#didn't think it would do that when i removed it from Anonymous

[moonsugar-and-spice]

Hello, I don't know if you're still active, but I was rereading through storms of fire and ice, and was wondering what happened to your other Katara x Ozai fic? I really enjoyed it, and had read it many times(it's a comfort fic for me). It's no longer on your ao3 page...:((

Hey there! I'm still around (not so much in the writing sphere of late, but I'm not gone! just on a life-imposed hiatus).

First, I'm touched that you've enjoyed my Ozara fics. To know that something I wrote is another person's comfort fic is an honor. Long story short, earlier this year, I found myself cringing at some of my older work (as I'd guess most writers/artists who have grown can relate) and despite my efforts to view it through the lens of creative growth, I made the decision to file Electrify under Anonymous with a Note on why I chose to do so (for those who knew the story/author). I couldn't orphan it because it's still near and dear to my heart as my first fanfiction, among other reasons.

However, as it turns out, you're the third person recently who's reached out about Electrify. I guess I had the "head knowledge" of the notion, but you've helped me grasp the heart of it — that no matter how critically we as authors might perceive our own works, for someone else it may be comfort food, something returned to again and again because it's warm and familiar, and the world is... well... *gestures vaguely*

I have taken said fic out of Anonymous and returned it to its rightful place. 😊 You should be able to find it under my works again.

[aegonstradwife]

exposure therapy | aemond targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aemond were recently married. you're afraid of him, but aemond goes to great lengths to show you he's not that scary.

warnings: excessive use of ellipses, #1 wife lover aemond targaryen, brief mention of childhood trauma, smut. (fingering, face riding, oral.)

a. note:link to the original request.

As Aemond's new wife, it's surprising how little time you spend together. The servants whisper about it around every corner; how you skulk through the halls hoping to avoid him, how nearly every meal you take is apart from each other.

But there's a very good reason for this, one that you've never admitted to anyone.

You are terrified of him.

Even at night, you might share the same bed, but it's big enough that you can sleep soundly without ever once touching him. Although even that was difficult at first; those first few nights you dreaded climbing into bed with him and got nearly no sleep at all.

He is so much bigger, and much stronger, than you. He really could do anything he wanted to you and you would have no chance of fighting him off.

Eventually, however, Aemond's still body beside yours throughout the night, you realized he either wouldn't, or didn't want to, touch you. And finally you were able to get some sleep.

But now, though sleep comes much more easily and your nights are no longer fraught with peril at the thought of him forcing himself upon you, it still doesn't mean you have any desire to be around him.

And you thought he felt much the same. Until tonight.

Aemond is already comfortable on the settee by the window, reading, when you retire to your shared bedchamber for the night.

Hells bent as usual on ignoring him, you busy yourself with removing your shoes in front of the wardrobe.

"Come. Sit with me."

In the quiet of the room, Aemond's sudden, uncharacteristic, voice makes you jump, going very still. His tone is soft; now that you think on it, you've heard Aemond's voice very few times, either before or after you were married.

In your mind, the few times you had heard him speak, you remember him sounding like a complete barbarian. Not this lilting, almost melodic, softness....

Straightening, you nervously smooth the skirts of your dress down over your thighs. Aemond's silhouette is stark against the candles guttering on the windowsill.

You gulp, starting to tiptoe toward him, but stopping at the opposite arm of the settee. "Do I have to?" You ask quietly, and even that takes every ounce of courage in your weary body.

This is probably as close as you've ever been to him when not in bed together at night.

"I won’t bite." Aemond's lips are quirked in a half smirk. He closes the book in his hands and sets it aside, patting the space beside him. "I assure you, I won’t hurt you. Come. Sit."

Though he had indicated the middle cushion, you sweep your skirts under you and take a seat on the one beside it, furthest from Aemond.

Normally you would have loved sitting and reading by candlelight, the cool breeze from the open windows ruffling your hair.

But now you bite your lip, heart hammering hard against your ribcage like a frightened bird.

Aemond can feel the tension radiating off of you. Your shoulders tight as a bow string, the muscles in your jaw taut, hands folded in your lap fidgeting with a loose thread on your gown.

He simple looks at you for a very long moment. Your features are delicate, almost fragile, your frame small and dainty when compared to his. To Aemond, you look very much like a porcelain doll. He has no idea how someone could be so beautiful and yet so…. breakable.

You glance nervously at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

"What?" You ask, though you keep your voice low, not wanting to anger him.

"You're afraid of me," Aemond states bluntly. He leans against the back of the settee, studying you with one intense purple eye. "Why?"

You laugh aloud, unable to stop yourself. Now seems as good a time as any to tell him exactly what you've been thinking since your wedding day.

"Look at you. And look at me. You could do whatever you want to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. Not to mention...." You shrug. "The stories about you aren't kind...."

Aemond raises an eyebrow at your laughter, that same small, wry smile never leaving his lips. He can't help but wonder if you're mocking him as he leans forward, gaze still locked with yours.

"And what do the stories say about me, little wife?" His voice is low, a dangerous, frightening edge to it.

For seemingly the first time, you look your husband in the eye. One piercing violet eye stares back, the other covered by his customary eyepatch. "They say you're a fearsome warrior, one of the strongest swordsmen alive. And they say.... they say you killed that boy. Rhaenyra's son...."

Aemond’s eye narrows. There is so much uncertainty in that gaze of yours, something about your innocent face makes Aemond feel.... bad. His jaw clenches and he leans back.

"Lucerys Velaryon. Yes, I did kill him. Though I didn't mean to.... I lost control."

"You didn't?" Your eyes narrow as well, suspicious of him. "Then.... what did you mean to do?"

Your husband lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms. "I meant to scare him. I was.... angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to frighten and humiliate him. And I did not have such good control over Vhagar as I do now...."

At the mention of his dragon, you perk up - that's one thing you've always been curious about. The Targaryen dragons are so beautiful and powerful; you would love to ride one one day, if given the chance.

"So your dragon, she disobeyed you?"

Aemond is clearly taken aback by your interest in Vhagar. For a moment, it seemed you forgot you were supposed to be scared of him. He tries to hide the hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, yes and no," Aemond says, diplomatic. "Vhagar is a very old and powerful dragon, and she is used to doing what she wants. Sometimes.... it's difficult for any Targaryen to control a dragon, even the strongest of riders."

You are positively fascinated, hearing about Vhagar, leaning in toward Aemond without realizing. "What is it like, riding her? Does it ever get cold, so high up?"

Aemond can smell your perfume as you lean toward him, a mix of jasmine and honey, faint yet sweet. He clears his throat.

"Riding Vhagar is like nothing else," he tells you. "And yes, it does get cold at times, but the feeling of the wind in your hair and the power of the dragon beneath you is.... indescribable."

"Do you think she'd let me ride her?" At this point, you're nearly nose to nose with Aemond, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Or do they only let Targaryens?"

Aemond freezes, gaze still locked with yours, your heads so close together that he can feel your breath ghost across his lips. He is surprised by your question and even more surprised by how badly he wants to fulfill the request.

"They only let Targaryens ride them, yes," he says, voice sounding much huskier than he intends. "But.... I'm sure Vhagar wouldn't mind letting someone else ride her.... if I were to accompany them."

"Would you?" You reach out, hand finding his thigh and giving a thankful squeeze. Realizing what you've done, how close you've become to him, you quickly snatch that hand back as though Aemond is on fire. "I'm so sorry...."

Aemond’s eye widens; for a heartbeat, your touch sent a shock through his entire body.

"It's alright." His voice is rough. “Don’t apologize....” He catches your wrist gently, before you can pull your hand away completely. "It was.... nice."

You tense, wrist caught in his strong embrace. "What are you doing?"

For a long moment, Aemond doesn't respond, simply staring at your slender wrist in his hand. Your skin is so smooth, so soft. He can feel your pulse beating against his palm, fast and fluttering like the wings of a small bird.

"Doing?" He finally asks, looking up at you with a sly smile. "Just.... holding your hand, that’s all."

"Holding my.... oh." All things considered, Aemond is handsome, you suppose. With his long silver hair, that chiseled jaw, the little moue of his lips. "You.... you really aren't all that scary, are you?"

Chuckling softly, Aemond's fingers gently stroke the skin of your wrist. Your words, spoken almost as a question, take him by surprise.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he says, his voice low and slightly amused. "And I don’t want to be scary, to you. Can I be honest with you, little wife?"

You nod, letting him continue to stroke that sensitive bit of skin around your wrist. He is very gentle, which has taken you by surprise.

"The truth is," he mutters, "I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like the way you look at me, as if you think I'm going to pounce on you and tear you apart at any moment. That's not what I want."

Slowly, still wary of him, you curl your fingers around his thumb and Aemond's breath hitches. Your hand is small compared to his; Aemond's fingers look massive beside yours.

"Everyone else seems so frightened of you. I thought.... I should be as well. I didn't know, that you hadn't meant to kill that boy. Have you told anyone else that?"

“No,” he says after a moment. “No one else knows. I haven't told anyone.”

He pauses, looking down at your hand in his. His other hand comes to trap your fingers inside of his palms, his thumbs tracing back and forth over your skin. “You’re the first I've shared this with.”

"You should tell others, that way no one will be scared of you."

Aemond lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze still fixed on your fingers intertwined with his own.

“I quite like others being afraid of me,” he admits. The smile on his face fades, just a bit, in the flickering candlelight. “But not you.”

"Not me?" You query, a sweet blush rising high on your cheeks. "Why not me?"

Aemond’s eye is drawn to that color blooming across your cheeks, the innocent flush sending a strange feeling coursing through him. He continues to stroke your wrist in a gentle, almost reverent, way.

"A wife should not be afraid of her husband," he says finally, his voice soft. "She should be worshipped by him....”

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings your wrist to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.

You lick your lips, nervous as all seven hells with the way things are going. Not only are you still afraid of Aemond - though growing less so by the moment - you have also never been close like this with anyone else before.

"And why.... why is it so important for other people to be afraid of you?"

Aemond’s lips linger over your skin, the faintest ghost of a smile there. He can feel the way your hand trembles slightly in his, the nervous flutter of your pulse against his fingertips. But he also notices how you don’t draw back, how you sit still and allow him to hold you.

“It's.... payback, almost,” he confesses. “For the torment I suffered as a child. It is better to be feared than loved - no one will ever again treat me the way they did when I was young.”

You are not aware of any torment in Aemond's childhood, though that isn't saying much. Of course the Targaryens keep much of what goes on between them a secret. Even now that you're married, you're hardly privy to all - or even most - of their secrets.

"Is that.... how this happened?" Shaking ever so slightly, you raise a hand to Aemond's face, fingers stroking the strap of his eyepatch.

As your slender fingers brushed against the edge of it, Aemond tenses, every muscle in his body going taut. No one has ever touched him there before, and it's an unfamiliar intimacy.

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to control his reaction, before speaking. “Yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotions he finds difficult to name. “That's how this happened.”

You feel for Aemond; having to grow up that way must have been torture.

Pulling your hand gently from his grasp, you bring both up to hook beneath the rough leather strap. "May I?"

His breathing hitches as your hands tug gently at the straps of his eyepatch. He knows your touch is innocent.... but no one has ever dared to remove it for him before. He nods once, his voice low.

“You may.”

With fierce concentration and a desire not to ruin his perfect hair, you slide the eyepatch up and off, gasping at the gorgeous sapphire glimmering where his eye should be.

"Gods, it's beautiful, Aemond." Letting the patch rest in your lap, you run your fingers lightly over the scar tissue below Aemond's eye. "Who did this to you?"

Aemond's breath hitches again, rougher this time, as he feels the tips of your slender fingers graze the scarred tissue around his eye, the touch stirring something deep within him. The feeling of your touch against the sensitive skin there is almost overwhelming.

He swallows hard, that old pain and anger bubbling up inside of him.

"My.... nephew," he finally says, his voice surprisingly even. "Lucerys Velaryon."

You inhale sharply; all you can think of is that if Aemond had really meant to kill the boy, he would have been well within his right to, after having been mutilated like this.

Grabbing for his hands, you hurry to say something. "Aemond, I-"

But your husband cuts you off. "There is one other reason it's important for others to be afraid of me."

"A-And what is that?" You ask, holding his hands close to your bosom.

"So that I can protect my wife, and my family." That sapphire is positively glowing in the light of the flickering candles. "The more afraid people are of me, the less likely they are to try and harm me, or you, or our family.... once we make one...."

His declaration takes all the air from your lungs, and you find it hard to breathe. "If I had known all of this, I.... I would never have been so frightened of you. I'm sorry, Aemond."

You cast around desperately for something else to say, some other way to apologize.

"Do not apologize."

His voice is gentle, yet firm. Your hands are still holding his against your breast, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through the layers of your gown, the rapid beat of your heart.

"You didn't know, it is not your fault for being afraid," he soothes you. "But.... now that you know.... may I ask you something else?"

You nod, eager now to answer Aemond's questions and to ask more of your own - you want to learn so much more about him.

Aemond's fingers tighten around yours, the feel of your soft skin against his own sending a strange heat through his veins. He draws you in a little closer, his face now so close to yours that he can feel the warmth of your breath, that same scent of sweet honey and jasmine in your hair.

"You.... have not shied away from my scar, or my missing eye," he says, his voice a low whisper. "You have touched them, caressed them even.... why?"

Why...? You find it odd he even has to ask.

"Because I think they make you beautiful. Is that wrong?"

Your thumbs find his wrists now, pressing in against his pulse points, which are fluttering erratically.

Aemond's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of your dainty thumbs resting against his wrists, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse, setting his skin on fire. Your words, declaring him beautiful, ring in his ears, stirring something deep within his chest.

"Be-Beautiful?" He repeats, his voice a terrible croak. No one.... no one has ever called him beautiful. The word sounds strange in his ears, as if they're not meant for someone like him.

