting poor Alex in the courtyard outside, who’s mitten was found, but had a small tear near the thumb. I approach them both. “look, it’s okay, Mary’s probably got some thread, i’m sure she’d be happy to fix it.” He says in a soft tone, patting the young kid on the back.

“Hey, do you mind if we talk for a minute?” I say quietly, meeting his gaze. To this he reassures Alex, and gets up, following me a few paces over.

I take the small, polaroid-like picture out of my pocket and hand it to him, watching his expression light up.

“You actually- you found it! How… where?” I was glad to finally see Angus happy for the first time since i’d arrived. “Some secret pocket in his suitcase… fucker is sneaky”.

“Thank you… really thank you.” He says sincerely, tucking the pocket inside his winter jacket. I shrug it off but internally i’m beaming “Of course.”

#angus tully fic #angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers fic #the holdovers #paul giamatti #mr hunham #mary lamb #da'vine joy randolph #dominic sessa

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bookshelf-in-progress · 10 months

Text

Length of Years: A Rapunzel Retelling

The woman in the tower brushed her hair. It had long ago turned white, and had grown to cover most of the floor in her little stone room. She braided it with lightning speed, her gnarled fingers confidently completing the familiar task.

Her gaze wandered through the chamber filled with the works of a lifetime. Tapestries she'd woven. Books she'd read and written. Dresses she'd designed. Plants she'd carefully tended until flowering vines framed her one window to the outside world. Evidence of arts she'd mastered, skills she'd developed--once sources of pride and joy, and now simply the remains of an empty life.

Now that her mother was dead, what did she have to live for? She'd sacrificed her life out of loyalty to the woman who'd given her everything; she'd never dreamed that someday she'd be the one left alone. This tower room had been her world; now that world seemed pathetically small. A dismal showing for so many decades.

She sang to banish the thoughts--song was her only weapon in her war against the hostile silence. The song was a light ditty from her younger years, about a bird in a cage, flying free. She'd sang that song often, once upon a time, to an awestruck audience. The only visitor this tower had ever held.

Unbidden, he appeared before her mind's eye. Young. Strong. Dark-haired. Square-jawed. With scarred hands and a dimpled chin and laughing eyes. He'd come to see her, day after day, and filled her world with a joy she'd never before known.

He'd asked her to leave with him; she'd refused, for Mother's sake, again and again, until he'd spoken so abusively against Mother that she grew offended for her sake, and told him to leave and never return. He'd obeyed her wishes, as he always had, and now she had nothing left of him but memory and regret.

She sang all the stronger as the memory turned to sorrow. She'd had her chance and thrown it away. Time had devoured any hope she'd ever had. What was the use of wishing otherwise? She was, and would be, now and forever, alone.

Even the song couldn't change that, so she stopped singing.

And in the silence, she heard a voice.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel!"

An illusion. A hallucination. A phantom voice conjured by an abundance of memory and solitude and a lack of anything else.

The voice persisted. "Let down your hair!"

The voice was weaker than the one she remembered. Graveled. Worn. Aged.

But beneath it all, a familiar tone that brought her mind back to a time when she was fair-skinned, golden-haired, slender, willowy and oh-so-young.

She raced to the window with a speed she hadn't been capable of in years. Her joints creaked as she leaned far out the window, clinging tightly to the ledge to maintain her delicate balance as she looked down.

At a man in well-worn travel clothes marked with the royal coat of arms.

"I heard your singing," he said.

His hair was shorter than she remembered, gray and frazzled but still remarkably thick. His square jaw had grown jowls, his face had grown lines, his eyes had grown dimmer. But his smile as he gazed upon her was as bright as the one she saw in her memories each night.

With a bow that was slower but no less elegant for the passing of years, he asked, "My lady, might I ascend?"

With a joy she hadn't known she could ever possess, Rapunzel gathered up her endless white lengths of braid and let down her hair.

The climb took longer than Rapunzel remembered, but at last her visitor reached the window, and Philip Peregrine Bertram, prince of Whitbay, entered her chambers once more.

He bent double as he caught his breath. "Has your window always been that high?"

"It hasn't moved," Rapunzel said.

And neither have I.

Philip heard the unsaid and more valuable words. His gaze, when he stood straight and looked at her, held the compassion she'd always admired. "I heard of your mother's passing."

"It was very sudden." Mother had collapsed in the middle of a conversation, just after a climb up the tower in the rain. Rapunzel had buried her body beneath the stones of the tower's lowest level.

"My sympathies," Philip said.

He was the first to offer them, in all these weeks. Despite the hatred Rapunzel knew he had for her mother, she knew his words were genuine.

That, more than anything, brought the tears to her eyes. "Thank you."

Philip offered a handkerchief, which she took without shame. "Do you have food? Supplies?" he asked.

Rapunzel nodded, glad for the switch to more practical matters. "There are garden boxes here in the tower, and a boy comes every week with supplies."

"And you've stayed?"

She shrugged. "I had nowhere else to go."

No one else to go to.

He heard these unspoken words, too, and his face, as he sighed, seemed to age another ten years. "Rapunzel," he breathed. "I am so very sorry."

His voice held such depth of regret that she knew he apologized for far more than her mother's passing.

Despite herself, Rapunzel's words of response sounded far younger than the girl he had known. Like a child's--small, delicate, broken, plaintive. "Why did you never come back?"

"You asked me not to," Philip said. "And I had my pride. I might have returned, when my temper cooled, but then there were the wars, the diplomatic missions, the voyages, the marriage treaty, the children..." He sat wearily on her window ledge. "By the time life slowed down, I assumed you'd long ago moved on, and it would have been disloyal to seek you out. I only came to the village by chance and heard the locals speaking of the woman in the tower. Then I came to the woods and heard your song..."

He trailed off as he gestured to the room around them.

"I see," Rapunzel said, though she could barely even imagine it. An entire life full of war and travel and conflict and change happening quickly enough to obscure the passage of time, while she'd stayed here in the same set of rooms as the long, slow seconds marched lazily by.

"Did no one else ever come to the tower?" Philip asked, sounding almost desperate to hear some hint of joy from her life.

"No one," Rapunzel said simply. "Mother made certain of that."

Philip's jaw clenched, and there was a spark of the old fire in his eye, but he did not speak ill of the dead.

"I never mentioned you to her," Rapunzel said, "but she must have been suspicious--I wept so often in the weeks after our argument. She set barriers and traps in the woods after that. Spread rumors that I was mad and violent. The only outsiders who ever came were the boys who delivered supplies, and Mother always hired slow-witted lads who didn't ask questions."

"And..." Philip swallowed back some emotion. "And she was your only company?"

"She was never unkind to me," Rapunzel said, for she hadn't been, whatever her other crimes. "She made certain I never lacked anything I wanted."

"Except for freedom."

Rapunzel shook her head softly. "For a long time, I wasn't sure I wanted that. If I left, how could you find me? And by the time I believed you'd never come, I knew enough of the world to know I was safer here."

"Friendship, then."

"I did want that," Rapunzel admitted. "You don't know how much." Her fists clenched and her words quavered. "Sometimes, I thought it would break me."

Philip rose to his feet and caught her hand between his. "But it didn't," he said, with soft reassurance.

"Not yet."

"It won't," he said, with the firm compassion of age. "Not while I live." He raised her hand between their faces and looked deep into her eyes. "We've lost so many years, Rapunzel. I can't begin to atone for what you've been denied, but I can make certain that you're denied it no more. Come with me. Leave this place."

Rapunzel felt as though the tower had crumbled beneath her, leaving her no firm place to stand. It was more than she had dared to hope for, not for years and years and years. "How can I?" she whispered. "Your wife and family..."

