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absolutebl · 3 years

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This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

It’s a cray cray Friday when Vietnam gets its eng subs up before GMMTV Thailand. What alter-reality are we in? Well, the Vietnamese offerings are better right now anyway. (Oooo, feel that burn.)

Ongoing Series - Thai

Top Secret Together Ep 2 - pulping it up in the best possible way. Sure sound and production values are pants, and in classic Thai fashion the editing in post is exacerbating (rather than fixing) pacing issues, but it’s still CUTE AF. I don’t even mind the added university storyline, because they’ve got good chemistry (and a confident gay fresher after a panicked gay hazer is an old favorite... what can I say, SOTUS was my first love). We aren’t spending too much time with any one couple, so it’s weighted a lot better than Brothers was, but also character development is slow.

Siew Sum Noi Ep 2 - Unfortunately, it’s just too hard to find, plus no subs. I’m dropping it in the hopes it comes back on my radar some day.

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) It’s rough having a ghost boyfriend, half your friends are scared, the other half think you’re crazy, and kissing shortens your lifespan. This was a cute couple even if I wasn’t wild about the surrounding story.

Close Friend Ep 5: (Dear My Star/JimmyTommy) - about high school penpals. It had to rely entirely on voice over work as the actors only meet face to face at the end. It’s a good thing they are appealing screen presences on their own, with good vocal control. It’s hard to imagine any other BL pair carrying this kinda plot. It’s by far my favorite of the series so far, and I’m not even a big JimmyTommy fan.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 7 - no subs. Do we care? Not really. Because we have...

Nitiman Ep 3 - currently my favorite out of Thailand. It’s the university Thai BL i’ve been waiting for since... when was the last good one? My Engineer? Yowza. Anyway we got: head on my shoulder, baby is a floppy drunk (but still wants to be in control), proximity alert, boyfriend’s closet, seme gets seriously jelly, and a cute twist on feeding him. There’s something fun and complex about Jin’s character. He’s not a panicked bi. He knows exactly what’s going on, he just hasn’t decided if he wants Bb or not. He clearly enjoys being looked after, the compliments, and the attention, but he’s not sure if he’s going to like what happens if he gives in. I like that twist on the usual tsundere uke archetype a lot, cautious rather than willfully obtuse or freaked out. We can see Jin realizing in stages: I like this person, I like that they like me, I like the romantic attentiveness. But in the background is... do I actually want to f*k him? It’s a dynamic we don’t often see on BL.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 10 fin - the most ridiculous show using BLs worst tropes in a sort of weird smoothie of bitter greens and too ripe banana. The ending was the sappiest cheesiest thing ever, like cheese syrup tapped from the cheese tree. So of course I loved it, but I’m pretty sure I giggled through all the bits meant to be profound. Because, in the end, to tolerate this show at all, you just can’t take ANY of it seriously. RECOMMENDED (with some SERIOUS reservations and trigger warnings.) Full review here.

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 1-2 - I don’t mind a damaged seme character but this one is a bit weird for me. Like creepy Cheese in the Trap level weird. On the bright side, the story has given our tsundere uke good motivation for his angst and great existing friendships, loyalty, and likability. Plus I’m invested in the cafe owner/innocent puppy side dishes. So if it’s only the seme character I’m not jiving with, and he’s the most established actor, it should all turn out fine. I believe in you, Taiwanese BL.

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 6 fin - speaking of belief. This such a good show but they gave us a cliffhanger ending. Now we must hope against hope for season two. That’s never guaranteed with Taiwan tho. So, I’m docking a few points and saying, RECOMMENDED so long as you realize it’s a cliffhanger.

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 1-9 (BL subplot) - this is a good het romance, but the fact that the BL subplot is a beautifully acted disaster bi + confident gay means you’re hearing about it whether you want to or not. Plus they just added in some GL! Come on! I gotta support Taiwan normalizing queer to this extent. They are fighting the good fight and if I also have to watch a career lady and her much younger softest straight boi get it on, too? Twist my arm with that service sub subtext. Go on Taiwan, TWIST IT. It’s on Viki. Join the revolution. * Incidentally if you actually like the D/s het dynamic of this show, I highly recommend Japanese Kimi wa Petto - career woman keeps a hot young dancer boy as a pet. Oh yes, an actual pet, that IS the pitch. Never doubt Japan when kink is on the line. It’s also on Viki. Go get your kink on, thank me later. (If it helps: That was not a request.)

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 2 (AKA 5) - love triangles aren’t my thing, but if you’re gonna do it short form, by all means bring in the lead’s other BL pairing so the chemistry is on point. Now I've no idea who I want him to end up with. Can’t they just be in a poly triad?

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 7 - I’m still enjoying it a lot. It’s still unabashedly queer and the tension is ramping up. We now have secret identity, blackmail, femme fatale, faen fatale, and incoming seme confrontation. Best of all, the series is still airing, which makes it longer than any other Vietnamese BL I’ve seen (aside from Tein Bromance - which is just too weird to count).

Gossip - Thai BL

SEVEN PROJECT TEASERS

No one is entirely sure what Studio Wabi Sabi’s Seven Project/7Project will entail.

It might be like Close Friend (1 episode per couple, no linking),

or Y-Destiny (2 episodes per couple, loosely linked),

or The En of Love (4 episodes per couple, linked but independent consecutive stories).

They’re giving the couple’s arcs separate titles. So each one would be what? Seven Project: Once Upon a Time or the like? We’re in Taiwanese title territory people and NO ONE WANTS TO GO THERE. Anygay...

Once Upon a Time is the BounPrem (og UWMA) anchor story, and seems to be the most dramatic and likely saddest. These two can handle most of what’s thrown at them at this juncture, so it should be good.

Vs Love is a BoomPeak (og Make it Right) university vehicle. Since I thought Boom was done with our nonsense, I couldn’t be more thrilled and surprised this pair is doing another show together. I don’t think either of them are the greatest actors but I find Peak very endearing and Boom charismatic on screen, so I’ll watch.

Would You be My Love is the hotly anticipated SantaEarth launch. They’re a (cultivated) IRL ship and Earth is an established BL actor. They have great chemistry and high energy so this could be lots of fun.

We are also getting a GL from this series from established BL actresses Samantha and Pineare. Nothing teased yet on that, but I’m looking forward to this installment the most. Also curious to see how the ladies handle the branding and promo side, not to mention the culture. (Thailand variety shows gonna force *girls* to play the Pepero game?)

Secret Crush on You upcoming Thai BL with no release date, co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with all fresh faces. (Previously known as Stalker the series.) It looks like pure pulp and I’m not wild about the plot but could be better than expected as it’s adapted from a novel. Cheewin is an okay director when he has an actual story to follow.

Don’t Say No the series. Coming from the producers of TharnType this is the JaFirst vehicle many have been waiting for. Friends to lovers + a good boy/bad boy pairing on a sports romance foundation. It’s basketball so they tapped Meen as well (he’s semi-pro). The bad news? You get one guess as to who is writing the darn thing? Yep it’s MAME. So, ya know, expect some slam dunk kidnapping, a light dribbling of rape, and me turning into a basketcase. AKA...

Will I have to live blog this series in order to survive it? That seems to be the only way I can. So probably. Which means the bad sports puns will continue. Look, if I’m suffering, SO ARE YOU!

Rumors of a new YinWar vehicle The Best Story (mini series) coming in July. Also rumors that their previously announced Love Mechanics (full length series) has either been delayed, is facing money issues, or is moving studios, or all three.

Breaking News

DELAYED (I’m talking these three off the watch list until we get new airing dates)

Love Area’s release was pushed out but it got a trailer.

Golden Blood was supposed to drop Weds but comments in MDL report that it is delayed due to C19.

Love’s Outlet (Taiwan) is supposed to have started a 50 episode run (only 3-5 min each, what utter nonsense). Sadly, this delay is due to a surge in cases in Taiwan which was doing so well, but also doesn’t have many inoculations.

Bad Buddy has started workshopping at GMMTV actual.

Kang Insoo’s BTS for Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding is SO FLIPPING CUTE. You have to watch it. Trust me, I don’t rec behind the scenes stuff often.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

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lucky-dreamfisher · 3 years

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The Illusion of Living Notes and Spoilers

I feel like enough time has passed for everyone who wanted to get the audiobook to get it, so here are all the notes I made while reading the book.

Please do NOT show these spoilers to anyone who didn’t give their explicit permission to be spoiled! And do not try to sneaky-spoil while being vague and pretending you’re not spoiling either!

TIOL was written in 1941 and published in 1942

Joey’s biggest dream is to become a God

Joey is explicitly not straight (reaffirms his distaste for dating women multiple times in the book, purposely avoids intimate gestures when meeting female friends, and reacts negatively to a straight couple kissing in his presence) but can be interpreted as either gay or asexual, and there’s evidence supporting both of these interpretations

Joey doesn’t think of people as real. He thinks of them as fictional characters in a show (well, he isn’t wrong)

He witnessed a murder at 10, but isn’t bothered by it, because everyone’s fictional anyway (watsonian perspective: little sociopath, doylist perspective: smartest character in the franchise). It was on that day that he started thinking of people as characters in a play, including his own parents.

He likes to throw peanuts in the faces of vaudeville performers he doesn’t like. Very proud of his aim

Joey’s dad sends him a pair of boots every year as a gift. Joey throws them out and buys himself better ones

Though it’s implied that the stories he tells about his parents aren’t true

While in the army, he was bullied for liking girl stuff, like reading romance novels and genre fiction

Nathan and Joey are very close. Nathan often gives him business advice and knows some of his secrets. Nathan looks down on artistic-type people. Joey is the only artistic-type person he admires, mostly for being business-oriented. Nathan is all about money.

Nathan wears a suit, has perfectly slicked back hair, and an elegant mustache. Smokes Cigars. Calls himself Nate

Nathan says that Lottie (the girl from the preview) isn’t real. It’s implied that there are more made-up people in the book. The epilogue implies that Joey intends to bring the made-up people to life one day, just like the cartoons

After leaving the army, and before starting an animation studio, he worked at a bookstore together with Henry for a few years

He took late-night art classes together with Miss Lambert

Bendy was named after Joey’s friend, who murdered a man to take a photo of his dying face for an award show. Joey finds it inspiring. In his words: "Thank god for dark paths, they lead all great artists to their greatest creations". Joey also likes the name Bendy, because it means someone who bends the rules

Nathan says that Joey had a genuine change of heart in his old age, and had “too much guilt and worry”. Nathan is not pleased with that

Abby Lambert is one of Joey’s oldest friends, and the one who introduced him to Henry. She and Joey used to perform vaudeville acts together. Joey played a Devil and Abby played an Angel

It’s implied that Henry created the Butcher Gang, and they were some of his oldest characters, even older than Bendy, Boris, and Alice

Henry left a year after the studio’s creation because he wanted “something that isn’t Bendy” (it’s either that he felt like his creativity was being stifled by being forced to work on the same project all the time, or that he wanted a real family, as opposed to the “studio family” that Joey was satisfied with)

Joey disses Henry a lot in the book. He paints him as untalented, unimaginative, boring, and a poor dresser on top of that. Nathan thinks that pretending to not care about Henry is Joey’s “greatest illusion”

Nathan hates Henry and thinks that Joey’s going too easy on him (if BATDR is Nathan’s world, Henry’s gonna be screwed)

Sammy used to play music at a movie theatre when he was a teen and Joey came to watch his performance every day

They met again a few years later and Sammy recognized him. Joey hired him and Jack on the same day

Sammy smokes

Sammy and Jack performed jazz songs at vaudeville together for some time before working at JDS

Jack gets upset when people ignore him and only pay attention to Sammy. He loves being the center of attention, and has a knack for showmanship. Very optimistic and good natured

Sammy was hired a year after Henry’s departure and has never met him (curious, given that he recognizes Henry in the game) Not true - turns out Sammy was hired in October 1930, so he still could’ve met Henry

As part of his deal with Joey, Sammy has full creative control over his department and people he’s working with (did Sammy replace Susie?)

Sammy hates being at the center of attention and is always very serious. Making jokes comes hard for him, but he plays along sometimes. His expression is very hard to read and he always seems suspicious of people he’s talking with. He’s dressed very neatly and appropriately (unlike Jack, who wears bright and flashy clothes), his hair is long and not slicked back. He’s a few years younger than Joey, but acts much older

Joey thinks that Sammy is his best decision and the man who comes closest to fully understanding him. He takes pride in the fact that Sammy sticks by him for all these years out of his own will, and not because Joey makes him. He thinks Sammy is a genius and deserves to be worshipped like a god (he doesn’t hesitate to tell him that). Asked him once whether there’s anyone Sammy worships, and it’s painfully obvious that he wanted to hear that it’s him (Sammy replied that a god of this magnitude hasn’t been invented yet, which is a nice foreshadowing)

Allison is already working at the studio at the time of TIOL. Before that, she was a Broadway actress. Joey likes to watch her recording sessions. It’s not confirmed which character she’s voicing, but Susie wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the book, so there’s a possibility that Allison was already voicing Alice Angel in 1941

Joey’s meetings with Jack Fain and Grant are just an excuse to have a coffee and chat with them

On his first meeting with Bertrum Joey got drunk and flirty with him. Bertrum told him he’s “not that kind of date” and Joey played dumb (the scene is played for laughs though, so idk if it’s supposed to be seriosuly indicative of Joey’s sexuality)

Bertrum returned from retirement to work on Bendyland

Disney exists in this universe, Joey wishes he could be able to achieve the same with Bendy

Nathan wants to prove “very soon” that he is limitless

The moving ink was developed as part of the Sillyvision film process at some point around 1941. The purpose of Sillyvision was to make corrections to images that have already been created, without having to redraw them from scratch. The ink is activated through contact with a special paper

Joey describes Bendyland’s conception, and the Dark Land sounds eerily similar to the studio world in BATIM & BATDR

Light Land is Alice’s Domain, and as the name suggests it will have many lights. It’s designed to create an illusion of being lifted up

Tiny Land is Boris’ Domain and it gives an illusion of getting shrunk

Big Land is Butcher Gang’s Domain and has giant airplanes and battleships

Joey hates the real world and wants to escape to a make-believe one. He was hoping Bendyland would be that for him. His greatest fear is being unable to create that perfect world, and creating only its dark reflection (ironic)

Joey feels like he won’t be able to truly die and rest his soul until his dream fully comes to life. He calls art his “doorway into immortality” (is Dapper Joey?)

Joey believes a soul is needed to make a lifeless artistic imitation of the world into a real breathing world. He says that he’s been looking for a soul for a long time (he means it metaphorically, but it feels like a foreshadowing)

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #batim #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #bendy: the illusion of living #dreamfisher certified

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readingsoyoucanavoidlife · 3 years

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In Denial

Sometimes I just want everyone to be happy and alive, so here is my headcanons for if Tom Riddle never existed.

~James and Lily never have to fight in a war, so James becomes a professional quidditch player and he became the longest reining Captain before he quit, bought the club and became the manager for it, as well as the coach for the players. Lily becomes a healer at St. Mungo’s and was able to invent a cure for dragon pox. When James’ parents died as a result of the disease she worked tirelessly researching it and came up with and affective cure. She has a portrait hanging in the hospital and after a long day sometimes has conversations with it (it the only way she can have a decent conversation in her current state). James teases her about it a lot.

~They get pregnant at a later age, because their relationship doesn’t move as fast since there is the lack of war pressure and not knowing what will happen to them. Same goes for the Weasleys and Andromeda so they all have their children later. (Canonly Molly and Arthur got married quicker because of war) And I’m just going to say that the Grangers had fertility problems, so had Hermione later. (this way the ages and relationships stay the same)

~After Harry they have three more children; Grace Iris Mia Potter, Sophie Lily Potter and Danial Charles Monty Potter. (In that order) (Iris and Charles are Lily’s parents names and Mia and Monty are shortened from Euphemia and Fleamont). Remus becomes Godfather to Grace, Peter (since he couldn’t betray them) becomes Godfather to Sophie, and Marlene becomes Godmother to Danial. Grace is two years younger than Harry (the year bellow Ginny), Sophie is one year bellow her and Danial is two years bellow that.

~They don’t see Dudley or their actual Aunt and Uncle often, they tend to meet up to have a tense cup of tea once a year. The Potter’s always send them birthday and Christmas gifts but the Dursley’s never do. They hardly heat from them until Dudley reaches out saying that he thinks his child is magical. James laughs a lot at this and more specifically the looks on Petunia’s and Vernon’s faces. They do agree to help him and his family understand.

~When McGonagall becomes Headmistress, the sorting becomes more based on personality and not character and bloodline. Thus ending the prejudice towards the houses. This is the thing that she brings to Hogwarts like the other Heads have done before her. (Dumbledore's was giving people, like Remus, chances) However this is before Minnie’s time so they are all in Griffindor. She becomes Headmistress in Harrys 6th year when Dumbledore leaves to retire in a tropical country, there is no imminent threat so why should he stay at school? His only problem is that sometimes it’s too hot to wear socks.

~Grace works for the ministry and falls in love with a guy who went to Durmstrang but now works in England, named Eric Luka. They end up having a daughter together, Scarlett Luka. Although when Scarlett is a year old, he walks out on them. Grace becomes a single mum for four years before her co-worker Aiden Murphey asks her out. They had always been friends as he had been a year above her at school, although he was in Ravenclaw. They get married and Scarlett changes her name to Luka-Murphy. They have three children together Liam, then a year later Finn and a year after that they have Owen.

~Sophie become a wizard robe designer and manages to bring some more modern and muggle aspects to the wizarding world. She starts her own clothing brand and falls for some one in Danial’s year. Zoe Phillips, they get married but don’t have any kids. They are perfectly content with spoiling their nieces and nephews.

~Danial is the perfect child of the family and people try to not like him because of it, but end up giving in because he is so nice. He is an architect for the wizarding world and marries a Hufflepuff in his year called Audrey, she is also an architect. Again they are the perfect couple that is so sickening but you can’t help liking them. They have two daughters, Emily and Olivia, who is four years younger.

~Wolfstar is a thing (as it always has been), they are together up until Harry’s 7th year. They are facing difficult struggles and are always shouting at each other, even though they still love each other. They decide to take a break and they each are set up on dates. Sirius with some guy and Remus with Tonks. On this date Remus gets very drunk because he misses Sirius and they sleep together.

~ A week later they promise to be better and stop their break. Although after three months, Tonks contacts Remus to tell him that she is pregnant, and it is his decision whether he wants to be part of it or not. Remus has his freak out about whether the baby will be like him and what Sirius will say.

~Sirius understands what has happened and doesn’t blame Remus because they were on a break, but is upset that he was with someone else. After a talk with James, Sirius feels better and is by Remus’ side the whole way and becomes excited for a baby when Remus calls Tonks to say that he wants to be a part of it (secretly he had always been jealous about the way his nieces and nephews look at James and Lily). Tonks knows how in love the boys are.

~Wolfstar begins to miss out on baby stuff and Sirius complains that its not how its meant to be when the kid arrives, so Tonks come to live with them. Tonks love the arrangement because she doesn’t have to be alone and the boys dote on her and the baby once he arrives. James becomes a Godfather. They continue living together until Teddy a bit after Teddy turns one. Tonks moves to London to be closer to her work and they co-parent using floo network all the time. Sirius normally watches him during the day since he is a wizarding writer and Remus is a professor at Hogwarts (floo’s into work) and Tonks is an auror.