You nod, and after only a momentary hesitation, you bring one hand up again to his scar. This time, brushing the side closest to his hairline, a few strands of long silver hair getting in the way.

"Beautiful, Aemond. You're beautiful. I mean.... I did always think that. Just.... was too afraid of you to tell you. Do you forgive me?"

Aemond's breath hitches once more as your fingers stroke his hair, your soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. No one, no one, has ever touched his scar with such tenderness, such care.

"I.... I forgive you," he whispers, voice raw. "And for what it's worth.... I'm sorry, that I.... that I made you afraid of me. I never wanted that, I swear."

"I know. It wasn't even your fault, really." You roll your eyes, relaxing against the back of the settee. "I was just.... assuming that what everyone else said was true. Which is a terrible thing, really. My parents raised me much better than that."

A particularly chilly gust of wind blows in through the window and you wrap your arms around yourself. "I have to admit, I thought if my shenanigans went on much longer, you'd be forced to.... well, force yourself on me...."

Aemond is silent, as if that thought, the notion of forcing himself on you, is something he refuses to even consider. He turns to look at you, the pale glow of his sapphire eye giving him an otherworldly appearance.

"I.... I would never force you to do anything, little wife, not ever," he says, his voice low and serious. "I believe the first time a man and wife.... are together.... it should be.... enjoyable.... for both of them."

Suddenly, all words are caught in your throat. The thought of your first time with Aemond still makes you nervous, even knowing that he would never want to do anything against your will.

"I thought.... a woman's first time was always painful?" That's what you've always been told. You have never done anything of the sort, but perhaps Aemond knows better.

At your words, Aemond's jaw tightens. His fingers clench into a fist, the thought of you in pain during your first time together sending a wave of anger through him.

"No. No, never. It shouldn't be painful, not unless you don't want it, too," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Your first time should be.... enjoyable. Pleasant. I would never take you simply for my own pleasure. I would make sure you...." he falters.

Flinching slightly away from him at the sight of his hand in a fist, you gasp softly. Have you said something wrong?

Still, you dare to ask, "You would make sure I what?"

In the candlelight, Aemond's eye flashes dangerously and that sapphire blazes.

He takes a very deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to open his hand again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I.... I don't like the idea of hurting you, it.... makes me angry."

He looks down at you again.

"I would make sure that you.... felt pleasure as well. It wouldn't be about me. It's about both of us."

If you had known how protective Aemond was of you, you would have asked him about these things sooner. He is, after all, the only person you can think to ask. If you can't discuss bedroom matters with your husband, who can you discuss them with?

"How does it feel?" You ask him softly, scooting closer to him on the settee. "When you have sex, how does it feel?"

Aemond is taken somewhat off guard by the sudden question, his cheeks going pink at your unexpected candor, but he doesn't back down. He doesn't want to shy away from your questions, not when you're so close to him, peering at him through those wide, innocent eyes.

He takes another deep breath, shifting on the settee so he can face you fully.

"it.... it feels.... good," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "It feels.... full. Warm. Tight. But.... good. More than good, especially when you do it with someone you care about. It feels safe, like nothing can hurt you ever again."

The look on Aemond's face as he speaks is one you've never seen before - something vulnerable and almost childlike staring back at you. You wonder how you could ever have been afraid of him.

"And you? Who was your first time with?"

As your question hangs in the air between the two of you, Aemond goes stock-still. No one has ever asked him that before.

He hesitates for a moment, peering warily at you. "Why.... why do you want to know?" He asks finally, voice cautious.

Now you know you've definitely said something wrong. "I was just curious," you hurry to tell him. "It's wrong of me to pry, I'm sorry...."

Aemond sighs softly, shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he says, his voice a light simper now. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his.

"It's okay, I just.... wasn't expecting you to ask that." He pauses, and you can see a flicker of something run across his face. "You.... you really want to know?"

"I do," you admit bashfully. "If you feel comfortable telling me?"

Aemond's hand grips yours a little tighter, your words sending a strange, tight feeling through hm. He hasn't thought about that night in a long time, and the memory is still painful enough to make him wince.

"All right," he says, letting out a slow breath. "I.... I'll tell you. Just.... just don't.... don't judge me, all right?"

"I won't judge," you assure him with a shake of your head.

Aemond looks down at your intertwined hands, his fingers tracing a light pattern against your palm. He closes his eye, gathering his thoughts, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a barely-there kiss to your knuckles.

"My.... my first time," he begins, and his voice is rough, "was with a whore, in a pleasure house, at the behest of my brother who frequented - and still frequents - them much more than I did."

"I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of," you admit, mulling the idea over. "Most men visit those types of places at some point in their lives.... don't they?"

Aemond pauses for a moment, his eye locking with yours. He looks almost surprised by your response, as if he hadn't thought you would be so blasé about the situation.

"Yes...." he says slowly, "they do. But.... it's not.... it's not the sort of thing a wife would expect to hear, about their husband's past exploits."

You chew your lip thoughtfully, running your fingers around and through the spaces between Aemond's. "I don't mind, as long as...."

You hesitate, wondering if you really want to say this now or leave it for another night. "What I mean to say, Aemond, is that.... now that we understand each other better.... perhaps you can show me what it's like? Sex? And, if you do, I expect there to be no more pleasure houses in your future, is that clear?"

Aemond's gaze darkens as your words register, his heart stuttering in his chest. His fingers twitch against yours, breath catching in his throat.

"You.... you want me to show you...?" He repeats weakly, his eye wide and disbelieving.

You close your fingers tightly around Aemond's now, leaning in toward your husband. "Mm. But as I said, you must promise - no more pleasure houses. After all, you did say you want to worship me, did you not?"

Aemond's head swims with your words, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it's difficult to catch his breath. The way you're looking at him, the sweetness in your voice, the scent of honey and jasmine in your hair.... all of it is almost too much to bear.

He swallows hard, and nods. "No more pleasure houses. I promise," he whispers, his voice hoarse and rough.

His oath sets you at ease, but there's one more thing you must tell him.

"I must admit, Aemond, I'm still scared...."

He looks about to interrupt, but you cut him off. "Oh, not of you. I'm.... terrified of the pain. I've never done well with pain, and I'm so scared it's going to hurt like hell."

Aemond's heart twists at the worry and fear in your voice, his fingers tightening over yours. He hates the thought of you being scared, hates his own inability to take that fear away from you.

"Why do you still think it's going to be painful?" He asks quietly.

Instead of making you feel trapped, his fingers around yours make you feel safe. Aemond is lethal; you can see it in his face, in the hard line of his body. But he wants to use all of that to protect you....

Though what could he possibly do to prevent his own body from hurting you, even though he might not mean to?

"That's all I've ever been told." You gulp. "A woman's first time is always painful. And.... There's always blood."

Aemond's jaw clenches in anger. He doesn't know who planted these false, hurtful notions in your head, but he wants to tear them limb from limb.

He reaches out to you, tilting your head gently up to meet his gaze. "No. No, no, no," he says, his voice low and intense. "It's not supposed to be painful, especially the first time. You've just.... you've been told wrong."

He pauses. "Sometimes there is blood, I won't lie to you about that. But there are ways to minimize the chance of that."

Aemond's fingers start to skirt back and forth under your chin. "How .... How can we stop there being so much blood? I want you to show me."

Heart now beating much faster, Aemond's stomach twists with a mixture of desire and trepidation. He swallows, hard, his eye dark and heavy-lidded as he gazes down at you.

He runs his fingers through your hair, the soft feel of it against his skin maddening. "I can show you," he murmurs, "but.... you have to trust me."

"Of course. I do now." You turn your face toward his hand, palm skimming your cheek as he touches your hair. "I know you'll take care of me."

He takes another deep breath to steady himself, his hand coming to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he whispers, "because I will, always. But there's something.... something I need to know first."

You shiver, Aemond's fingers reverent along your cheek and jaw. "What is it?"

Fingers now trailing down your neck, he pauses, hand coming to rest on your collarbone, your pulse beating fast and hard against his palm.

Aemond leans in close, his voice a rumble in your ear. "You.... you have never even been touched, have you?"

You are very aware of how hard your heart is beating, thumping underneath his fingers. "I haven't.... is that bad?"

Aemond breathes heavily, pulling back to look at you.

"No," he says emphatically, "it's not bad. It's.... it's just...." He trails off for a moment, struggling to find the words. "I need to know.... if you're still.... if you're still intact."

The question makes you blush furiously, looking down at your laps, side by side, so you don't have to look Aemond in the eye. "I.... yes.... isn't that where the blood comes from?"

You don't know much, but you do know that.

He places two fingers gently under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him again.

"Yes," he says, "that's where the blood comes from. But it can break in other ways. For instance, from fingers or.... other objects." His fingers trace along your cheek, obviously trying to soothe your growing discomfort at this conversation.

"But it.... it doesn't have to," he adds after a moment.

You chuckle, reluctantly meeting Aemond's gaze. "Can we try?"

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand now trailing back down your neck, slowly caressing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

You nod fervently, gripping onto his wrist. "Positively. Now that I understand you better, I can think of no one else I'd like to teach me such things...."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, breath hot against your skin. "Then I will," he murmurs, his voice an uneven, ragged whisper, "I will show you. And I will take my time."

Long have you waited for someone to come along and share this experience with you. When you were initially betrothed to Aemond, you thought all hope was lost - he was so frightening and the thought of sharing a bed with him sent a shiver of panic through you.

But now.... Women have desires just as much as men do, surely... At least you know you do. And Aemond is offering to take care of them for you....

You steady yourself with a hand on Aemond's chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his tunic. "Please.... I want it."

Aemond's stomach clenches, your soft, pleading voice sending a bolt of white hot desire through him.

"Patience," he murmurs, his sizeable palm laid against the back of your hand on his chest, "I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to relax for me, all right?"

"Mm, I'll try...." With another nod, you take a deep breath, shuddering at the feeling of Aemond's big hand covering yours entirely. "Maybe a drink would serve to relax me better...?"

This gives Aemond pause, and he pulls back slightly, his eye raking over your face, taking in the soft blush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted as you catch your breath.

He gives a single, slow nod. "Yes," he admits, "I think a drink might help."

Without another word, he moves to a small table on the other side of the room, pouring you each a generous glass of sweet wine.

As he does so, you finger the pendant at your throat, a gift from your late mother. The way Aemond looks at you; any woman would be lucky to have a husband who looks at her that way. Like you're precious, like he would do anything to protect you.

Once offered your glass, you take it and swallow a large mouthful, hoping to get drunk as quickly as possible, to make this whole ordeal more bearable.

Aemond watches you closely, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sees you gulp the wine so quickly. He knows you're trying to get drunk, trying to use the alcohol as a crutch to make this easier.

"There's no need to rush," he says quietly, taking a seat beside you again, his knee bumping yours. He lifts his own glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured drink.

Swallowing another substantial mouthful of wine, you furtively watch the way Aemond's lips purse around the rim of his glass.

You smooth the skirts of your dress down, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be as relaxed as possible for you, Aemond."

He continues to watch you, that striking violet eye taking in every tiny detail - the way your fingers grasp the fabric of your dress, the soft movement of your body underneath the silk.

He takes a deep breath, his eye watching you as he drains the last of the wine from the glass. "I know," he murmurs, his voice a husky rumble, "but there's no need to get completely drunk, my love."

"It can't hurt." You upend the first glass of wine, draining the last dregs, and hold your glass out toward him. "Another?"

Apparently highly amused, Aemond raises a brow, but refuses to pour you another.

"I think that's quite enough. There's no need to be quite so drunk tonight, I promise."

You pout, setting your glass aside, but starting to feel a pleasant warmth wash over you from the first glass all the same.

"How do we start?" You question, leaning in close to him. Aemond smells of chamomile and sweat and.... maybe just a hint of blood? It's the best thing you've ever smelled.

Aemond reaches for you suddenly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you gently onto his lap so you can straddle him.

The next breath he takes rattles through him as you settle on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, heart beating fast. "We.... we start here," he whispers, his voice a rough murmur.

"Goodness," you breathe, hands curling over his shoulders to steady yourself. "And.... what do we do here?"

You're trying your best to be brave, and the wine is making it easier, but there is still that niggling worry at the back of your mind, chanting blood blood blood.

Aemond feels that slight tremble in your hands as you grab his shoulders, the way you hesitate and swallow nervously as you ask your question. He can practically hear your thoughts racing, paying attention to the fear and trepidation in your words.

He leans in close, hands slipping from your waist to bracket your ribs, pulling you flush against him, your body cradled easily in his lap. "We start like this," he murmurs, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to look at him. "Just like this."

Slowly, fingers gentle but firm on your chin, he's bringing you in for a kiss.

The sound that leaves your mouth at the first dry press of your lips together is embarrassing. You curse. "I'm sorry." You bite your lip hard, searching Aemond's one violet eye for forgiveness. "Can we try again?"

Aemond chuckles good-naturedly, hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs tracing slow, gentle patterns over your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispers, leaning ever closer to you, his breath hot against your lips. "We can try as many times as you like, darling."

With a hand again around his wrist to steady yourself, you don't have far to go, what with Aemond's face so close to yours. You press your lips to his - soft yet firm. Your other hand slides up the outside of his thigh as you open your mouth under his, grateful for his willingness to teach you.

You hear Aemond's breath hitch again as he feels your hand moving up his leg, the touch of your slim, soft fingers against his body sending a shiver down his spine. He groans as you open your mouth, his tongue immediately seeking yours, tangling, tasting, claiming.

He grips your hair in one hand, angling your head back so he can deepen the kiss, his other hand back to gripping your hip, pulling you tighter against him.

You do the same, hands migrating down, loving the feeling of Aemond's slim, strong muscle under your fingers. As you kiss, you surreptitiously move the thin cloth of Aemond's tunic aside so you can touch him skin to skin over his sharp hipbones.

