#i have thoughts. about that snow scene in particular

[bisexualalienss]

All your life, did you know You'd be picked like a rose

[minhosimthings]

Dances Avec Les Etoiles ft. Heeseung

Synopsis: God how boring is love? For Lee Heeseung, it was perhaps the most boring thing in this rotten world. But for his parents, it meant buisness. And buisness meant getting Heeseung married off to a princess from another kingdom. And when the princess shares a peculiar interest, Heeseung starts to believe in Cupid again.

Pairings: Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader

Warnings: Brief smut scene in the beginning (not with reader), SMUT MINORS DNI (with reader), fingering, edging, orgasm control, french kissing hehe, dom!Heeseung × kinda dom!reader, mentions of food, sexual tension, hee is kind of a pervert, suggestive at places, fluff, swearing, angst, did I mention sexual tension, enemies to lovers (kind of), arranged marriage, playboi heeseung × playgirl!reader, reader wants adventure and Heeseung is the adventure

A/N: I have been writing and editing this for so long now and it's only part 1! Thank you for being patient with me and I promise to release the second part which has more smut in it very soon! @candewlsy your daddy papi has arrived

Part 1 || Part 2 || The wedding

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Lee Heeseung was a man of logic.

Which left no room for the poetry in him, although he did say that he enjoyed it a lot.

He was a prince, a ruler soon to ascend the golden throne of Tarnow. Stupid name, he had always thought, it sounded like a wheelbarrow carrying a bunch of tar pieces.

But he had often heard that the poets never allowed someone to go on with their life just like that. What kind of poets would they be if they did that?

And so he had to be betrothed. With a star studded ring on his finger, an imitation of a smile on his face, and a bride by his arm. And a ceremony where there would be flowers, and dancing.

Dancing!

Heeseung had a clandestine love for dancing. The curve of arms and fingers, the movement of hips, the ballet of the feet twirling to create an invisible picture on the ground. And yet, no one knew of this rendezvous of his. Well, almost no one.

"Hyung are you really sure you're alright?" Heeseung's daydream was interrupted by a honey sweet voice from above him. "Get down from the tree, idiot." Another voice, strong as iron reprimanded him.

Sim Jake and Park Jay.

Two of Heeseung's band of best friends.

They had grown up together, due to their parents being close friends, what with the never ending borders they shared between the kingdoms. And he could always count on them to give him advice, whether it be of a bastard's or of a sage's.

"Unless you want to break your arm again, get down from that dumb tree." Jay scolded the brown haired boy, who was, at the moment, hanging upside down from a willow tree, "But you need another reason to visit your best friend don't you loverboy?" Jay added with a cheeky smile.

"As if you have more love in your life" Jake shot back, promptly jumping down from the branches onto the grass with a soft thump.

"Would you two stop bickering and help me out of my current predicament?" Heeseung snapped, letting out a sigh and leaning against the bark of the willow. He had always liked this particular tree. He remembered his mother's hands carefully handling the roots and planting the tiny sapling into the wet mud, talking about how the Duchess' daughter had ran off with some ragamuffin. It was a majestic tree now, like how the poets described the trees of the Gods to be like. He had liked that poem a lot, the one about trees and princesses and first kisses under first snows.

"You're going to get married to a completely random princess, big deal." Jay rolled his eyes, settling comfortably onto the freshly mowed grass. He was often the more mature one out of all of them.

"Where on earth are Sunghoon and Sunoo?" Heeseung questioned, checking his pocket watch. He shook his head, his other two friends didn't exactly know the meaning of being on time.

"Probably kissing themselves." Jake smirked, flicking a leaf at Jay to annoy him, which worked when Jay got up from his sleeping position with a glare smeared on his face and slapped Jake's head.

"Just pretend you have affection towards her and all that and it'll be over in a minute." Jay adviced wisely, looking over at Heeseung's drooping figure. "I wish it was that easy." Heeseung sighed, "I don't want to get married, what if she's snobbery?"

"Hyung don't get poetic." Jay said sternly, moving his head to face Heeseung, "What is even love in these ages? And I am sure she'll be wonderful enough to make you some heirs."