"My wife passed nearly ten years ago. My children won't deny me the comfort of your friendship."

She gazed out the window toward a distant world glowing with a purple sunrise. "It's been too long," she said. "Too much life wasted. So little time ahead."

Philip's eyes, when she looked back at him, were as bright as those of the boy she'd once known. "Then we'd best not lose another minute."

Her head felt impossibly light. Her hair felt strange where it brushed against her shoulders. She secured the long, long braid to the pulley outside her window, then let down her hair one last time.

Philip secured her in the braid like a harness, and slowly lowered her to the ground. When her feet were firmly on the grass--it was so much softer than she'd imagined!--he climbed down and landed beside her.

Philip took her hand in his. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, too full of joy to speak.

"We'd best be on our way, then."

With her face toward the sunrise and her hand wrapped in his, Rapunzel strode forward and left the tower behind.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #rapunzel #a flash fiction image that came to me and demanded i write it #even with so little description you'd be astonished at how long this took to write #even the easy ones are never as easy as i hope #i could edit this more but also i just need to throw it out there because i don't want to spend more time on it

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kittlesandbugs · 9 months

Text

Commission illustrated by @antisocialxconstruct of the moray scene during the Hollow Ground meeting in Fallen Hero: Retribution.

Book text under the cut:

Hollow Ground's head is unknown territory, but you don't need to go deep to do what you need to do. All you need is a nudge and a tweak, find a reason she'd be ready to let you go and strengthen it.

And you've got to do it fast.

Slipping in through her shields is second nature by now, walking the minefield, a coral reef of creatures hungry to devour you. Don't touch the tentacles, feeler anemones tangling the currents, coat your thoughts with scents close enough for her mind not to immediately recognize the intrusion.

Curiosity is a subtler feeling than fear or paranoia, but no less potent. Especially since it's shared by you. What is going on here? There's something more than superficial chance resemblance, sure, and those are not your thoughts. Those are Hollow Ground's.

Interesting.

Worth exploring.

You gently brush your fingers over her mind, bringing feelings to life. There are dangers everywhere around you, but you don't let them catch you unawares. It's a beautiful mindscape, a coral reef filled with life and color, hidden dangers lurking in crevasses, the ever-present sea anemones trailing their tendrils everywhere. A less talented telepath would be tangled and risk triggering a memory, but you're a master of your craft.

Familiarity can be a useful shield. You can brush against thoughts and memories, picking up details. There's already enough of a rapport you can use for groundwork. Similarities, not just in looks but in…demeanor?

Very carefully, you reach into one of the darker crevasses, a crack going deep, as if an earthquake cracked the mind down to the core. There are things there, old memories, slippery and cold and out of the sun.

"Put your hand in that crack,"

"and you won't get it back…."

Singing? A memory?

The aquarium is as tall as you are, filled with all the brightness of the tropical sea. Fish glitter past like confetti, too small to pick out, but together they're strong. Your breath is misting the glass, but you're entranced, it's the best day of your life, you didn't think…

Wait. Your life?

A reflection in the glass, your face but far younger than you've ever been, eyes meeting yours and too young,too innocent, the smile, the chubby cheeks, and there's a hand on your head, a fond ruffle and a whisper in your ear.

"…that's a moray."

A memory. Of course. It stinks of Hollow Ground. A fond memory? Intense enough to form her mindscape? Looks like it.

You yank your hand out just before the moray strikes, two sets of teeth missing your fingers, and you bare your teeth in an echoing growl. It's dangerous this deep, you can feel yourself sinking into memories of your own, of different tanks, not filled with saltwater but amniotic fluid, trapped, the faces glaring at you covered with surgical masks, tapping the glass, and you twitch, echoes amplified and you can't get out and do you even know what's out? Do you know anything?

Too loud. Everything echoes, their thoughts so loud, and none of them concerned with you. You. There is no you. Just a body. A potential. Nobody bothers to name the fish in the tank. If you did, you'd have to grieve when they started floating belly up.

Lies. You named them.

You named yourself.

Floating belly up. How did you lose yourself in here? You went too deep, you need to breathe, but everything you touch gives way, climbing kelp and looking for the sun.

~I got you.~

Dragged back, pulled out, pushed behind. Protected. The ghost of a memory.

"Fuck." Hollow Ground coughs, leaning against Nocturne, who is glaring daggers at you. You're back in the room with blood in your mouth and salt on your cheeks. "What was that?"

Excerpt from Fallen Hero: Retribution by Malin Ryden

#antisocialxconstruct #fhr #sidestep #hollow ground #nocturne #jake manolo #riley owens #commissioned piece #an absolute beast of a commission #thank you so much for your hard work rom!!!#this was my dream commission lol it's my absolute favorite scene in the book #rom is an absolute delight to work with and if you get the chance you should commission them #also this is your daily dose of fhr propaganda #anyway i'm just gonna toss this in the queue 87 times sorry not sorry i need to stare at it for a billion months mwah

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

Can we have more with sweetheart and Kruger plssss 🥰

P.s I love your writing ❤️

EEEEE OF COURSE ♡ (and thank you! 🥹🥹 that means alot to me♡)

I'm so sorry I used Google translate for some of the language 😔

Content under the cut!

Tiny headcannon of mine that König is Sebastian Krueger's younger step-brother.

Krueger: Hallo again, kleine Göttin. (Hello again, little Goddess.)

141 Sweetheart, a bit nervous that this man is TALLER than König: Uh, hey Krueger!

Another dumb headcannon of mine is that Krueger is 7'1.

141 Sweetheart, whispering: König what the hell did he call me--

König grips her waist and pulls her close to him.

König, frowning: sie wird dir nicht gehören, Bruder! Dieses Mal nicht! (She's not going to be yours, brother! Not this time!)

Krueger: Oh? Und du denkst, sie wird dir gehören? Ich weiß bereits, dass hier viele Männer um ihre Zuneigung kämpfen. (Oh? And you think she's going to be yours? I already know that many men here are fighting for her affection.)

Krueger, stepping closer to the two: Glauben Sie dass es Ihnen gelingen wird, ihre Liebe zu gewinnen? (Do you think you will be successful in winning her love?)

König: Es ist mir egal, ob ich gewinne oder verliere. (I don't care if I win or lose.)

König, looking at Sweetheart with love in his eyes: As long as she is in my life, I couldn't be more happier.

141 Sweetheart: I am so confused--

When Krueger met Sweetheart, he was still apart of Chimera. Nikolai said he needed to provide Task Force 141 some new weapons for a 'messy' mission. Krueger had the urge to come with him when Nikolai said his old friend was bringing someone along. 'For protection.' As Krueger explained his reason to his leader. Nikolai snorts and shakes his head. He agrees anyway.

When they arrived at the meeting spot, Price drove up not too long after them. The Capitan got out of the car first then a tall woman who made Krueger's heart stop beating. Oh, how Krueger folded so hard when he saw Sweetheart.

Nikolai explained that she was still quite new to SAS, but moved quickly up in the ranks. She was gonna be a Sergeant in a couple of months. Krueger was quite intrigued. Nothing was new that she moved up in the ranks quickly, many good soldiers have done that. But what intrigued him was her knowledge of weapons. She broke them down like she was reading a children's book to you. Pointing out which thing does what with manicured hands and fluttering dolly eyelashes. The proud look on Price's face mixed with admiration made Krueger's hair stand up.

"Very knowledgeable, young lady!" Nikolai said as he looked up at her. She chuckles as her hands clasps together near her meaty hips. "Thank you kindly, sir! Sorry, automatics get me in an explaining mood."

Nikolai chuckles. "Not a problem, Sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

Sweetheart.

He called her Sweetheart.