This earns you a keen inhale from your husband, who jerks away from you.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Is this okay?"

His mouth has opened in a gasp against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

When they open again, he merely looks at you, taking in the soft, pink flush of your cheeks, the way your pupils are thoroughly dilated, your chest heaving. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yes," he says ruggedly, his voice a scratchy gasp, "I'm sorry, it is. It's okay."

A flood of warmth washes over you, and you grin. You don't know why, but you want to kiss his neck.

Fingers digging hard into his hip, you lean in, nosing his long hair out of the way as your lips meet his neck, sucking and biting. Aemond tastes clean and faintly of rose water.

Aemond's head tips back immediately, giving your lips and teeth free reign over his neck, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the unfamiliar sensation. A soft, low moan escapes him as your mouth traces a path along the sensitive skin of his neck.

His body arches against yours. "My love," he gasps, his voice a ragged, breathless plea, "this is maddening."

"Need you to teach me," is your reply, pushing harder against him. "Don't go mad just yet."

He runs his hands down your sides, skimming over the soft, silky material of your dress, his body reacting powerfully to your closeness. "Gods, woman," he gasps, thumbs playing idly along the edge of your ribs, "are you sure you haven't done this before?"

You rest your cheek on Aemond's shoulder, nose brushing along the chiseled line of his jaw. "Positive," you sigh, arms now slung around him. "But I like the way you touch me. It's making me feel all hot and wet.... down there."

At this declaration, Aemond makes a noise you've never heard anyone make before. He nuzzles against your collarbone, pressing slow, hot kisses along the line of your chest just visible over the collar of your dress.

His mouth is starting to curve into a wicked smile. "Do you want me to touch you there, too?"

With a nod, you begin to pull the folds of your dress up over your thighs. "Please. The feeling down there, it's.... very insistent." And Aemond's fingers look perfectly long and warm and rough with calluses.

Aemond swallows hard as he watches the fabric of your dress retreat up over your thighs, the soft, bare skin of your legs suddenly exposed to him. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail - the soft, pale flesh, the way the candlelight casts shadows over the curves of your body.

As though trying not to startle you, Aemond runs his knuckles painstakingly slowly up the inside of your thigh. "When we were first betrothed, I knew I had gotten lucky."

That drunken haze still hovering around you, you let your legs slip further apart around him. "Lucky? How so?"

His hand moves further up, touch feather-light against her skin. "Lucky," he murmurs, "because I knew I'd be marrying the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms."

He lets his hand move higher still, fingers stopping just before they reach the edge of your smallclothes. He pauses, looking intently at you, the question plain on his face.

"I never knew you thought I was beautiful...." You lean more against him, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. "Please. You can."

Hips canting forward, you try to push his hand in toward you.

"The most beautiful," he replies. He can feel your hips moving subtly against his, feel his own desire rising with every move you make.

Those long fingers hook into the edge of your smallclothes, running the backs of his knuckles along the sensitive bit of skin he finds there.

Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his gentle fingers finally scooping up under your dress making your stomach flip nervously. "Please." The word is uttered against Aemond's chin, where you've pressed your lips as you wait to feel his hand where you need it most.

As slowly as he an manage, he insinuates those fingers fully inside your smallclothes. He can feel the heat of your skin, the way you squirm in his lap as he moves closer to his destination, his own body reacting strongly to the anticipation.

He leans in, mouth finding yours in a heated, hungry kiss, his fingers finally, finally touching that wet, sensitive flesh between your thighs.

A sharp inhale accompanies the meeting of Aemond's hand to your sex. Everything down there feels so wet already, you suppose you should be embarrassed, but the wine is making it hard to feel so, which you're grateful for.

"Aemond...." Seeking his lips for another kiss, you mutter, "please don't stop."

One long finger sinks into your wet, hot flesh, his entire body shivering at the feeling of you beneath his hands. He lets out a ragged gasp as you kiss him, mouth moving fervently against yours, tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours.

With a low, gruff noise, he starts to move his finger inside of you, slow, gentle circles that make your muscles tighten and twitch against his hand. "I won't," he murmurs against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut, "I promise, I won't."

Aemond's finger has slid easily into you, all the way down to the knuckle. "Is it -?" You gasp, glancing down, tugging your skirts out of the way to see better. "It's inside? I thought it would be much more painful...."

You know it might not be the same with his manhood, which is surely a fair bit bigger than one of his fingers, but you're glad things have gone smoothly so far all the same.

Aemond's other hand presses itself solidly against that little bundle of nerves, the one you're familiar with, the one that makes you see stars, and you bite his lower lip a little too hard in response.

"Shit, sorry."

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, his lips curving into a smile against your mouth. "No need to apologize, sweet girl," he mutters. "There's a possibility it might hurt more than this when we go further, but I promise I'll be gentle."

He moves his finger in and out of you slowly, his other hand still pressing against you, the pad of his thumb circling that swollen bud, his touch gentle but firm. "How does this feel?"

A pang of fear shoots through you at his declaration that you will likely be in pain later on, but it's soothed by the way Aemond's fingers are gently coaxing themselves inside of you and over your clit.

"It feels perfect, Aemond. I never even knew it could feel this good." Not even when you'd touched yourself in bed at night.

Aemond's eye darkens as he hears your words, the sound of your voice, gutted and breathless, making his stomach clench. "This is just the beginning, sweet girl. There's so much more I can show you."

He slips another finger into you, feeling your body tighten and go taut around him, his own body still reacting powerfully to the sight and feel of you. He leans in to kiss you again, his mouth hungrily claiming yours.

With another finger inside, you start to squirm in his lap, and your hand slips, colliding with something hard inside of Aemond's trousers.

"Aemond," you gasp, "it.... it's hard."

Aemond lets out a strangled noise as your hand brushes against him, his body shuddering, his eye squeezing shut. "Ah, shit, sweetheart," he gasps, his breath ragged, "Don't do that."

He looks at you, his breath coming in quick, rough pants, his eye darkened to a deep, intense violet. "I'm going to be patient with you."

He says this like he's trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp again, hands flying to your mouth. "I didn't mean to touch it...."

Gaze flickering to the windows, to the Targaryen flags flying from every turret, you stifle a smile. "But maybe.... maybe you don't have to be so patient...."

Aemond growls at your words, fingers slowing their ministrations over you. "How impatient would you have me be?"

You reach down to take his free hand - the one currently touching your clit in nice, soft circles - in yours, lacing your fingers as you lean into him. "Still gentle, just.... Maybe lead me? Show me how things like this should be done."

Aemond can practically feel his self-restraint slipping at your words, the feeling of your small, soft hand in his making his head spin. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to maintain control, to keep up the facade of gentility.

He grips your chin with his free hand, lifting your face to meet his eye, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, the question almost pained.

"I am. I'm sure." You wrap your shoulders around him, burying your face against his neck. "Take me to bed and show me, please."

Aemond swallows hard, the feeling of your breath against him sending a shudder through him. Lifting you easily in his arms, he stands silently from the settee.

The loss of Aemond's fingers from inside of you makes you whine, clinging to his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the bed.

He lays you gently down, crawling over you, hand once again trailing up the soft expanse of your thigh.

"Aemond...."

A sweet noise rumbles through him as he positions himself on top of you, body pressing you down against the covers, hips slotting between your legs. His gaze as he looks down on you is fiery, eye raking over your body, hands gripping and kneading the supple flesh of your thighs.

"You drive me mad, do you know that?" He murmurs. He leans down to kiss your neck, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

With Aemond on top of you, you reach around to tug the back of his tunic up, skimming your fingers along the warm skin of his lower back.

"Why did you never.... tell me before?" You mutter quietly, nibbling at Aemond's earlobe.

Aemond allows himself a deep moan as you touch him, your fingers roaming over his skin, your mouth on his ear. He rolls his hips against you, the aching hardness of his body weighing you down.

"Gods, I don't know," he gasps, his hands roaming over the soft curves of your body. "Maybe I could tell you were afraid of me. Maybe I was a fool."

"I suppose we both were fools." You curl your tongue around Aemond's ear, teasing.

His hardness is pressing insistently against you through your clothes. Aemond leans his forehead to yours. "I'm going to take your dress off now. Is that alright?"

You've never been naked in front of anyone before, but Aemond is making you feel so safe that you nod hurriedly, sitting up. "Yes, please."

Aemond's eye darkens at your nod, his hands immediately going to the laces of your dress, working them loose until the fabric falls away from your body. He lets his gaze roam over your exposed skin, his fingers tracing the soft planes of your body, reverent and gentle.

"Seven Hells," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper, "I've never seen anything so perfect."

The wine allows you to feel comfortable enough to stretch out over top of your discarded dress, staring up at him over the swell of your breasts. "Don't you want to touch your perfect wife, Aemond?"

"Of course I do," he mutters. He moves aside only slightly, letting his fingers scrape over one of your hardened nipples. "I want to touch every part of you."

You arch into his touch, his fingertips hard and callused against your sensitive nipple. "Aemond.... Would I be a complete whore if I asked for your fingers back inside of me?"

"No," he mutters easily, a hand running its way down your body, the other holding himself above you. "No, you wouldn't. But I want you to ask for it, my love. I want you to tell me exactly what you want."

Your breathing quickening, the air in the room thick and heavy, you spread your legs around him, unabashed. "i want you to touch me. To touch my stomach, my hips and thighs .... my cunt. Please."

Aemond makes a ragged noise at your request, his body shuddering as you open yourself to him. He trails his hand lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach, trailing over your hips and thighs, before coming to rest between your legs.

He lets that hand rest on your for a moment, feeling your wetness, his violet eye dark and full of lust. "Is this what you wanted, darling?"

"Yes," comes your voice, wrecked, entire body feeling overheated and overwhelmed already. "Gods, Aemond, I.... I'm sorry I didn't ask for this earlier."

You run your hands up Aemond's toned arms, tugging on the short sleeves of his tunic. "M-May I take this off?"

Feeling you tug at his tunic, Aemond nods, loving that ragged and pleading tone in your voice. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can see the raw, pleading look in your eyes, and he's never been more turned on in his life.

By way of a real answer, he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt to rip it off over his head. He shakes his hair out majestically, making you giggle.

But after that giggle.... You can do nothing but lay beneath him and stare. His body is perfect, abs cut into his skin above the smooth, narrow line of his hips.

"Goodness ...." You whisper, fingertips prodding at his hardened stomach. "You're.... actually perfect."

"Perfect, really?" He replies, clearly perplexed. "I'd say I'm looking at perfection right now."

You whimper, Aemond's moist lips once more at your neck, his body pressed to yours. "How do you.... get your body to look that way? Maybe you can teach me that too, as well as how to ride a dragon."

Aemond laughs softly, his teeth scraping against you as he kisses down your neck. "It's actually quite simple," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body, arms caging you in against the bed. "Just a lot of sword practice and fighting."

He pauses, his lips trailing teasingly over the line of your jaw. "I'm going to teach you to ride more than just a dragon, my love."

"I could sword fight." Your voice doesn't sound like it ever has before. "Easy. Train me."

You gasp at his words, nails now digging into his back. "And what else are you going to teach me to ride, husband?"

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your response, his muscles coiling where your nails dig into his skin. He rolls his hips against you and makes you gasp.

"I can teach you how to ride me," he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Or maybe you'd like a ride on my face."

Your eyes go wide, and you press him away by the shoulder just so you can look him in the eye. "I.... I'm allowed to do that?"

You've never heard of this - using your mouth? Why have you never thought of it before?

"Of course you are," he murmurs, looking bemusedly down on you. "And I would be more than happy to let you."

His hot breath whispers over your skin as he leans to speak into your ear. "You've never heard of it before, have you?"

"I haven't." You tilt your head, fingers tender along Aemond's jaw. "How should I.... How do I do it?"

Aemond's eye closes at the feeling of your fingers, tender on his jaw, your touch ever gentle and caressing. He makes a very small noise and shudders over top of you. "It's easy, darling."

"I just lean back here...." With one swift movement, Aemond rolls and settles himself against the pillows. "You come up here...."

Gentle but insistent hands guide you, pulling you all the way up. "And swing a leg over me."

Still helped along by his strong hands, you throw one knee on the opposite side of Aemond's head, bracketing his ears with your thighs. "Like.... this?"

This position makes you feel as nervous as you have all night, even with the aid of the wine - Aemond can see all of you. Truly all of you, and you can't quite meet his eye because of it.

Aemond's hands tighten on your thighs, his breathing growing ragged. He can sense your nervousness, the way your muscles are tensing up, the way you're avoiding his eye.

He rubs his hands soothingly across your thighs, trying to relax you. "That's it, darling." His voice is soft, comforting. "You look gorgeous."

You bite your lip, carding one hand through Aemond's alluring silver hair. The other you place over his good eye, the hint of a smile on your face as you mutter, "Don't look...."

Aemond smirks, and yanks you suddenly, roughly forward by the backs of your thighs, so that your womanhood is directly above his smirking lips. "As you wish."

He places a single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit and the suction, the wetness, of it all is enough to make you squeal.

There's one poignant moment where Aemond's intensely hot, wet mouth rests over your womanhood. Then, with a jagged moan, he begins to lave over you, lips, tongue, and teeth working in tandem.

His callused palms cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue works you over. And when that same tongue points itself deep inside of your core, you can no longer keep your hand over his eye, lest you want to smash your husband's head painfully into the sheets.

Instead, that hand flies to the headboard, holding on for dear life. "Gods, Aemond! I.... I've never felt anything like this, what.... what in the seven hells...."

Aemond redoubles his grip on your thighs, keeping you in place as he works you with his tongue, his mouth and teeth and lips bringing you to new heights of pleasure. He moans roughly, and the sound reverberates through you, making your mouth fall open.

"Just... relax, my love," he mutters against your folds, "I did say I would worship you, did I not?"