~Harry and Ron become Friends with Hermione when they save her from trouble with Filch for being out after bed (she was in the Library for too long). They help her with the invisibility cloak and she lies for them when McGonagall reveals them from under the cloak when she stepped on the end of it.

~Neville has a happy childhood and is coated in his parents love, by the time he gets to school he is much more confident. He still takes a toad but his parents gave him an owl. Alice and Frank support all of his choices and are proud of every accomplishment he makes, even if his Grandmother says that it’s a waste of their time and effort. He and Harry are close friends from a very young age because of their parents, although they never really were best friends. When they went to Hogwarts and Harry went off with Ron they still looked out for each other and laughed together.

~Ron and Hermione (Ginny when they got older) came over to the Potter’s for some of the holidays, like they would go to the Weasleys for some before parting for a week before September 1st for “family time” and so their parents could see them off. Because of this Sirius and Remus become close with Ron and Hermione, so when Mrs. Weasley hosts a party (when Teddy is around three) they are invited too as part of the Potter family. Tonks comes along too as a family outing with Teddy. Teddy and Victorie hit it off and begged their parents to have play together more. Tonks sees Charlie at the party and starts talking to him as they were in the same year at school, though in different houses. He introduces her to his friend who works with him and is recently moving to London to lead the organization for dragon well-fair in England, protesting to let the Gringotts dragons free. In short Tonks and the person get together. (still unsure on what her partner identifies as but they are from a Greek pure-blood family with the surname Samaras).

~Charlie never marries or truly settles down but treats his dragons like children and is the best uncle ever.

~Bill comes to England not because of war but because he accidentally got promoted and had to move back. Him and Fleur still get married quickly, and have Victorie a year after that, Dominique come after two years and Louis three years after that. They pretty much lead the same lives other than the fact that their wedding isn’t crashed by Death Eaters and Fleur insists they have it in France (since they don’t have to stay in England for it)

~Hemione and Ron get together in 7th year in a similar sort of way. Ron is caught by Hermione tell off some kids for playing pranks on the house elves and teaches they about their history and situation. She can’t help herself, so she snogs him in the deserted corridor after the kids have gone.

~Ginny and Harry break up after his 7th year, she wanted more independence especially since this was her last year and the only year attending the school without her family there. Harry was also going to auror training and starting his own path in the world and wanted to experience being by himself in the world, with new responsibilities. They both date a few people whilst broken up and remain close friends, they were each other’s firsts (Harry’s 7th year) but were with other people too. After four years, Ginny made the Harpies first team and one the match for them. Like before, Harry and her ended up kissing in front of the entire stadium, they have been together ever since.

~ Ron and Harry both became aurors but shortly after Remus retires (he was getting more tiered after the full moons with his age and Sirius’ book became a best selling novel in the muggle and wizarding world so he could support them comfortably), he became the DADA professor. After joining the aurors he never felt like it was a good choice for him and didn’t know what he wanted to do, so he just stuck it out. That was until Remus mentioned he was retiring early and that they were struggling to find a competent professor.

~Ginny does take maternity leave with each of her children (Jake, Samuel and Lyra - because no one is dead) but still play for the harpies until she is forced to retire. After retiring she writes sports articles for both the Prophet and the Quibbler, becoming chief editor of both. Harry is able to take care of the kids whilst she is away, with the help of a nanny. They both couldn’t see a reason to put either of their careers on hold.

~Ron revolutionized the strategies that were used and as a result far less people were harmed and more people joined the force. He still took a 7 year break to be a stay at home dad whilst Hermione was being a boss, but practically worked part time since everyone respected his opinion and always asked for his advice (he got paid half time wages because of this). When Rose and Hugo both went to a muggle primary school, Ron worked for them officially again, but because of all the work he had done he rose quickly through the ranks and when the old head of the aurors retired, he became head of the department.

~Fred didn’t die so him and Angelina became a permanent couple (they never wanted to or could be bothered with getting married). They always had an on and off thing since the Yule Ball, they were the only people that they ever were in love with, despite their previous inconsistency. They only had one kid together. Joseph Weasley. Fred wanted him to have a sibling like he had but Angelina only ever wanted one and he had many cousins, George had his second kid at the same time and the boys were practically twins. (Fred II is renamed to Luke Weasley, since Fred didn’t die)

~George married Katie Bell after running into her at Diagon Ally whilst locking up the shop (Fred was out with Angelina that night). They agreed to catch up and it resulted in them having an amazing time, which ended with Katie giving George her contact details. They got pregnant with Roxanne just after George had proposed, so the wedding was preponed until she was there. Unfortunately Katie got pregnant again with Luke just when they started planning the wedding. two years later they finally got married and their children walked down the isle (it was the cutest thing, Molly was weeping).

~Percy and Oliver fall in love ( how do you expect two guys that are the definition of opposites attract share a room for 7 years and have nothing happen) Oliver stops Percy from being a complete prat as there is no ministry fall out with his family to get him to that point. Oliver makes him realize that his family are the greatest gift, especially with all their flaws. They have a small ceremony with only family and close friends and adopt a little witch naming her after Molly, three years later they adopt another witch and name her Lucy.

~Snape and Lily still fall out with him calling her a mudblood, just because there wasn’t an group to kill those like her doesn’t mean he didn’t hang around with prejudice people and have those views. He still become potions professor when Slughorn retires. Though occasionally he will get howlers from the Potter’s and Longbottom's shouting at him for his behavior towards his students along with some howlers from Marlene and Dorcas, Emmeline, Mary, Sirius and Peter with use of his old nicknames they had for him. (because how dare he disrespect their friends kids)

~Peter still is friends with the marauders, but he moves away from them and distances himself every year to the point where they only write to each other to celebrate special occasions. He never finds a partner or has children but does become a pub manager and lives comfortably.

~Draco and the Golden trio make their peace at the end of 7th year. They never become friends, they just forgive each other ( for the most part, him calling Hermione a mudblood is not forgiven). They act civilly towards one another, especially when Scorpius and Samuel announce that they are dating. They learn to tolerate but nothing more.

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dameronsgalaxygal · 4 years

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I’ve Been Waiting For You: Chapter 7: Waterloo

series masterlist

Pairing: modern! poe x reader

Warnings: FLUFF. angst if you squint.

Word Count: 4343

Songs: Waterloo by ABBA

A/N: I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER. also I'm not going to be posting the song links anymore because it causes my post to not show up in the tags, but you can find the song on a playlist linked on the master list! There are multiple songs referenced in this chapter, feel free to give them a listen! Also, let me know if you suspect anything suspicious in this chapter ;) There is something really important in this that will come to play later. Feedback and comments appreciated, and let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Summary: Its your 6 month anniversary with Poe, and you both learn something new about each other.

“I am home and I have brought lunch for my two favorite ladies!”

Poe burst through the door of Solo Reads holding two white paper bags that had his name written sloppily in sharpie on them.

“Shhh!!” An older man and woman turned to look at him with furrowed brows. They were the only two in the bookstore along with you and Leia and they had been quietly discussing a book regarding the ‘history of the world’

Poe stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide with annoyance as he glanced at them. The couple rolled their eyes and continued to analyze the book.

“Sorry, didn’t realize this was a library.” He spoke quietly, shooting you a look as he walked up to the register desk that you had been sitting behind.

You laughed and stood up from the bar stool as he approached you, leaning over the desk to kiss him.

“It’s not.” You laughed as you pulled away. “Older couples just tend to like a little more peace when they read.” You whispered as you looked over Poes shoulder to look at the couple.

He chuckled lightly and set the bags down that he had been holding.

“How was your trip?” You asked, opening the bag to look inside at what he had got you.

He shrugged, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. “Same old, same old.”

He had been gone for a couple days for work, flying from Miami to California, then California to Oregon, from Oregon to Michigan, then finally back to Miami. He was finally back and decided to stop by the bookstore despite being exhausted. He even had brought you and Leia lunch, the tiny gesture forming butterflies in your stomach even though you two had been together nearly half a year now.

“I missed you,” You smiled, “Thanks for the sandwich.” You held up the small sandwich. He knew your order by heart. He had memorized it the first time you went to the deli with him after you had gotten the job at his aunts bookstore. Ham and swiss with mayo and extra pickles.

“Missed you too, and no problem,” He smiled back at you before looking around the bookstore. “Where’s Aunt Leia?”

You shrugged, “Probably reading in her office.” You looked to the back of the bookstore to where Leia had spent most of her time. It was a small space only consisting of a desk and chair along with some of her favorite knick-knacks and photos. She stayed in there when it wasn’t too busy, which was almost every day.

Poe nodded and grabbed the food he had gotten for her, heading back towards her office. The door had been cracked open slightly and he knocked on it gently.

Leia looked up from a stack of papers and smiled when she saw her nephew, “Poe! How was work?” She took her glasses off and stood up to meet him.

“The usual. Brought you some lunch,” He reached his arm out to hand her the bag.

“Thank you, dear.” She took it from him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “So, how are things?”

He shrugged, “Fine I guess. Finn keeps forgetting to fill up our water filter and it gets really annoying because then I have to drink the tap water,” He started.

Leia laughed lightly, sitting back in her desk chair and unwrapping her sandwich, “I meant between you and Y/N.”

“Oh,” He laughed, “Things are pretty good. She’s great. She’s gotten more comfortable with me, which is good. I’m glad she’s starting to really trust me.”

Your relationship with Poe was getting stronger day by day. Poe hadn’t been as clingy, but he would still come over every now and then or you two would go out on dates like bowling, mini golf, the beach, etc. As the days went by, you were getting more comfortable with being with Poe in more intimate settings. You and Poe would cuddle and watch movies in your bedroom, and sometimes he would even spend the night. You would go to bars and dance, just like that night.

He wouldn’t let anything happen, though. If he started to get too heated, you would say something and he would immediately back off. He stayed true to his word when it came to respect and making you feel comfortable.

“Good. I’m glad you two are doing good,” She took a few bites of her sandwich.

Poe sighed and looked out of her office to make sure you were occupied with something before closing Leia’s office door.

“Can you help me with something?” He asked her, crossing his arms.

She nodded, “Of course, what do you need?”

“How do you think I can get Y/N to come over to my place?” He asked quietly, walking towards her desk.

She looked up at him mid-chew, raising an eyebrow.

“Not to sleep with her! I just,” He sighed, “I want to do something special for her, and make her feel really comfortable. Let her know that it’s okay. We’ve been together for a while now.”

Your six month anniversary was coming up soon, and you hadn’t planned anything yet. Poe hadn’t mentioned anything because he wasn’t sure where you stood with it, or if it even was going to be something worth celebrating in your eyes.

She continued chewing, “Well the best thing to do is talk to her. Communication is always key.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to come off desperate,” He said, emphasizing ‘desperate’ with finger quotes.

Leia chuckled and looked up at him, “Hun, just talk to her. Assure her that you aren’t going to try anything, and if she really doesn’t feel comfortable yet, you’re going to be okay with it.”

Poe stood silent, looking down at his feet.

“You are going to be okay with it if she’s not ready, right?” She leaned forward in her desk chair to try to catch his gaze.

He shrugged, “I mean, of course. I love her, but I just really want her to feel comfortable all the time. I want...I want her to feel like she can open up to me.”

Leia stood from behind her desk and walked up to him, reaching up to cup his cheeks.

“Poe, you don’t know what she went through. Whatever it was, it affected her greatly. When she feels like she can talk about it, she will. Whether that’s now or ten years from now, she’ll know when she’s ready,” She stroked underneath his eyes with her thumbs and he responded with a small nod.

“Besides, you should feel special that she's trusted you for as long as she has,” She smiled gently.

He smiled back, “I do.”

She pulled her hands away and nodded her head towards your direction outside her office, “Then go talk to her.”

He pulled Leia into a hug, “Thank you, Auntie,” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She pulled away with a smile, patting his cheek gently before walking back to her desk.

You were still behind the register trying to finish your lunch but you kept getting interrupted by the older couple asking you for recommendations. You were giving them classic novels such as your favorite, To Kill a Mockingbird, but apparently they meant recommendations for other bookstores, because Solo Reads ‘didn’t have what they were looking for’.

Poe returned to you and smiled before watching the couple leave.

“Looks like a busy day!” He teased in which you just chuckled.

“Very.”

Hey smirked at you for a second before sneaking behind the counter and grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck and he took it as an okay to lean down and kiss you sweetly. He squeezed your waist gently as his tongue begged for entrance. You granted it, letting out a small whine as he kissed you deeper.

He pulled away for a breath and smiled when he noticed the bright pink flush of your cheeks.

“Almost six months together and you still make me blush every time you kiss me,” You bit your lip and he kissed your cheek.

“Speaking of six months,” He brushed a hair out of your face, “Tuesday is our six month anniversary.”

You took a deep breath. Has it really been that long? Time seemed to fly by with Poe. You still hadn’t told him you loved him, and he had only said it a couple times since the first time because he didn’t want to scare you away. You also hadn’t had sex with him, nor had you opened up to him about your past. But none of that mattered to him. He loved you just the same, maybe even more.

You nodded, “That’s right. It is.”

He swayed you a little bit, arms still around your waist. “I was wondering if you wanted to do something. I fly back from Texas that morning and I have Wednesday off, so we can have a late night.”

“Like what?” Your fingers played with the hair behind his neck and you could feel him melt at your touch.

He sighed nervously, “Well, if you were feeling up for it, and if you’re comfortable of course,” He said, emphasizing ‘comfortable’, “I thought maybe you could come over. Not for any funny business! I just thought maybe we could have a cozy night in. Order some take-out and watch a movie. Play board games and stuff,”

You rubbed your hands up and down his arms as you thought about his offer. In all honesty, you were getting kind of bored of being at your place. You were curious to see what Poe’s house looked like without a hundred drunk people running around. Conveniently, Rey was having some of her coworkers over for a dinner party and you were just planning on being in your room.

You took a deep breath, hesitant with your answer at first before responding, “Okay. Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

He was surprised by your response, even though he had been hopeful. He leaned back in surprise, arms still around your waist.

“Really? You aren’t going to be uncomfortable?” He asked.

You shrugged, “I need to step out of my comfort zone. We’ve been together for a while, and I think it’ll be fun. Help me grow,” You squeezed his shoulders and smiled.

He returned the smile as you continued, “Besides, I trust you. And Rey has the apartment occupied since she's having people over to celebrate something that they achieved at work.”

“Right, Finn was telling me about that. Something about them finally closing a huge deal with First Order Tech, or something like that. Well, good, that means Finn will be gone too.”

You nodded, hoping that his statement of Finn being gone didn’t mean what you thought it meant. Regardless, you were going to allow yourself to step out of your safety bubble and see where it took you. You had open communication with Poe, and if you didn’t want to go to his place again, you would tell him. He would understand.

“So Tuesday? I can pick you up around 5.”

“Sounds like a plan,” You leaned up to kiss him.

He smiled against your lips before he pulled away, “Perfect.”

-----

“Y/N! Can you get the door?” Rey called as she rushed around the kitchen prepping for dinner.

You rushed out of your room while you put in your earrings and headed to open the door.

Standing before you was Poe with a small bouquet of white roses in his hand.

“Happy six months,” He smiled.

The fact that he had bought you white roses instead of red made your entire body fill with emotions. It was almost as if Poe knew that Kyle used to buy you red roses when he wanted to apologize to you.

“Happy six months,” You replied, taking the roses and giving him a quick kiss, “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“Just like you,” He mumbled and you blushed, biting your lip.

“You are so corny,” You laughed, “Let me just get my shoes on and I’ll be ready to go.”

Poe nodded at you as you rushed back to your room to finish up.

“Hey!” Poe said loudly so Rey would hear her over the water running in the sink.

“Hey,” She called back.

“Finn wanted me to tell you he’s running late, he got distracted playing some game called ‘Duel of the Fates’ on the computer. Wasn’t keeping track of the time. He’s getting ready now.”

She just shook her head and laughed, “That man, I swear. Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem,” He chuckled.

You came out of your bedroom and smiled, “Ready.”

He put his arm around your shoulder as he said bye to Rey.

“I’ll bring her home later, but if plans change we’ll let you know.”

You rolled your eyes because you knew he was teasing, so you just nudged his side in which he laughed.

“Have fun!” She called out as you made your way to his car.

He opened the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in, “M’lady?”

Blushing again, you got inside, “Why thank you.”

He closed the door with a smile before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling away from your apartment complex.

He reached over to grab your hand, squeezing it lightly as he kept his eyes on the road.

“So,” You started, looking at him while you played with his hand, “What do you have planned for us tonight?”

He kept his eyes on the road, “Well, nothing too fancy. Just something casual. I thought maybe we could order pizza, then watch a movie and cuddle. If you don’t mind, I already had one picked out.”

“Oh yeah? What movie?”

“Top Gun. It’s my favorite,” He looked over at you and smiled.

Of course it was. He was a pilot, so it was no surprise to you that his favorite film would be a classic about flying.

You admired him for a minute before replying, “I’d love to watch Top Gun.”

“It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. My parents used to watch it all the time. My mom would sometimes even call me her ‘Mini Maverick’.” His smile dropped slightly as he mentioned his mother. You squeezed his hand.

“Is that why you became a pilot? The movie inspired you?” You looked at your intertwined hands and then back up at him.

His face shifted and his jaw clenched. You furrowed your brow.

“Yeah,” He said tentatively. “I love fighter jets, but I was always too afraid to fly them. So I became an airline pilot instead.”

His tone seemed hesitant, like he was hiding something. You brushed it off and looked out the window with a nod as he pulled up to his home.

You must have just missed Finn, because the driveway was empty.

Your mouth dropped slightly in awe. You had been there once before, but you had been so anxious to really look at it completely.

It was only one story, but it was big, with several palm trees planted in the front yard. It had a cobblestone driveway that led to two large garage doors, and you wondered why an airline pilot and a tech engineer had lived in such a big place when they could have easily afforded an apartment directly in the city; especially since Poe was gone flying more than half the time.

Parking the car, he looked over at you and frowned when he saw your expression.

“Change your mind?”

You shook your head, “No, no, no. I just forgot how nice of a place you have.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hand again before getting out of the car, “Let’s go inside.”

The inside of his house was just as nice. With wooden floors, it had three bedrooms: Poe’s, Finn’s, and a guest room. There were also two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, indoor bar, and a living room that was so big you swore you could fit three cars in it.

The living room had a giant flat screen and an L-shaped couch along with two reclining chairs, and a giant grand piano that caught your attention before anything else.

“You play?” Your mouth opened in excitement, running over to it and running your hand along the top of it. You didn't remember seeing it during Finn's party.

He shook his head, following behind you.

“No. Finn does, though. When he’s not doing tech stuff he likes to teach himself.”

You admired the instrument, “It’s beautiful.”

He smirked, “Do you play?”

“I fiddle around,” You smiled, opening the fall board to look at the keys, “I was a music minor, remember?”

“Ah, yes.” He leaned gently against the piano as you sat down on the stool, “Can you play something for me?”

You looked up at him, shaking your head. “It’s been a while.”

“Oh come on,” He teased, “You just said you were a music minor, I’m sure you can pick it up again. Come on. Play something. Anything.”

You sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m a little rusty though, and I haven’t really touched any instrume-”

“Play woman!” He teased, throwing his head back.

You laughed, “Okay, okay!” You thought about what you wanted to play, or at least what you remembered how to play.

After a moment of thinking, you decided to play one of your favorite piano songs, A River Flows in You by Yiruma.

Your hands found the keys, pressing on them softly to reveal the first chords and then glancing at Poe. He had a soft smile on his face and he gestured for you to keep going.

You continued to play and Poes eyes went between your face and your hands, his head tilting in admiration as he watched you.

Your eyes remained focused on your hands, your hair falling in front of your face slightly. Poe smiled to himself as he crossed his arms. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

As you dove deeper into the song, your entire body swayed as you pressed your fingers against the black and white keys. You hadn’t played in so long, mostly because you had never had the chance. When you worked at the record label in New York, you were often running around with files or organizing appointments for people. You weren’t able to sit down and play. Music made you feel free, which is why you had written song lyrics constantly. You had written them in that matte blue notebook. The one you threw away months ago. You hadn’t thought about music since then. Until today.

After finally finishing the song, you sighed happily, taking a moment to yourself before looking up at Poe who was staring at you in adoration.

“‘I’m a little rusty’” He mocked.

You giggled, standing up and closing the fall board, “I am!”

“That was not ‘a little rusty’” He pulled you by the waist into his chest, “You’re really talented sweetheart.”

Your face transformed into a grin, gazing up at him and running your fingertips along his jaw, “Thank you.”

He brushed the hair out of your face, holding his hand to your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips were soft and gentle like they normally were, but they always left you wanting more.

“We should play together sometime,” He said as he pulled away.

“I thought you said you don’t play,” You laughed.

“I said I don’t play piano, I never said I don’t play an instrument,” He winked and turned to go to the kitchen.

You bit your lip, walking to the couch and plopping down onto it.

Poe came back into the living room with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. He sat the glasses down as he popped open the bottle, pouring you a glass.

“How's half pepperoni-half cheese sound?” He asked, handing you the glass.

“Sounds delicious,” You took a sip.

He smiled and sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he opened up his phone to call the pizza place.

You looked around the living room as he ordered when you noticed a bookshelf full of small knick-knacks and informational books. You stood up, wine glass in hand, and walked over to it.

Along the shelf were several small antique fighter jets, similar to life size jets seen in Top Gun and in the Air Force. You ran your fingers along them and smiled to yourself, thinking about how much he must love the movie to have a collection of jets. You also analyzed the books, seeing titles such as Air Force Aircrafts: The Complete Dictionary and A Pilot's Survival Guide to Flying. You bit your lip, kind of turned on by your pilot and his admiration and passion for flying.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a pair of arms snaking around your waist.

“What are you doing?” Poe asked softly.

“Just looking around. You really like Top Gun don’t you?” You kept your eyes on his collection.

He took a breath, “Yeah. Speaking of that, you wanna watch now?”

You turned to face him, “How long until pizza’s here?”

“15 minutes or so.”

“Well, we don’t want to get interrupted during the movie…” You started.

He cocked his eyebrow, “Okay…”

“Wanna make out until the pizza gets here?”

His eyes widened and he smirked at your boldness, “Now how could I ever deny such a thing?”

You giggled, putting a finger to his chest, “No funny business. Hands stay above the waist and off the chest.”

“Yes, madam,” He teased, pulling you down to the couch.

You smirked as he pulled you onto his lap, hands immediately landing on your waist as he leaned up to kiss you. Your hands cupped his cheeks, kissing him with force. His hands ran up and down your sides, but stayed away from your areas of concern. He continued to kiss you for a while, his tongue battling with yours and you let out a small whine. You tugged on his lower lip and a groan escaped him. You smirked, pulling away as he chased your lips.

Panting, he smirked and looked down at your swollen lips. He licked his as he leaned in to kiss you again when the doorbell rang. He sighed and dropped his head on your shoulder.

“There is no way that was 15 minutes,” He chuckled against your shoulder.

You smirked, tapping him to let go of you so you could get off his lap. You fell back onto the couch as he got up to retrieve the pizza. After a minute, he returned from the front of the house carrying the box and a stack of napkins and two plates.

He sat the box down on the coffee table before returning to his place on the couch.

“Can you put the movie in? It’s up on the shelf,” He said, opening the box and grabbing a slice.

You nodded, standing up and grabbing it off the shelf. You took the CD out of the case, putting it in the DVD player. You thought it was cute that he still owned one. Normally people rented movies off of their TVs nowadays, but you assumed he had it on DVD for the nostalgia.

You returned to the couch, grabbing yourself a slice of pizza and curling into Poes chest.

You had seen the movie a couple times before, but not near as many times as Poe. You adored how he knew nearly every one of Tom Cruises lines. You could hear them say them quietly under his breath, and you had to nudge him playfully at times so you could actually pay attention to the movie.

“Sorry,” He would laugh, “Habit.”

After you had both devoured the entire pizza and an entire bottle of wine, you nuzzled closer to Poe. Your head was laying on his chest and his hand stroked your hair. You felt safe. You told yourself that there was nothing to be afraid of, Poe respected you, and tonight proved that for you. You were getting more comfortable day by day, and it felt wonderful. Maybe you would be okay with Poe after all. Maybe you had nothing to worry about.

“This is one of my favorite scenes,” Poe said, shifting in his seat, pulling you closer to him.

‘Take My Breath Away’ by Berlin began playing, and you giggled. It was the iconic scene where Maverick shows up at Charlie’s door and they kiss and make love. You smiled softly as you watched the scene, quietly singing the lyrics to yourself.

Even though he had just mentioned it was his favorite scene, he looked down at you the entire time. He watched you sing and his lips formed a tiny smile. He didn’t know when he would get you to open up to him, but he just felt so lucky that he was able to hold you and make you feel loved. He stared at you until about half way through the scene when you finally looked up at him.

He continued to look down at you, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek. He cupped it gently, stroking his thumb under your eye softly before leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back, your arm reaching up to run through the curls on the side of his head. He smiled through the kiss, as did you.

He pulled away once the scene ended, kissing your forehead and moving his eyes back to the screen. You continued to look at him for a moment, your chin on his chest and your smile not leaving your face for even a second. You sighed happily, resting your head back on his chest as you finished watching the film.

He really did take your breath away.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #imagine-poe-dameron #modern au #modern poe #i've been waiting for you #I've been waiting for you poe #poe dameron series

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mimithings97 · 4 years

Text

Mon Amour (M) - KTH

Summary: The Parisian air has a way about it. To some it’s romantic, to others a source of peace and escape. To Taehyung it spells pent up frustration, heavy balls, and much needed assistance from his girlfriend. Unfortunate for him, you won’t let him touch you. Based on this from the Drabble Game:

#22 “i know i upset you, but you haven’t sucked my dick in 5 days now”

#40 “i’m so horny right now, i couldn’t stop if i tried”

Genre: Pureeeee Smut, Domestic

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Masturbation, Dry Humping, Sex, Spitting, Foot play, Fingering, Oral (m. receiving), Squirting, Fucking FRENCH TAE!

A/N: A spontaneous little thang because @softyoongiionly royally fucked me up with the whole French Tae thing in her fic ‘La Grande Maison: A Mystery in Three Acts’. So big up to you, and as always, enjoy x

It’s the nicest day since you arrived, you’re sure of it. The sun angled just high enough and without the veil of clouds like it had been previously, that your balcony is set alight with the heat of white rays, the plants beginning to wilt in the corner because you hadn’t tended to them and your skin, in all its nakedness, goldening.

Maybe it’s the Parisian air, not that cliche romantic kind of air, but that feeling of spontaneity and carefree that has your robe strewn in the bathroom and your breast decorated in the 2pm sun. It also helped that your balcony was set high enough above the level skyline, perched a little too far to the north of the city and up a slight hill, so that your nudity falls dead to the world.

The click of the front door dispels the peace, though.

A rustle and the thump of bags in the kitchen tell you Tae’s trip to the market was more successful than yours was, but then again, your boyfriends French was on par with the native speakers who line the stalls.

“Ma chérie?”

The book that you’d left flattened and faced down, when sunbathing became more interesting, suddenly finds its way into your hands. It was a novel recommended by him, and something you promised you’d finish by the end of the day, so suddenly your eyes scan the page as though you’re immersed in the plot line of traditional French romantics.

“Y/N?”

“Oui?” You prop yourself in a certain way on the chair, finding the angle that has the rays of light beating your skin in the most attractive way, and give a ruffle to the locks that litter your bare back.

It’s a small apartment, the kitchen meeting the bedroom and bedroom meeting the balcony all in one open plan space - it’s not like you had anything to hide with him - so it’s not long before his footsteps fall onto the concrete of the outdoor space. It’s the clunking of ice that has your lips turning upwards.

“They didn’t have the peach, but the woman recommended the citrus. Said it’s good when the weathers like thi-.”

You take it from where it’s hovered over your shoulder, and immediately the condensation hits your hand, ice cold droplets making their way from fingers to wrist to elbow. Your nipples harden at the sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Baby?”

“Mmm,” it’s both an answer to his call for you and an answer of satisfaction at the bitter liquid, cold and moreish, down your throat.

You know he’s eyeing you. You know his hands are lingering against his sides, fighting desperately against the desire to trail fingertips over the curve of your shoulders and down to your breasts. Your nakedness is another level of tempting he’s not sure his hormones can contend with.

And you know, even more, you’re petty. Teasing to prove a point. Letting his eyes wander and fingers jitter, but not letting him touch.

It wasn’t petty at first, not when your sister’s wedding - second wedding, but the more honest coupling of the two - was sidelined thanks to your boyfriends drunk hysteria. Your dance with one of the groomsmen, a high school friend, had caused jealousy to mix with alcohol and for Taehyung to reach levels of anger you hadn’t seen since his dad left. In short, it was bloody. So, no, your distance was justified, and the absence of his touch was as punishing to you as it was to him. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t play with it a little, string it on so that honest resentment did, in fact, become a little petty.

“Y/N, baby,” he doesn’t know what he’s asking, or maybe it’s just a plea with himself. But his cock stirs as icy droplets find their way between your breasts. It’s like they’re asking his eyes to follow them. Down, down, and further down, until there lies your bare cunt. He didn’t know you had it in you, but he’s suddenly cursing himself for ever realising you did.

“Fuckkkk.”

You know where his eyes are. They burn a little bit more than the sun that rakes over your body still, so it’s a calculated move when you uncross your legs, slowly, temptingly and you probably taste salty down there from the accumulation of sweat and arousal.

The strength in his neck goes all at once and his forehead drops to your shoulder, an uncomfortable curve in his back, but your scent makes up for it. It’s heady and wholesome and a mix of sweat and shampoo, and he can’t help his hands wander.

The tips of his fingers tingle, and when they meet the skin of your arm, your hairs stand on end. As much as you’d teased him in the last few days, you’d been teasing yourself, fighting inner battles every morning at how his morning wood pressed into you, or how you wanted to french kiss him when he spoke with the native Parisians. Mostly it was the way Paris suited him. It made you want to tangle with one another in your sheets with the balcony doors open and the sun exposing all of you. So his touch effects you and you don’t push it away, not this time.

“Ma beauté, please,” his lips are soft on your shoulder. His teeth not so much, but you know it’s a habit he has when he requires self restraint. “Please.”

His fingers are still light and apprehensive, but they know what they want, dragging southward so he intertwines them amongst yours. He first pulls them up to his mouth, so a kiss meets each knuckle - you know it’s a form of apology, for his mistake, and for what he’s about to do - and then your collective grasp makes a steady path behind you. His shirt is loose, and so are his shorts, and they’re thin enough you feel him heavy, hard and wet with his precum.

“Please.”

His grip fastens around yours, a tight mould that closes around his erection and he gasps, fully and unabashed as though he hasn’t been touched in days. Because, he hasn’t.

“Shit.”

So you take the initiative and work your hand on your own, the fabric harsh against his skin, but he likes the burning pain and vocalises that.

“Fuck yeh, please keep going, please.”

You’ve never heard him plead with you as much, voice still low and gravely as ever, but it’s a whine either way, and it keeps you hand tight to his dick, twisting a little so his balls get caught up in the material too. There’s a light thrust of his hips that calls for more, and he begins hissing and panting into the skin of yours shoulder, his hands occupied with their fierce grip on chair.

“Let me touch you baby.”

“Mmm,” you want that, his hands, his lips, everywhere, forever, but there’s something rooted within you that calls for more of his whines, and another part that wants to prologue his torture.

So the hand working his erection, finds his shorts seam, but much to his disappointment, you don’t venture under the barrier, instead you find yourself pulling him round the chair so his back is lit with the heat of the midday sun and his face, ridden with need and eyes that dart straight to your core, fills your gaze.

“Fuck you’re hot,” and naked, and all for his eyes. But eyes only.

“Kneel on the floor for me,” if you could say it in French, you would, it turns him on no end, but you hadn’t reached that level in your vocabulary book yet. Another day, you think, another day.

It’s almost comical the way he obeys so quickly, so devoted to your every word, it’s love but it’s mostly desire. Particularly now he’s level with your pussy.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he whispers, loud enough you hear, though

“Take your shirt off for me,” he begins at the top, “slowly.” His hands fumble between each button, but he won’t look to aid the cause, his eyes are drowning in the wetness between your thighs. The lust within them is enough to have you own hands wandering.

Your drink was forgotten a while ago, but the lingering ice cold wetness between your fingers is beautiful as they skip from hardened nipples to your stomach. It caves a little at the cold and Taehyung chokes a profanity when your pussy clenches at the same time.

“Mmm,” he’s bare now, with his top half rid of the shirt that marred your view of his body - torso beautifully golden thanks to the good weather and chest lifting too harshly with how his breathing stutters.

“Y/N please.”

“Mmmmm,” it’s so so good when you touch your clit, a gentle roll between your thumb and index finger, and you eye his hands, fists more like from the way they clench, imagining it’s his between your legs instead. Your sticky with sweat, but it’s good, and when a sinker sinks in shallow to your hole, it’s even better.

“Oh my fuckkk,” he’s subconsciously leaning forward, a primal instinct that has his tongue lapping at his lips and a tingling all over that calls out to fucking taste you, and now! He’s horny, too horny, yet there’s nothing that’s going to take his eyes away from where you finger yourself.

“It feels good Tae, so good.”

He literally whimpers. And there’s a sensible part of him, that’s thinking whether or not it’s worth cumming in his Gucci shorts.

But you moan, and he caves.

“Baby, please, let me touch you, please. I’m so hard, want it so bad. Want your hands on me, your mouth, anything, fuckk.”

One of your bare feet finds his bare abs, pushing gently because he didn’t realise he’d leaned it far enough to smell you.

“You want my mouth?”

“Mmm,” he licks his lips.

“Where?”

There’s a shaking to his hand, but it takes your foot firmly and drags it southward until it perches on where his cock sits high and hard. You smirk and he moans.

“There?” He twitches when you push harder.

“Fuckk.”

“You upset me though. Properly upset me Tae.” And it’s the first time his eyes meet yours in favour of your cunt.

He’d known he fucked up, bad and big. He’d known you cried the first two nights when he slept on the sofa at the other side of the room, you’d woken up with puffy eyes and had two cups of coffee that morning - you hate coffee. He’d known he’d wait until you were ready, emotionally and then physically, pushing back every instinct to drown you in his love, with his words, his mouth, his hands, because, like he said, he’d fucked up big.

And if that all meant keeping his hands to himself, his dick tucked away painfully, and resist the urge to taste you even when your fingers are sinking deeper with every twist, then, fuck, he’ll do it.

It doesn’t make it any easier though.

“Hmm?” You push harder again, foot to straining erection.

“Fuck, baby, I know I upset you, but you haven’t sucked my dick in 5 days. It’s painful, I’ll do anything.”

You scoff a little, then proceed to curl your toes around his head so he gasps out and flutters his eyes closed. They open to your pussy gushing dangerously around three fingers now.

It’s good, the friction, inside you, on your clit, hot and cold and so, so good. You’re moaning lightly, out of pleasure but also to string along his pain. Tae loves when you’re vocal.

“Just suck me a little, or let me have a taste. S'il vous plaît, mon cherie, s'il vous plaît.”

Fuck, you might know Tae but he knows you better, and the baritone of his voice, lustful and pleading, and in French, you release your foot and loose every internal battle.

“Come here.”

Giving in never tasted you good, his mouth meets your fingers first, salty, wet and so fucking delicious on his tongue, before you pull him by his hair so you kiss. And kiss hard. Starved and deprived means everything is on the line in a single few seconds of being joined at the mouth, and your moans is a trigger for him to dive deeper.

His hands feel bigger than they ever have when they wrap around your thighs, searching for a secure purchase before you’re lifted and swung around, roles switched, and him finding place on the chair. Neither of your tongues leave one another, and the way he’s open mouthed, breathing erratically, the kiss is sloppy, beautifully messy and his hips bucks when he thinks of something.

“Baby,” you’d sneaked a hand between you, and he’s not prepared when you squeeze him wholeheartedly, “f-fucking shit Y/N.” So you do it again, and again.

“Fuck, baby, please.”

“What Tae,” your tongue still laps at his.

“Spit in my mouth, I need it.”

You pull back, a little caught off guard by his desire. It’s not that deep and not that dark of a notion, but my god, if you don’t want to get on your knees and suck him dry at the thought. “Jesus.” So, with one hand firm on his dick, the other presses his cheeks harshly until they hollow. You suppress the desire to choke him, and instead collect your saliva, both his and your, aiming the spit deep into the back of his throat.

If it’s possible for a guy to cum without ejaculating, then that’s exactly what Tae just did. He tastes you, so far back in his gullet, and swallows, and moans.

“Good?”

“So good, please, more.”

So you do, again, finding his tongue with your spit and his hips begin to set a pace beneath you, into your hand through the layers of his shorts. They desperately stutter.

“You’re that horny huh? Won’t stop until you cum in your pants huh?”

“I’m so horny I couldn’t stop if I tried.”

“They’re Gucci, Tae, fuck that.”

He thinks it must be Christmas when you sink down beneath his thighs, spread and shaking from the torrent of blood rushing up to his dick. You’re fast on the zipper and faster at latching your mouth to his dick once they’re sufficiently down his legs.

“Holy fu- shittt.”

You take him straight down in one, the only teasing part being your fingers kneading at his balls, too gently for him to moan like he does when you twist them. But he growls, instead, when your throat constricts and quakes around his head and the vibrations travel everywhere through him when you moan at having him so deep.

“Baby, hold up a bit, pleaseee. I’ll cum.”

You twist his balls.

“Fuck, oh my god, oh my god, baby, I want- ohshit, I wanna be in you.”

Your pussy throbs enough that you take him up on his want, prepared to discard every last piece of restraint you’d kept up for the last 5 days, because you’d forgiven him before he’d even fucked up.

“Wowow, wait, just, I’ll cum too quick, just-”

You hover, panting a little from when you’d sucked him so your lungs dried up.

“Okay,” tenderly, one of your hands, shaking from the pent up hormones, finds his cheeks, his hair, his lips, easing him and lulling him, “calm, you’re good.”