"What's her name again?" Jake questioned, looking at the tree with his tongue stuck out, probably contemplating whether he should climb it again or not, "I hear she's of the far East."

"Princess Y/N of the Kingdom of Witchelm." Heeseung scoffed, "Ooh maybe they have witches!"

"Absolutely not." Jay sighed with a tiring expression.

"Whatever, I'm hoping to pay Priscilla a visit today." Heeseung pushed his hair out of his face.

"Does she love you yet?" Jake ashed with a cheeky grin.

"God I hope not." Heeseung shuddered, "She's just got a good mouth and a nice pussy for me to take. See you later boys."

"Fuck I needed this." Heeseung sighed laying back. The girl looked up at him as she placed her hand onto his cock, her other hand resting on his thigh. She licked the underside of it slowly back up, circling her tongue around the head.

"Fuck has your mouth gotten prettier since last time?" Heeseung chuckled, looking at the girl.

"Shut up and let me do my work." She responded, "You know this is the last time right?"

Heeseung scoffed and placed his hands on her head. "I know."

The girl took the head into her mouth, causing him to jolt. He patted her head which soon turned into him gripping her hair when she went back down again, now bobbing her head up and down. Making sure she reached all the way to the base, Heeseung helped by pushing Priscilla down further.

“Keep doing that thats a good girl” he stuttered out. The hand that was on his thigh reached down to massage his balls, lightly squeezing.

Would his new bride be good at giving him what he wants? Heeseung didn't know anything about her. Nor did he care really. She's probably the regular Mary Jane, a dull lifeless, smiling body, without balance in anything. He wished and prayed fervently that some sort of ballerina took her place instead.

Maybe that'd finally make him happy.

The reflection of Heeseung's mirror stared back at him, not noticing the utter beauty of his eyes. He never cared much for his handsome features, much preferring when people complemented how light he was on his feet.

But it was shameful for his parents.

Dancing? For a crown Prince? Preposterous!

It would have been outrageous if the kingdom found out that their prince preferred dancing over decrees. It wasn't that his mother and father didn't encourage his dancing, they loved seeing their son do what he loved. But to be a prince, a ruler, was to keep a reputation, and that couldn't be spoilt by something their son loved doing.

Heeseung sighed, taking a deep breath and counting his steps, every slow movement bringing him his happiness back inch by inch. Would his bride like dancing?, he wondered, that would be a pleasant thing. Atleast one thing in common with her.

His thoughts wandered carelessly as his feet did, sliding across the floor effortlessly, a gentle sway of the arm here and there, the ballet of a sawn without his mate.

He would be betrothed by tomorrow.

A fateful tomorrow, he hoped.

"And now we introduce, Princess Y/N of the Witchelm Kingdom!"

The man had a ridiculously nasally voice in Heeseung's opinion. Maybe they should replace him with someone who doesn't sound much like a parrot.

"Heeseung stand up straight." Heeseung's mother snapped at him from his right shoulder. Silently grumbling, he obeyed and adjusted his drooping figure along with the drowsy expression on his face. He would have rather ate a carrot than do this right now. The sound of bells and trumpets and what not, and all the ridiculously maroon stained curtains irritated him far too much. The sun was broiling hot, and there was not even an inch of a cloud in the sky. And his nose was rather itchy as well. Perhaps he should ask Jake for that rum again...

"Welcome to Tarnow, Princess." His father's formal voice broke Heeseung out of his train of thoughts, and as he snapped back to his senses, he realised the presence of a figure standing before him. Not caring to lift his eyes to look at the figure, he quickly bowed.

"How was the journey, my dear?" His mother asked in a saccharine sweet voice. She only ever used them with babies, Jay and extra important guests.

"Well the carriage certainly did not like the hefty rocks, but it was pleasant." Heeseung thought he had heard an angel speak for a moment, "Your kingdom is magnificent, Your Majesties." The figure in front of Heeseung curtsied, and that's when he caught a whiff of her perfume.

It was intoxicating, as if it was pulling his closer.

His eyes flickered up, to take a peek at the woman. She was clad in deep shades of maroon with gold trimmings illuminating her figure perfectly. Was this his bride to be?