You nod, still petting a hand gently through Aemond's hair, coiling your fingers around the strands, feeling how soft it is. Your eyes, however, are trained on the gilded ceiling when you answer.

"Y-You did, but.... this.... I didn't even know this was a thing people did. Is this.... common?"

"No, sweet one," he mutters, his voice thick with desire and - somewhere - a hint of disdain, "it isn't common. Most men see their wives as something to be claimed, conquered. And I...."

"You see them as something to be worshipped," you answer, remembering his words from earlier.

Aemond lets out a low chuckle against you as you knot your fingers in his hair, his tongue continuing to lathe across you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips and chin glistening, a smirk on his face. "Look at me."

You do, and are rewarded with his fingers climbing the insides of your thighs, splaying themselves over you. "You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on."

The sight of his face, so slick with you, his eye dark, his sapphire glinting, his fingers roaming over your thighs, it all makes you shiver, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

"And you," he continues, voice muffled against your folds, "you taste divine."

And without another word, he dives back in, his tongue delving into you once more, his hands gripping your thighs, bringing you lower, closer to him.

All of this - Aemond telling you how beautiful you are, his talented mouth on you, the haze of the wine moving through you - has you tumbling toward the edge quicker than you've ever done so by yourself.

"Aemond.... close!" You give a hard tug to Aemond's hair, warning him.

He closes his eyes as he focuses on nothing more than bringing you further to the edge, the heat of your body and the taste of you driving him wild, pushing him to give you more, more, more.

"Just.... let go," he mutters against you. "I want you to let go for me, my sweet."

You're trembling now, hips riding down against his face of their own accord. "Oh, gods...." You've never done this in front of anyone before. What will Aemond think of the way you climax? Will it be embarrassing? "Aemond...."

There's no longer any time to think it over, though, as one last swipe of his tongue sends you spiraling with a loud cry.

Aemond's heart is pounding hard, watching you cum, his eye wide and alight with desire as he watches your body shudder and shake above him, your cry of pleasure filling the room and, undoubtedly, the hallways around it.

He helps you ride out the wave of pleasure, his tongue slowly bringing you back down, peppering your thighs and hip bones with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, Aemond coaxes you through your first climax with him and then maneuvers you down to lay beside him. You feel so boneless, you sure you aren't much help in this endeavor.

"That was...." You don't even have the words to describe what just happened to you.

Aemond watches you closely as you lay beside him, breasts rising and falling heavily, your skin flushed and marked all over with his mouth, one hand trailing lightly over your stomach. The sight of you, well-loved and satisfied, makes his chest burn with desire.

He leans in close to you, curling his body around yours like a protective shield. His mouth trailing over your neck, his voice a quiet whisper. "That was beautiful. And we're only getting started."

You gaze at him out of half-lidded eyes, your body already feeling drained from just one round. "What...." You stifle a yawn behind your hand, trying to hide it. "What's next?"

Aemond laughs at the sight of you yawning, both hands now brushing over your body, his touch gentle. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, hear the tiredness in your voice.

He leans down and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. "I don't think you're quite ready for more yet, my love. You look like you're barely awake."

Through your tiredness, you whine, "But you promised to show me. What it's like...." You're pressing sleepy kisses to Aemond's jaw, lips sweeping down over his neck.

Aemond's lashes flutter at your tiny kisses, his arms curling strong and protective around you. He makes an odd noise, and you realize you may have had an orgasm, but he never did.

"I can take care of it for you." Searching down below, hands clumsy and heavy with sleep, you feel Aemond grab for your wrist.

"And you will," he mutters, admonishing. "But tonight it's getting late, and you're tired. We have our whole lives together, we need not rush this."

Another yawn overtakes you, and you snuggle down into his warmth. "Tomorrow, then?" You mumble, arms slung lazily around him. "And dragon riding tomorrow, too...."

Aemond chuckles again at your insistence, hands gently rubbing themselves over your body, comforting you. He shifts back on the bed, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible.

"Of course, my love," he murmurs, his voice a gentle, soothing rumble in your ear. "Tomorrow. And dragon riding, too. But for now, you need to sleep."

Aemond runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your back, just along your spine.

"I really am sorry, Aemond...." You're already half asleep, struggling to stay awake, to get the words out. "D'you really forgive me?"

Aemond sighs.

"Of course I forgive you," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "It's all in the past now, my love. The only thing that matters is you and me, right here, right now. And dragon riding tomorrow, I promise...."

[gauntletqueen]

isn't banning people based on "vibes" a conservative way of thinking? Idk I feel like forcibly removing people in your community who didn't do anything based on your idea on what's normal & fear that they COULD be dangerous is a justification for alot of right wing politicians & a basis behind xenaphobia.

Its literally a talking point of our oppressors.

First off there's something funny to me about seeing me retweet something on twitter and then going to my tumblr to respond to it anonymously

Second off, you're making big assumptions on what these vibes might be and what reasons streamers and other online creatives might have for removing people.

Here's some examples of people I've banned from my community discord server based on vibes:

Someone who only ever cared about talking to me, and never acknowledging anyone else in the server. They acted far too familiar with me despite me not knowing them, and continuously sent me DMs where they roleplayed things like hugging me. I explained why all of this behavior was not appreciated but they never listened. Classic parasocial behavior but none of it was against the rules. I still removed them based on vibes because they made everyone, especially myself, very uncomfortable and would not listen when told to stop.

A user who made everything about themself. They would derail every conversation to talk about something they did, often unrelated to the current topic, talk over others to praise themself on something, never listen to other people, interrupt others to talk about how they would've done something better, etc. Not against the rules! But it sure is annoying! I removed them because they constantly brought the mood down by making others feel like they had no place to speak.

Multiple users who only spread negativity. Almost always taking worst faith stances on things, barging into perfectly fine conversations with some overly negative angle all the time, sometimes I'd tell them to stop and they'd say it's just for fun, but it's not very fun when all you accomplish is ruining the mood, is it?

Any time something like this happens, Me and my mods make sure to take the person aside in DMs and explain the situation first, make it clear to them what they're doing wrong, and how we'd like them to stop, and if we still remove them then, it's their own fault. There have been plenty of times where someone was told to stop a certain behavior, and they understood and corrected accordingly.

I'm not removing these people because I suspect they might be secretly right-wing, or phobic, or whatever you're assuming when you say "dangerous", I remove them because they're annoying and don't listen, and I don't want annoying people like that in a simple little discord community that I made for people who like what I do to hang out with each other and have a good time. I have to manage that community and if there's too many problems that becomes hard, and it'll just be a less nice place to be. It's not that deep.

[a-random-weeb]

Can I request ADA Yandere Dazai with a ADA fem reader?

imagine Yandere!Dazai kidnaps fem!reader cause he had enough of stalking. Acting all friendly in the ADA with her, only for reader to act oblivious to his advanced to court her. Fem!reader waking up after being drug by the Dazai, laying on an unfamiliar bed, being chain. Dazai walks in explaining all his love for her. Suprise suprise, fem reader explain he doesn't have to kidnap her and she was willing on staying for Dazai and proving her love for him

you basically just wrote the whole thing for me LMAO

But heres your summery but ✨longer✨ (Just like my di-)

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, Yandere themes, a littllllee NSFW mentions and I think that's it

Disclaimer: this is not romanticizing Yandere stuff, this is fanfiction and is never ok in real life

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It wasn't enough anymore. No, he needed more. Sure, he loved stalking you, watching you eat, sleep, game, whatever. He needed you to notice him, his affections, his love. Every day he watches you smiling and laughing with Kyouka, playing with Nanami, and having fun with people who aren't him. Every day he desperately tries to impress you, to make a move, but you always squirm around, looking away and leaving. He wish he knew why. He couldn't take it anymore, so he did what he had to do... He had to make sure he was the center of your attention.

Your eyes slowly flutter open, glancing around the monotonous room. Sun beams pour through the window, reflecting off the plain, white walls aswell as the hardwood floor. The flickering ceiling light and the soft, blue bed you lay on seem to be the only decor in the room. You try to sit up only to realize your wrists and ankles are restrained by chains. You try to stay silent as you attempt removing the chains from your limbs, hoping to not alert any unwanted attention to whoever brought you to this place. You find your efforts to be in vain, both removing the chains and being quiet, because you here footsteps approach the room.

"Hey Belladonna~" You watch as a hooded man enters the room. You can't hold your tears in as you violently thrust against the chains, attempting to break free.

"What the hell do you want?!" You scream, your eyebrows furrowing as big, salty tears stream down your face. The panic and fear overwhelm you as the anonymous man chuckles. He removes his black hoodie, revealing his true face.

"Dazai...?" Your eyes widden. Your emotions were all over the place now, anger, betrayal, confusion, anxiety, fear, panic... Too many emotions at once... He smirks at your squirming, "Why the long face dear?" You flinch as he approaches you, kissing your tears away, "I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"Get away from me-" he quickly covers your mouth with his palm.

"Shhhh, I'll explain everything." He smirks, but his face is tinted pink. "you see, I've liked you for quite some time. Everytime I went to flirt or make a move, you would avoid eye contact and leave. I've been stalking you, so I know you haven't noticed me... It's so cute when you touch yourself, or read smutty fanfiction at 3 AM, or laugh at a cat video. I can't get enough of you, so I had to take matters into my own hands... So I drugged you and kidnapped you, it was the only logical thing to do!" You think his actions were the opposite of logical.

"Dazai... do you know why I avoid eye contact and squirm?" He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. You sigh, "It's because I love you idiot!" Dazai's whole face turns red, "Y-you what?"

"I love you!" And like that, your both blushing messes. Dazai would've never suspected that the reason for your avoidance of him was because you liked him! He looks overjoyed as he pecks your lips.

"So if I untie you, you won't try to run?" You shake your head, "You didn't have to kidnap me or tie me up! All you had to do was confess!" Dazai eagerly unties you, pulling you to his chest.

"I love you..." he whispers.

"I love you too..." You smash your lips against his, excited to live your new life with him.

[the-fiction-witch]

Tickle Fight!

Media The Maze Runner

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Adorable + Flirty AF

Requested Anonymous asked: Could you do an imagine where Newt and Y/n are having a tickle fight and then Y/n accidentally feels his hard-on, and then it’s all cute cause he gets rlly embarrassed? 

I sat against the little log, my chicken skewer in hand, watching the shadows of the fire on the green glade grass and the tall grey walls of the maze, The boys parting away as they often did bonfire nights. Beside me sat Newt, in his usual hoodie with his jar of moonshine in his hands. Every so often he would bring his jar to his lips sipping the mysterious stuff. 

"You're gross."

He jumped a little and glared at me, "I didn't even say anything." 

"No, I don't know how you drink that stuff." I told him, "You even know what's in it?"

"I don't know, Gally's secret recipe" he smirked, 

"Ehh I don't know how you drink it." 

"Well when you've been here as long as I have, I'm sure you'll find your way to relax."

"I have my way to relax."

"Oh?"

"Umm, I have a nice hot shower, then to my room with some fresh yummy strawberries."

"That does sound nice." he nodded, "But you sure you don't want some?"

"I'm sure Newt." I nodded, leaning on his shoulder a little, 

"Ohh, Hi love,"

"Hi." I smiled, "You have a cosy shoulder,"

"Oh, I do? good I'm happy you like my shoulder." 

I smiled and laid my head on his shoulder for a good while before I hugged his arm, 

"Awww," he smiled,

"tickle, tickle, tickle," I giggled playfully as I tickled up his inner arm,

"Ahhh! Noo-" He warned as he stopped my hand, "No tickling."

"Why?"

"Becuase I'm ticklish."

"Ohh are you Newtie," I smirked evilly,

"No. no. I know that look love, don't even think about it." 

"Tickle Time!" I smiled as I jumped on him and began to tickle him,

"Noooo! Nooooo! Noooo!" He whined between his laughs as he tried desperately to remove my hands. "Noo! you stop or I'm gonna have to tickle you back."

"tickle, tickle, tickle," I giggled, 

"Fine! I warned you." He smirked, as he threw me onto the grass and began to tickle me, 

"ahhhh noooo newt!" I yelped,

So it became a fight the two of us scampered around the glade, whenever we reached one another our fight of tickles would continue, and I managed to get him pinned to the grass in the gardens with my knees on his thighs as I tickled him causing his endless laughed,

"nooo noooo! Nooo more tickles no more tickles I give in!" He whined, "You win! you win no more!" 

"I win?"

"Yes you win!"

"good,"

"When I let you win you're meant to stop tickling me!"

"Nope! you must be punished for your crimes!"

"But I surrendered"

"I don't care."

"Noooo noooooo War crimes! war crimes! Geneva Convention!"

"No! no one can save you from my wrath!" I giggled tickling him even more going under his hoodie to ensure he had no escape, 

"Noooooooo please!" He begged trying to squirm away, 

But as I tickled him I felt something.

My face turned utterly red as my hand found something stiff and slightly throbbing through his brown tattered trousers, he noticed where my hand had ended up when he tried to squirm away. He turned even redder than me. We met eyes and there was for the first time in a good while, stillness and silence. I quickly moved my hand and he quickly pushed me off and pulled his knees to his chest. 

"We gonna talk about what just happened?"

"No."

"Newt?"

"No."

"Did you-"

"Don't say anything love." 

"Do you have-"

"Don't!" He warned, 

"Newt?"

"... I uhhh i uhhhh I uhhh I'm really... sorry."

"For?"

"You know."

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"No,"

"Uhhhhhh you uhhh you don't- Really?"

"I think it's cute," 

"Cute!"

"it's adorable to see you got so excited," 

"Ohhh uhhh well I uhhh yeah I uhhh I guess I did get a little excited."

"Ohh I felt it Newt you got very excited."

"I couldn't help it," he blushed, "Having you... running your hands all over me, and pinning me down, standing over me with your uhhh shirt so... uhhhh umm." He nodded, 

"Dirty little boy." 