He presses a fleeting kiss to your palm, and then licks a stripe up his own, salty from sweat but it reaches for something saltier. It cups you with little reservation, heading straight for your clit whilst two fingers nestle deep inside you. His eyes finally open to watch the way yours roll back.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeh?”

Three fingers. And deeper.

“Shit, Tae. Yeh.”

He eyes where his hand sinks into you, and the image doesn’t help how his stomach is clenching his orgasm away. He starts bucking into the air instead, possessed by your moans, your wetness, the way your body begins to drip, golden in the sun.

“Fucking hell that’s good.”

He loves when you’re vocal.

“Tell me you love me, baby, please.”

It’s hard. He’s curling his fingers, eyeing you with a need that borders on crazed, yet your heart beats faster from his words, not just the way the need to cum is creeping up on you.

“Mmm, je t’aime, mon amour, je t’aime.”

“Oh fuck,” you almost gush when his dick replaces his hands, too fast for you to unclench and make way for his length, and he chokes, dropping his head in between your breasts and squeezing your back. His hold is enough that you’re lost, drowned amongst him, and his thrusts make you fall limp.

“I’ll cum, Y/N, I’ll cum quick, holy s-” his head throws back when you hand finds his neck and squeezes, it mirrors your cunt.

“It’s okay baby, cum, please, I want it.”

Tae’s on a mission, to find his end and yours, planting his feet and becoming delirious as he drives into, so fast you can’t actually moan, or scream, because he’s in your throat, big and hard. It hits you in that place you want, once, twice, again and again.

“Oh my god, Tae, oh-”

“So good, fuckkk.”

He thumbs your clit too hard for you to prevent your orgasm and the gush that cums with it. It’s so powerful that you shake, and force his dick out of you all at the same time.

“Fucking hellll.”

The sight sets him alight as well. His hands too occupied on holding you upright that he cums untouched, over your stomach, over your pussy that quivers with wetness, he doesn’t stop either, leaking endlessly, because 5 days worth of blue balls had really kept him on edge.

Breathing is all that ensues. A silence that has you both trying to ground yourself. The cum, everywhere, is a little distracting.

“Messy.” You pant, tired, spent, but not quite exhausted enough that you don’t play with his cum. No, it’d be a waste, so you drags two fingers to the head of his cock, he hisses, and through the pile collecting on your stomach before you drag it deep inside of you.

“Fuck that’s hot.”

It hurts but you thrust them in and out a few times, relishing in the notion he’s deep and set inside of you.

“Baby, stop or I’ll get hard again. And I’ve been hard for like four days straight, it’s not fair.”

So you peck his lips.

“Sorry.”

And kiss him again.

“Me too.”

You stay naked, together, the whole day. You remain embraced and bare into the night also. He cooks for you with his cock hard between his legs, and he doesn’t even have to ask when you get on your knees at the dinner table. He fucks you in the bath. You fuck him on the bed.

And three days later, when your bags are packed, the plants on the balcony are dead and Tae has fucked you enough to make up for the 5 days missed, the lovely old French lady on the front desk, in the most beautifully sweet accent tells Tae,

“s'il te plait, ne baise pas sur le balcon, certainement pas nu.”

You’re glad you’re not fluent.

#kim taehyung #taehyung smut #drabble game #BTS v #bts drabble #bts taehyung #bts taehyung smut #v smut #french tae #taehyung things

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lacheri · 3 years

Note

congrats on 200 !! I was hoping you could write something small for me haha so here’s my info:

My personality type is intj or istj I’ve gotten both before and my enneagram is 6w5. I’m an Aries sun Sagittarius moon and Libra rising. My chosen s/o is Jean Kirstein. My perfered pronouns are she/her. I’m introverted around most people but pretty outgoing with people I’m close with. I love giving gifts to the people I love because I love seeing their reactions. Also although I’m super polite to people I don’t know I kinda love to tease the people I’m close to not anything mean just making jokes. As for my hobbies I like reading I’m just a super slow reader and I’m also into video editing. Some stuff that makes me happy are spicy food, the smell of clean laundry, and my melatonin sleepy gummies 😌. My physical description: I’m 18 yrs old I have brown curly hair and brown eyes. I’m pretty tan. I’m also kinda chubby and 5’5 in height. NSFW info: I personally don’t like degrading or any kind of whips/bondage stuff. I do like to use toys on other people though such as viberators or dildos. I hope I understood your rules correctly when you said check requests but I wouldn’t mind you writing headcannons or a small Drabble depending on the tarot card you pick out. :)

I...literally want to be your friend?? I love the combo of aries sun/sag moon/libra rising, you're the best person to have a giggle with <3 (me and my aries bestfriend used to get drunk and dance to this song in high school so it's an aries anthem for me)

The Fool: this card and the zodiac sign Aries are very much so equals in my mind (the card for Aries is the Emperor). the Fool is card zero, representing infinity and the promise of a new journey. Aries is the first sign of the zodiac, and both these compare in child like wonder and spirit. the man in the card stands on the edge of the cliff with his belongings, head towards the sky, unknowing that he is about to walk off the ledge. the rose he holds represents purity and innocence, the dog his companion, the sun shining down on a cloudless day. I personally love when this card comes out in a reading, it reminds us that it’s okay to indulge in the childish parts of ourselves. not everything is meant to be taken so seriously. it’s okay to have fun without thinking of the future.

anna sun - walk the moon. "Live my life without coming up for air, now it's all I want. I want everyone racing down the hill, I am faster than you. Wait for summertime."

“Jean, you’ve been DJ this entire ride!”

“I have great taste in music, thank you very much!”

You pouted in the passenger seat, arms crossing over your chest, the soft hum of music playing from the radio as you spoke, “Where are we even going anyways?”

“An adventure, obviously,” his honey brown eyes flickered to you, a coy smile on his lips. “Wouldn’t be much fun if I told you.”

“Some best friend you are,” you grumbled, slouching back into the leather of your seat.

The sun had long rid itself of its presence, the moon replacing its position high in the sky. It was a particularly bright night as Jean drove his car down an empty highway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the top of your thigh. You had been in the middle of reading your favorite novel, sweatpants on with your hair tied up, when you had heard soft thumps against your window. You had sighed, dog earring your page, and trotted over to your window sill, throwing it open.

Jean had a handful of rocks and a silly toothy grin on his face, calling out that he was going to kidnap you whether you liked it or not. You had simply rolled your eyes, trying hard to conceal your smile and ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and soon enough you were in the passenger seat of his car.

Glancing at the dashboard, the clock read one o’clock in the morning. You would’ve been wide awake reading regardless, but still, you had to admit it was quite late. Jean seemed completely content as he hummed along to whatever song was playing, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. He threw on his blinker, taking an exit you didn’t care to read the sign to. Trees surrounded you on either side, blocking out any moonlight, and the lack of streetlamps was slightly concerning.

Jean had swerved onto a dirt road then, and you couldn’t help but tease, “Are you taking me out in the woods to kill me or something?”

“Yup, this all my master plan,” he smirked back, slowing down over holes in the road and navigating around fallen tree branches. “I’ve had enough of your smart mouth, time for revenge.”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed, placing your hand over his subtly. “You wouldn’t be able to survive without me.”

“Probably not,” Jean mumbled, his eyes widening. “Oh! We’re almost there!”

Headlights illuminated the sparkle of a shoreline, your eyebrows furrowed upon your arrival. There were no beaches around you, were there? Your eyes scanned as much as you could, and it dawned on you that Jean had taken you to, a lake?

“I found it randomly one day with Connie, it’s not on any of the maps or gps,” Jean began to unbuckle his seatbelt, gesturing for you to follow along with his hands. “C’mon, we’re going swimming!”

“Swimming?” you deadpanned, hands frozen on your unbuckled seat belt. “Jean, absolutely fucking not. It’s freezing!”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’re not going swimming. It was worth a try though. But my real reason is less cool, I just wanted to hang out.”

“Just us?” you couldn’t help but ask nervously, hand on the door handle.

“Yeah,” Jean smiled boyishly, fumbling with the radio, sliding out of the driver’s side shortly after. “Just the two of us, baby.”

You let out a nervous giggle, feeling the onset of your heart pounding in your chest. With a quick gesture, you were out of the car, Jean circling around the front to meet you. His phone was in his hand, thumbs tapping quickly away. Suddenly, the mellow sound of smooth music began to play from the speakers, flowing from the opened windows.

Jean put his phone in his back pocket of his jeans, meeting your gaze with a soft smile with an extended palm, “Wanna’ dance?”

You blinked a few times, feeling heat crawl up your cheeks, “Really?”

He strided closer, grabbing your hand at your side, “Yes, really. Now c’mere already.”

You felt Jean as he twirled you suddenly, pulling your back to his chest, laughing as he did so. You couldn’t hold back your own giggles, squealing as he began to move his feet clumsily to the beat of the song, one becoming familiar as the lyrics and music kicked in. You followed his movements, not exactly as dancerly as you had hoped, but it didn’t matter much to you. There was no one around, and the way Jean was “dancing”, you knew he didn’t care much about how well you moved.

You began jumping on your feet, Jean joining you enthusiastically, screaming the words out at the top of his lungs. You laughed hard at the sight, and he threw his arms around your waist.

“You’re like, my favorite person ever, you know that?” Jean looked away shyly at the admittance, smiling so softly it warmed your heart. “You’re the only person I’d ever want to do this stuff with.”

“Awe, Jean, you going soft on me?” you teased lightly, sliding your arms around his neck as the two of you began to sway.

“Just for you,” he breathed, finally moving his honey colored eyes to yours. “Hey, um, have you ever thought about us?”

“What do you mean?” your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, trying not to get your hopes up. You had the biggest crush on the man for years, and his words were going to effect every single thing from this moment on.

Jean took a deep breath, nearly stumbling over his words as he spoke, “I’ve liked you, for a really long time. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you if you don’t feel the same, but, I kind of want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mouth hung open, eyes blinking furiously, “Are you serious?”

“You know what, I’m sorry, that was stupid,” he shook his head as if to erase his words, shutting his eyes and pulling away, your arms falling from his neck.

“Hey wait,” your hand shot to his bicep to stop him from moving any further. “Jean, I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I just never thought you liked me back.”

“Of course I did! I mean, you’re like the coolest girl I’ve ever met. We like all the same music, you put up with my stupidity,” Jean chuckled, gazing at you so sweetly. “You go out on these late night adventures with me. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, the last person I talk to before I fall asleep. You’re beautiful, and that helps too.”

“I would be an absolute idiot to not want to be your girlfriend,” you looked down at your shoes shyly, smiling as the pent up words left your lips. “Who else is gonna’ throw rocks at my window like we’re in the 90’s?”

“I’m just missing the boombox, aren’t I?” he joked, fingers brushing past your temples to caress your hair. “You’re just so you, and you’re not afraid of that. You get me, and I get you. It’s always been us.”

“It has,” you flickered your eyes up at the contact, placing your own hands overtop of his.

Jean had no further words, staring intently at your lips. You placed your weight on the tips of your toes, pushing yourself to close the distance between the two of you. His lips were soft as you kissed him gently, he tasted like spearmint and smelled of expensive cologne, and your eyes fluttered shut. His mouth moved seamlessly against yours, smooth and purposeful, and you could feel all the emotions he held within himself pouring into you. Maybe it was your own, but your brain was silent as the music came to an end, softening in the background.

“You owe me a real date,” you whispered against his lips. “Not one at one in the morning.”

“Can’t promise you that,” he chuckled, peppering a kiss to the tip of your nose. “But seriously, do you want to go swimming now?”

#lacheri's 200 follower event #i made this sfw but i hope you like it!!

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demonsonthemoon · 4 years

Text

Sunkissed, Sunburnt, Soothed

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairings: platonic Jehan & Grantaire, romantic Grantaire/Enjolras Word Count: 2607 Summary: "The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic." Or: the story of not-so-healthy relationships, what they give and what they take, the ways they have of being too much and of being not enough. (Featuring Aromantic!Jehan) Note: Dedicated to my friend Caro (@anastasiapullingteeth), forever the Grantaire to my Jehan and a star in my constellation. This fic was a bit rushed to I could put it out in time for #AggressivelyArospecWeek. I definitely feel like the concept deserves a far longer exploration than I gave it here. Also I have no idea whether the POV and style shifts actually work. Do the paragraph breaks work??? I don't know. I just didn't want to think of how to fix them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and don't hesitate to let me know what you thought!

Read it on AO3.

The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Like he had just stared at the sun and was about to pay for it. Like the other was a new version of Medusa, turning people to ashes instead of stone.

To be fair, the whole experience may have had something to do with the fact that Grantaire had been well on his way to drunk at the time. Although that didn't explain the continued feeling of being on fire everytime Enjolras looked at him.

Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic. If Enjolras was the threatening light of the sun faced head on, Jehan was a soft beam peeking above a cloud. He didn't command attention, instead drew it gently with patterned tights, pastel-colored skinny jeans and chunky cable-knit sweaters. Grantaire had taken one look at him and decided he wanted to befriend him. It had something to do with the way Jehan had kept half of his hands hidden in his sleeves, the way his smile had seemed just that little bit uncertain before he let himself be drawn into conversation by Courfeyrac and Bahorel.

Enjolras was so beautiful to look at it often seemed painful. Jehan was a mess of clashing color and haphazard hairstyle, and he was so real it made Grantaire's bones sing.

He had been drunk the first time he had met Enjolras, the first time he had witnessed one of their little meetings from a hidden corner of the Musain. He had been drunk the second time too. Part of his brain had convinced him that the angel, the burning god, would not be there if he came back sober. Part of him had been too scared to face that kind of passion without the flimsy protection of alcohol. Part of him had just been looking for any excuse he could get.

He'd been sober when he'd met Jehan. The young man had joined the group of revolutionaries after Grantaire, although he had been accepted as a friend much more easily. Grantaire hadn't been jealous of that. He could admit he had never made it particularly easy for the other to find him likeable.

Smart people do not bare their skin to the sun at its zenith. They put on a hat instead.

But Jehan had looked past the wide brim of his, had spotted the freckles hiding on Grantaire's nose and had offered to kiss them.

The young man was free with his affection, in that he thought that love should be free. Free to roam and explore, free from the shackles of expectation and propriety. He was free with his love, because he had been told once he could not love right. He had then decided that if he couldn't do it right, at least he would love a lot. Even if it wasn't enough, it would make the world just a little kinder.

Grantaire hadn't ever thought he was able to love in a way that didn't destroy. He had loved laughter once, until laughter had turned into the price he paid for attention. He had loved learning, until learning became the thing he did to prove his parents he was still worth something. He had loved people, and the people had turned into bottles, so fragile between his fingers.

He had loved art. It was the one thing he had managed to renounce before it turned into a blade.

He loved Enjolras.

The truth of that was a block of ice constantly floating around his stomach. It was the kind of cold that burned, and numbed all other feelings at the same time.

Jehan loved him. Not like ice, and not like fire. Not like one romantic lead loved another in all the novels he read.

He loved him all the same.

And Grantaire loved him back, in a way that – for once – didn't feel dangerous. Jehan was the wick of a candle instead of a forest. Sometimes Grantaire resented him for it. Most of the time he was relieved.

They moved in together one day. It made sense for a lot of reasons. Mostly because it was cheaper. But also because they could be there for each other more easily this way. They could keep each other accountable. Keep each other standing. They could promise each other the warmth of another body when they came home.

When one of them offered to share a bed and turn the second bedroom into an art room, it made sense too. So much so that neither of them remembered who came up with the idea in the first place.

It was good. It was nice. In the way that drinking hot chocolate under a blanket while watching the rain outside was nice. It wasn't the same as lazing in the sun, but it was comforting in its own way.

Grantaire hadn't felt like he needed anything else. The grey weather was what he knew, and he would make the best of it. There was a voice in his mind, like the rumbling of far-off thunder, that told him he didn't deserve anything else anyway. That told him he had no choice, that he could learn to swim or drown.

When that voice spoke, when the pain of it flashed like lightning through his veins, Grantaire made Jehan some tea in a quaint little cup, with a hint of honey, and he baked lemon and basil cake.

Then one day the sky caught fire in the most magnificent sunset that Grantaire could have imagined.

Enjolras asked him out for coffee. Not to talk about politics. Not to berate him about his latest interruption during a meeting. Ey asked him out.

Grantaire thought it was a joke at first. He genuinely thought it was a joke, got mad about it and started ranting about how it wasn't funny and he'd expected better from Enjolras.

But it had been real. And Enjolras had been as impassioned as ever when ey had convinced Grantaire that ey was taking this really seriously, that ey was genuinely interested in Grantaire and wanted to give the both of them a shot.

How could Grantaire have said no ?

So they had gone for coffee. And it had been weird at first, but then it had gotten better. If he was honest with himself, Grantaire would admit that he would have gone much further than weird to get a shot at being so close to Enjolras. He called the other Apollo, and laughed when Jehan started calling him Icarus, not noticing the genuine note of concern in his friend's tone.

The one coffee turned into dinner two weeks later, then drinks a week after that, then Grantaire staying at Enjolras' place for the night, then them starting to officially date.

When Grantaire moved out of Jehan's bed and back into their little art studio, he told the other man that it wasn't something Enjolras had asked for. It was something Grantaire had chosen to do himself.

Jehan didn't have the heart to tell him how much it hurt that Grantaire would pick Enjolras over him even when ey hadn't asked him to choose.

That didn't mean that Jehan wasn't happy for his friend. He was. This was what Grantaire had always wanted, and his joy at finally tasting the honey he had coveted for so long was infectious.

At least for a while.

For weeks, for a few months even, Grantaire was glowing. Jehan felt his closest friend drift further away from him, but he happily swallowed his bitterness in the face of Grantaire's smile. It was painful to admit that Enjolras might really have something more to give that Jehan would ever be able to provide, but that didn't mean he would be as selfish as to take it away from Grantaire.

Then Enjolras and Grantaire had a fight.

Jehan hadn't been worried, at first. The couple had always had fights with each other, sometimes in quite spectacular ways. They clashed on many different subjects, partly because they were both opposite and alike to each other. Their ideas often had the same roots, but life had made them grow in contrary directions.

So one more fight hadn't been a cause for worry. Even the fact that Grantaire had grabbed a beer in the fridge right after coming back to their shared flat hadn't really been enough to spook Jehan. It was far from unusual, for Grantaire.

The fact that Grantaire was quiet as he drank, more sad than angry, was a hint that something might be amiss, but not enough to panic. Grantaire was prone to melancholy, a mood which Jehan knew well enough to respect in others.

All this to say that, no, Jehan hadn't been worried. Not at first.

Not after that one fight, and not even after the next one.

Grantaire and Enjolras always made up. They always went back to one another. After all, Enjolras was Grantaire's singular belief. You did not just one day decide to stop following the Northern star when it was what had always guided you home.

The moment when Jehan started getting concerned was after he noticed that the times between arguments were just... less. On the one hand, Grantaire started spending more time with Jehan again. They would huddle up on the couch with one of Jehan's handmade infusions and watch weird documentaries well into the night, and it was nice to have that again. On the other hand, Grantaire wasn't coming home with a dopey smile on his face and apologies for how time had gotten away from him while at Enjolras' the evening before.

Grantaire didn't talk about it. Jehan didn't press, although he did... hover. Just a little.