Krueger's eye twitched. Nikolai and Price started talking again while she stood there, eyeing the big loadout with her hands behind her back, resting on her behind.

Stop it, Krueger. Enough. Stop looking. Stop walking towards her. Stop.

He couldn't control himself. His feet moved him out of the shadows and made a stop right behind her. Her perfume swirled up to his nose, the sweet and airy cocoa aroma teasing his willpower.

Her scent travels through his blood stream, wraps around his nerves and tangles in his brain. It's apart of him, forever.

Fuck, he wants to devour her.

Her high pitch yelp snaps Krueger out of his trance. He looks down at her wide eyes and her figure crouching behind Price. "Krueger! I thought you were staying behind." Nikolai asks. Krueger doesn't answer him. He's too busy staring at her pretty hands resting on her Capitan's shoulders.

They shouldn't belong on there.

His gloved hand hangs out for her to shake. "Sebastian Krueger. Apart of Chimera. Nice to meet you."

Price shakes it instead. "Capitan John Price. Task 141. Likewise."

That wasn't meant for you.

Sebastian's grip tightened in rage. Price narrows his eyes at the tall giant's sudden hostility. He could tell that handshake wasn't for him. Krueger lets go and moved his hand to her. She stares at it until her brain cogs move again.

"Oh!" She steps from Price and Krueger's shoulders relax. "Call me Sweetheart. Nice to meet you, Krueger!" She says with a smile.

Her smile...

Oh he's fucked.

That was so long for no reason omg

I'm still trying to get used to writing like this- like full on fics? So this is like practice! Lol let me know what you think!

#modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare incorrect quotes #black fem reader #cod oc #krueger x reader #cod krueger #sebastian krueger #call of duty mw2 #konig x reader #konig x oc #x reader #black!reader #cod x y/n #cod incorrect quotes #141 sweetheart

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redsaurrce · 2 years

Text

LESSON II

LESSON I / LESSON III

Synopsis : In which he took every opportunity to fuck the daylights out of you.

Pairing: YandereTeacher!jungkook x bully student fem!reader, mentions of Taehyung being an asshole

Genre: smut, high school au

Word count : 3.5K

Warnings: 18+, Profanity, kissing, nipple play, YANDERE THEMES, use of stapler at intimate parts, BDSM, bullying, kicking, mentions of bleeding, non-con, cumming, blow job, screaming in pain.

Taglist: @darkuni63 @jeonswifey @laylasbunbunny @hey-syia @pandalove03 @kooliv @radcustoms @ysk101

You thought the school was empty and so did Jungkook. He was so impatient to take you that he didn't even bother to lock the door.

But the entire school didn't have only you and him, there was a third person standing outside the door, looking at you the entire time through that tiny creak of the door. Kim Taehyung, Jungkook's younger step brother.

While Jungkook devoured you physically, he kept eye-fucking you, who knew that a sexy bully like you would also look so sexy in that position? He thought.

Taehyung came to know you as his classmate, Han Yoo-in's sister, you who were younger by one year. He wasn't really interested in you or whatsoever at first until one day he saw you ruthlessly bullying a student while he was peacefully sitting under a tree's shade listening to songs on his headphone.

Something at that moment charmed him strangely, while you raised your right foot to place on a boy's shoulder (a habit of yours) he could see your plump thighs as your skirt lifted up.

He blinked, finding himself dumbfounded at that mere actions of yours. Has he not seen any girl's thighs before? Of course he had, who are you even kidding? Then what was the strange thing here?

The fact that he wanted to be in that victim's place.

Just like how he wanted to be in Jungkook's place right now.

You came home, your mind and body both distressed.. Jungkook didn't just fuck your body, he was fucking up your brain too. When you asked him what he meant by you marrying him, he said, "I know you are excited darling but we should take it slow." And he shut you up with his dick rolling your throat.

You bit your nails, you needed to discuss this marriage thing with your sister because somewhere something was not adding up, like the facts were getting interweaved among themselves, scattering all over the place that it was hard to figure out the real information.

You knocked on the door of your sister's room, you heard your sister's voice saying "come inside." As expected, the model student was sitting on her chair by her study table focused on whatever she was studying. Ugh preparing for those college entrance exams!

You came and sat by her side on the bed, "Innie I wanted to talk to you." You said as you looked at her who was removing her round spectacles. She kept them aside, closed the book and turned towards you. "Hm.. what is it?" She raised her eyebrows.

You mouth puffed with air while your eyes wandered around the ceiling of her room, not knowing with which word you should really start with. Your sister sighed, "Y/N-ah what is it?" She said as she shifted closer as she has already sensed that you felt uncomfortable. You bit your lip, finally mustering up the courage, "I wanted to come to you yesterday to help me for a class test." Your sister's tensed shoulder loosened, "Ah I see I can help you, bring--" "instead I heard something from outside." You cut her sentence.

Your sister blinked as she looked at your eyes, you gulped, "I heard mom and dad talk about your marriage." You looked up at her and saw her visibly heart broken. She exhaled while she looked at other side, "hm." She hummed. "Are you going to marry Mr. Jeon? " You asked.

"That's right." She said sadly. You paused for a moment and then you asked her, "Are you sure?" She looked at you before giving you the answer which was, "Yes."

"You seem unhappy, if you don't want to marry him, why don't you tell mom and dad?" You asked. "I've told them but they said that the merger of our and their company has already happened so this marriage will take place by hook or by crook." She answered.

Jungkook was checking his emails in the room when he heard his door knock, he turned to see Taehyung leaning at one side of the door frame. "Brother are you busy?" He asked Jungkook.

"Nope come inside." Jungkook said while turning back to his computer screen. "Do you like your soon-to-be fianćee?" Taehyung's sudden question made Jungkook contort his eyebrows which soon followed by a fond smile creeping on his face. "A lot." He replied.

Taehyung slowly nodded, "does she feel the same?" Jungkook paused for a moment then said, "it doesn't matter, sooner or later she will come to like me."

Taehyung chuckled and he playfully teased him, "I didn't know you like Han Yoo-in so much!" Jungkook's smile suddenly dropped. "H-Han who?"

"Han Yoo-in, Han family's eldest daughter, who else?" Taehyung blinked. Jungkook was shocked to say the least, "Wait I need to go somewhere. "

Jungkook stormed out of his room stomping directly to his Dad's study. He burst open the door and looked at his Dad engaged in his paper work.

"Dad!" Jungkook called out. His dad hummed. "Dad am I getting married to Han Yoo-in or Han Y/N?" He asked while smashing his palm on his father's table.

His father looked up at him, "Why are you asking that? How can you marry the younger sister instead of the elder one? Of course Han Yoo-in!" He looked at Jungkook with amused expression. Jungkook was baffled, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Jungkook's father folded his arms, "Why didn't you use your brain and think a little? Yoo-in is unmarried, she will graduate before Y/N, you'll be acquiring my company in two months, who do you think you should marry?" Jungkook sighed, his rage turning into frustration, "Y/N! If there's anyone I'll marry then it'll be Y/N, not her sister or anybody else."

His father asked, "Does Y/N feel the same?"

"Why does that matter?" Jungkook asked in return. "Why? Are you dense? If she doesn't want to marry you back then how can I convince her parents to ask for her hand in marriage instead of Yoo-in's?" Jungkook's eyes shot open with sparkles, "Wait dad! Are you telling me you will convince them?"

His dad chuckled, "of course! Afterall you and I are the only ones who share true blood, there's no one else in the world for us like we are for each other my son." Jungkook understood the hidden meaning, his dad used to tell him at times when Taehyung and his mother weren't a part of their lives, no one, not a single relative was a part of their lives, Jungkook and his father had gone through thick and thin together that's why he said about being each other's true blood, in literal meaning too.