"I didn't mean to! but you know... I've been here a long time love and you are our only girl... I - I can't help thinking like that sometimes."

"It's fine Newt I think it's adorable." I smiled kissing his cheek, 

"You're really not mad at me?"

"No of course not,"

"Thank you, Love,"

"It's fine, Little newtie can't help but get excited."

"He can't, not with you around." He blushed, "Little newt can't help but get excited when the lovely girly is around." 

"Very cute," I smiled kissing his cheek again, "but it's not saving you from tickles!" I smiled and jumped on him to tickle him again, tickling under his hoodie again,

"nooooooo!" he begged, "Noo please love!" He pleaded before he grabbed me and flipped us over so he was over me, 

"Hi,"

"Hi Love,"

"you're going to torture me aren't you?" I asked sheepishly 

"Maybe," he smiled but he leant down and kissed my lips with a sweet softness, he held my cheek gently, and stroked his thumb across my cheek, I kissed him back which only made him deepen our kiss till we each pulled away, "Whoa-"

"Ummm... maybe I should tickle you every day if that's how it ends."

"You don't have to tickle me to make me kiss you, love," he cooed closed the gap and kissed me again, I happily slid my hands up under his hoodie to stroke his chest as we kissed, his body began to slightly squirm on top of me as he pushed himself against me, he even moaned slightly into our kiss till I pulled back,

"I think little newtie is a little over-excited."

"I think so too." he gasped before he took my wrists in his hands, "If you're gonna have your hands on me, love, maybe move then... the other way?" he suggested as he gently guided my hands down, 

"You'd like that?" I asked as I wrapped my legs around his waist,

"mhm," He gulped as he nodded quickly and excitedly, 

"Well, how about we go back to my room?"

"Absolutely!" He yelped excitedly as he picked me up in his arms to all but carry me to my room with him. 

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Upcoming Rule Changes

I have come to a decision and I fear some people may dislike it, especially given some of the messages I've received on the topic. However, I do think this is the best option for me moving forward. I already have many anxieties and stresses in regards to this blog and so I must do what I can to alleviate them as much as possible.

Recently, there have been several instances of people accidentally not check-marking to make their submission anonymous when they intended to. This has resulted in me receiving messages from stressed out people asking me to remove their submission. This in turn, causes me stress and anxiety because I don't want to cause people distress.

Because of that, I have begun to rethink my policy of allowing submissions that aren't anonymous.

The thing is, this blog was made as a safe space for people to anonymously voice their monster-related thoughts. The name of this blog is "Monsterfucker Confessions," after all. It was intended as a place for people to confess things that they didn't want to post on their own blogs.

Therefore, I think it makes much more sense for this blog to be purely anonymous.

If there is something you actually want your name associated with, it would be better to post to your own blog rather than submit here. This is a space for those that don't want their names associated with what they say.

Several people have sent messages on this topic saying that people may want their names associated with their submissions so that they get credit for writing it or so that it drives traffic to their blog. This sat wrong with me because it feels completely against the reasons I made this blog to begin with.

While I do allow for short stories and the like within submissions, this ultimately is a confessions blog, not a creative writing blog. I shall continue to allow creative works to be submitted because I know there are many creative people that wish to remain anonymous. This blog is for them, not for the people who will comfortably attach their names to their writing. If you want credit for your writing, it would be better post to your own blog.

Some have suggested that those that wish their names associated with their submission can sign the submission, tagging their username. I have several issues with this. Of course, what I said above about the intent of this blog applies, but also I could easily see someone writing something controversial and then signing it as someone they dislike to cause that person to receive harassment. If the submission is anonymous, I would have no way of knowing if they are who they claim to be. I have too much anxiety to allow for that possibility.

So what will be changing?

Any submissions that are NOT anonymous will be resubmitted by me to be made anonymous.

Any submissions that are signed will be deleted.

I know this isn't the result a lot of people wanted, but I hope I've explained my reasoning well enough for you to understand why I feel this is the best choice for myself and this blog.

I know some people want credit for their writing, and I 100% understand that, but this isn't the place for those people. This blog is for the people that don't feel comfortable attaching their names to their words. That is what this blog was originally made for and I think I need to take these steps to return to that.

I thank you all for you kindness and patience as I continue to learn and improve how I run this blog. I know this blog isn't exactly what everyone wants, and I am sorry that I can't accommodate everyone.

I have said before and I shall say again, if someone else wants to run a confessions blog that works the way they want, that would be perfectly fine! I wouldn't take offense at someone making their own version of this. After all, I got the idea for a confessions blog from other blogs. I hardly own the concept.

These rules have been added to the pinned post.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

"gave Snape a stable job....despite being abusive to children (though he probably didn't perceive himself as such)"

I am a tad confused about this. How could Severus not possibly understand that he was being abusive to the kids under his care- especially Harry? Did he feel threatened by the children under his care to the point of viewing them as equals and thus justifying his behaviour to himself (why didn't the other teachers call him out on his shit)

Anonymous: am curious. You mentioned Snape likely doesn't realise that he is abusing the children under his care and mimicking his father. Does he actually feel powerless enough to justify his behaviours to himself? When he sees James in Harry and blames Neville does he see the boys as his equals/ someone above him in power that needs to be put down- thus allowing himself to continue acting the way he does? It's ironic all things considered. For all that Harry looks like James, he takes more after Lily.

Okay, so, I just wrote a post about Snape, but I'll cover here what I'm thinking about this specifically in more detail.

I'm not sure where the quote you mentioned is from, but I can say what I think about the way Snape treats Harry and his students and how he sees it.

So, Severus was abused by his father. From his behavior, what I guess is that a lot of his treatment of his students is him mimicking what he saw from his father.

Like, Severus became a professor at 21. It means his older students knew him as a student. Not to mention he was a terrorist, known Death Eater, who was saved by Dumbledore from being sent to Azkaban. And his students knew this.

So Severus felt like he needed a way to make sure his students would take him seriously. The main example he decided to draw from — his father, Tobias.

We don't know what exactly Tobias Snape did, he was a poor, working-class man who abused his wife and son. And I think when Tobias wanted to be taken seriously, he used fear, insults, and force. So this is what Severus knows.

Severus sees what he does as the only way students would treat him seriously, he doesn't really see it as abuse, as I believe he doesn't really see his father's mistreatment of him as abuse.

Severus always struck me as a character who doesn't want to get better.

I think Severus is one of the abused kids who rationalized his own abuse as something he deserved. He clearly wants to beat himself up about his mistakes. He wants to feel the guilt over pushing Lily away and then over killing her (in his mind). So, to him, in his mind, it's not abuse, it's what they deserve.

Is it good that's what he thinks? No, not at all, it actually sucks. Snape needed therapy.

Now, with Harry specifically, his treatment is different. With Harry, he really does see him as an equal and he needs Harry to treat him seriously. Like, Snape projects James on Harry way more than Sirius does. And Snape can't show anything resembling weakness to Mini-James Potter, so he goes back to his father's methods to be taken seriously. It's about Harry not seeing him as weak like James did.

And revenge, a little bit. Snape is very petty.

He still doesn't see his vengeance as abuse, because, as much as Severus wants to believe he's the one in power, he's scared of Harry more than he's willing to confess. He doesn't see a power imbalance between him and Harry, he doesn't actually see himself in a position of power, because he sees James in Harry. Harry doesn't treat Severus with the respect usually given to professors, which strengthens the way Severus doesn't really see him as a student.

Like, the fact Severus felt the need to remove memories he didn't want Harry to see when teaching him Occlumancy shows how much he fears Harry. Fears the possibility of Harry getting this information and using it against him.

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . . “Antidotes!” said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. “You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one. . . .” Snape’s eyes met Harry’s, and Harry knew what was coming. Snape was going to poison him. Harry imagined picking up his cauldron, and sprinting to the front of the class, and bringing it down on Snape’s greasy head —

(GoF, 300-301)

In the above quote, Harry has these thoughts while Snape is reading his mind — there's eye contact. So Severus sees these thoughts from Harry and doesn't separate this from James, he sees it and thinks that Harry very much might actually spill his entire cauldron on him — like James might've done. So, Severus is taking every instance like this to justify his fear of Harry and his need to keep him down.

With Neville it's different. He doesn't fear Neville the way he fears Harry, I think he does see Neville as someone weaker. In the case of Neville, Severus is, I think, doing what a lot of bullies do, picking on a weaker link to feel better about himself. More in control, more capable. Neville being next to Harry is kinda part of it, I don't think Snape would've been as harsh with Neville if he wasn't near Harry, who makes Snape kinda lose it and feel unbalanced and insecure in his position because he sees him as James more than as Harry.

And I agree with you second Anon, personality-wise, I think Harry isn't very similar to James at all. And he definitely has some of Lily's traits in him, but he's not her either, he's his own person. Something Snape willfully chooses not to see. It's easier for him not to see it, so he chooses not to, so he can keep up with his petty vengeance towards a dead man.

As for why other teachers didn't call him out, well, I think the Wizarding World has a very different approach to child care than the modern western world does.

We know corporal punishment was allowed at Hogwarts and the Wizarding World at large. One of the good things Dumbledore did as a headmaster was stop the use of it at the castle, but it was socially acceptable in the WW even in the 1990s. Actually, even in the muggle UK in the 1990s caning was still allowed in private schools, and Harry is clearly aware of this fact:

“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?” Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him? But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick’s class looking confused.

(PS, 109)

Because this is something that was still practiced in the UK. Harry actually had to lie to Aunt Marge that he was getting canned at St. Brutus school since that's something that happened there.

And it also happened in the Wizarding World until very recently, Molly says Arthur still has marks from what was most likely a caning when he was at Hogwarts:

Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said. “He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father’s still got the marks.”

(GoF, 616)

Umbridge (and the Carrows) later returns corporeal punishment to Hogwarts, and it's quite clear there is no law against it in the WW:

“Approval for Whipping . . . Approval for Whipping . . . I can do it at last. . . . They’ve had it coming to them for years. . . .” He [Filch] pulled out a piece of parchment, kissed it, then shuffled rapidly back out of the door, clutching it to his chest.

(OotP, 673)

Molly actually beat Fred with a broom (or at least attempted to) and it's considered fine and legal and not abuse:

“Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?” said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. “And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven — it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick.” Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box.

(PoA, 200)

Because the Wizarding World (and the UK) in the 1990s had a very different view on abuse and domestic violence. So, yeah, I don't think Severus considered what he did abuse, he considered it harsh discipline, like he himself received as a child. The way everyone ignores Harry's (and Snape's as a child) very clear signs of being abused is also telling. A rough hand and insults with disobedient children is just considered what you do, and not horrifyingly gross behavior like we see it today.

And the other teachers don't step in, because they consider it just as legal and acceptable as Snape. Because it is in the Wizarding World.

[keykeep]

Kinktober Day 16: Call The Shots- George Weasley

Authors note: Dear Anonymous, hope this is hot enough for you 🔥

Warnings: Wall Sex, Anal, Female Masturbation, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Oral (F)

You heard the door slam in your apartment above the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. You jumped at the alarming sound. You knew George was home from work and if that sound was anything to go by, He didn't have a good day.

Suddenly, you were pushed up against the wall and pinned there capturing your hands above your head. Through gritted teeth, he spoke "You have some explaining to do" You wiggled trying to escape his grip but it was solid. "you sent me pictures of you naked while I was in a work meeting". He pushes his hips against you and you feel the erect cock press against you. Your breath catches in your chest as you gasp.

"You feel that don't you? I've been like that all day, did you really think I would forgive and forget?" he says with a smirk his fiery brown eyes raking over your body. His muscular hands trap your face with his lips claiming yours in an urgent fashion, his tongue intertwining with yours. The kisses turned to growing lust.

As a moan escapes his mouth, you feel him press into you again as his hands rip open your clothing sending buttons flying around the room. “You’re wearing too many clothes,i needed them off” he says.

As his making out with you, his hands roam over your body giving you goosebumps as you dig your nails into his back.

His hands slide over your breasts caressing them through your sheer bra causing you to moan against his mouth. Your nipples pebble under his touch as you push your chest into his hand. His hands unclasp your bra as it falls to the floor. His hands slide down your body to your sheer underwear as he rips it off your body leaving you in front of him nude.

You feel a finger push deep inside you as he slowly teased you by rotating his finger slower and more sensual causing you to whimper moving with his hand desperate to feel the pleasure. His finger began moving in and out of your wet cunt with ease. The movement made you feel like you were melting into the floor as you arch up against his hand. He inserted a second finger and you turned into a puddle, his movements grew harder and faster.

His burning gaze bore into yours as he pulls out before penetrating you deeper. You whimper at the feeling building inside as he says “you like that don't you baby?” you nod looking into his eyes. Before he kisses you deeply as he mumbles “I know you do, I can feel it” he chuckles darkly. You feel the other hand rub your clit faster than the fingers as you start bucking your hips, close to explosion.

His lips brush against your ear as he says “look at me when you cum” as if your body heard his words, a cold shiver ran up your spine as your knees go weak, holding onto George's biceps as your orgasm flowed through you.

He pulls his fingers out of you as his strong hands grip the back of your head pulling you into a nice hard kiss. As he kisses you, his hands go to his belt expertly releasing his erect cock and removing any clothing left on his body. You admire your boyfriend's strong body from his ginger hair and freckles peppered all over his body. His thick biceps, the lean muscles of his abdomen and his above-average cock.

Next thing you felt the cold feeling of the wall against your body, you felt his lips against your ear and his cock press against your ass. “ you're not going to sit down for a month” as he pushed his rock into your asshole for the first time. As he pulls you closer to him holding you in place so you couldn't get away. You suddenly felt his fingers in your asshole cool with lube, as he began working them inside of you, you focussed on your breathing as he withdrew his fingers before adding a second. You could feel your insides being spread as his fingers moved in and out. Suddenly you didn't feel his fingers you felt his cock as he pushed his hips forward.