Then Grantaire announced that he was going to spend a little while at Enjolras' place, longer than usual, because they needed some uninterrupted time as a couple, just the two of them.

Jehan tried to be happy for them, happy that they were trying to make it work, happy that they still believed in one another. He tried not to dwell on how their own appartment had started feeling more and more empty, even when Grantaire was here. He stopped himself before he could make a bitter comment about using Grantaire's room as an art studio again.

Instead, he lead his friend to the door, kissed him on both cheeks, and wished him well. He watched him go like one sits by the sea and waits for the light to sink.

The thing was, Jehan wasn't a saint. He was a human being with needs and desires of his own, and maybe he couldn't love Grantaire romantically, but he did love him. And for a year he had had everything he thought he would never be allowed to get, a best friend, a roommate, someone he could share his bed with at night and who would share Shakespeare-based puns with him over breakfast in the morning. And then a sungod had come in and ripped all of that from him, and he'd been forced to smile through it because Enjolras was his friend and Grantaire was happy.

But there had been something tense in Grantaire's shoulders as he'd packed his bags, and it had made Jehan want to scream. He didn't know how to tell the other man that he wanted him to come home without making it about his own pain and the feeling burned in his stomach like acid.

Jehan cried in his bed that night. He would have done it in Grantaire's, but he couldn't bear to step into the room that was now only a shadow of what it had once meant.

When Grantaire called him, three days later, in tears, there was a part of Jehan that felt vindicated. It wasn't enough to stop his stomach from twisting into knots as he whispered comforting platitudes until he could grasp anything coherent in Grantaire's distressed babbling.

“I don't understand what's happening, I don't understand why we just... why we can't... It's like ey can't hear what I'm saying, and I don't understand what ey wants me to tell em, I just...”

“It's okay. It's okay, Grantaire, you don't have to understand everything, just calm down a little. Right now you're panicking. You can't see things clearly if you're panicking.”

“I haven't seen anything clearly in weeks, Jehan. Everything's all blurry now.”

“That's just the alcohol talking.”

“No. It's really not. I wish it was.”

When Jehan saw Enjolras the next day, as they met up with all their friends, he couldn't even be angry. Ey look frazzled. Not in a dramatic way, but anything less than perfection was already dramatic when it came to Enjolras.

Grantaire had made Jehan promise not to say anything to em about their phone call, and Jehan respected that promise even if he didn't like it. That didn't stop him from watching Enjolras intently. There was a weariness to eir gaze that perfectly echoed Grantaire's for the past few days. Eir eyes kept drifting across the room, and Jehan didn't doubt that ey was asking emself the same question that was on his own lips: where was Grantaire?

At one point in the evening, Enjolras' eyes settled on Jehan. He met the gaze face on. He had nothing to hide. He wasn't ashamed of the pain and the fear he felt. It wasn't anything he didn't know he had a right to.

Enjolras didn't recoil. Ey bore the brunt of Jehan's attention and the accusation that sat hiding there. Ey looked on, weary, lost. There was a taste at the back of Jehan's throat that felt like pity, but he swallowed it.

When Grantaire finally came back to their shared flat, he was completely drenched from the storm outside.

“I had an umbrella with me, but I thought this would be more fitting.”

“That sounds like you, yeah.”

Grantaire stayed in the hallway. The sound of water droplets dripping from his hair and hitting the floor echoed ominously.

“I missed you.”

Jehan didn't reply. He didn't know what to say.

“I'm not feeling very good. I think I haven't felt very good in quite a while. I think I didn't realise that you made me feel that way. Good. Like I was good.”

Jehan breathed in. He breathed out. He stopped the screams that were trying to fight their way out of his mouth.

“I got everything I ever wanted. It was supposed to be perfect. It was, I guess. Or it felt like it. For a while. Now it's just... Hell is too warm a word. It's just something rotten. It's taken so much away from me. It's taken you away from me. I thought I couldn't have you both, and I picked em and it... you know that thing about boiling frogs by raising the water's temperature so slowly they don't even try to escape? It was like that.”

Jehan was fighting back tears. Between the two of them, they were about to flood the entire building.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. This was never what he'd wanted. He only wished for Grantaire to be happy. With or without him. Jehan had accepted his fate, he was okay with being left behind if it was for the greater good.

This didn't feel like the greater good. He suddenly wondered if refusing to raise his weapons hadn't been giving up the fight too soon.

“How is it fair to you that I only come back in pieces?”

“It's not.”

“Will you take me back anyway?”

“Of course I will.”

#AggressivelyArospecWeek #Meeni writes fics #Jetaire #Les Mis #Jehan Prouvaire #Grantaire #OTP: Words Unsaid

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pigeontheoneandonly · 5 years

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Once More, With Feeling

I thought about waiting for Kaidan Week’s LI theme day ( @spectrekaidanalenko ), but I liked this one too much not to share. Inspired by @estalfaed’s post about Kaidan leaving for the Andromeda galaxy (with their permission).

Kaidan Alenko hunched over the bar in Kadara Port, picking at the label on his bottle. Nine years. 2194, in his bones, 2828 by the calendar, as much as calendars meant anything anymore. Certainly it meant nothing here in this bar, halfway through three days of mandated shore leave. His new C.O., some angara woman, took a certain delight in fussing over him.

“No family,” she’d cluck. “You need to live.”

Family was everything to angara, and he’d left his two and a half million light years away, to face a highly uncertain future. Kaidan got out of cryo early, in the first wave of military reinforcements ordered up by Pathfinder Ryder, and was stationed at Eos until they figured out he actually knew how to fight, at which point he was shipped here.

Kadara was a mess. He welcomed it, work, distractions. At least after the recent arrival of Ark Endymion, he could stop worrying about what happened back in the Milky Way. There’d been a massive war— even with the careful way he filtered news that much was unavoidable. And once he heard that, he couldn’t help but investigate the outcome. Reapers defeated. A little of his guilt lifted.

Not all of it. His mother wept when he told them he’d joined the Initiative. Begged him not to go. He didn’t know whether either of his parents survived, but for certain they’d died alone, at the hands of the reapers or age or something else entirely, while their only child traveled ever further away, lost in a dreamless dark.

Fear didn’t drive him from the fight. It was John. Of course it was. Because after almost two years of trying to get back to okay, nothing sounded better than a nice long sleep, and waking up someplace far away from every possible reminder of what he’d lost.

Sure. He picked up the bottle and drank. At least the beer was getting better, as less essential crops started coming in. Nothing like back home. But palatable.

Six centuries and for what? Maybe nothing here brought back old memories of his might-have-been life. But every moment, every fantastical sight, every novel experience, tasted just a little sour from his absence. John would’ve loved this. Exploring new worlds. Finding new fights, new friends. Forging a path on a real frontier.

The beer was more than a little sour itself, especially as it warmed. Kadara was hot as hell. And nothing obfuscated the persistent stench of sulfur.

Kaidan was so deep in his own morose brooding that he jumped ten centimeters when the six pack thumped down on the counter beside him. “You would not believe how much baggage allowance this cost me.”

The cardboard carrier read Molson Canadian Lager.

“And in stasis, too,” its owner went on. “That’s extra.”

Kaidan’s heart had physically stopped in his chest. A stabbing ache that left him breathless. He barely managed to raise his head.

John Shepard leaned against the bar, looking down at him with a smirk. “Miss me?”

So it had finally come to this. Enough pain and booze and loneliness, and he’d finally slipped over that last edge of insanity, and here was the hallucinatory proof. John was eleven years dead. Kaidan watched it happen, as the ship went to pieces over Alchera.

“What’s the matter?” the apparition asked, grin widening, as if pleased by his shock. “Cat got your tongue?”

Kaidan’s mouth moved. Nothing came out. Hand spastically gripping his warm beer bottle.

The bartender came over, and gave the six pack a very pointed look. “Anything for you, sir?”

John glanced away, distracted. “Uh, sure. Whiskey, neat.”

“You can see him?” Kaidan blurted out, garnering several odd looks.

The bartender huffed. “They’re really running you hard out there, huh. You haven’t had nearly that many.”

Then she took herself off to fix the drink. John slid into the next stool. Reached over and tentatively took his hand, solid and real as the simulwood beneath his grasp. “Kaidan, it’s me. I wanted to surprise you, not… I didn’t think it through.”

His hand closed on his fingers without thinking. Clinging so tightly the tips went white. He suddenly couldn’t look at him. Burying his eyes in his palm.

The barstool scraped along the floor. And then John’s arm was around his waist, warm and strong and exactly how he remembered. His chin on his shoulder. “Kaidan, it’s going to be okay.”

That broke him. Because nothing had been okay, not once. “How?”

Then, as John opened his mouth to answer, Kaidan turned into him and put his face in his shoulder, his own arms sliding around the man he knew he’d never touch again. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“It’s a long story, anyway. Not a particularly happy one.” John’s voice muffled in his hair. “I destroyed the reapers. Then I got the Ark put together.”

“You—”

“How do you think it got done so quickly after the war?” Kaidan could feel John’s grin against his head.

It was infectious, cutting across his stunned disbelief. That cockiness was John all over. “And they didn’t make you their pathfinder?”

A chuckle. His chest tightened again at the sound. “I told them I had a different mission.”

Kaidan pulled back, searching John’s face, seeing it clearly for the first time. The flesh was cut here and there by orange cybernetic scars, their glow muddying his blue eyes. His hair still buzzed close to his scalp. He hardly looked a day older than Kaidan’s memories, but there was a heaviness in his expression, a weariness, an age, that spoke of things that could not be unseen. He stroked John’s cheek. “And how’s that going?”

“I think I’ll be able to report success.” He leaned forward and kissed him.

That was the last clear memory Kaidan had of the next several hours. John’s lips meeting his. Shepard was a hard man, but his touch was so gentle, and that above all else convinced Kaidan this was really happening. His whiskey went ignored. As did Kaidan’s next beer, and the small parade of drinks they continued ordering to justify their seats. They talked. Kaidan barely cognizant of what about even as they spoke, too caught up in a single circular line of thought: John is here, John’s alive, John survived Alchera and somehow he crossed dark space to find me again.

Somewhere in there he apologized. For leaving, for running so very far. John hadn’t said anything to that. Just kissed his cheek and held him a long moment.

But even on Kadara, bars closed eventually. They needed a few hours to mop up and restock. The pair of them staggered out into the street, drunk on each other, the only six pack of Canadian lager in twenty-four quintillion kilometers banging against his leg. Then John paused, leaning into him.

“There’s something else.” He cleared his throat. “I brought someone with me.”

All Kaidan could do was stare. John rambled on. “I didn’t want to wake her until I found you. I needed to know… well, there was a chance you’d died somewhere along the way, or something just as horrible, what with the rough entry your wave had to Heleus, and I had to know what to tell her before she came out of cryo.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was outrageous. “You brought a back-up plan?”

“What?” And John’s confusion was so genuine it took him several blinking moments to figure it out. “No. Goddamn it. What do you take me for?”

“Then what—”

“I brought your mother, Kaidan.”

Kaidan was still as a stone. Too stunned to move, his throat slowly closing up. John said, “Your father died in the war. I’m sorry. I found her afterward, told her what I was doing. She insisted. I thought she might. You told me she’d never been to space, and well, this was one hell of an introduction.”

He took John’s head in his free hand and pulled him down into a long kiss. “I can’t believe you. I honestly can’t believe you.”

“I couldn’t believe you just left. I know how important your family is to you.”

Kaidan rested his forehead against John’s. “I know, I know. I just… I missed you so much, I couldn’t stand it.”

John kissed him again. Light, lingering. “You won’t ever have to miss me again. Just maybe, this time, let’s skip the cryo?”

He laughed. He couldn’t believe he was laughing. “Deal.”

#kaidanweek2019 #kaidan alenko #john shepard #mshenko #shenko #broke my own rule to wait 24 hours before posting something i've written #fanfiction #pigeon writes

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musicallisto · 4 years

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Hi! May I please have a marauders, MCU and blades of light and shadow match-up? I'm straight, she/her. I'm a ravenclaw and an INFP, I'm introverted but pretty friendly and outgoing once you get to know me. I love reading,my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I tend to daydream quite a lot and have a tendency to overthink stuff, I can also be a tad melodramatic at times. People often come to me for advice or to vent! (1/2)

I Ship You With...

Remus Lupin

okay you two would be the cutest and most affectionate couple - also the most blushy one

it wouldn’t help that the others (James and Sirius, especially) would spend the first days teasing the hell out of Moony for finding himself a girlfriend

“oh, he’s all grown up now” “Sirius” “look at our baby, James! can you believe how fast time flies?” “Sirius Black” “shh. let me pretend you’re still a little boy” “SIRIUS”

(they’re obviously incredibly happy for the both of you. you deserve & love each other so much, and you’re a pair of nerds that they love to watch snuggle together by the fire when you think no one else is looking)

you’d exchange books that you love and have the other read them, then discuss them - most of the time it would end up in frenzied conversations until two and a half in the morning where you gush about the characters and the worldbuilding and you sigh dreamily at the romance and the magic of it all, until he slyly reminds you that nothing is imaginary in the magic world

you’d shyly come to him one day and ask if he knows any reliable and truthful books about his... furry little problem (as you’ve learned to call it with the other boys, but really you don’t like that denomination because it implies that Remus is problematic), because you want to learn more about how to deal with it when it arises and how to keep him and everyone around safe, and you mostly trust books to give you this kind of knowledge. he’s deeply touched by your request, and although he tries to keep his composure and give you a list of works that resonated with him (though he doesn’t read too much about werewolves. it’s still difficult to handle the reality of it all), you can tell by his reddened cheeks and his fumbling words that it’s the most thoughtful sign of affection anyone has ever shown towards him

dates in Hogsmeade! what was at first strictly a friendly gathering for the entire group in the period preceding christmas remained a friendly escapade when you got together with Remus... but also the rest of the Marauders learned to give you a little space every time you go down to the village and leave you to frolick, as Sirius abjectly calls it, in the colorfully-lit streets.

you grab butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks (it will invariably be way too sugary for your liking, but seeing Remus’s white, creamy mustache after he dipped his lips in the drink is always worth it), as many sweets as you can carry in Honeydukes (most times it requires more than one bag and a few magic tricks to be able to transport them all), and end the day walking hand in hand in the main streets of the village, snow gently covering your hair and shoulders and engulfing the two of you in a winter wonder. his fingers and yours always tense when your steps bring you closer to the Shrieking Shack; but you press his hand, and when he’s more restless than usual or the full moon approaches you press a few feather-light kisses to his knuckles. you’re here and you’re not going anywhere. for that day and for that night, at least, everything is going to be okay.

Bruce Banner

it takes him more than ages to ask you out. decades. centuries! MILLENIA

and meanwhile absolutely everyone with a pair of eyes can see how dumbstruck he gets whenever you walk in the room, and how his every internal organ stops when you talk to him. in his eyes, you’re a paragon of confidence and coolness (which actually you’re convinced you aren’t, because you’re also a blabbering mess whenever you have to talk to him), and he’s... well, he’s only himself. some kind of STEM nerd. also, on occasion, the Incredible Hulk. no big deal? YES VERY BIG DEAL

but in reality, it is not big deal for you. he seems to forget every so often that he is a doctor and that someone with several PhD’s doesn’t exactly qualify as a STEM nerd in your mind (maybe at least its most powerful form). and even beyond that, he is an incredibly caring soul who’s constantly putting others before him, and it’s mesmerizing and refreshing to just sit on a chair in his lab, reading a novel, with him working on some new solutions, listening to the buzz of the kilns and the lapping of distilled water and peroxides in their testing tubes. you get a sense of peace when you watch him work that you never seem to find anywhere else, and in no one else’s presence.

now obviously Tony (it always has to be Tony) can’t BEAR anymore all this tension between his two best associates (that’s how he calls his friends when he’s not drunk enough), and is practically begging the both of you to make a move or at least talk it out and resolve all of this electricity. which you’d rather die than do, because he’s Tony Stark, he can’t imagine the immensity of the humiliation that would slap you in the face if you attempted to confess your feelings to anyone (especially Bruce!), but you can and you know.

after a few more failed attempts, Tony decides to take the matter in his own hands. nothing in this world will ever get done without his help, he swears!

at first he tries to convince the both of you, separately, to go to a mystery blind date at Luna Park, on Coney Island. you both vigorously decline. Tony has had brillian ideas in the past, but putting yourselves out there to spend a day with a stranger and possibly find love with them? ridiculous. that’s when Tony changes plans: now he’s inviting the both of you (still separately, without mentioning anything jointly) to spend the day with him at the fun fair. it will be fun, he says, just an afternoon eating cotton candy and rifle shooting with his friend. that sounds fishy enough coming from him. it’s a miracle (or maybe a consequence of Tony’s incessant supplications) that you both accept.

when you see Bruce, and Bruce sees you, arrive from both sides of the street to the meeting point you both agreed on with Tony, you start to smell the con-trick. obviously, you shouldn’t have put this past Tony Stark. now you’re both stuck with the other and you have nowhere to look at to distract yourself from his shy, adorable eyes and timid smile. of course.

well. now that you’re here, standing like idiots, not daring to say anything to the other, in front of the entrance of Luna Park, you’d rather make the most of it. chase the butterflies that pierce your throat whenever you catch a glimpse of his excited voice, extinguish the flames that arise through all your body when he puts his hand on the small of your back - then promptly moves it.

the ferris wheel seems to call you. tugging on bruce’s arm, you lead him to the attraction with more enthusiasm than you imagined you would have when the day started. New York City is always a wonder to look at from the heights. Bruce lets out a nervous laugh, but follows you anyway. it’s not like anything is bound to go wrong, right?

but of course. you both were carefree enough to forget that the entire ordeal had been orchestrated by none other than Tony Stark. when your cabin reaches the top of the wheel, and your face lights up at the sight of the sea, Tony’s voice rings out from the speakers at the exact same moment as your cabin comes to an abrupt halt.

“your attention please. due to regrettable circumstances, the ride will be stopping for approximatively thirty minutes. please enjoy the view, whether it is the bay or the person in front of you. later.”

suddenly you want to grab him by the collar and throw his smug little smile out the cabin, headfirst into the Atlantic.

“I’m so sorry,” rings out Bruce’s voice in the tightness of the cabin, his embarrassment true. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this and now I got you in this mess...”

“You didn’t get me in any mess. I agreed too. I guess...” you swallow hard, the faintest of smiles coming to rest on your lips. “I guess we’ll have to make good use of this time, then.”

Tyril

it takes a lot for him to open up to you: patience, efforts, gentle smiles and light touches on his shoulder, good manners, and respect of his past, privacy, and boundaries. a little like approaching a wounded animal in the woods. you have to gain his trust, first. it’s not the easiest task you’ve ever had to tackle, but hey, it can’t be harder than recollecting the evil shadow shards to stop the harmful influence of the murderous, evil, shadow court over your world, right?