"Prince Heeseung." You threw a curtsy to him, noticing the way his fawn like eyes were staring at you. Maybe the rumours were right. All the princes of Paradoxica were scoundrels who lounged after women.

"Princess Y/N." Heeseung finally bowed back, and you took note of the fact that his eyes stayed to the ground, not lingering over your figure as most usually did. Maybe he did have a tinge of respect in him.

"Well why wait here in this heat? Shall we lunch inside?" The Queen said in a joviant manner, extending her hand to you, which you took gratefully and stepped inside the castle walls, finally feeling at peace.

You were completely unaware of the pair of deer eyes following you.

Heeseung's first thought upon seeing you was the way you wore yourself. He had often learnt that the best of dancers always moved differently, which was always evident whenever he'd attend balls. The truest dancers would always walk as if they owned the very earth they walked on. Heeseung always felt that they had clouds for shoes.

And the way you walked, the way you held your shoulders, the way you each step echoed with the sound of the air, there was no way you couldn't have been a dancer like him.

But you were a princess, he reminded himself, his soon to be Queen. Dancing was to be put to the side for some time.

Or so he thought.

The luncheon had went quite well in your opinion. Apart from the fact that the King and Queen would not stop talking about the proposal ceremony and the wedding, and their son smirking into his peas whenever his parents came upon the topic of grandchildren, it had gone by in a breeze.

You were happy that Heeseung hadn't talked to you. You were far too tired to have any 'getting to know each other' conversations. He seemed a bit monotonous to you, at first glance atleast. You had always learnt never to judge a book by it's cover. But sometimes advice was made to be ignored, so you simply went on with your day, not caring about what kind of a person Heeseung was.

The rumours were enough for you to summarise his persona anyway. The people of Witchelm talked about him as if he was a splendid rose, one everyone wanted to take a look at. Kind, courageous, handsome, generous, blah blah blah. You would rather have married a fish if it was described as more interesting than him. Although the rumour that he really 'got around' in terms of pleasure had interested you. If that had been true, maybe you did like him. Atleast he would be understanding to the fact that had lied to everyone that you were still a virgin.

Tarnow had been a luxuriant kingdom, known to everyone as the first kingdom formed in all of Paradoxica, the oldest one, it spoke quite well through the aching castle walls when you were exploring the southern wing.

It was in a word, beautiful, with the fading architecture and all the women clad in luxurious silver, dancing their hearts out on the street. How you wished ever so fervently that you could join them.

Dancing was your life ever since you took your first steps. Witchelm was renowned for dancing, for ballet, ballroom and everything in between. It was a pity that you hadn't heard anything about the hobbies of the Prince. Perhaps he preferred dancing too. That would be a pleasant surprise, you thought, as you stepped into your chambers, where all your luggage had been arranged neatly.

"I think I can take over from now on." You curtsied to the girl who had led you over to the chambers. She bowed back and was about to leave when you thought to ask her the question that had been lingering in your mind for long.

"Is there a ballroom here?" The girl turned back abruptly at your question. She had hair as dark as coal and eyes even darker. A pretty sight.

"Oh yes, your Highness." She smiled at you, "We have the biggest ballroom in all of Paradoxica in fact. Most of the King's balls and state dances are held here."

"Then, there must be a place where they practice their dances is there not?"

The girl chuckled at your question and clicked her feet together.

"There is a humongous room in the western part of the castle that's basically empty space for dancing. But the Crown Prince spends most of his time there at night, so we aren't allowed to go there much. I can show you the way if you want."

"The western wing." You sat on the bed with a soft thump, "I can find my route don't worry. Thank you for everything."

The crown prince and dancing..... Peculiar. Very peculiar, you thought as you lay on the bed. You were thankful for finally getting out of the heavy purple gown, and putting on some actually comfortable robes. Although you had begged your mother to let you wear your favourite lavender shades, your mother has refused and put you in the darkest and most sweltering maroon gown. It was safe to say that you were a panting dog by the time you got out of the gown.