Jungkook's phone rang in the moment, he quickly saw the caller ID to press decline but he couldn't because it was your call, for the first time.

"Now you should go, unlike you I'm busy." His father said as he resumed his work. "No I'm busy too." He said as he picked up your phone and rushed outside.

Jungkook took the seat in front of you in the cafe which you told him to meet in through the call. "Hi princess, I practically had to run here. Tell me what you wanted to say." He said while settling down on his chair.

"Jungkook I think you are having a misunderstanding here, it's not me whom you are supposed to get married to."

Oh.

He hummed, "Well.. I got to know it myself just a while ago." He said casually while sinking back into the chair.

You bumped your fist on the table, "Then you must have understood that we should stop. My sister is the only one who has treated me like a family, she would be the last person on earth I'd betray."

Jungkook was silent at your response before he got an idea. He hissed and began, " that's all the more reason why you should marry me y/n! If I were you, I'd do everything to return the favor of my sister's kindness, by saving her from a lifelong hell where her husband won't give a fuck about her. " He took a sip from his coffee.

Your eyes went wide at the realization. As much as you wanted to snap back at him, you couldn't because it did make sense.

You poked your tongue inside your cheek, this marriage was unavoidable as your sister had enlightened you about the merger earlier, the only way left was to take jungkook with you.

But did you want that either? No. Your sister can divorce him at anytime saving both you and her.

"No! Even if that's the case.. I won't." Okay you were definitely testing Jungkook's patience which was already running thin. He sighed, then looked up at you, darkness swirling in his eyes. "If you're thinking about doing something funny, I'm warning you beforehand" He shifted closer, "your photo will no longer be just on the anonymous bulletin of your school but also the billboards of entire South Korea."

You felt your blood drain out of your body. The photos! Those darn photos! If those weren't there in the first place then you can run out of Jungkook's clutches.. right! those photos should be destroyed.

And to do that you thought of a plan.

"Okay, I'll marry you so invite my family to yours for a dinner tonight. Our pair should seem more convincing to our parents." Jungkook was actually stunned at your answer, you really were willing to take the lead, fine then! He grinned.

You went to school. As usual. Attended the classes. As usual. Jungkook called you to his office. As usual. You opened your shirt. As usual. You were wearing a very sexy underwear.. hol up! This was unusual. Jungkook smirked. Were you really doing everything to save your sister from Jungkook to have him for you instead? Jungkook didn't like the first half of the question but the second half makes him excited more than to his liking.

He sucked on your boobs. Well.. As usual, this activity started to become more like his stress buster, oh lord he loved touching you sooo much, touching you where no one else can touch, touching you in the dirtiest ways.

You grabbed his hair and pushed his mouth more towards your chest while his fingers played with your clit. You moaned, even fake-moaned sometimes with seductive voice which was just to keep him engaged, to keep him unaware of your right hand which had slid in his back pocket.

You took out his phone and grabbed his ass, to Jungkook this might look like you have removed the phone to grab his ass properly where in fact you did so to gain access to the photos in his phone. Last night during dinner at his place you were sitting next to him and somehow managed to see him type in his password.

And so right now with your left hand you punched in the password.

Click!

Shoot! As soon as the phone unlocked, a loud click was heard. Jungkook smirked, did you really think you can outsmart him huh? He detached his mouth from your breast and looked at your face. Your face went pale and your hands were shaking.

He cupped your face, "princess I warned you about not doing anything funny.. do you not take my words seriously?.. hmm?.. judging by how frightened you are, I'll let it slide once. I don't like if my baby is afraid of me." He softly smiled and placed his lips over yours. He kissed you gently, softly pecking all over your mouth. Once your breathing stabilized he removed his lips and looked at you.

"But you still deserve punishment my little girl." He said and left you to go near his drawer. Your lips quivered in fright when you saw him grab a stapler. He chuckled as he opened it and removed the pins from inside it. He came closer to you, "Now lie down on your back over this table." He commanded.

You felt weak in your knees just by wondering what he could possibly do to your body with that thing. You meekly lied down on the table. He smirked, what a good girl!

He opened your red sexy bra completely and sniffed it, your body smelled like strawberries and he'll be taking both your bra and panty to his home today, he was going crazy for you after all.

After sniffing it, he tied it around your mouth, not like there was anyone in the school in this hour to hear your scream, the school was already over an hour ago. After tying it, he opened your panty and kept it on the table directly underneath your pussy. After that he opened his belt and tied your wrists together above your head.

He spread your legs harshly making you squeak a little. "You must take your lessons seriously baby." He said and punched your clit with the stapler. You screamed out loud. He nodded his head, "That's right, scream all you want, the more you feel it, the more you will remember it!" He said and punched your folds.

Tears started running down your eyes in pain, he punched the stapler harder on your hymen making you go wild in pain. He laughed, this was the price of you trying to underestimate him.

He then turned the stapler and thrushed it inside your vagina, you felt your soul almost leaving your body, he started bringing in and out of your pussy until you started coming. He kneeled down and started lapping his tongue over your clit, it was so delicious for him. The juice that leaked from your clit was either falling in his mouth or on the panty kept beneath while he opened his pants and shirt.

Then he walked to the front and removed the bra from your mouth. Your eyes were closed from the pain and you felt relief thinking it's finally over- tch! girl you got pranked because he climbed on the table, kept his legs at either side of your shoulders and crouched down. He parted your lips and you felt something sticky being pushed inside your mouth. You instantly shot open your eyes which then went wide after looking at Jungkook hovering over you.

He smirked and took the stapler and punched your right nipple, your mouth became wide to scream again but his dick got more access to slide down inside your oral cavity to your throat. You chocked.

He then punched your left nipple using the stapler and you felt his cum running down your food pipe.

If this doesn't stop and you become his wife, you will end up dying in his hands- you were sure of it.

You came home, your energy drained out completely. You were walking towards your room with slow steps, that's when you heard your sister chuckling alongside another person. You recognized the voice was of Jungkook's younger brother Taehyung's, whom you saw last night at the dinner.

You momentarily looked inside her room, both of them were sitting on the floor, your sister's back was facing the door while Taehyung was sitting in front of her. When you looked inside, you didn't particularly greet him but he saw you and smiled while your sister was looking down at her book. You smiled faintly and walked towards your room.

But not only did Taehyung see your smile, he also saw those hard nipples, you were definitely bra-less and that was enough to turn him on.

You went to your room and plopped off on the bed, you hated everything going on with you but today when you saw your sister being so happy, which was a rare site, you began to think whether you were really making a mistake. You've realized earlier that the brother you've heard about while eavesdropping on your parents conversation with her was about Taehyung.

It looked like Taehyung and Yoo-in were getting closer with every passing of the day with the amount of visits him and your sister were paying to each other's house, mostly Taehyung coming to your house.

Your parents didn't really stay in the home being very busy in the works, understandable.. they had countless places to fly to for countless meetings. Even if they were at home, they liked whenever Taehyung visited.

Though one thing was strange, so far you knew that Jungkook has taken only one bra or panty of yours and he doesn't even come to your house being the busy man he was, dealing with upcoming responsibilities, yet you felt strange when you saw more of your underwear going missing.

"Why don't we all go to a bar tonight?" Taehyung suggested as the three of you were munching on chips while playing chess together, well you were not the one playing but were enjoying the match.

Yoo-in looked at him, "Us? You mean us three and Jungkook oppa?"

Taehyung said, "No, just the three of us, Jungkook's busy with the paperwork." He shrugged. Your sister smiled, "Alright I'm in! Y/N-ah you are joining us too right?"