(it’s almost harder, actually! you never would have guessed. but that elf has so many walls around his soul, and you have to scale every one of them with your bare hands.)

it’s worth it, though. it’s always worth it to see his smile light up the forest like a thousand fairly lights, and the tenderness of such a beautiful soul, that has lost so much, come alive every time you embrace him.

you see the blue flame of sadness in his eyes when he looks at you, and he sees the image of Kaya, the one he cared for so deeply and he lost so much time ago. it still pains him because he feels like it might be his fault, that he didn’t work hard enough to save her from the evil of the shadow court. his worst fear, although he will never admit it, is that another of the innocent people he loves most will succumb to the darkness and he will watch it unravel, powerless. but you assure him that it will not happen. you are too strong-minded to be corrupted.

he teaches you how to fight, and it’s an unexpected moment of intimacy between the two of you, getting to know each other better than ever, with each other’s strengths and weaknesses

you only ever see him be truly happy when he’s surrounded by the lights of the fae, that you randomly stumble upon in the middle of the deadwood, and that reflect a thousand colors on his beautiful, upturned face. at that precise moment, you can swear you’ve never seen someone more radiant, and someone more in love

when his eyes finally fall onto yours, his look of utter adoration does not disminish, quite the opposite actually; and he holds your gaze as if you were much more of a wonder than anything that’s happening in this kaleidoscopic clearing. your breath hitches in your throat, and a pink fire blossoms in your chest; it is here, in the most desolated of places in the entire country, that you discover love and love discovers you for the first time

#long post #ship request #harry potter #marauders #remus lupin #marvel #mcu #bruce banner #playchoices #blades #tyril #mywriting

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hicsqueakfest · 5 years

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Hicsqueak Fest Prompt List!

Hi all! Here’s the prompt list for Hicsqueak Fest! You can request up to 3 prompts at a time. Once you finish your fics/arts, you can come back for more!

To claim your prompt, simply send an ask to @hicsqueakfest and copy/paste the prompt you want (you must have a tumblr username to do this). I will cross it off the list and put your name by it so it’s all yours. First come, first serve. Make sure you tell me if you’re claiming a FIC or ART prompt, because some of them are duplicates!

Prompts are divided by FIC (sub categories: AU, AR, Gen, Smut, Lyrics/Quotes) and ART.

HAPPY CLAIMING!

FIC

- Domestic Hicsqueak

- Hecate and Pippa are in an established relationship and see each other again after months apart. Could be smutty or domestic and cute.

- Hicsqueak first time. doesn't have to be sex (but it can be). It could be first time they do anything. Ie: ice skating together, first date, etc.

- Young Hicsqueak building staff/wand for Hecate to have more control over her magic and learning how to use it

- Pippa and Hecate dancing

- Pippa already knows about the confinement in S1, how she deals with all the little ways Hecate makes excuses to not do things; and how she eventually reacts to Hecate telling her about the confinement.

- Pregnancy fic - Hecate pregnant. Pippa being the best. Mildred minding her own business.

- Single parent Pippa meets her child’s teacher Hecate @ohlookitstomorrowff

- Hicsqueak flying together on a broom

- Domestic Hicsqueak (I need a lot of that)

- A series of firsts with Pippa, after Hecate is set free

- Hecate is clueless about how attractive she is, and Pippa tries her best not to be jealous (but she so is)

- Hicsqueak as parents (interpret "parents" however you want)

- Going hunting

- Going fishing

- Visiting a planetarium together

- Hurt/Comfort. Mistress Broomhead remarks in front of Pippa that Hecate "continues to have poor taste in companions." Pippa asks Hecate what Broomhead meant by it, and Hecate has to make a choice whether or not to reveal the whole Indigo incident.

- Miss Bat catches Hecate and Pippa out of bed past curfew, but instead of punishing them, she just mercilessly teases them about it for the rest of term.

- Gardening together

- Comparing stories of the weirdest stuff they confiscated from students

- Playing poker

- “Have you done this before?" @hovercraft79

- Forehead kisses

- Adventuring to find rare ingredients for Hecate's experiments that the school can't afford @cliotheproclaimer

- Visiting Pentangle's Academy for the first time

- Candlelight supper

- Hecate introducing Star to Pippa

- Playing Mario Kart

- Pippa shows Hecate all the video games she's confiscated from her students, one of which is Skyrim. (I bet Hecate would be a closet GTA5 player after)

- Ethel saw their first kiss and is about to cause havoc

- Playing billiards

- They have a fight at Cackle's and Pippa leaves but Hecate chases her and slams into the barrier and falls off her broom and that's how Pippa finds out about the confinement @allthosegaywitches

- What if Hecate encounters [a siren] and it takes the form of the person she desires most and Pippa is there to save her or vice versa

- There was a post not too long ago where it was discussed that its possible many girls had crushes on Hecate. So my prompt is: Pippa keeps them unknowingly all away from her Hiccup and years later at a reunion Hecate realized how many girls liked her while Pippa realizes how she really feels about Hecate.

- "I was afraid of what you'd think of me." @maybegarbo

- A fic about/involving musical harmony as a chant method - how did Pippa come to decide this was a better way of doing it, for example? (either gen or shippy)

- Hicsqueak picnic

- Pregnancy fic because there’s not enough of those... Bonus if Hecate is the pregnant one

- Fake dating

- Hicsqueak discovering their favorite ways to snuggle

- Pentangle's academy is under attack Pippa is struggling against the enemy but Hecate comes to protect and save her wife (and the academy)

- Pippa is injured/sick and Hecate takes care of her @cliotheproclaimer

- Hicsqueak wedding

- End of year, the graduating girls play pranks on the teachers and this year someone magicked a mariachi band to follow Hecate around ALL DAY and every time she vanishes them they just reappear with one more band mate

- Staff party at the end of the year Pippa is invited too; Hecate doesn't like those parties and so never shows up but since this year Pippa is going she might go as well too

- Mildred yelling, "Ethel, if you don't stop being a homophobe, DuRIng PRide mONth, then I will yeet you out the window!!!" @firesofthestars

- Fist fight

- Hecate visits Pentangle's

- Going to festivals together

- The first time Hecate sleeps outside of Cackle's, in Pippa's bed. She knows this is where she belongs.

- Hecate gets sick, Pippa takes care of her

- Accidental magic. Something silly preferable to angsty, but if angst calls to you then by all means. For example: the reason Hecate is nicknamed Hiccup is because accidental magic gave her a case of uncontrollable hiccups. that sort of thing.

- Going to conferences together

- Hicsqueak. Pippa asks Hecate why she didn't lift the confinement spell when she (Hecate) was the acting headmistress (mid season 2)

- Hicsqueak in the aftermath of s3, emphasis on Hecate dealing with her trauma and figuring out how to have a healthy relationship

- Hecate as Pippa's "knight in shining armour" (can be non-magical or magical and from gen to smutty, whatever you make of it). Basically the classic damsel-in-distress-scenario with a badass Hecate coming to the rescue. If swordfighting could be included, that would be awesome! @well-met-and-good-day-to-you-sir

- AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

- Broomstick racing

- Fake Married trope!

- Smoking weed together

- Touring witch colleges together/touring the country together

- Camping in the forest (the one surrounding Cackle's or any other)

- Getting drunk together for the first time

- Cuddles

- Pippa-centric, missing Hecate through the years @emiline-northeto

- Hecate-centric, missing Pippa through the years

- After Hecate and Pippa reconcile, their familiars aren’t quite sure how they feel about it.

- Hicsqueak conference fic

- Hicsqueak day at the beach

- Young!Hicsqueak - Hecate lied to Pippa about what happened to Indigo

- "I don't think I ever stopped waiting for you."

- Pippa has always known about Hecate’s confinement and the hurt over the broomstick display came from her belief that Hecate didn’t have enough faith in them.

- Pippa finds out about Hecate’s confinement - and not from her.

- Fic where Hecate reconnects with her parents after the confinement is over - with Pippa’s support, of course.

- Hecate's favourite colour is pink

- "You're an idiot"

- Wedding fic

- Baby fic

- After the s3 finale, Hecate discovers the world with Pippa by her side

- 5 trips Hecate and Pippa take together

- 5 things Hecate wore that weren't her standard black dress @maybegarbo

- 5 times Pippa tapped Hecate's nose after Spelling Bee (bonus, but not obligatory: and one time Hecate tapped Pippa's) @shafeferi

- 5 times Hecate and Pippa almost kissed (and one time they did)

- Pippa gets abducted and Hecate loses it and tries to find her

- Heat-of-the-moment kissing

- Either of them gets implicated in a crime and there's ample evidence against them, so they go on the run, but the other is fiercely on their side and helps them any way they can / goes on the run with them

- Coming out

- Ace!Hecate @amillionmillionvoices

- Pippa is on the brink of getting married, and Hecate is heartbroken but doesn't think it's her place to say anything

- One year, seven months, three weeks and two days @ephemeral-winter

- 5 sunsets they saw together

- "Ask me to marry you again"

- Emotional scars

- Morning routine

- One day in the life

- Hecate is bored in a meeting and decides to text Pippa on her maglet, Pippa texts back immediately

- Pippa is ill, Hecate takes care of her and/or vice versa

- Doctor Who AU

- Persuasion (Jane Austen Novel) AU

- AU where they're Sirens and they have to deal with Odysseus. Or even about when Demeter gave the Sirens wings to search for Persephone

- MERMAIDS!

- Pirates

- AU in the Harlots universe @concreteangel1221

- Space commanders (Star Trek/Star Wars)

- Crime syndicate

- Street racers

- An AU where they go to Woodstock '69

- Middle earth

- Hecate lives above a bar, and is always angry about the noise. Pippa, the proprietor, has something to say about that.

- Westeros

- Titanic AU, except there was enough room on the door!

- Notting Hill AU

- Skyrim

- Witch in the Woods AU: Hecate does Pippa a favor, in exchange for her first-born child. But when Pippa shows up, distraught, 15 years later with a baby, Hecate wants no part of it. @merricatsgarden

- Georgian Era

- Bus drivers (bus driver... what bus driver?)

- Stealing a car together (au)

- Dragon trainer. Pippa is gifted a dragon and needs someone to help her train and handle it. Enter Hecate Hardbroom, the Dragon Whisperer.

- Detective AU (potentially a bit humorous, a la Tommy & Tuppence or Psych, for example)

- Hecate is a college professor and Pippa is an older student returning to get her degree and the two fall in love

- Fluffy Harry Potter au where Hecate frequents nocturne ally for potions ingredients.

- Hicsqueak Victorian au

- Flirting / UST

- Heatwave

- Business woman/bakery or tea show owner AU

- Library AU @hovercraft79

- Medical AU

- Teacher/parent au @thegeneralisalive

- Potions shop / magical pharmacy / similar au

- Soulmate au

- Spies / secret agents au

- Space au

- Princesses AU

AR (Alternate Reality)

- AU: the thirty years of separation didn't happen, what are their life like now? (Living together, happily married, children?) @captaintangledmess

- Hecate's ~25 years old, she is given one day out of Cackles, what does she do? (Run to Pippa + drama ensues? Go somewhere else? Try to get Pippas help and they live happily ever after?)

- A canon-divergance AU where Pippa does end up with Ada's job in s2 and they have to work as a team. Lots of angst material there

- Pre-Spelling Bee and ignoring the whole stupid s3 confinement plot. Hecate and Pippa run into each other over the years at events, conferences, etc. @pellucidthings

- Hecate gives up her magic to restore the founding stone at the end of s2 @amillionmillionvoices

- AU where Hecate DOES show up to the broomstick waterskiing display, but someone sabotages her broom, and she crashes. Lots of #feelings and Hicsqueak hurt/comfort

- Tattooed!Hecate AU where Pippa has no idea that almost every inch of her is inked until she undresses her for the first time... @maybemoira / MauraMae

- AU where Hecate’s ‘confinement’ is because she’s a werewolf. @maybemoira

Gen

- Gen-Hecate, she discovers she has a sister

- Hecate tutoring Mildred without being prompted or ordered to do so.

- Hecate supporting Maud during a difficult time @marvelousmadmadammim

- How Pippa came to found her school

- Dimity being a friend to Hecate after the events of s3

- Dimity and Pippa becoming friends at a staff party or conference

- A student comes out to Hecate, and she has to figure out how to handle it/how much to reveal about her own life

- 5 people Pippa came out to over the years (bonus + 1 she didn’t) @shafeferi

Lyrics/Quotes

- Bastille's song JOY. Either take a line or just the song in general

- ‘But I'm on my way back home / It's been hard to be away’ (Dying Day- Brandi Carlile.)

- Interpret the poem "One-Act Play In Which Not All Problems Can Be Solved, & Not All Problems Are Problems, But Even So, Some Are" by Dalton Day, for Hicsqueak in light of S3, especially the bit that goes "ME: I have hands. You said you are scared of things like hands. Are you scared of my hands? YOU: Yes. ME: You have hands, too. Are you scared of your hands? YOU: Yes. ME: What if we traded hands?"

- Take the poem "One-Act Play In Which We Float Facedown In the Center Of A Lake, A Position Known As The Dead Man's Float" by Dalton Day as your starting point. Make me cry.

- Baby take me outside / kiss me in the moonlight / i just want you to touch me / i don't wanna waste no time (léon - surround me)

- I am no good at goodbyes / i never was and i don't know why / tell me, tell me that it was love / that it was real, remember all / that you have me if you still want me / baby, i'm no good at goodbyes / i never was and i don't know why (léon - no goodbyes)

- Want You Back by HAIM

- Supercut by Lorde

- ‘Will you lie here for me?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘She’s seen the pain that comes with your displeasure’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day I’ll walk in the open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘They tried to keep me down, but I said no’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Let me tell you losing is not a game I play’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I sit here in the darkness, waiting for the light’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I know I got ‘em beat’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Watch me fly away’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day I’ll walk in the open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day we’ll tell the world’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Into your wildest dreams I’ll fly’ (Lizzie)

- ‘You’ll see my face in every night sky’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Lock away your secrets, lock away my life’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I was a trembling child’ (Lizzie)

- ‘But now I see my troubled soul reflected’ (Lizzie)

- ‘What I don’t see can never hurt me’ (Lizzie)

- ‘But I’m more afraid to stay’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Settle cozy dark as sleep’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I want to sleep with my eyes half open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘You didn’t choose what side you’re on’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I’m standing looking forward in the dark’ (Lizzie)

- ‘It’s just us girls’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Don’t let them see how the fire burns’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Who told you that?!’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Will you bite through the skin to the sweet truth within?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Will you stay?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘In every room a prisoner of a long silent war’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Sometimes you say the words, but this is not love’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I know if I stay here longer it’s gonna turn out bad’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Would you let me comfort you, if you knew?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I can barely breath tonight’ (Lizzie)

- ‘A secrets just a lie’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Every night I dream of you’ (Lizzie)

- ‘The violence of freedom’ (Lizzie)

- ‘My silver wings are pinioned with green gold’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I feel myself disintegrating’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Oh that I had wings like a dove’ (Lizzie)

Smut/NC17

- Pippa persuading and watching Hecate touch herself

- Hecate’s first visit to an “adult” toy store with Pippa as an equally wide-eyed guide.

- Pippa telling Hecate all the dirty things she wants to do to her

- Hicsqueak smut, not first time, they're both happy and confident in their sexuality and relationship

- Dom!Hecate has Pippa in "detention"

- Cuddle sex

- Angry sex

- Kisses/hugging/sexy times

- Pippa buying lingerie for Hecate and telling her how much she'd love for her to wear it // she does

- Hecate’s first time

- Hecate stripping for Pippa, feat. a nervous Hecate and a reassuring Pippa who has Hecate on her lap as soon as she can.

- Pippa calling Hecate "Good girl", Hecate calling Pippa "Miss Pentangle" during sex.

- 5 times hecate went down on Pippa

- "I hate this dress." / "then take it off me."

- Dom!Pippa telling Hecate when she can/can't cum - up to you if Hecate does or doesn't do as shes told.

ART

- Kisses! Sweet, passionate, you name it, any kiss. but Hicsqueak art of kisses would be really nice.

- Doctor Who AU

- MERMAIDS!

- Pirates @kayryn

- Space commanders (Star Trek/Star Wars)

- Crime syndicate

- Hecate stripping for Pippa, feat. a nervous Hecate and a reassuring Pippa who has Hecate on her lap as soon as she can.

- Street racers

- Middle earth

- Westeros @kayryn

- Pippa and Hecate dancing.

- Skyrim

- Georgian Era @kayryn

- Bus drivers (bus driver... what bus driver?)

- Cooking a full English breakfast together

- Afternoon tea @merricatsgarden

- Hecate's first trip to the beach, with Pippa

- Sunbathing

- "I don't think I ever stopped waiting for you."

- Swimming

- Swimming in a moonlit pond/pool. @merricatsgarden

- Stargazing

- Adult Hecate standing between Pippa and some idiot man/Headbroom trying to hurt her

- Want You Back by HAIM

- Supercut by Lorde

- Forehead kisses

- Hicsqueak kissing under the mistletoe (I know it's not really that time of the year sorry)

- Hicsqueak wedding

- Hicsqueak flying together on a broom

#hicsqueak #hicsqueakfest #hecate hardbroom #Pippa Pentangle #the worst witch #prompts

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kyrilu-guardian · 6 years

Text

details from the Guardian novel that i always think about, part 1

Guo Changcheng donates nearly all of his money to charity. In his free time, he volunteers at a care center for children with autism, collects books to donate to a school, and makes posters/brochures for a volunteer teaching program...

When Da Qing first approaches ten-year-old Zhao Yunlan and tells him he’s the Guardian, Zhao Yunlan thinks of himself as a male Sailor Moon.

Zhao Yunlan has a consistent habit for stealing food, whether it's swiping food from the members of the SID, biting a French fry out of Shen Wei’s hand, or grabbing ham that Shen Wei has just finished slicing on a cutting board.

Zhao Yunlan has a kink for Shen Wei with long hair.

Zhao Yunlan jokes about calling Shen Wei 'daddy.' #KinkshameHim

Zhao Yunlan starts to grow a vegetable garden in the SID headquarters' backyard.

Shen Wei is several thousands of years old, and he has no concept of money. Do not trust him with money.

Zhao Yunlan buys a house for himself and Shen Wei before he figures out that Shen Wei is the Ghost Slayer - before they start dating - before their first kiss.

When Shen Wei decides to accept Zhao Yunlan and be together with him, he bites his own wrist, starts bleeding all over Zhao Yunlan, and passes the fuck out. When he wakes up, Zhao Yunlan has made five (5) cups of instant noodles for breakfast, and Shen Wei is absolutely disgusted.

The SID members all have a copy of Shen Wei’s class schedule. They’re relieved when Shen Wei drops by to see Zhao Yunlan so they can start slacking off.

When Kunlun first meets the Ghost King (young Shen Wei), the Ghost King is attacked by a demon. The Ghost King quickly kills the demon, and starts to devour its flesh in front of Kunlun. The Ghost King has fallen in love at first sight and tries not to chew too messily.

When Zhao Yunlan catches Shen Wei trying to manipulate him and mislead him when it comes to his past as Kunlun, he threatens to break up with Shen Wei. Shen Wei's first urge is utter panic, monster instincts activating, and he wants to literally eat Zhao Yunlan.

Shen Wei doesn't have a bed in his bedroom, nor is there any other conventional furniture. Instead, the walls are covered in portraits and photographs of Kunlun and his reincarnations. They're organized neatly by time period. Shen Wei will just sit there, gazing at them.

Shen Wei does the Edward Cullen thing. You know the thing. He sneaks in and watches Zhao Yunlan as he sleeps. He has to make sure that ZYL is drunk enough, because he doesn't want to wake him up.