Picking up your quill and paper, you smoothed out the creases as you thought about what to write to your best friend back home. Gaeul was the kind of person to find out everything about someone before loving them, no matter what methods she used, so it wouldn't be a problem if you wrote 'i think the Prince likes dancing because a girl told me an extremely insignificant detail' in the letter to be sent to her.

Dipping your quill into the ink pot, you were about to start your letter when-

Knock knock knock

The door tapped thrice. It was safe to say that you were confused. Lunch was just five hours ago and it wasn't even dinner time yet, the sun hadn't set even though the sky had turned a deep purple.

Donning a clock over your robes, you stepped out of the comfortable silks of the bed and strode over to the magnificent, carved door. Tugging on the handle, the door made a creaking noise at it opened, making you cringe at the sound. You caught a figure lingering at the door. The same girl was there, the one who had led you here earlier today.

"Oh hello there." You said, opening the door to its full length, "What is the matter?"

The girl shuffled her feet before your eyes fell on her hands. A tiny black box.

"Someone left this in my chambers with a note attached to it your Highness." She said, "It gave the instruction to give it to you."

You looked at the box with uncertainty before snapping your eyes up to the girl. You took the box from her, your finger gently brushing against hers.

"What is your name?" You questioned, realising that you hadn't asked for it before. "Giselle, Your Highness." She answered, still looking at the ground.

"Thank you Giselle. You may go now." You shot her a smile which she returned meekly and scampered off.

Closing the door behind you, you eyed the box with uncertainty. What if it was some poison which wafted into the air as soon as you opened it? What if there was a lizard inside? You really did hate those dumb creatures. Thousands of thoughts flooded your mind as you looked at the box. You were reminded of your father's words to stop reading so many books with plots of bloodshed and mystery. As if you'd ever stop.

Caressing the box with your hand, you noticed how fine of a quality it had, it couldn't have been sent by any ordinary person. You lifted the lid of the box with hesitation running through your veins, only to find inside......a necklace?

A dainty pearl necklace lay inside the box, along with a tiny note, which you did not notice at first. You were far too captivated by the shimmering necklace. Pearls were a rare occurence in Witchelm, with it being a landlocked kingdom. But Tarnow, you had heard, had a vast coastline, so pearls were easily found.

You pondered upon who it could have been sent by. A secret admirer perhaps? The thought did excite you. But who on earth would send a box like this in these times?

As your thoughts ran wild through a forest again, your hand slightly tilted the box, and the note fell out. You bent down to pick it up and immediately took note of the fact that it was paper which was used for royal decrees. A secret admirer from the ministry?

Unfortunately your mind was disappointed as you ran your eyes through the note.

Wear it for me princess. Love, Heeseung.

Of course. A secret admirer, what were you even thinking? No one would have the courage to give the princess of a foreign country, a pearl necklace.

Rolling your eyes, you settled the box and the necklace into a drawer and put the tiny note into a separate one. The prince had a handsome signature, far better than your scribbles anyway.

The western wing had never seemed like a more interesting place

"I hope you find the chambers a comfortable place my dear?" The Queen's voice rang in your ear. God the atmosphere of the dining table made your hands sweaty.

The little conversations you had with the King and Queen weren't enough conversation for you. It was too.....formal, to regal. You wanted fun, but you knew you wouldn't get that. Not until tonight atleast.

Your plan to sneak out into the western wing was extremely flawed but you had not a care in the world. So what if there would be hundreds of people standing guard? You were quick on your feet, a dancer's gift.

You had silently observed Heeseung throughout the dining session. He seemed quiet, all the talkative ones do at first glance. You noticed the way his foot tapped away every now and then without a care and his fingers drummed his fork in hand. You hadn't a single idea if it was on purpose or not. You had read in the book Gaeul once loaned you that artists, like painters or dancers, can never keep their body still. They always have to be doing something with their hands or feet. So either Heeseung was secretly a painter, or he was a dancer. The former seemed to have more possibilities but it could always be the latter considering Giselle's words about the western wing.

Only one way to find out.

Your skin was filled with goosebumps as you walked down the chilly corridor. You were greatly surprised that there weren't many guards, perhaps Tarnow cared less about security.

You shouldn't doing this, this is dangerous, said a voice in your mind, but did you ever listen to it? No, no you did not.