You grinned when you looked at your sister's happy face, "There's no way I can deny if the model students want to go to such a place." You chuckled. Taehyung joined, "Ay what model students? We all have a life outside books, we equally want to enjoy ourselves."

Your sister chortled, "Exactly Taehyung." You smiled widely at your sister's lively spirit. She used to be so dull with emotions, you were finally seeing a different side of hers, you smiled at Taehyung, feeling grateful to him. He smiled back sweetly.

At the bar your trio without a doubt enjoyed your hearts out. Taehyung and Yoo-in have stopped drinking after they said they can't tolerate more alcohol. Nerds! You playfully rolled your eyes. Even if so that won't stop you from drinking tonight, you were finally feeling happiness in a while, with your sister being gleeful and Jungkook not being around.

When you came back from dancing, you saw Yoo-in and Taehyung kissing each other. You whistled to yourself, maybe it was time to give them some privacy.

So you went to wash your face, but it didn't seem like you were getting any sober, you didn't exactly want to get sober though so it was fine.

You were walking back to where your partner-in-crime was but as soon as you stepped out, you felt a hand grab your waist and turn you around and pinned you against the wall. Your eyes went wide at the sudden action but they grew wider when the said strong person smashed his lips against yours and groped your breasts.

You felt all the alcohol vaporizing off in an instant as you became completely sober.

You at once grabbed the hair of the person and yanked him out of your face, his hands still on your breasts. You were shocked once again to see who it was- "Taehyung?" He smirked while his hands went down to grab your ass.

You punched him hard on his face causing him to fall down. He smirked while you looked at him in disbelief, he touched the corner of his lips, "woah I'm bleeding Y/N!" He said as he showed you the blood while standing up. "Because you deserve that you asshole!" You spat.

The swear words sounded so pleasant in his ears, he liked it because this was really what he wanted. "Why Y/N? Why do I deserve it? I wanted to know how it felt like to kiss you on those lips and feel your pussy, which I couldn't do yet." You clenched your fist in rage and punched him in his stomach, "you motherfucker! Were you playing with my sister the whole time?" He held his stomach and kneeled down in pain, "I don't know. When did I ever do that? Your sister was the one who kissed me and I allowed her to do so just like my brother kissed you and you allowed him to continue. I know you don't like my brother, Y/N. We both are on same boat!" You went near him and grabbed his hair again to look up at you.

He was enjoying the pain. "No we are not! You both brothers are douchebags, none of you deserve my sister." He scoffed, "If we are both douchebags then why do you allow my brother to feel you and not me? By chance does he hold any leverage over you?" He raised his eyebrows.

You felt your breath hitch, there was no way Taehyung should get a hint that he was right. You gulped but before you could deny, you heard your phone ring, your sister was calling.

Taehyung smirked, "if you don't want to break your sister's heart, you better keep our conversation secret."

You knew you were fucked up and now was your sister too. And if anything you wanted then it would be to teach them both a lesson.

*nervously laughs* and I have no idea how y/n will do that, I feel like she's completely trapped unless y'all have any ideas how you escape this, after all you are y/n! Do you think you can teach them a lesson? Give me your answers and I'll link them over here!

Also thankyou to everyone who kept my fuel burning to write the 2nd part! Tysm for being interested mwah 💗 hope you enjoyed! <3

Agreed ! Brilliant ! LoL ! Noice !

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

Down in the (link)dumps

On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine. On October 2, I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab.

Back when I was writing on Boing Boing, I'd slam out 10-15 blog posts every day, short hits that served as signpost and public notebook, but I rarely got into longer analysis of the sort I do daily now on Pluralistic. Both modes are very useful for organizing one's thoughts, and indeed, they complement each other:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The problem is that when you write long, synthetic essays, they crowd out the quick hits. Back in May 2022, I started including three short links with each edition of Pluralistic, in a section called "Hey look at this" (thanks to Mitch Wagner for suggesting it!):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/01/reit-modernization-act/#linkdump

But even with that daily linkdump, I still manage to accumulate link-debt, as interesting things pile up, not rising to the level of a long blog-post, but not so disposable as to be easy to flush. When the pile gets big enough, I put out a Saturday Linkdump:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

All of which is to say, it's Saturday, and I've got a linkdump!

First up, a musical interlude. I've been listening to DJ Earworm's amazing mashups since 2005 and while I've got dozens of tracks that shuffle in and out of my daily playlist, the one that makes me wanna get up and dance every time is "No One Takes Your Freedom," a wildly improbable banger composed of equal parts Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, George Michael and Scissor Sisters:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaboIeW1A_4

I defy you to play that one without bopping a little. I think it's the French horn from "For No One" that really kills it, the world's least expected intro to a heavy dance beat.

Moving swiftly on: let's talk about fonts. I remember when Wired magazine first showed up at the bookstores I was working at in Toronto, and my bosses – younger men than I am now! – complained that the tiny, decorative fonts, rendered in silver foil on a purple background, was illegible. I laughed at them, batting my young eyes and devouring the promise of a better future with ease, even in dim light.

Now it's thirty years later and I'm half-blind. Both my my decaying, aging eyes are filmed with cataracts that I'm too busy to get removed (though my doc promises permanent 20:20, perfect night-vision, and implanted bifocals when I can spare a month from touring with new books to get 'em fixed).

Which is to say: I spend a lot more time thinking about legibility now than I did in the early 1990s, and I've got a lot more sympathy for those booksellers' complaints about Wired's aggressively low-contrast design today. I'm forever on the hunt for fonts designed for high legibility.

This week, Kottke linked to B612, a free/open font family "designed for aircraft cockpit screens," commissioned by Airbus. It's got all the bells and whistles (e.g. hinting) and comes in variable and monospace faces:

https://b612-font.com/

B612 arrived at a fortuitous moment, coinciding with a major UI overhaul in Thunderbird, the app I spend the second-most time in (I spend more time in Gedit, the bare-bones text-editor that comes with Ubuntu, the flavor of GNU/Linux I use). A previous Thunderbird UI experiment had made all the UI text effectively unreadable for me, causing me to dive deep into the infinitely configurable settings to sub in my own fonts:

http://kb.mozillazine.org/UserChrome.css

The new UI is much better, but it broke all my old tweaks, so I went back into those settings and switched everything to B612, and it's amazeballs. I tried doing the same in Gedit, but B612 mono was too light for my shitty eyes, so I went back to Jetbrains Mono, another free/open font that has 8 weights to choose from:

https://www.jetbrains.com/lp/mono/

Love me a new, legible font! Meanwhile, a note for all you designers: the received wisdom that black on white type is "hard on the eyes" is a harmful myth. Stop with the grey-on-white type, for the love of all that is holy. This isn't 1992, you aren't laying out type for Wired Issue 1.0. Contrast is good, actually.

Continuing on the subject of software updates: Mastodon, the free, open, federated social media platform that anyone can host and that lets you hop between one server and another with just a couple clicks, has released a major update, focusing on usability, especially for people unfamiliar with its conventions:

https://blog.joinmastodon.org/2023/09/mastodon-4.2/

Included in this fix: a major overhaul to how you interact with posts on servers other than your home server. This was both confusing and clunky, and the fix makes it much better. They've also changed how sign-up flow works, making things simpler for newbies, and they've cleaned up the UI, tweaking threads, web previews and other parts of the daily experience.