#guardian #镇魂 #kyrilu:meta #text #long post #this is just a mishmash of random stuff #ranging from cute to funny to 'shen wei sweetheart NO'

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turtle-paced · 5 years

Text

Revisiting Chapters: A Ghost In In Winterfell, ADWD

Possibly my favourite of all Theon’s chapters.

The story so far…

Back in Winterfell, Theon’s witnessed a wedding and worse, and now he’s unwillingly wrapped up in a murder investigation. Not like he has anywhere else to go.

Horror Movie

This chapter starts with a suspicious accident - a corpse found in deep snow at the base of Winterfell’s inner wall. People quickly decide that he slipped and fell while pissing off the wall, which, fair enough, provided you don’t think about it too hard. Theon thinks about it too hard.

But Theon Greyjoy found himself wondering why any man would climb the snow-slick steps to the battlements in the black of night just to take a piss.

The second corpse to show up is dismissed in a similar fashion.

Ser Aenys put it about that the man had drunk too much and gotten lost in the storm, though no one could explain why he had taken his clothes off to go outside. Another drunkard, Theon thought. Wine could drown a host of suspicions.

The third corpse turns up within a few hours in-universe and a mere sentence on the page. This one was kicked to death by a horse, definitely, and not clubbed to death by persons unknown. Theon smells a rat, and more importantly, he sees how this is what happened to him when he took Winterfell.

It’s the fourth corpse that kicks things into gear, since this one can’t be explained away as an accident. The previous three victims were killed in private places, one of them naked, but this victim was one of rapist Ramsay’s favourites, and murdered in a way that definitely suggests a retaliatory aspect: the man’s penis was cut off and stuffed into his mouth hard enough to break several teeth.

Towards the end of the chapter, Theon is summoned to a meeting on the issue, under suspicion from some quarters of committing these murders. He denies it. By way of corroborating evidence, Barbrey Dustin makes Theon show his maimed hands to the assembled lords, establishing Theon’s inability to grip anything (and that it was Ramsay’s work). Roose Bolton agrees.

“Strength aside, he does not have it in him to betray my son.”

Roose can see just how traumatised Theon is. It’s also articulated in an undeniable fashion to Theon.

There’s not just a horror movie aspect to this, in the end, but a detective novel aspect. The last conference between the Boltons and their “allies” gives me a distinctly Murder on the Orient Express-y vibe, not because I think they all conspired to murder people, but because all of these people have damn good reason to start shanking Bolton men in this enclosed environment. As they themselves make clear - including Hosteen Frey’s outburst over his relatives, last seen alive receiving parting gifts from Wyman Manderly, and (unbeknownst to the Freys) last seen dead in some wedding pies. When, in the meeting, the finger is pointed at Manderly or his men, Barbrey Dustin and Roger Ryswell point it out to Aenys Frey:

“And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers. Flints, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates…they all had men with the Young Wolf.”

“House Ryswell, too,” said Roger Ryswell.

“Even Dustins out of Barrowton.” Lady Dustin parted her lips in a thin, feral smile. “The north remembers, Frey.”

In other words, if the Freys insist on suspecting Wyman Manderly for these murders, they better start suspecting everyone. Roose tries to put a lid on it, but the conflict’s past this. The Ryswells and the Dustins are the best friends Roose Bolton has, and even they make it clear they loathe the Freys. The Freys have no future here.

Theon solves his mystery in the final part of the chapter, as he prays in the godswood for his name back. Holly, who approached him earlier, and two of the other ‘washerwomen’ (Mance’s assistants) accost him in the godswood. Holly brings out a knife.

“Kill me.” There was more despair than defiance in his voice. “Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest.”

Holly laughed. “How could it be us? We’re women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared.”

They were totally overlooked. Even Theon, lowest of the low, was suspected before these women.

Under Siege

That’s inside Winterfell. What’s outside Winterfell is just as worrisome in its way. Possibly more.

Endless, ceaseless, merciless, the snow had fallen day and night. Drifts climbed the walls and filled the crenels along the battlements, white blankets covered every roof, tents sagged beneath the weight. Ropes were strung from hall to hall to help men keep from getting lost as they crossed the yards.

Several of Winterfell’s gates are frozen shut, portcullis, drawbridge chains and all, contributing to the sense that the men inside are trapped. When a freerider says something that could be construed as sympathetic to Stannis, Ramsay has the man thrown from the battlements into the snowdrifts eighty feet below. The freerider survives with a broken leg. In hindsight this is clearly setting up Theon and Jeyne’s jump. On top of that, Roose Bolton’s controlling entry and exit to the castle tightly.

The horses aren’t having an easy time of it either, with a strong possibility of mass horse death. The stables are too crowded, leaving the rest of the horses outside. They don’t handle fire well, and so people have to change the blankets over them regularly.

Somewhere out there in the snow, Stannis is approaching. Whether he’s worse than the snow is up for debate by the common soldiers, as is whether the men inside or outside are cursed. Nobody’s sure where he is, or what he might be able to do in the inclement weather. But they’re at least sure that he’s on his way, and the knowledge is exacerbating tensions inside Winterfell. These are not the usual petty frustrations of people cooped up together too long, oh no.

Lord Wyman Manderly slapped his massive belly. “White Harbour does not fear to ride with you, Ser Hosteen. Lead us out, and my knights will ride behind you.”

Ser Hosteen turned on the fat man. “Close enough to drive a lance through my back, aye. Where are my king, Manderly? Tell me that. Your guests, who brought your son back to you.”

This conflict between Hosteen Frey and Wyman Manderly (Hosteen quite rightly suspecting that Wyman had his relatives murdered) threatens to spill over into violence. While Barbrey Dustin and Roger Ryswell calm this incident down, Theon notes that Roose Bolton’s saying nothing and looking almost afraid. Later, attempts to get some singing going fall flat - the horses get scared, and even the singing along is riven by factionalism, Northmen usually refusing to sing with Freys. When the murders are discussed, one theory is that Stannis has a man on the inside.

At last, when Theon’s walking the walls following his attendance at the whodunnit meeting, he hears a horn.

A long low moan, it seemed to hang above the battlements, lingering in the black air, soaking deep into the bones of every man who heard it. All along the castle walls, sentries turned toward the sound, their hands tightening around the shafts of their spears. In the ruined halls of Winterfell, lords hushed other lords, horses nickered, and sleepers stirred in their dark corners. No sooner had the sound of the warhorn died away than a drum began to beat: BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM doom. And a name passed from the lips of each man to the next, written in small white puffs of breath. Stannis, they whispered. Stannis is here, Stannis is come, Stannis, Stannis, Stannis.

You’d think judgment itself had come upon Bolton Winterfell - the fury of a man just past the point of wisdom. It’s one hell of an entrance. Nevertheless, this arrival signals the end of anticipation and the start of a fight, and a fight is something that can be planned for. Regardless of the creepiness when Theon and the sentries look out and see nothing but more snow. Theon’s got some of the practicalities in mind:

Roose Bolton would welcome such an [aggressive] fight, he sensed. He needs an end to this. The castle was too crowded to withstand an extended siege, and too many of the lords here were of uncertain loyalty. […] It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard’s blood, but the girl was just a mummer’s ploy, a lamb in direwolf’s skin. So why not send the northmen forth to battle Stannis before the farce unravelled? Slaughter in the snow. And every man who falls is one less foe for the Dreadfort.

Interestingly, Theon adopts Roose Bolton’s perspective of the situation first. Also interesting is the fact that Theon considers it inevitable that the ruse with Jeyne will be discovered.

Spectres

This chapter, Theon is haunted. He’s the titular Ghost in Winterfell, a shadow of his former self, forced to witness what he’s wrought. This weight builds up over the course of the chapter. It starts fairly innocuously, when Theon speaks to Holly (unbeknownst to him, Holly of the Free Folk).

[Holly] was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with shaggy blonde hair in need of a good wash and a pair of pouty lips in need of a good kiss. […] Once he might have laughed and pulled her into his lap, but that day was done.

It’s a bit of a contrast to Theon as we were first introduced to his PoV. We see that he’s still got the core of the impulse, but he doesn’t act on it. (Not unrelated: Theon’s a straight man who’s having trouble expressing his sexuality now that he’s been mutilated.) Instead, he’s looking for the trick, as he most certainly was not when Asha tried something very similar on him in ACoK.

Later, up on the walls, Theon considers escape himself, not through any secret passage but by a far simpler route.

I could jump, he thought. [The freerider] lived, so why shouldn’t I? He could jump, and…and what?

The answers he comes up shows us another one of Theon’s spectres: Ramsay. Ramsay, and what he did to Theon, overshadows his decisions. The two don’t directly interact this chapter, but the terror and the thrall Ramsay holds him in is apparent when some of Ramsay’s men speak to Theon. When he’s informed that Ramsay wants to cut Theon’s lips off, all Theon can do is reply “as you say,” and leave when told to.

It’s as he runs when we get one of the more memorable encounters in this chapter, a very brief conversation between Theon and a man in a hooded cloak, who calls him Theon, but also Turncloak and Kinslayer.

“I’m not. I never…I was ironborn.”

“False is all you were. How is it you still breathe?”

“The gods are not done with me,” Theon answered. […] Oddly, he was not afraid. He pulled the glove from his left hand. “Lord Ramsay is not done with me.”

The man looked, and laughed. “I leave you to him, then.”

Very brief indeed, but this encounter serves as something right out of A Christmas Carol, Theon’s personal Ghost of Christmas Past (though he looks more like the Ghost of Christmas Future) come to remind him of his mistakes. Theon cannot fully explain his denial of the accusation of kinslaying, and so emphasises that he was ironborn. What he cannot deny is that he was false, and he lives still only because of the whims of others.

When Theon climbs to the top of the battlements, he cannot see anything from their height through the snow, and reflects.

The world is gone. King’s Landing, Riverrun, Pyke, and the Iron Islands, every place that he had ever known, every place that he had ever read about or dreamed of, all gone. Only Winterfell remained.

He was trapped here, with the ghosts. The old ghosts from the crypts, and the younger ones that he had made himself, Mikken and Farlen, Gynir Rednose, Aggar, Gelmar the Grim, the miller’s wife from Acorn Water and her two young sons, and all the rest. My work. My ghosts. They are all here, and they are angry.

Without the distractions, and with the time and space to think clearly, Theon sees the line between his actions and their outcomes. He’s aware, here, of the injustices he’s committed and the reasons that the dead might wish to harm him. Beaten down and traumatised as he is, he’s thinking in terms of being ‘trapped’ and escaping from his guilt, rather than facing it head-on, but this too is a far cry from his ACoK self.

That, and he’s realised something else about Winterfell.

It was my home, though. Not a true home, but the best I ever knew.

While Theon is not eager to die - rejecting the idea of jumping from the battlements because the outcomes are death or Ramsay’s anger, outright afraid of Stannis giving him to Jon Snow to behead - he nevertheless considers a “man’s death” to be “the sweetest deliverance he could hope for.” By implication, there are sweeter deliverances, just not any ones realistic for him.

He goes to the godswood to pray, then, the drumming of Stannis’ arrival following him all the way.

Remember Your Name

Theon has seven chapters in ADWD, and only the last is titled “Theon.” “A Ghost in Winterfell” is the sixth. Through the previous five we’ve seen Theon try to hold on to the Reek identity for self-protection, even as Theon reasserts himself. By the opening of this chapter, he refers to himself as Theon Greyjoy.

In this chapter, how other people address him is also a pertinent issue. Though Theon, the titular ghost in Winterfell, is largely ignored by others, a few people do address him directly. Holly refers to Theon as “m’lord,” in an attempt to butter him up. We also see a short conversation he has with two nameless guardsmen.

“I want to walk the walls,” he told [the guards], his own breath frosting in the air.

“Bloody cold up there,” one warned.

“Bloody cold down here,” the other said, “but do as you like, turncloak.”

An epithet, rather than a name. And as seen above, he talks himself down from a daring escape attempt with the reminder to remember his name. Ramsay’s people call Theon Reek in the middle of the chapter. Steelshanks Walton calls him turncloak, as does Roger Ryswell. Roose does not use Theon’s name at all.

When we get to the hooded man, he addresses Theon twice, calling him Theon Turncloak and Theon Kinslayer.

At last, though, when Theon is in the godswood, the leaves of the heart tree call him simply Theon. Accordingly, Theon asks the gods who know him to let him die as himself, as Theon Greyjoy of Pyke. Oddly, he sees Bran’s face in the tree for a second.

Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. “I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me…laughed at me…they…”

And this shows how far Theon has left to go, when it comes to guilt. He did hurt Bran and Rickon, in hurting the people at Winterfell, and in driving them from their home. The minimisation of his actions in murdering the miller’s sons with the word “only” also shows some callousness and selfishness.

Fittingly, that’s when the washerwomen come out of the woods to make fun of this shallow version of remorse.

“Theon Turncloak.” Rowan grabbed his ear, twisting. “You had to have two heads, did you?”

“Elsewise men would have laughed at him,” Holly said.

As they say, they’re a gift from the gods, or at least from the author, while they mock the idea that the pain Ramsay inflicted on Theon is a cosmic punishment for his crimes (it’s just Ramsay getting his jollies).

“Did the Bastard hurt you?” Rowan asked. “Chopped off your fingers, did he? Skinned your widdle toes? Knocked your teeth out? Poor lad.” She patted his cheek. “There will be no more o’that, I promise. You prayed, and the gods sent us. You want to die as Theon? We’ll give you that.”

Barring Theon falling back into Ramsay’s hands, this would seem likely to be true. Eventually.

Chapter Function

Really interesting chapter, bringing together elements from Jon’s, Asha’s, and Davos’ PoVs even as it advances its own. There’s also the bit where Bran is almost certainly speaking through the weirwood to Theon.

This is the other side of the conflict shown in Asha’s PoV chapters, detailing their military aims and potential complications and conflicts, as the actual fighting starts in this chapter (with the psychological warfare of the horns and drums outside the walls). In particular, we see that infighting amongst the Bolton side is growing worse, helped along by the murders. Ramsay’s violence has made him unpopular with Lady Dustin; the Freys are of course the Freys, and there are plenty of people out for their blood. Thanks to Davos’ PoV, we know more about the Manderlys and their plans than the Boltons know.

The murders, meanwhile, were committed by the Free Folk sent by Melisandre on Jon’s behalf to rescue “Arya” from Ramsay. They’re stoking the ill feeling inside Winterfell and still looking for access to Jeyne herself.

Theon’s character development is the background to all of this. He’s back, not just to thinking of himself as Theon, but by the end of the chapter, to asking to be Theon again. When Roose said Theon didn’t have it in him to betray Ramsay, this chapter forces Theon to look back and see the reasons he has for doing so. He’s not quite up to acting against Ramsay yet, but he’s sure looking down at the snowdrifts beneath the walls and thinking I might survive that fall.

Miscellany

It’s been a while since we’ve had so much detail given to us on Winterfell, and Winterfell under the Boltons is a deeply unpleasant place. As the opening paragraphs of the chapter make clear, not even the dead are safe from depredation in the Boltons’ Winterfell, with the dead man’s body dug up and partially devoured by Ramsay’s dogs. Where snow in other chapters lends a sense of purity and cleanliness to a setting - such as in Sansa’s final ASoS chapter - here the snow is a muffling blanket, contributing to the atmosphere of claustrophobia and paranoia. The new Bolton-built stable collapses under this snow and kills horses and people alike. Later in the chapter, we see that Winterfell becomes outright squalid under Bolton occupation.

The reek within the Great Hall was palpable by eventide. With hundreds of horses, dogs, and men squeezed beneath the one roof, the floors slimy with mud and melting snow, horseshit, dog turds, and even human feces, the air redolent with smells of wet dog, wet wool, and sodden horse blankets, there was no comfort to be found amongst the crowded benches…

This is not what Winterfell is supposed to be like.

While we’re talking about who’s referring to who by which name, Barbrey Dustin calls Ramsay “the Bastard” in front of his father. She also makes sure to remind the room of Lady Hornwood’s fate.

Clothing Porn

Kind of? Theon wears heavy wool and greasy fur and goes for a walk:

…his legs were caked with snow to the knee, his head and shoulders shrouded in white. On this stretch of the wall the wind was in his face, and melting snow ran down his cheeks like icy tears.

He’s dressed as the ghost in Winterfell.

Food Porn

Blood sausage, leeks, and warm brown bread. Stale bread in bacon grease for the men, bacon for the lords and knights. Pease porridge and stale bread for the men, and another including ham for the lords and knights. Rare horsemeat with roast onions and neeps, shared regardless of class. This chapter makes very clear that your social status determines your provisions.

Next Three Chapters

The Soiled Knight, AFFC - Reek III, ADWD - Jaime VI, AFFC

#ASoIaF #revisiting chapters #cw: violence #theon greyjoy #roose bolton #a dance with dragons

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 6 years

Text

Glitch in the System - Conflict of Interests (pt. 1)

This will probably be a 4-5 part story arc. Maybe more. Who knows!

Enjoy part 1.

By E. A new adventure happens.

They sat together on the couch, Widow sipping a glass of wine as she absorbed yet another dry French novel, while Sombra went through her nightly motions. Ever the digital huntress, she checked her traps, her snares, and the usual trails, making the rounds as she did every night to see if anyone had tripped a wire. Normally it was an uneventful ritual, but tonight?

Well, it looked as though something very curious indeed had taken the bait.

“Widow, get Gabe,” Sombra said, the sharpness of her own words surprising her as she sat up ramrod straight, numbers flashing across the screen before her. It was so subtle she would have missed it but for the nets she’d put up.

“Gabe?” Widow asked as she pulled her gaze up from her book, brows furrowed. “Can you not call him yourself?”

Sombra glared hard at the screen. Dropping a token on the IP snaking through her web, she watched as it circled the globe in rapid purple flashes.

“Sombra?” Widow asked again, her book now closed in her lap, her expression indicating the ghost of concern.

“Sorry,” Sombra replied, shaking her head, keeping one eye on the screen. “Do you remember, a year ago, when we had a run-in with that group of cyborg separatists?”

“The Mechali,” Widow nodded slowly. “What about them?”

“Well, they just resurfaced,” Sombra replied, eyes darting around the screen. “And it looks big.”

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, following it with the glass of wine to her lips. “What did you find?”

“Chatter, mostly, but the sort of chatter that precludes something serious. Won’t know the details until I hit their remote servers in person.”

“Where?” Widow asked, looking curiously over her glass of wine.

“Greece?” Sombra replied, shrugging, looking back at her screen. “Probably. The IP I’m tracking is pinging through a lot of locations, but there looks to be a spot in Athens that seems stronger than the rest. Decoys feel different than the real deal, you know?”

“No.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “That was hypothetical,” she replied. “Anyway, we haven’t heard even a whisper from these guys since their failed attack on Numbani two years ago. Frankly I’d thought they had dissolved. Now they’re shouting and I want to know why.” Her screen flashed and her fingers slid to the bottom of the screen, pinching together to zoom in on an image. “Gabe has to let me check this out.”

Widowmaker watched her expression carefully for the span of several heartbeats before she set down her glass and reached for Sombra, taking her gently by the chin to tear her eyes from the screen. “I am going with you,” she insisted, eyes narrowed.