His hips pushed himself deeper inside you, you cried out as you bit your lip, he withdrew his cock before leaning forward and thrusting it back in, each time deeper thrusts as you got into a rhythm, hips pushing back to meet each thrust. You felt another orgasm approach you faster this time and by George’s heavy breathing you could tell he was close too. He held you up as you moan loudly through your orgasm. He pulled out of you as you groaned at the loss of contact. You noticed he left you in the room breathing hard and physically spent leaning against the wall for support as he went to clean himself up.

You realised he never orgasmed, he had complained of being hard all day and now he never came. Caught up on your thoughts you never heard George enter the room again, nor did you hear him crouch down but you did feel his strong tongue on your wet folds. As he licked your clit swirling his tongue in torturous circles against you. He hummed against your body, licking thoroughly back and forth your swollen lips with the occasional special attention on your clit, but when you felt his tongue deep inside you, you moaned his name, his mouth latching onto your clit sucking as you grabbed his hair, “I will never get tired of hearing you moan my name” he continued to devour you as your legs shook muscles clenching all around your body, he pushes his face deeper against you as you came, he kept licking until you calmed down.

You yawned physically spent from endless orgasms, George picked you up as you wrapped your arms around him. “I think there is one last orgasm left in you” “Baby please” you moaned. He slowly rocked his hips back and forth, gliding into your slick cunt, savoring your invitation into warmth and softness.

As he plunged his thick cock inside you, you heard yourself tell him ‘harder, faster,deeper’ and he was more than happy to oblige your requests. He began to slam into your pelvis hard.

He continued sliding in and out of you at a fast pace. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room. As well as groans and moans from both of you. “Look at me baby” George said as you looked at his sweaty face and wild hair those brown eyes staring back at you with intense love.

You gripped down on his cock as you let out a massive cry. Followed by George’s mighty grunt as his orgasm follows suit. Your orgasms peaking as you wrapped your arms around his neck as you felt him empty himself into you, feeling your walls squeeze every drop out of him.

You cuddle up to his chest as he strokes your hair.

“Sorry, for teasing you” you mumble “let this be a lesson you'll never forget”. George said.

[madhatterbri]

Objection | M.J.

Summary: Reader is about to marry another guy, but Matt objects and expresses why the reader shouldn’t marry the guy. I was thinking something sweet with a little spice? ☺️

Author's Note: Happy Dynamite Wednesday, babes. <3 A Nick Jackson one should be up next week. ❤️

Requested by anonymous

Matt Jackson Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @theworldofotps @bullet-clubs-bitch @magicalbuttertarts

"Here she is," the bride's mother sung happily. The proud mother was filled with so much emotion. There was so much cause for celebration. Her only child was getting married to a stable man. One that would come home to her daughter every day. Not some wrestler that would cheat and do Lord knows what on the road.

Y/N walked into the room. She held the bottom of her dress so the dress wouldn't slide against the floor. Her mom, maid of honor, and bridesmaids gasped at her appearance. She made her way through the group. They told her how pretty she was.

The bride stared at herself in three full body-length mirrors. A small, fake smile was plastered on her face. Her hair was tied in a bun. Makeup caked her face. Her wedding dress was a beautiful pearl colored.

"Everything is absolutely perfect," her mother gushed and clapped her hands together. "My baby is so happy she can't even speak,"

Y/N smiled weakly in response. She wasn't a happy bride, but a miserable one. The wedding was everything she wanted, but the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle was not. Her heart weighed heavy at the fact that the man down the aisle wasn't Matt Jackson.

One of her cousins looked at their watch. She announced to the group that the wedding was in five minutes and they needed to get to their places. Everyone filed out of the room except her maid of honor. She assured the wedding party she'll be right out. The door closed behind party.

The maid of honor crossed her arms over her chest. She stood by the bride.

"You aren't happy," she spoke bluntly.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. Y/N had trouble breathing, and she wasn't sure if it was the tension in the room or the corset.

"My own mother can't even tell my misery," Y/N spoke with a soft chuckle. "Is it that obvious?"

"We have been friends since we were children. I can tell when you are lying. What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't tell you. It's my wedding. I'm happy,"

"Just tell me,"

"What good would it do me? I messaged Matt last night. I told him if I shouldn't get married today to speak now. He ignored it. Happy?" Y/N spoke angrily. Tears started to form in her eyes. A weak sob slipped past her lips.

"Y/N, I-"

"There is nothing we can do. This isn't some wrestling botch that we can fix the next time. This is it. I am going to marry someone that isn't Matt," she swallowed down another sob. "He didn't want me,"

"There has to be something we could do," her maid of honor interjected. "Maybe he was busy and didn't see the message."

"There is nothing we need to do. I just have to smile, walk down the aisle, and say I do,"

A knock on the door ceased all the conversation between the two women. Y/N called for the visitor to come in. One of the bridesmaids opened the door and poked her head in.

"The wedding is starting,"

"Great, thank you," Y/N spoke.

Y/N walked towards the door. Her maid of honor sighed loudly in annoyance, yet followed her. One by one, the bridal party left to take their appropriate places down the aisle. The bride waited impatiently for her turn. She stared at the bouquet of flowers. A mixture of different colors stared back at her.

The traditional wedding song started to play. The pianist worked his magic on the keys. Y/N took the cue and walked down to the double doors of the church. The doors opened before her. The guests stood and watched her.

While walking down the aisle, her soon to be husband came into view. He wore a simple tuxedo. His mother removed her glasses and wiped away the tears from streaming down her face. A pang of guilt washed through her. Y/N stood across from her fiance.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to...," The pastor started the wedding. Y/N's mind started to drift. Her thoughts swirled around Matt. The brunette wrestler that stole her heart the first night they met. She remembered all the hot summer nights in Maui.

"Y/N," her fiance whispered between them. He was now facing the priest. The now embarrassed bride muttered an apology and faced the pastor. He seemed annoyed at the lack of her paying attention yet kept it to himself.

"And do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband until death do you part?" The minister asked.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her hope was fading that she would ever be with Matt again. All the moments they had together would be a distant memory. She looked over her shoulder at the double doors. They were still closed. She turned to the minister sadly.

"He isn't coming. This is what he wanted," her mind repeated.

"I-I,"

The double doors of the church suddenly burst open. Some of the guests jumped in surprise while others yelled from the sudden noise. Y/N and her fiance turned to see the disruptor of their wedding.

A man with his hair in a ponytail walked in. He wore a white suit and walked with confidence.

"Matt, what are you doing at my daughter's wedding?" Her mother asked. Her voice was practically screeching.

"I object,"

The audience gasped and turned to the other. Harsh whispers filled the pews. Her mother's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Y/N walked away from her betrothed.

"You can't be serious! He's a wrestler. Who will take care of you when he finds another in some other city?" Her mother asked. Y/N ignored her. She dropped the flowers on the floor. Her heart pounded as she rushed to him. Matt opened his arms and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His scent danced with her nose.

"You didn't message me back. I didn't think you'd come," she commented still in disbelief. His hands rubbed her cheeks softly. Her eyes closed as she prayed this wasn't a dream. When her eyes opened once more he was still in front of her.

"I still love you, Y/N. We may not be perfect, but I would do anything for you. I won't be home all the time, but I'll never stop loving you," he confessed. Tears sprung to her eyes. Y/N leaned in and kissed him. Her fingers ran down his cheeks to his neck. The audience gasped. They pulled apart upon remembering they weren't alone. "We should go,"

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. He grabbed her hand and rushed her out of the church. Nick was waiting in a car for them. He drove since Matt was such a nervous wreck. The runaway bride sat in the backseat with Matt. Their lips locked together as they made up for lost time.

Nick looked in the rear view mirror and groaned. "Not this again,"

[artandhijinks]

My experience with the worst most toxic parts of the IWTV fandom

Okay, there are going to be details here that are changed or admitted for obvious mostly safety reasons. And I personally don't care if you think I'm lying, but it was still a scary experience and I do think there are people in the fandom that need to be aware this crap goes on all over fictional characters. So warning they're going to be mentions of threats a violence, doxing, harassment, the works, It was bad.

Okay a few months ago. I kicked the hornets nest when it comes to the worst part of the interview with the vampire fandom. I had engaged in some fan discourse. Made a couple of posts. A lot of it had to do with defending the added diversity with the casting of Assad and Jacob. Theorizing about possible characters in the future that can be race swapped how it could be a good thing and how it could be historically possible. You get the idea. I love what the show is done with all the race swapping it has added so much to the story.

And then all the sudden I woke up to my inbox being full of over 100 anonymous ask that ranged from the average calling me evil racist. I didn't know the books. How dare I it was ruining the story. I should kill myself. The usual online internet harassment. It was horrible. And they kept on coming and would not stop until I shut off anonymous ask. And they will remain off because of this but again I had well over 100 messages to go through. And it took me well over a week to go through them but when I got to like the last I think 10 one of them stuck out. Not because it was particularly bad because apparently I pissed off the Armand people who don't realize how creepy it is and kind of comes off as pro pedophilia when all of you insist that he has to be 17 much less the racist issues. There's a reason it took me over a week to go through all the messages they made my skin crawl. But this particular message scared the crap out of me it was a death threat with my home address. Someone cared so much about a fictional character. They tracked down my address and threaten to kill me. So guess who immediately started screenshotting the rest of the messages. And had to make a police report. Do you know what it's like having to explain to cops? Yes, I got a death threat with my address over a fictional gay vampire. No, getting death threats over Tumblr is not new to me unfortunately, but my address was new and that I want documented. So being harassed by a couple racist book purists turned into a police report and me buying security cameras. Thank you Tumblr. I nearly deleted the app.

I don't even know if I want to finish the Vampire Chronicles books now because of you idiots you took it way too far. And the worst part is I'm white. I can only imagine what you idiots are doing to the fans of color. Again someone tracked down my address to threaten to kill me. But again it's documented. I filed a police report and if any of you idiots try something I got cameras now.

And for all those who are going to be demanding proof well I thought about sharing a redacted screenshot or maybe a redacted version of the police report. But I decided I would ask the cops what they thought just to be safe. I'm glad I did because they advised me not to do that and they explained to me there is technology out there that if someone really wanted to they can remove that redacting. And I already have one crazy person that knows my address and is threatening to kill me so I don't want another one. So everyone is just going to have to take my word for it. However the cops were all for me sharing my story because of the rise of things like swatting. A in a nearby police department had to deal with a middle schooler (so a 11 to 13-year-old) who made a bomb threat at their school because they didn't want to take a test. So, they think this would be good for people to hear because what you do on the internet does have real life consequences.

So remember people the internet is real life. These things have real life consequences. And I'm pretty sure these people thought it was a joke. But now I have to worry about things like someone breaking into my house killing me or swatting. Which is something I didn't even think of until the cops brought it up. And it does affect my real life. I'm looking to move and hopefully we'll be out of my house soon. So, thank you, Internet stranger

So to sum it all up. The fandom needs to take a bunch of chill pills and calm down. Because we are literally harassing, bullying and threatening people out of the fandom. Again, I thought about leaving Tumblr due to this experience and now I'm having to move. Thank you. Interview with the vampire fandom please do better.

[suuuupernovaaa]

numeyu

numeyu [ˈnu.mɛ.ju] n. student

Anonymous Request: Could you write a fic with Neteyam x Metkayina fem reader, where the reader is somewhat lonely and quite reserved, and her only friend is Tsireya. When the Sullys are first learning to ride the illus, the reader sees them from afar and approaches them to teach them to breathe correctly to swim and ride, and Neteyam begins to feel a great curiosity about the reader and from there he always has excuses to approach her or ask for help in something that he can already do perfectly. Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri and Tsireya begin to suspect that Neteyam and the reader have something and tease them?

1,869 words

From a distance, I observed the Sully family arriving. The crowd was so large, and I didn't want to push my way through it. Plus, I knew Tsireya would tell me everything later - as the Chief's daughter, she would certainly be in the middle of the large crowd, observing up close.

Sometimes it felt like I looked at the world through her eyes. Where I was withdrawn, Tsireya was outgoing. Where I was anxious, she was confident. If it weren't for my only friend, I would probably go days on end without speaking to another soul beyond polite, surface level conversation.

As I'd predicted, she told me all about the Sullys that evening, with particular focus on one of the brothers who's name she couldn't remember.

"We're going to teach them our ways - you could help!" she said excitedly, but anxiety tugged at my heart.

"Oh, I don't think I'd be much help."

Tsireya rolled her eyes, but didn't push me, which was one of the things I appreciated about her; she never tried to force me out of my shell. She had always been a wonderful friend to me.

--

From a distance again, I watched as the Sullys struggled on their first days. Besides the older daughter, none of them could hold their breath very long, and they continually surfaced for air.

Not to mention, they were miserable on the illus, and it was getting hard to watch. Ao'nung was not patient, and Tsireya seemed to be having a hard time doing it all by herself.

They sat on a rock, in a circle, and something pushed me to approach. As I swam up, Ao'nung turned and extended his arm to me. I thanked him, and Tsireya beamed at me, making a place next to her.

"This is Y/N," she introduced me to the group, "she's my best friend! Y/N, this is Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk." She pointed out each member of the Sully family, and I gave them a friendly nod and what smile I could muster.

"Y/N can hold her breath longer than any of us. Tell them how you do it," Tsireya gushed over me, and I tried not to feel too embarrassed of her bragging.

I patted my stomach. "From here," I said, taking in a deep breath. "You have to be calm, and focused, and you have to be patient with yourselves. You did not grow up here, and our ways are new to you. If you try to rush your learning, you'll become frustrated. If you become frustrated, your breathing will become... anxious."

The oldest brother, Neteyam, sat to my right. As he breathed in deep, I watched his shoulders rise and fall.

"No," I said, reaching out, placing one hand on his stomach and the other on his shoulder. "From here. Close your eyes, and slow your heart rate. Calm."