There's also a lot of changes to search, but search still remains less than ideal, with multi-server search limited to hashtags. This is bad, actually. Thankfully, we don't have to wait for Mastodon devs to decide to fix it, because Mastodon is free and open, which means anyone with the skills to code a change, or the money to pay techies to do it, or the moral force to convince them to do it, can effect that change themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/

Case in point: Mastoreader, a great new thread reader for Mastodon:

https://mastoreader.io/

Every time that guy who owns Twitter breaks it even worse, a new cohort of users sign up. Not all of them stay, but the growth is steady and the trendline is solid:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/of-course-mastodon-lost-users/

It's the right call: while there are other services that promise that they will be federated someday, promises are easy, and there's world of difference between "federateable" and "federated." As GW Bush told us, "Fool me twice, we don't get fooled again":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/06/fool-me-twice-we-dont-get-fooled-again/

One big difference between the kind of blogging I used to do in my Boing Boing days and the long-form work I do today is the graphics. When you're posting 10-15 times/day, you can't make each graphic a standout (or at least, I can't). But I can (and do) devote substantial time to making a single collage out of public domain and Creative Commons graphics every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

I am not a visual person – literally, I can barely see! – but my daily art practice has slowly made me a less-terrible illustrator. I got in some good licks this week, like this graphic for the UAW's new "Eight-and-Skate" work-to-rule program:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

That graphic was fun because all the elements were from the public domain, or fair use. I love it when that happens. I've spent years amassing a bulging folder of public domain clip art ganked from the web and this week, it got a major infusion, thanks to the Bergen Public Library's Flickr album of high-rez scans of antique book endpapers. 86 public domain textures? Yes please! (Also, the fact that Flickr has one-click download of all the hi-rez versions of every image in a photoset is another way that it stands out as a remnant of the old, good web, not so much a superannuated relic as an elegant weapon of a more civilized age):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/bergen_public_library/albums/72157633827993925

Speaking of strikes: there are strikes! Everygoddamnedwhere! After 40 years in a Reagan-induced coma, labor is back, baby. The Cornells School of Industrial and Labor Relations' Labor Action Tracker is your go-to, real-time observation post as hot labor summer turns into the permanent revolution. As of this writing, it's listing 968 labor actions in 1491 locations:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu

There's no war but class war and it was ever thus. Brian Merchant's forthcoming book Blood In the Machine is a history of the Luddites, revisiting that much-maligned labor uprising, which has been rewritten as a fight between technophobes and the inevitable forces of progress:

https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/brian-merchant/blood-in-the-machine/9780316487740/

The book unearths the true history of the Ludds: they were skilled technologists who were outraged by capital's commitment to immiseration, child slavery, and foisting inferior goods on a helpless public. You can get a long preview of the book in Fast Company:

https://www.fastcompany.com/90949827/what-the-luddites-can-teach-us-about-standing-up-to-big-tech

Merchant also talked with Roman Mars about the book on the 99 Percent Invisible podcast:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/blood-in-the-machine/transcript/

If that's piqued your interest and if you can make it to Los Angeles, come by Chevalier's Books this Wednesday, where Brian and I are having a joint book-launch (I've just published The Internet Con, my Luddite-adjacent "Big Tech Disassembly Manual"):

https://www.eventbrite.com/o/chevaliers-books-8495362156

Where is all this labor unrest coming from? Well as Stein's Law has it, "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." 40 years of corporate-friendly political economy has lit the world on fire and immiserated billions, and we've hit bottom and started the long, slow climb to a world that prioritizes human thriving over billionaire power.

One of the most tangible expressions of that vibe shift is the rise and rise of antitrust. The big news right now is the (first) trial of the century, Google's antitrust trial. What's that? You say you haven't heard anything about it? Well, perhaps that has to do with the judge banning recording and livestreaming and not making transcripts available. Don't worry, he's also locking observers out of his courtroom for hours at a time during closed testimony. Oh, and also? The DoJ just agreed that it won't post its exhibits from the trial online anymore. You can follow what dribbles of information as are emerging from our famously open court system at US v Google:

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

If the impoverished trickle of Google antitrust news has you down, don't despair, there's more coming, because the FTC is apparently set to drop its long-awaited suit against Amazon:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ftc-poised-sue-amazon-antitrust-163432081.html

Amazon spent years blowing hundreds of millions of dollars of its investors' cash, selling goods below cost and buying up rivals until it became the most important channel for every kind of manufacturer to reach their customers. Now, Amazon is turning the screws. A new report from the Institute for Local Self-Reliance details the 45% Amazon Tax that every merchant pays to reach you:

https://ilsr.org/AmazonMonopolyTollbooth-2023/

That 45% tax is passed on to you – whether or not you shop at Amazon. Amazon's secretive most favored nation terms mean that if a seller raises their price on Amazon, they have to raise it everywhere else, which means you're paying more at WalMart and Target because of Amazon's policies.

Those taxes are bad for us, but they're good for Amazon's investors. This year, the company stands to make $185 billion from junk-fees charged to platform sellers. As David Dayen points out, Amazon charges so much to ship third-party sellers' goods that it fully subsidizes Amazon's own shipping:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-21-amazons-185-billion-pay-to-play-system/

That's right: as Stacy Mitchell writes in the report, "Amazon doesn’t have to build warehousing and shipping costs into the price of its own products, because it’s found a way to get smaller online sellers to pay those costs."

Now, one of the amazing things about antitrust coming back from the grave is that just the threat of antitrust enforcement can moderate even the most vicious bully's conduct. Faced with the looming FTC case, Amazon just canceled its plan to charge even more junk fees:

https://www.reuters.com/legal/amazon-drops-planned-merchant-fee-ftc-lawsuit-looms-bloomberg-news-2023-09-20/

But despite this win, Amazon is still speedrunning the enshittification cycle. The latest? Unskippable ads in Prime Video:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-09-22/amazon-prime-video-content-to-include-ads-staring-early-2024

Remember when Amazon promised you ad-free video if you'd lock yourself into shopping with them by pre-paying for a year's shipping with Prime? The company has fully embraced the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further."

That FTC case can't come a moment too soon.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/23/salmagundi/#dewey-102

#pluralistic

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sunflowerandstrawberryspice · 5 months

Text

Songs the Ninjago Fandom is Sleeping on.

So I have like a bunch of songs and animatic ideas for the Ninjago fandom to do what they please with, cause chronic hand pain makes long projects like animatics kinda hard so instead I'm throwing them out to yall! (Song-artist)

SOPILERS FOR LITERALLY EVERYHTING RELATING TO NINJAGO (This includes Dragons rising, the spinjitzu brothers books and the Garmadon comics)

Also please remember this is for fun so be nice.

Survivors Guilt- Coma Cinema: Okay oaky so hear me out: eldest child angst. This could work for both Garmadon and Kai, because both of them are just SUCH older siblings in more than just the literal way you know? Like I think it fits especially with Garmadon because it's about feeling like you're a bad person and how it might fuck up someone else life in the process. To me I think it fits, cause like to me it's so clear Garmadon is the elder sibling TM and Wu is the stressed out younger sibling golden child. Lyrics: "And I don't care and I don't know why maybe I'm no good inside" the way this totally works for how Garmadon tries to act like he doesn't care in Spinjitzu Brothers but is like constantly stressed about whether or not he's a good person.

Seven Nation Army- The White Stripes: I don't have like any major reasons for this song other than it being SUPER Wyldfyre/Kai core lol (at least in the early seasons before he mellowed out a bit), like the song is literally someone sing about how they feel like how they could take on armies if necessary so take that as you will!