Sombra laughed, her intensity softening slightly. “Well yeah. I wouldn’t want you to be bored without me. Besides,” she shrugged, swiping Widow’s hand from her chin and giving it a kiss, “I’ll need someone to convince me not to join their weird mecha-human cult. I’m the embodiment of their ideals; I’ll bet they’d love to have me join their ranks.”

Widow let out a soft huff of distaste, part laugh, part disapproval. “And then your ego might finally attain sentience. I will get Gabe,” she said, long limbs unfolding until she was standing. She hesitated, then leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Sombra’s forehead. Turning from her, she left Sombra tapping away at her console.

“The Mechali,” Akande said, fingers steepled together in a typical show of removed emotion. “I had thought them history. Inconsequential history at that.”

“Yeah, well, history has a way of repeating itself,” Sombra shrugged. She was sprawled as usual over the tall meeting room chair, legs up, arms dangling in idle boredom. She ignored both Akande’s and Moira’s glare that she take her feet off the table, ignoring the impulse to kick off her shoes, considering that more than enough concession to their wishes.

“Refresh my memory,” Gabriel asked, rubbing his temples and growling as wisps of black smoke drifted from his head. “What, precisely, is their aim?”

Sombra shrugged and covered a yawn. “Oh, you know - bunch of heavily cybridized people who no longer feel fully human but aren’t ‘welcome’ within the omnic community coming together to establish their own separate group. The leader’s a real spitfire - Sasha Kuznetsov, been looking to break apart from the ‘oppression’ of humans and the ‘overreach’ of Omnics to create a real cyborg utopia for herself and her followers. She’s got an impressive history of failed terrorism and assassination attempts, from starting a fire at the Numbani consulate to a laughable attempt at converting Blackwatch’s own cyborg to her cause. Barring her general inability to follow through with her threats, you two would probably get along really well, Akande,” Sombra explained.

“I am not so certain of that,” Akande replied, lips pursed in thought. “A third party simply muddies the waters and leaves room for empathy. But as far as I can tell, they are not large enough to be anything more than a nuisance at this point.” His eyes shifted to Sombra. “Correct?”

“Numbers have swelled since we last clashed with them. They’re big enough to claim corporate tax exemption as a private group.”

Akande frowned. “Have they?”

Sombra shook her head. “No, but they have certainly grown, and they definitely have the drive. Frankly, if they’re employing encryption methods strong enough to tip me off, they’re up to something.” Idly rubbing a thumb along her cybernetics, she caught Akande’s eyes with utter seriousness. “Something big.”

Gabriel and Akande exchanged a glance. Moira crossed her arms, and Sombra thought she looked as though she felt left out.

“We don’t need chaos we can’t control. Not right now,” Gabe said, his voice maintaining its professional gravelly snarl. “I think an investigation of their intentions is warranted.”

“Now we’re on the same page,” Sombra replied, winking. “Let me at that sweet cyborg propaganda.”

“You say you need to go to Greece to properly access their data?” Akande finished, ignoring her glib commentary.

“If we want to know what precisely those intentions are, then yeah.” She smirked. “Also the gyros in Italy are terrible, and I have a need.”

Akande looked between Moira and Gabriel, receiving curt nods of assent from each. “Go. Take Lacroix for backup,” he said. Sombra smirked at Moira’s failed attempt at not looking annoyed at their joint assignment.

“Are we going to lose you to their cause?” Gabriel asked as they all left the room, his tone mostly joking, but Sombra thought she detected a hint of worry in it as well.

She laughed. “Well I guess that depends on how well you pay me.”

“I do not know how you do it,” Widow commented as they entered a busy little taverna in a populated section of Athens. The path there was crowded with twilight tourists sneaking a last peek at the acropolis looming above them on its hill, killing time before the nightlife kicked into gear.

“Do what?” Sombra asked, holding up two fingers as the server nodded and asked how many were in her party.

“Remember everything,” Widow replied, falling into step behind her. Sombra had disembarked their small commercial flight as Selena Santiago, hailed a taxi under the guise of Camila Santos, and checked into their small hotel just outside of Syntagma Square as Rafaela Rodriguez. Sombra hopped from name to name like they were bars in foreign towns, drunk off anonymity and the freedom it afforded her.

“Change your name enough and you don’t have to remember them, cielito,” Sombra grinned as they sat down on the patio outside overlooking the street. Like most European cities she had visited, it was bustling, and traffic was especially thick during the end of the day as businesses closed and people raced to get home to their families and loved ones. It was exciting and vibrant and she watched the cars pass with interest until their server arrived.

“Wine?” he offered the women, proffering a dented copper pitcher at the two.

“Nai, parakelo,” she said with a smile, and he took their orders, leaving the copper pitcher on the table for their pleasure. Sombra grinned - she’d always appreciated the way tavernas treated wine like water, allowing patrons to fill their glasses until they’d had enough. She wasn’t sure whether it was something done traditionally or as a way to hook tourists, but since she was rarely in Greece for very long, she figured she benefited either way.

“I didn’t realize you spoke Greek,” Widow commented after pouring herself a glass, leaning back and taking a sip of her wine. She grimaced, nose wrinkled in disgust. “What is this?” she asked.

“Well it’s not top shelf.” Sombra laughed. “And I don’t speak Greek, I speak select phrases that come in handy when shopping, or eating. You know,” she continued, shrugging, “tourist book stuff.”

“I see,” Widow nodded, eyeing her glass as though it offended her. Regardless, she took another sip, this one seeming to upset her slightly less than the first. “That does seem somewhat anticlimactic for you.”

“Hey, until I can work out an instant cerebral internal translator, I’m going to have to play the language game just like anyone else.” Sombra grinned, offering an exaggerated shrug, sitting up straighter as their waiter returned.

“Epharisto,” she nodded as he set down a plate of dolmades and olives at the center of the table as well as a lamb and tzatziki gyro before each of them. It smelled delicious, but unfamiliar, and nothing like the hearty spice from back home.

“Working?” he asked, nodding at her display.

“Always,” she smiled in response, more innocent than a college student researching a paper for school. Widow watched him coldly, and he made no move to address her before scurrying off to assist his other patrons.

“I can’t decide whether you make it harder or easier for me to do what I do,” Sombra smirked, picking up her gyro and taking a bite. It was perfect.

“How do you mean?” WIdow asked, gingerly picking up her own dolmade.

“You either scare away the mark or make me seem even more pleasant in comparison.” Widow rolled her eyes and Sombra grinned. She chewed slowly as the data file her scraping program had picked up was decrypted. It was a strong encryption, but she’d cracked harder. She watched it run, periodically jumping in for a manual override, taking sips of wine and bites of food in between.

“Am I that frightening?” Widow asked after a bit, seeming less offended and more curious.

“Babe, you’re terrifying,” Sombra laughed. As she did, a sharp ping and flash of light drew her attention. “Got ‘em.”

“You have a location?”

“You bet I do.” Hovering her hand over her screen, she pinched her fingers together and peeled off a bit of hard light, absorbing it into her skin in flecks of purple data. “And you’re never going to believe where we have to go.”

Widowmaker sighed, draining her wine glass, the smallest hint of distaste still flashing across her face, almost as an obligation at this point. “I assume I am going to hate this?” she asked.

“Sorry,” she grinned sheepishly. “Probably.”

“And where are your uncomfortable cyborgs holding out, then?”

Sombra’s grin widened. “Mycenae. Inside the cistern.”

Widow stared at her incredulously. “The cistern under the ruins?”

“Yup.”

Taking a steadying breath, Widowmaker poured herself another drink.

They arrived after dark, the ruins locked down with rope and makeshift gates that didn’t look to have changed much since the beginning of the century.

“Guess not a lot of folks are dying to get in here and cause trouble after dark,” Sombra commented, shrugging as she stepped over the pitiful barricade.

“A far cry from the Acropolis,” Widow murmured, visor in place as she scanned the area for people.

“Yeah I’ve never been yelled at for picking up rocks. Especially while watching a dog pee on the Parthenon steps at the same time.” She shook her head, illuminating the ground before them in a dim purple glow. “Preservation is weird. See anything?”

“No,” Widow replied, pressing the button at the base of her visor to disengage. Her golden eyes flashed in the light from Sombra’s cybernetics.

“Into the pit we go then,” Sombra said cheerfully as she waved Widow over to a small hole in the rock face, big enough for one person to descend at a time. She loved ancient ruins and the stories they told, but the lack of technological grid in place always made her feel a bit blind.

Which was why she was startled nearly to stumbling when she placed her hand against the wall and felt a thin, thready vibration coming from the damp rock, indicating the presence of some sort of network. With extreme caution, she connected to it, and found herself at the precipice not only of a stone staircase leading into the abyss, but a vault of data lingering just beneath her touch.

She shared this with Widow, and despite the darkness of the stairs as they slowly descended, could almost see the concerned wrinkling of her smooth brow.

“A connection,” she said, voice low but echoing regardless in the utter silence of the rock surrounding them, “in 3,500 year old ruins?”

“Hey, I’m baffled too. Best we can do is follow it I figure.” The places her fingers traced against the wall left faint glowing points of purple in their wake, like the remnants of touch witnessed through a heat sensor. It felt less like raw data and more like a guide leading to what Sombra hoped were the Mechali servers. It was the only thing that made any sense, really. If she hadn’t known they were tracking cyborgs, she’d have thought her hardware was malfunctioning.

They continued downward in silence.

The cistern itself was precisely what it said on the tin: a large body of water stretching into the darkness before them. Skirting the pool of subterranean water, she followed the lines of data to a false wall at the far end. Someone had blasted away part of the rock beneath, covering it with the hologram that was indistinguishable from the rock to anyone not approaching it with subterfuge in mind. The hard light was also modeled to feel like rock. The curators probably didn’t even know it was there.

“This is some high tech shit,” Sombra explained, awestruck as her fingers danced over the false stone. It was even damp to the touch like the rest of the cavern.

“Can you get through?” Widow asked, standing pointedly away from the walls, eyeing them with disgust.

Sombra snorted. “I said high tech, not impressive. This is kids’ stuff.” Pressing a palm against the wall, she summoned a small keypad into thin air. Her fingers danced and arcs of electricity shot from her hand into the device. There was no sound; no fanfare at all, really, as the hologram vanished from sight. It was instantaneous - one moment it was there, the next it was gone.

Sombra and Widowmaker peered into the hole in the wall of the cistern to see an unexpected anachronism: a long, sleek, metal wall, riveted together and leading down into the ground, the ceiling and ground carved from the same stone as the rest of the ancient city.

“Let’s go,” Sombra shrugged, stepping through into the hallway. Widowmaker hesitated and followed a moment later.

The metal walls glowed with internal white LEDs, making their passage comparatively easy to their descent into the cistern. As they passed over the threshold, Sombra looked back to see the hologram slip back into place behind them.

“Well done,” she said under her breath.

Widow’s frown was visible now. She activated her visor again, scanning the passage as they approached what was looking more and more like another doorway, this one made not of hard light, but of steel.

“Sombra,” she said, and her voice stopped Sombra in her tracks.

“What?” she asked.

“This place,” she said, pointing ahead of them, “is filled with people.”

Sombra stood where she was for a moment, considering the new intel. “Ah,” she replied, pursing her lips. “That makes sense. I wouldn’t leave my servers unguarded either.”

“This is more than guards, Sombra. This is,” she trailed off, peering at the door again before disengaging her visor. “This is a facility.”

Sombra stroked her chin a moment in thought. “Yeah, I’d thought that might be the case, honestly. Or at least a possibility.” Turning, she bridged the final gap to the door, reaching out to perform the same technical magic on the physical keypad as she had earlier on the hard light one.

“What are you doing?” Widow asked, standing rigidly beside her.

“What am I doing?” Sombra asked, tilting her head at Widow. “I’m going in to say hi.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #widowsombra #sombramaker #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombra #Olivia colomar #Widowmaker #amelie lacroix #Amélie Lacroix #Overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #glitchfic #glitch in the system

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surrounded-by-superheroes · 6 years

Text

Good Old Days (Steve)

Summary; Steve has never been a fan of parties, so you come up with a little surprise for him. Turns out, he surprises you too.

A/N; Cute, fluffy, fall fluff is my stuff dude. Enjoy!!

Warnings; Pure fluff. Language.

Words; 1,544

Fall Fluff Masterlist

Steve doesn’t like parties.

Noisy, impersonal, dark things that they are. I know this and that’s why my eyes find him in the crowds every once and a while just to make sure he isn’t contemplating another dive into the ice to escape all this. It’s Tony’s first day of Fall bash. Pumpkins are everywhere, orange, yellow, and red spotlights dance around the room as if searching for felons but instead find heroes. Black and orange streamers decorate every still surface and I know for a fact that there are confetti canons waiting to go off when Tony gets just drunk enough. This isn’t as big a party as Stark would usually throw since we’ve moved to the new facility, but everyone seems to still be having a good time. Tony and Rhodes are teasing each other like crazy with Pepper to referee over on the grey couches, Natasha and Wanda are talking at the bar with Vision close by, and I’m close to the live band sipping on my gin martini and keeping a close eye on Steve. He’s leaning against the far wall and creeping closer to the exit. A smirk on my face, I put my drink down and slither through the swaying bodies on the dancefloor until I’ve reached the elusive Captain.

“Planning an escape?” I ask and he looks up from the amber liquid swirling in the glass held in his hand to meet my eyes. A little relief passes over his face that it’s me and not some stranger, but he still looks weary.

“You gonna stop me?” He replies with a smile teasing the edges of pink lips.

“Tempt you, maybe. Dance with me?” I offer him a hand and he straightens as his eyebrows raise. Soft orange light passes over him and casts him in a darker light. Golden locks turn golden brown, blue eyes look darker like storm clouds, and the shade thrown across his face makes him look older than he is. Still not a hundred though. He seems to think about my proposal a moment, surveying my face and expression before downing the amber courage and setting down his glass.

“It’s been a while.” He admits and takes my hand. Callused, tender, and warm. Steve’s always so warm, no matter where we are or what the weather. He’s like his own little sun. We walk onto the dancefloor and he raises our clasped hands, then slides a hand onto my waist as my hand lands on his shoulder.

“So far, so good.” I commend him and receive a small smile. “Sorry Sam couldn’t come. Said his mom would box his ears if he missed another family meal to pow around with Captain America.” Those blue eyes light up at the mention of his friend and a quiet laugh escapes his tight chest. A little tension rolls off his broad shoulders.

“Eh, it’s alright. Family’s important.” He tells me as a song definitely not meant for slow dancing comes on and we keep slow dancing. I consider his words and his pretty face.

“So why, during this lovely, family event, are you trying to escape?” I ask and he sighs, looking over my shoulder with a half-smile on his face. Blue eyes once again meet mine and he pulls me a little closer. Whether a conscious or unconscious, I don’t care.

“Family can be a bit too much at times. Especially when…not everyone is here.” He murmurs the last sentence and that weight is back on his shoulders again. A moment passes and I realize we’ve stopped swaying. I take a step back but tighten my grip on his hand.

“How about a walk then?” My hand waves to the door and Steve’s eyes turned surprised and amused.

“Now you’re helping me escape?” He teases as we slowly walk to the doors hand in hand. Neither of us make a move to let go and I feel his warmth travel throughout my body. I meet his eyes and feel that familiar spark in my heart at the small amount of happiness there.

“Something like that. Actually, I want to show you something.” I reveal and my steps quicken once we’re out of the main party space. Steve picks up the pace easily to keep up with me and seems to look a little younger as excitement fills those blue eyes. “I know Bucky made you come. He called and told me to keep an eye out on ‘his punk.’” Steve’s eyes widen.

“He called you?” He repeats in disbelief, looking at me in a new light.

I nod and tug him around the corner and into the stairwell. “The minute you left the apartment. He told me you didn’t want to leave him but since things between him and Stark are still rocky he wanted to sit the party out. Thought you might be down so I kept an eye on you.” He stops us once we’ve reached the top of the stairs and I turn towards him, shocked a little when I realize we’re so close in the small space. Eyes soften when he looks at me.

“What’s going on here? What’d you do?” He asks curiously, eyes wide and radiant smile on his lips. He looks younger than I’ve seen in a while. Guess he doesn’t get a lot of good surprises in his life. That’s why I put this together. I slide closer to reach the door and our noses brush. We both breathe in sharply at the feeling, then look to one another’s eyes. Smiling self-deprecatingly, those baby blues glance between my eyes and lips. Before something else happens my hand turns the knob and pushes the door open. Steve reluctantly turns and those pretty lips part as he exhales in shock.

A cool breeze raises constellations of goosebumps across our exposed skin as we step out onto the roof. A small portable record player, my own, plays Louis Armstrong’s Skeleton in a Closet from Pennies from Heaven. The music seems strange out here, but the way Steve tilts his head and shuts his eyes a moment to listen tells me he thinks the opposite. This is his New York, I suppose. There’s a table littered with covered foods; Irish soda bread, champ, stew, even colcannon with a little heart charm in the middle. Two copies of H. G. Wells’ novel, War of the Worlds sits on the end next to some cheap whiskey Bucky snagged for me. Cardboard cut outs of black cats and pumpkins lay against the food table and the one thing not keeping with the 30s-40s theme are the little pumpkin string lights on the edge of the orange table cloth. My eyes watch as Steve turns to look at each and every variable, giggling every once and a while with glee.

When he finishes and looks to me I can’t help but blush slightly. Blue eyes wide, smile wider, hair a little messy from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it in disbelief, he’s breathtaking. “Is everything right?” I ask a little hesitantly. A few steps bring him to me and he frames my face with his big hands.

“Did you do all this? Make all these things?” He asks quietly, tone insistent and hands gentle. I nod, leaning into his touch a little.

“Bucky told me what to do. Sorry it’s not completely perfect, but this is as close as I could get. Tony has yet to make a time machine.” I joke lightly and he exhales a little. The smell of whiskey washes over me and I swallow a little nervously.

“Thank you.” He tells me earnestly. “This is incredible. You’re incredible.” His voice lowers with every word until he’s practically speaking onto my lips.

“You’re incredible.” I breathe and press my lips to his full ones. Soft, tentative, and warm, so warm. I can’t even feel the chilly air around us. Especially not when one of his hands leaves my face to wrap around my waist. Forget warm, everywhere he touches feels like fire ripping its way through me and settling in my gut. Chest to chest with my hands balling up his button down, a little moan slips from my lips when he rocks his hips into mine. Just barely, his tongue teases me by running over the edge of my bottom lip. A cleared throat has us springing apart and looking towards the door. Bucky’s sitting on top with a cowboy hat placed crookedly on his dark hair.

“Done yet?” He asks with a smirk and hops down, walking over to us. Shit, I forgot he was part of the surprise. I look at Steve sheepishly, but he’s absolutely glowing with happiness. Bucky reaches up and puts a clown nose on Steve’s. Giggling, I watch Steve furrow his brows and accept the brown cowgirl hat Bucky smushes on top of my head. “Happy Fall, punk.” He punches Steve’s shoulder and gifts him a rare grin.

“Thanks, jerk.” He responds and Bucky steps between us to the table of food. Steve and I meet eyes and he steals a quick kiss before we both walk to the food behind Bucky.

And it’s looking like a good Fall too.

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