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath from his belly, but I could feel his heart rate increase. "Your heart is beating fast, Neteyam. Slowly." I tried to speak calmly.

"Right," he whispered, peeking one eye open at me. Next to me, Tsireya giggled, and I looked over to see what was funny, but nothing seemed obvious.

"You'll get it," I said, turning back to Neteyam and removing my hands.

"Will you help?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Sure."

--

After that, it was hard to keep my distance. Nearly every day, Neteyam would ask me for help learning something about our way of life. I showed him our fishing grounds, how to braid and throw a net, our vast gardens and how to plant and harvest, and mostly, riding the illus.

I was surprised at how slow he was learning, but it was enjoyable to spend time with him, so I tried not to wish it away, assuming that once he felt more comfortable here, he wouldn't need my help as much.

We look a long ride on my illu just a few weeks after the Omatikaya family had arrived, to a more secluded rock formation not too far from the shore. Neteyam could ride his own, but often requested to ride onto mine, holding me gently around the waist as I sped through the water. I was mindful, when he rode with me, to surface more frequently than I would myself, so he could breath.

We climbed atop the dark, flat rocks, and let the warm sun begin to dry us.

"How is your family adjusting?" I asked. Though I spent time frequently with Neteyam, I didn't see much of his siblings or parents; he was always alone when he sought me out.

I knew Tsireya was enjoying her time spent with Lo'ak, and Kiri and Tuk were frequently with them. She had told me they were picking things up quickly, and I had reported Neteyam's struggles, but asked her to keep them to herself. He would get it - it hadn't even been a month.

"Pretty good," Neteyam replied with a shrug. "Hey, teach me some more hand-speak."

I sighed but smiled, and ran through some simple vocabulary with him again. I would often have to grab Neteyam's hands myself, manipulating them to teach him how to make the words, and it took many times for him to pick up simple phrases.

Neteyam seemed so smart - why was he struggling so much with this?

--

Neteyam sighed, watching Y/N as she walked away at the end of another day together.

He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. There were definitely things he still needed help with, but he was absolutely exaggerating just how much help he was needing.

He didn't need her to repeat the hand-language so much. He certainly didn't need her to move his hands with her own... but he loved it when she did.

He definitely didn't need to ride on the back of her illu. Just a few rides, and he felt comfortable on the back of the animal, but it was the easiest way to get close to Y/N.

Though she seemed self-assured when it was just the two of them, she was very quiet and reserved, almost always choosing to keep to herself unless she was with Tsireya.

He had been mesmerized with her since the first moment Ao'nung had pulled her onto that rock, and had been desperate to spend more time with her - this seemed like the best way to accomplish that, but he knew eventually, he would be found out.

--

Just a few weeks later, Neteyam surfaced from a long swim, arms full of kelp to use for baskets and nets. Standing on the shore was Tsireya, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed.

"Neteyam Sully," she said, approaching.

"Tsireya," he greeted her with a solemn nod of his head.

"You were just under water for a record amount of time, and I watched you speak fluently with your brother in hand-speak yesterday. But Y/N tells me you still struggle with these things and need her help daily."

He had thought Tsireya was stern at first, but he saw now that the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smile and, just a few steps away, Kiri and Lo'ak stood, grinning.

"Maybe Y/N just thinks I'm a moron."

Tsireya laughs. "She thinks you walk on water. Maybe you could tell her you like her, too."

--

"Neteyam!" I exclaimed. "You are being ridiculous, I know that you know this." I pulled the fishing net from his hands, undoing his last few knots, and showing him, once again, the correct way to fashion the net.

They had been here nearly two months and still, little progress from Neteyam. I was beginning to think it was some kind of joke.

Neteyam just shrugged and smiled. "Sorry."

I handed the net back to him. "Again."

Instead of working on the knots once more, he set the net down on the sandy beach and leaned back, putting his hands behind him, and looked up at the orange evening sky.

"No more lessons today. I'm too stupid anyway."

I gasped. "Neteyam, don't say that. You aren't stupid. You're figuring it all out."

Admittedly, much more slowly than the rest of his family, but that was okay; he was getting it. He hardly needed any help with hand-speak, and was nearly an expert on his illu. It just took him a little longer.

"I have a great teacher. Best in the village."

I turned away, a blush creeping across my cheeks. "No, it is probably my fault you can't tie a knot or hold your breath."

Neteyam let out a loud, chiming peal of laughter, throwing his head back. His smile was wide, and the sound and sight of it was beautiful, even if I didn't know what he was laughing at.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you," he said finally, when the laughter subsided.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

"I've been pretty comfortable here since the first couple weeks, Y/N. I have little trouble with the illu, and the hand-speak has been very useful for me. I've made many baskets and nets, and I, well, I just don't need as much help as I've been asking you for."

In confusion, I furrowed my brow and titled my head to the side. "Then, why ask?"

His boisterous grin slowly morphed into a more sheepish look. "I didn't know how else to get you to spend time with me. And I thought, if you knew I didn't need help anymore, you might prefer being alone."

My mouth formed a small 'O' and my eyes widened in shock and realization. "Oh..."

"I like riding on the illu with you, and when you take my hands in yours to teach me. I like being close to you." He reached for me, grabbing one of my hands in his. "Are you mad?"

Though it was true that Neteyam had technically been lying to me, it wasn't as if he had done it with ill intentions... he had done it because he liked being around me, and the thought made me blush.

"No, of course I'm not. But, Neteyam, even if you're much smarter than you led me to believe, I still think you're a moron." I squeezed his hand, and he laughed.

"Why?"

"I thought you were very handsome, that first day on the rock. I could have shown anyone how to breathe. Lo'ak was there. I could have demonstrated on Tsireya. But I wanted to touch you."

With not another word, Neteyam leaned towards me, and pressed a kiss to my lips. I sank into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, so glad he had finally confessed what we had both been feeling.

His lips were warm, and a little salty, and the joy I felt was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me as close to him as I could possibly get, and I sighed into his mouth.

"I'm sure there's plenty you could still teach me," Neteyam murmured, his lips moving to kiss my cheeks, and then my forehead.

"I'll find something. You can remain my student."

[mikelogan]

Color Reference Guide to Recognize & Avoid Whitewashing by mihareth How to Spot and Stop Whitewashing POC in Edits by augustds Don't Whitewash Me: A Guide to Coloring POC (Pastel & Pale) by mohanas How to Fix Orange-washed Characters by aubrey-plaza How To: Coloring East and Southeast Asian Celebs by blueshelp POC Coloring Tutorials Tag by gifmakerresource

Please share any other resources you might have in the replies or tag @gifmakerresource!

DISCLAIMER: I am white and in no way do I wish to speak for or over people of color. If anything here is offensive, incorrect, or nonsensical, please let me know and I will remove it and do better moving forward.

When I first started making gifs again last year, I didn't really know about whitewashing. It was a concept I'd definitely heard of and I knew what it was, but I didn't think about it in the context of gifmaking. Since becoming part of a couple gifmaking networks and starting my own resource blog, it's something that I am now very conscious of. I will periodically ask for opinions on my coloring when people of color are in the gifs and I've learned so much from doing so! I genuinely cannot recommend networks like PSCentral and LGBTQCreators enough. Everyone is so kind and helpful and being part of them has only served to better my gifmaking.

I have always liked to give people the benefit of the doubt and believe the best of them until I'm proven otherwise. I know not everyone feels this way, but especially since my personal experience was borne out of ignorance rather than malice. When I see colorwashed gifs, I want to believe (or hope) that OP just isn't aware, the same as I was. But ignorance also isn't an excuse. If someone points out to you that your coloring has whitewashed or otherwise colorwashed a person of color, you should take that and adjust your coloring as necessary, removing the original post. The resources listed above have been instrumental in helping me keep skintones realistic and true to life. There are, I'm sure, many more tutorials out there that discuss this topic. It is on you to take the initiative to learn, not on the person educating you. If being told you've white/colorwashed someone makes you angry, I would urge you to ask yourself why.

As always, please be kind to one another.

[malina-33]

Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

 Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

 "I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of ​​staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

 "I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

 It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

[sweet-villain]

Tore You To Bits ~E.M

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I love your writing!!, can you do an angst one shot like of Eddie Munson, getting tired of The readers clingy, like one day he random snaps at her at the cafeteria during lunch, due to her touching his hand or arm. Everyone in the cafeteria turns their head which make the reader embarrassed. So she just sits there quietly, but then Dustin decides to comfort her, like letting her cuddle into him, but then later on Jason starts making for of her saying like “not even the Freak wants you”, ANGST ANGST ONE SHOT, if you want at the end you can make it fluff!!!. I’m such a whore For angst. ❤️

Thank youuuuuuu❤️❤️

Angst

You've been dating Eddie for about a year now, thing were going great. Eddie parks the van in front of your house as you race out the door with your bag barely hanging on.

He chuckled watching you adjust your shirt and in your mouth you had your hair brush that you must have forgotten to put down. You opened his door as he had the van running, " Where is the fire, fire cracker?" he asked once you sat down and closed the door.

He took the hair brush out of your mouth and placed it into one of his cup holders.

" 'm sorry. Rough morning" you answered him, putting your bag at the bottom of your feet. " Awe sweets" he reached over to cup your face with his hand and place a kiss on your lips. You happily kiss him back.

He pulls away and gives you the dimple smile that you love to see.

" You're so pretty, Eds" his cheeks pain the color red hearing you as he shyly looks away. He isn't used to the compliments but he loves to hear them when they are coming from you.

" Buckle up, sweets. Next stop, our favorite place in the world" he sarcastically says. " Oh joy" you roll your eyes. He chuckles as he drives off.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Since this morning, Eddie has been a mood. Gareth and Jeff both mentioned to him how clingy you were, always wanting Eddie's attention while he gave it to you without a problem. They told him how mushy he gets when your around. It wasn't a pretty sight to them.

When lunch time came around, you walked into the cafeteria with your own lunch bag that held two sandwiches. One for you and one for Eddie.

You plop down in your seat next to Eddie, he was tapping his finger on the table while the other supported his head. He didn't reach over like usually to give you a kiss and ask how your classes went.

You brushed it off not really thinking on it. The guys take notices that you aren't holding Eddie's hand, sitting closer to him and feeding him his lunch to him.

The bag that held your lunch and Eddie's extra sandwich laid on top of the table. Usually Eddie would reach in to see what you brought to him but he didn't. He hasn't even glanced at you yet and instead he turned to have a conversation with Gareth.

" Eds" you called out to him to receive no answer back. You frowned and reached over to grab Eddie's hand that was tapping on top of the table and when he felt your hand on top of his, he removed it and put his hand on top of his thigh.

" Eddie, baby" you called out to him again and reached over to cup his face but he moved his face away and brushed you off. It hurt that he was acting like his. You haven't done anything wrong.

You moved over, your knees almost touching his when he felt your hand lace with his. He stiffed and turned his head to glare at you. It only made you feel smaller.

You laid your head on his shoulder but this caused him to get up from his seat and turn to you.

" Enough!" he shouts causing the whole cafeteria to be quiet and heads turned to look at him. He stares down at you with a cold look on his face.

" I've had enough of your touching and trying to get to close to me! I don't like to be touch by you! It makes me feel uncomfortable. You're too clingy and your being annoying!" he shouts, waving his hands. Your eyes brim with tears not understanding why he was being a jerk about it all of sudden.

He loved it when you reached for his hand, cuddled into his side, and you were close to him. He never acted like this. You looked around the cafeteria to see all eyes on the both of you.

Eddie was fuming as he look away, he knew what he said would hurt you but Gareth and Jeff both told him how it looked like and he didn't want you to be this way with him.

" Oh.." you said as you stood up. Your cheeks flushed red feeling the eyes on you. You never felt his embarrassed in your life. You slowly nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat and headed out the cafeteria with your head hung.

" Asshole" Dustin tells him as he gets up from the table, leaving Eddie to glance down into his lap.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You hadn't noticed the bike in your front yard as you were too busy staring up at the sky on the steps with a cigarette in your hands.

" Those will kill you, you know?" Dustin says as he sits besides you on the steps.

" It's my first one of the week" you tell him, shrugging like this was nothing to you.

" Are you okay?" he asks. " Eddie is such a jerk" you nod, stomping the cigarette out. " I don't know what's gotten into him" Dustin adds.

" I wouldn't know" your head drops onto his shoulder as you feel your tears trying to escape again. " He always loves it when I touch him or hold his hand" you sniffled while Dustin wraps his arm around you and pulls you close.

He doesn't like seeing you hurt, it hurts him when your crying or upset.

"He's going to get his ass handed to him. Steve's going to find out, Robin too. Nancy too. We're all going to give him a piece of our minds"

You chuckled, " Thank you" He looks down at you in confusion, " for being here. For being my friend" he pulls you closer as his answer.

He was always going to be here for you.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You had closed your locker and turned around in time to see Jason, Patrick and the other basketball goons surround you. Your eyes are wide.

" What do you want, Carver?" you ask griping your notebook tight to your chest. He smirks as he eyes you, " You're such a freak, Y/N. No one even wants you. Not even the freak, Munson."

Your eyes filled with tears.

" Oh? Are you going to cry? Are you going to cry to your mommy, freak?" the laughed and Jason grabbed a hold of your notebook and tugged. " Please, don't" you begged but Jason ripped it out of your hands and opened it.

" Look at this boys, she's writing little love hearts around the stupid freaks name" they laughed as he pointed it. He flipped the pages and read some of the letters you and Eddie have exchanged.

" You both are pathetic!" he laughs as he throws the notebook over his shoulder. Pages and pages of it flying over your head like rain drops.

From the corner of the hallway, he stood there watching as you picked up the pages in tears while Jason and his basketball goons left you there. He watches as Dustin and Mike scramble the rest of the pages and give it to you.

You grabbed them from them and run down the hall. You hadn't noticed Eddie was standing there as you ran past him. You didn't want to be here anymore.