Viper- Derivakat: For starters I didn't know this was a Minecraft song until I went to look up the lyrics buuuuuuut oh well mine now! Could definitely be used for either the Great Devourer or the Serpentine, but I think it be cool if someone used the song for the Great Devourer and the venoms effect on Garmadon and how it really kinda fucked up his life. I think it'd just be neat. Lyrics: "Run, run, run as fast as you can out of the fire and into my hand" (Could def be used for Garmadon and the Great Devourer or Pythor and Lloyd) "Abandon your pride cause you've dug your own grave" and "Getting all up in your head make you lose your mind again" (Again would work pretty great for Garmadon or season one Lloyd and Pythor)

The Well- The Crane Wives: Now this song is perfect for season 6 Jay in my opinion since it's got some wish related lyrics which work well for the Nadakan plot, plus people getting "dragged down" could be the other ninja getting absorbed into the sword. I'm not to big on this season or Jay but even I can tell this song works WELL for him (get it well? I'll see myself out). Lyrics: "Like spare coins, poised on the tip of my tongue I make a wish and hold my breath" This could not only be the making wishes part but also Jay getting "spare coins" aka his bio fathers money and house after he dies, "I'm the well they're gonna drag you down" again this could be used for the ninja being dragged into the sword "All the words I couldn't say to you" His pinning over Nya obviously. And lastly "I taste blood I'm sick of swallowing stones" Could be his trauma after Nadakan is defeated or when he was beat up in the fight thing.

Viva La Vida (But epic)- Reinaeiry (I just like this version best but any works): Could totally work for Lloyd post merge, him being lonely in this new world and forced to be a hero in the shadows. Y'all could also probably do something with the FSM but like I'm not exactly sure what. This one's a little more for the vibes tbh.

Parasite- Set It Off: When I tell yall this is great for Harumi and Lloyd, like it'd work so well as a song for her trying to manipulate and twist his mind. The name says it all it's literally telling someone they'd wished they'd never been born and that they don't help society, sound like anyone familiar? Also if y'all just want a song for like a villain arch for Lloyd this would also probably work tbh. Lyrics: "Leeching off my pain never satisfied" Totally could work for Harumi being mean and manipulative or Lloyd getting angry and being honest with her. "Strike a nerve or wreck a home hoping you get a response" This could totally be used literally cause of Harumi's whole... you know dead parent situation.

Matilda- Harry Styles: I know I know what you're saying, Harry Styles? But I promise this song is actually wonderful. This could work RIDICOULOUSLY well for Sora. The song is a lot about how you can go on to live a life and you don't have to include your bioparents or family in it if you don't want to which is SO Sora. Like I feel like all the lyrics work well for how Imperium and her parents drained her and I just love it! Then second you could also view this as kind of a Cole song. I know the fandom is kind of split on whether or not him and his father really make up and I'm gonna be honest I don't really think they do. Unlike Jay, Zane, Lloyd as well as Kai and Nya to an extent (once they get their parents back) all at least interact with their parents and clearly have somewhat of a relationship with them (Kai and Nya less so but they have the excuse of being adults by the time they get their parents back). Cole on the other hand doesn't really have the same thing, like he has the episode where he makes up with his father but after that Lou doesn't really have many other major appearances so I think they're on good terms but not that close ya know? Idk just my opinion lol. Unrelated but the song is honestly so eldest daughter-core and I just wanted to mention that.

Uhhhh that's all for now, let me know if y'all just want me to compile all this into a playlist to listen to cause I totally will. Any who just want to restate this is all my opinion and I love this show <3

Hope y'all have a great day/night PEACE OUT.

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dimepdf · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒. + 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. Y/n's first lone Hot One interview after becoming public with her boyfriend of 3 years.

pairing. joseph quinn x reader

word count. 2.4k

genre and warnings. fem!actor!reader, black coded, blonde locs, child actor, hot wings, spicy tolerance, swearing, besties with zendaya, slight childhood trauma, mostly just chara building | — series masterlist.

Y/N L/N SHEDS TEARS WHILE EATING HOT WINGS | HOT ONES

The interview starts with Sean Evans sat across from Y/n L/n in beige high waisted jeans that buttoned just above her belly button, hugging her curves, paired with a more neutral tone of brown small halter top along with the oversized dark denim jacket that no doubt belonged to Joseph.

Her outfit was more comfortable, despite being pieced together perfectly, still having her fan favorite unique fashion touch with her new fresh light bleached blonde long locs that reached down to the curve of her bum.

"Hey, what's going on, everybody? From First We Feast, I’m Sean Evans, and you're watching Hot Ones. It's the show with hot questions and even hotter wings and today we’re joined by Y/n L/n. She’s a singer, fashion icon, and actress. You may recognize her from her most recent collaboration with Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak as well as her popular role as _____ on the seven-time Emmy award-winning global mega-hit show Stranger Things, which is making a return for its fourth season on Netflix May twenty-seven.”

When Sean introduced her, a smile spread from her dark cherry-like glossed lips. The small glitter that set underneath the bed of her dark eyes glinted golden under the studio's lights, helping soften her features.

"Y/n L/n, welcome to the show!"

"Hello, Hi, thanks for having me." Y/n welcomed her looking like a natural on camera.

Sitting in front of the table arranged with colorful sauce bottles along with the pitcher of milk and water. "I’m very excited but also a little bit nervous about being here."

"I know that you're a fan of spicy foods, but how high would you say that your spice tolerance is?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that it's anything extreme, but I feel like I could handle myself a lot more than normally, like Joseph dies every time I put chili powder and hot sauce in the noodles."

displaying the brands and a different array of hot sauces. The title card of the show plays through, ending with Y/n already digging into her tray of sauce-covered wings.

"Oh shit, wait, should I ask what type this is before or?" Y/n hummed even after asking the question, her mouth still devouring the wing in her hand to the bone.

"No, it's totally fine, oh you’re just finishing the whole thing okay." Sean looked impressed with the woman as she even sucked some of the sauce off her fingers without even a wince from the hot sauce.

"So I think it's interesting that you started singing and acting at such a young age, especially when a lot of people your age go straight to acting classes after school while other kids your age are at the playground or such. What are the pros and cons of being raised in that sort of hustling and strict environment? " Sean asks with his signature monotone voice, despite eating the same wing.

"Um, I have to admit it was a bit hard, especially being one of the few little black girls during my acting class days growing up. I really never had the opportunity to be a child and just make friends naturally. It was like I had an adult working schedule with the back-to-back bookings I had."

"Do you think that there's a lot of weight being put on child actors?"

Y/n licks her lips a bit, disregarding the gloss on them as her mouth pouts at the question in thought. "Oh hell yeah. I mean, sometimes you get kids younger than five years old pushing themselves because their parents forced this idea of fame and wealth into their heads."

From the passionate tone in her voice Y/n spoke strongly about the topic. Even with her mouth full, she used her hand to shield her mouth as she continued.

"Even with toddlers, it's like they have to look polished and perfect or else they won't make the cut, which is just so fucked to go through at such a young age."

As the second wing was introduced, Y/n actually gave Sean some time to catch up to her, "I love leg pieces so much." Taking a bite together before he asked her the question.

"Is it true that you almost missed your Strange Things audition because you were hanging with Zendaya?"

Y/n chuckled as the back of her pink tongue poked out of her lips, licking the front of her teeth.

"Oh lord, I was stuck in a whole different country with her when I got the call back and I had to act like I wasn't booking a whole flight the same day. It was all just too crazy."

"You said in an interview that you considered Zendaya to be a sort of older sister role model when it came to your experiences with acting. How much influence do you think she might have had on where you are currently in life?"

"That's a very good question. I think just growing up with strong, empowered women genuinely really shaped me to be the person that I am now. I definitely would not have won any of the awards or written the songs that I did without them breaking me from that stiff ass ex-child star mold that I used to be in."

Viewers could tell that the question genuinely meant something to her, hesitating before she answered.

Y/n, like most child stars in the spotlight too young to be known to break from their lethal and unethical working contract after coming of age.

"I think it's important for anyone to have someone to look up to, especially a role model with some diversity that you can actually relate to."

The third wing is where the video was starting to finally build up, Y/n tilting her head to the side the moment her teeth had sunk into the boneless wing.

Her lashes fluttering, not being able to stop herself from blinking away the tears that she was quick to wipe away with a bend of her pointer finger.

"Ooh shit, it's getting kinda spicy now." A painful looking burp almost came from her throat. The video was edited with a dramatic sound effect as she went to cover her mouth with a wince, stifling her laughter.

"In Stranger Things, you play ___, a character that is iconic for her thick-rimmed glasses as well as her killer drumming skills. How challenging would you say it was to have to seemingly master a skill in such a short amount of time?"

"It definitely was a really hard challenge, especially since I knew absolutely nothing nor even played an instrument other than, like, the piano classes I took in kindergarten. Having to learn the drums to the point where I was able to appear actually good took a lot of overnight practicing and a lot of chipped acrylic nails."

"Would you say that ___is one of the hardest roles that you have ever had?"

"She’s definitely climbing the ranks up there, but nothing could ever pass the amount of physical training I had to do for The Green Knight. I still hate working out to this day."

Y/n laughs despite her mouth falling into a slight grimace, her hands reaching up to fan herself as she starts to sweat in her chair, moving onto the fourth wing.

"So you’ve talked about always sort of being in the spotlight your entire life. How would you say you learned to juggle both that sort of privacy as well as staying true to your fans?"

"I will always be grateful for the amount of love that my supporters show me, but also being this person constantly being put on a pedestal, I learned that everything I do will always be judged or turn into headlines, which is why I'm very private with my life outside of acting." Y/n hissed as she stuck her tongue out, reacting to the spice before continuing.

"It took the internet almost 3 years to figure out that me and Joe were an official couple because I like to keep to myself and I think Hollywood has this thing where they like to backseat off of other people's lives, not releasing that we’re not just characters on a screen anymore."

"Is there a reason you and Joseph have kept your relationship secret for so long?"

"I wasn’t really trying to hide it. I honestly did not give a fuck after like the first couple of months. If anything, I was just waiting for people to catch on because, damn, I think we would just openly do shit in public just to get a reaction the next day."

As more spice entered into her system, the more laid back Y/n started to appear, her usual interview professional tone dropping once she was starting to get more comfortable.

The fifth wing was starting to get to her, Y/n squinting from how much her eyes were starting to water.

Her arms folding on top of the table after taking a big bite, her leg bouncing as she clutched onto the cup of water like her life depended on it.

"Oh dude, this is starting to fucking suck the whole ass cheek now." Y/n grunted, enticing a laugh from even some of the crew from behind the camera.

"Is it true that you had to reject the role as DC’s Bat-girl because you’re more of a Marvel fan?" Sean asked, taking a sip of his drink, "Y/n copying as she took a long swig of water.

"Man, hell yeah, fuck DCU. I love Dick Grayson though that's my husband."

The sixth wing looked brutal as Y/n coughed after taking a big chunk, her leg jittering as her thigh shook.

Her eyes squeezing shut as right after she had swallowed, she reached for her cup of water and downed the entire thing before pouring more from the pitcher.

"Y’all are trying to fucking kill me, bro." She grunted, holding her stomach, "I’m gonna shit, like, hot lava or something after this man."

"So Y/n, you really did grow up acting, especially working with even the most iconic of directors for this generation. What drew you into working on such small roles—in terms of your other roles—like ___ and did you expect your character to have the massive amount of impact that she has today?"

"I was sort of looking for experience more than looking for money, which there's nothing wrong with wanting to get paid well, but I would much rather work with a script that I know I can add personality to and actually see a character come to life than work with this super popular casting that makes twice as much." Y/n coughed once more, a tear sliding down her cheek as she sniffed.

"Uh, when I finished getting the script, I was just stoked to be able to play ___ because she’s just so relatable to a lot of teenage girls that just feel stuck. I knew that she would be quite inspiring because of her constant quirky charisma but also because she’s just super fucking badass."

"So it's clear from your love of music and the massive amount of collabs you’ve done with other artists that you’re an amazing singer. Are there any types of music that you prefer to write or feel more comfortable with writing?"

"I fucking love writing R&B music or something like old school soul," Y/n raspied, her eyes a light shade of pink from how much she was tearing up.

"I think almost every song that I was on for Silk Sonic was like helping write my dream album. I genuinely fell in love with the entire album"

"Speaking of old school, the music videos released for the Silk Sonic album that you starred in had a sort of soul train 70s vibe to them. Was there an outfit that you really liked during one of the videos?"

"Yeah, in Smokin' Out The Window I had to wear this fucking perfect dark brown velvet dress with these expensive ass thigh high boots to match with everyone else with bougee ass shades. I looked like such a bad bitch."

"I did really like the music video for that song. It was really good."

"I know, I wrote it."

The woman whimpered, using a tissue to wipe her tears without smudging too much of her already ruined makeup, finishing the challenge as the last wing was bitten Y/n took one last swig of water before doing the outro.

"Holy shit. I just ate a shit ton of hot wings, so you better watch season four. You won't regret it. And I just rubbed my fucking eye on accident. I’m never eating hot wings again."

The video ends with another laugh pulled from the crew as Y/n finally burps, grunting after.

33,048 Comments sorted by top comments….

User: I'm much more impressed by someone who is effected immensely and has the persistence to keep going than I am by someone who isn't bothered by the spice.

User: I actually really appreciate Y/n. She genuinely just seems like a well rounded person that worked hard to become the person that she is today.

User: Y/n’s energy is just so relaxing and captivating i can see why Joseph likes her so much

User: Yes Y/n! She came in here like a champ: big bites, being real, and obviously having a good time… at least until the last wing hahaha. She’s an awesome actress glad you guys got her on the show

User: Y/n is a natural comedian, she doesn’t even realise how funny she is

User: I honestly just love this woman, she’s funny, intelligent, and just really laid back in general!!

User: I have a whole new respect for her. Into fashion, old school jams and other things. She’s more me than I realized. Great to know the human side of these artists/actors. This show is real.

User: I don't think I've ever seen Sean laugh this much during an interview

User: Her personality is insanely attractive

User: if y/n l/n is not your celebrity crush idk who is. Shes literally perfect in every way! Obsessed with her spirit!

User: I just love Y/n L/n too much. She has a perfect balance of intellect and intelligence, respect and confidence, compassion and strength, and beauty and creativity. She's an ideal role model, in my opinion.

User: She has such an old soul. A very talented versatile actress.

User: so happy she’s getting so much spotlight and praise right now. LONG overdue

User: She’s not a Disney princess.She’s a real life princess. She has the kindness, caring nature, self awareness, polite, charismatic, so inclusive, and very so expressively loving. Her self preservation, and work values is just amazing.

User: She’s got “50 year old Oscar winner that everyone loves” vibes. If that makes sense

🔖 @prettyeyedmaureen @hornyavengers @blkroyalty1 @1shyshy1sana @harrycanyonmoonn @freyawhitexxx1 @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @lafresamilk @haechaniebom @biggestslutever-1stnamegrea-blog @eddiesbitchx @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @hotgirlsshareaccounts @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @cybergnf @notbeforelong @snailchess @joletown @killjoys-n-whovians @livvie-jpg @mocswift @marvelmadness22 @coldspoons @ragingginger24 @milkiane @ordelixx @alexloveskili @inglourious-imagines @gamegirl1996 @angelsarecallin @cellywatt @delishtequila @shawtywithcash @yazmunson @actual-mom-steve-harrington @tsukishimawhore @corey-is-a-huge-simp @jaydesworld96 @foffaaa @jackierose902109 @disaster-rose @migirl323

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