He feels eyes on him and turns his head to see Mike and Dustin staring him down.

" I'm going, I'm going" Eddie says as he follows you.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Eddie looks around the parking lot at every car and in between to see if you were there. He looks all around the building and finally finds you sitting against the tree with your head in your knees and shoulder shaking.

Footsteps alerted you that someone was coming. You paused in your sobs and moved your head to peek at who came to bother you. You saw your so called boyfriend standing a few feet away from you.

" Hey" he says as he makes his way over to you and kneels down.

" I've been looking for you everywhere"you lifted your head and the sight of your tears breaks his heart. He reaches out with his hand to brush away your tears. You can't help it but lean into his touch and it makes his smile.

" I'm so sorry sweets about yelling at you in the cafeteria" he sits on the ground and takes your hand in his.

" Why did you?"

He sighs as he looks away, " I let Gareth and Jeff get into my head telling me how clingy you were and that they didn't like seeing it. But I don't care, I miss you and I miss the way you hold my hand and touch me" He kneel on his knees as he came closer, his breath on your face as he reached out with his hand to move your hair out of your face.

" What Jason said wasn't right. I do want you, you mean so much to me, sweets" you sniffled as you looked at him. " I'll do anything to have you forgive me"

"anything?" you asked. He nods.

" Can we go for ice cream and then go home and cuddle?" his home was your home.

" We can do anything you want, sweetheart" he tilts his head, " I'm going to kiss you now."

His lips brushes against yours, and you press your lips against his with your hands cupping his face. Your lips moved against his as one and he held onto you all day and night, never letting you go.

[fordtato]

Gffan has done the following:

-Letting people comment transphobic stuff on his Server

-associating with a reddit mod whos known to be transphobic

-openly showing weird distaste for the Dipper being Trans headcanon (didn't he also say: "I hate the Dipper Trans Theory" to us once?)

He also believes there’s only 2 genders

Hello. So. I do not normally respond to anonymous discourse like this in my inbox as a rule (especially given this site's proclivity for seeing anon callouts weaponized against trans people and women and people of color), but I felt it was important to do this in this case, since I am publicly working on a project with ThatGFFan.

I have known GFFan for over a year now now (in an exclusively online capacity), and in that time, he has not only never misgendered me (a nonbinary trans person, someone outside the "2 genders" framework) but has also actively corrected people who have misgendered me. I have witnessed him speak against transphobia in the fandom and against transphobic content creators. The idea that he "believes there are only 2 genders" is inaccurate by every account I have of him.

As for other accusations in this ask, such as him "associating with a reddit mod who is known to be transphobic" I don't have any evidence for this presented to me, and even if I did, association in a public online space is not the same thing as sharing transphobic sentiment. There is room in any online space for a conversation about the optics of this kind of engagement, but if I had to apologize for every person I've ever engaged with civilly who I later learned was problematic in some way, I'd be here all day, and that would be an unproductive use of my time, and would not undo any harm done by that person.

Lastly, I hope ThatGFFan will not mind me saying this, but he is a young person (younger than you think, I assure you). If he has engaged with unsavory people in the past, or has indicated any kind of transphobic sentiment (neither of which I have any evidence of) it is my belief that we need to allow people to grow, especially when I have actively witnessed that growth firsthand. And in that case, I do think (and maybe I'm putting my faith in the wrong person here, so I hope this doesn't bite me one day), that he has made an active effort to learn how to do better, even if he makes mistakes in that process.

What you have done, anon, is entered my inbox with accusations against a person of color, half of which have no evidence behind them, and the other half that I personally know to be demonstrably false. Nobody who is a victim of this transphobia has come forward, at least that I saw, and if they did, that would be up to ThatGFFan to respond to - not me, a trans person unrelated and far-removed from whatever incident you are talking about (an incident that likely occurred when ThatGFFan was a minor, in any case).

I don't have a big platform. I am a small creator (much smaller than ThatGFFan), and a trans Palestinian person. Why am I being called upon to answer for a cis person's (alleged) missteps as they grow into an adult? Why am I being called upon to publicly shame and renounce a person who has shown me kindness and allyship? Is it so I can prove my dedication to the fight against transphobia? My entire blog, my entire body of work, my entire existence, has been an active fight against transphobia.

I mean, by God, all I can do is hope I'm doing the right thing here, but I vouch for him. Or I at least vouch that he is trying.

(p.s. I hope this goes without saying, but someone disliking a specific queer headcannon does not indicate one's political beliefs, and this is not going to be an accusation that I really engage with, because it sets a bad precedent. This is not a moral wrongdoing. This is an opinion you are suspicious of.)

[mllemaenad]

You know what? That's fair. You never ssid you condemned individual Brotherhood members, I'm sorry I assumed that.

Addressing them as an institution, however...

I think they might still be a morr admirable group than you give them credit for. Yes, they have rather brutal hazing rituals for aspirants. At best, this ensures the unqualified won't go into danger, at worst, it's abuse. Bullying is absolutely wrong, I won't defend that.

However, on the charge of bigotry, I don't think it's entirely fair. Based on comments by Knight Rhys and others, I don't think tgey hate nonhumans simply for being nonhumans, rather they see it as a quasi-religious duty to remove the consequences of technological abuse. Ghouls, Synths, Super-Mutants... they didn't arise naturally. They are permanent (un-ageing) reminders of "technology that's gone too far". Think on Arthur Maxon's words in "Blind Betrayal". Danse's existence is intolerable to him because it is symbolic of a perversion of technology. Whether it's radiation, FEV, or whatever else, the Brotherhood is committed to opposing technological abuse.

In that context, their hoarding of technology is understandable. In 2077, mankind demonstrated that it wasn't capable of using technology in a responsible manner. Heck, given what Ulysses tried to do at the Divide, and what Hank did at Shady Sands, mankind arguably STILL isn't capable.

So what alternative is there but to keep that technology safe, away from the reckless hands that would abuse it, until humanity develops the maturity and restraint to show technology its peoper reverence?

The Brotherhood is also not without its reformers. This is explicitly why Maximus chooses to return to them! He speaks with Cleric Quintus about improving the Brotherhood, making it match the idealised image he once held. He no longer holds illusions about what the Brotherhood is, but he still believes in its mission, in what it could become.

Even when they have disagreed with one another, the Brotherhood has always shared a common (noble) goal. Christine Royce and Father Elijah didn't see eye to eye on how the technologies of Big MT and the Sierra Madre should be used, but they both shared the same ultimate vision; Rodger Maxon's vision, a vision of a world where mankind worshipped technology rather than misusing it. A better world.

Hi Anonymous person.

I mean, look. I'm not the Thought Police. You're free to like any Fallout faction you like, and I'm not going to hunt you down and bother you about it. But ... I mean, you've asked, and I'm really confused about what you're saying here.

However, on the charge of bigotry, I don't think it's entirely fair. Based on comments by Knight Rhys and others, I don't think tgey hate nonhumans simply for being nonhumans, rather they see it as a quasi-religious duty to remove the consequences of technological abuse. Ghouls, Synths, Super-Mutants… they didn't arise naturally. They are permanent (un-ageing) reminders of "technology that's gone too far".

I ... don't understand why you're putting this forward as a defence? This is kind of my whole point. If some individuals in the Brotherhood were bigoted, that might reasonably make them terrible – or at least misguided – people, but it might not say anything about the institution itself.

But the genocidal impulses are built into Brotherhood doctrine. Wanting to murder groups of people because they don't fit into your vision (religious or otherwise) of a perfect world is ... bad. I mean it's very bad. It's one of the worst things you can want to do. It's very much a despairing "war never changes" thing.

I know what Arthur Maxson says. I'm not disputing that the Brotherhood really, truly believes that mass murder is a good thing. It's just that my response to that is "Go fuck yourself, Arthur."

I genuinely do not understand why you're calling my assertion of bigotry unfair. I noted that I do not like the Brotherhood because they are genocidal toward mutants and Synths, and you have agreed that they very much are, and not only that but that this is a core part of their belief system. So ... that's that.

The Brotherhood is also not without its reformers. This is explicitly why Maximus chooses to return to them! He speaks with Cleric Quintus about improving the Brotherhood, making it match the idealised image he once held. He no longer holds illusions about what the Brotherhood is, but he still believes in its mission, in what it could become.

Huh? No he doesn't. Maximus very definitely does not do that.

For much of the show, Maximus lies to other people about his name and status in order to protect himself. He also lies to himself, somewhat, about what he wants out of life.

The fact that Maximus shows little investment in the Brotherhood's ideals is one of the things that keeps him sympathetic, even when he's stomping around in power armour (he calls the Brotherhood's mission "weird" when Lucy points out the inherent contradictions).

His time in Vault 4, combined with his exposure to Lucy, allows him the space to grow as a person, and to start telling the truth. Truth works with her in a way that it did not with Thaddeus, who was never going to side with Maximus against Brotherhood guns. What Maximus really wants is Shady Sands back: specifically a world where Shady Sands was never destroyed, and he could have eaten well and gone to school and lived a completely different life. Failing that, what he wants is peace. This is what he says "explicitly": that he wants to live in peace and not go to war.

Maximus returns to the Brotherhood with a decoy head to allow Lucy to complete her mission. He does this because one of the things he has to admit to himself is that the deal he made with her was bullshit. He simply doesn't have the clout to force the issue, and the Brotherhood isn't going to help out a vault dweller having a rough week for moral reasons.

Lucy is confused by this sudden change of plans: she only knows Maximus, so she thinks the Brotherhood must be "the good guys". Both Maximus and Thaddeus know better: they've lived through Brotherhood brutality.

One key problem that both Lucy and Maximus have is that they've never really delved into what the head is for, so whether it's safe or good to deliver it anywhere in particular doesn't factor into their plans. It's just a MacGuffin to them: Lucy needs it to rescue her dad; Maximus needs it so the Brotherhood doesn't murder him.

Consequently, Maximus is at least initially fine with using his knowledge of the head's location to save his own arse – moreover, leading the Brotherhood to the head will also take him back to Lucy. He confides to his friend Dane that he intends to flee with Lucy at the first opportunity; Dane laments that they don't believe there is a way to escape. I don't know where this "Maximus enthusiastically reforms the Brotherhood" idea is coming from. In his head, Maximus is already deep underground, wearing Vault 33's fluffiest dressing gown, and never hearing about any of this crap ever again.

However, The Beginning is largely about disillusionment. For Norm and Cooper, this means engaging in some espionage to uncover Vault-Tec's evil plans – and their loved ones' complicity in those plans. For Lucy and Maximus, it means recontextualising the childhood memories that shaped them.

As Lucy listens to Moldaver's story, she reflects on her childhood memory of standing in a cornfield with her mother. She realises that she really did stand beneath the sun in a rebuilt civilisation, and that her father's insistence that she was in the vault the whole time is a lie intended to conceal his own crimes.

As Maximus listens to Quintus's horrifying little speech about conquering the wasteland, he reflects on his childhood image of the Brotherhood as heroes and saviours. In the present, the Brotherhood has just forcibly occupied the town of Filly (this is bad!), has come very close to summarily executing him (also not what you'd call good!) and is about to force him to go to war against a group of people who have not at any point in the series threatened them, purely because they have some tech the Brotherhood wants (really fucking awful, if you think about it!).

If Maximus has any mission at this point beyond getting the hell out of there and finding Lucy – it is wresting control of the cold fusion technology from the Brotherhood's hands. Because Moldaver bequeaths her cause to him with her dying breath.

What do you suppose your Brotherhood would do with infinite power? Maybe you can stop them. Maybe you can't. Maybe all you can do is try. – Lee Moldaver, Fallout: The Beginning

Maximus is a child of Shady Sands. He's a citizen of the NCR. The expression on his face when the Brotherhood vertibirds open fire on the people fleeing across the compound is understandably appalled. He attacks Hank when he learns what he did to his home. Moldaver knows none of this. She just knows the expression on Maximus's face when the lights go on across the city – and she reaches out to him because that's enough to hope.

So ... no? Really no. Maximus does not explicitly return to the Brotherhood to embrace Quintus's bullshit.

Even when they have disagreed with one another, the Brotherhood has always shared a common (noble) goal. Christine Royce and Father Elijah didn't see eye to eye on how the technologies of Big MT and the Sierra Madre should be used, but they both shared the same ultimate vision; Rodger Maxon's vision, a vision of a world where mankind worshipped technology rather than misusing it. A better world.

I mean ... Dead Money is not a story about rational people making good choices. I don't think the "unhealthy obsession DLC" is a great example of anything but what not to do. Christine is a tragic figure. Her absolute best ending leaves her as something that is almost literally the ghost of an old-world film star, forever haunting the Sierra Madre. She's also clearly paralleling the fate of her lost love, Veronica: Veronica is keenly aware that the Brotherhood's ideology leads to an ugly dead end, but she can neither change them nor escape them and becomes a kind of ghost herself.

These are not pro-Brotherhood stories.

But I mean ... I'm not trying to somehow dispute that many Brotherhood members believe to some extent in Brotherhood ideals. I know how indoctrination works.

You're assuming the "noble" part. What I am saying is that I don't believe the Brotherhood's goals are noble, good, or helpful. I think they should stop doing what they're doing. I think the hoarding and the dogmatism and the genocide are ... well, wrong. I don't think Roger Maxson has a "better world". I think he and his men couldn't handle the guilt of being involved in unethical experiments themselves, and the Brotherhood has just been reacting badly to their collective trauma across generations.

It's not that I think the Brotherhood of Steel is absolutely incapable of change: in theory they could stop hoarding and murdering and generally being arseholes. But then they would not really be the Brotherhood of Steel anymore. And I think it is unlikely that that will happen, because the kinds of problems they cause are useful for the sorts of stories the Fallout series wants to tell.

So I'm probably stuck with them for the foreseeable future. And I still have no time for any of them.