The western wing was easy to locate, what with the huge painting of a woman pointing her finger towards a large corridor, with the words "Western wing" engraved onto the painting. It was darker than the other parts of the castle, maybe it was a secret wing shut off to everyone else except the Prince. There weren't many doors here either, which caused you to let out a sigh of relief. The dancing room would be easier to find.

And it indeed was, as you now stood in front of a huge oak door, the only one for miles on end. You hoped fervently that it wouldn't creak like the door to your chambers. And to your relief, it thankfully didn't, and the spectacle inside made you let out a gasp.

The prince.

So he wasn't a painter after all.

He was a dancer!

A plain show of beauty, you thought, the Prince was. He looked ordinary at first glance, but now, as your eyes trailed his moving figure, his feet gracefully gliding across the floor, hitting each moment to the melodies of the song he was humming, you'd have thought it was Apollo's incarnate himself. You were mesmerized by him, by his every movement, he was gentler than a swan with his fingers, his robe moving in sync as if he had been commanding it.

My my, he looked like a groom in need of a bride, you thought. You didn't know whether it was past midnight yet, even as the clock struck itself and made a loud noise, you were too distracted by the dancing prince. You would have loved to watch him for a bit more, if not for-

CREAK!

Stupid door!

Heeseung's head whipped around to the door as his humming and dancing stopped abruptly. "Who's there?" He cried, clutching his hand to his sword belt, "Come out!"

There was only one idea in your mind at that moment.

Run.

You hoped fervently the next day that the bags under your eyes would be put off by everyone as exhaustion from the long journey. You hoped that no one thought "Oh the princess obviously must have sneaked out to the dance room and ogled the prince!" Although the possibility of that happening was very low.

You slyly avoided the Queen's questions about your sleep by asking her about when the royal potrait of the groom and bride to be would be painted. And she responded with much happiness that it was to be this afternoon!

This afternoon. With the prince. Wasn't that a joy?

Your schedule was much packed that day, which was disappointing since you had wanted to sneak out to see the main ballroom which Giselle had informed you was in the Northern wing. First, you had to get into your gown for the portrait, which would easily take the entire afternoon. Then the actual portrait session would arrive and God knows how much time a simple layer of paint will take to dry.

"Do you paint my darling?" The Queen asked. "Yes." You answered, knowing damn well you couldn't draw a line if you wanted to. Well a lie in a lie is a truth wasn't it?

Afternoon arrived and so did the sweat drops on your forehead. Damn this gown, you thought as you dragged the heavy on the floor. You decided the first thing you'd do after becoming Queen is ban whatever material this is.

Approaching the door where the Queen had directed you to, you took the handle in hand and tapped it thrice to let whoever was inside know that you had arrived. "Come in." A familiar princely voice answered.

Oh great.

"My Lord." You sunk into a curtsey, not letting your eyes meet Heeseung's. Had he always been this tall and handsome or were you dreaming?

"Heeseung, princess, call me Heeseung." He wore pride quite well in his cunning smirk, you thought, as you looked at him quintessentially.

"Then you may call me by my name as well." You replied, glancing behind him to see an easel propped up, "Where is the painter?"

"Oh him? He's always late." Heeseung leaned back against the table behind him, "So princess, enjoying the palace's attractions?"

"Stop calling me that." You said, rolling your eyes out of annoyance, "And if the attraction is you, then no I'm not." He made the word seem like an enchanting melody, the handsome bastard.

"Would you prefer darling?" He smirked, pushing the stray strands of hair out of his face again. He looked like a siren, pulling you into an ocean you wanted to escape from, but didn't know how.

"Say, my darling," he leaned forward, looking at you with darkened eyes, "You're still a virgin aren't you?"

"Why, do you want to corrupt me?" You scoffed, settling yourself down on the loveseat, "Well bad luck, I'm not."

Heeseung looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes widened and he blinked a few times, but he composed himself quickly.

"Ah we have a little liar do we?" He chuckled lowly, his eyes still looking you up and down, "So you're a bad girl aren't you?"

"I don't care Lee." You crossed your arms, "This is just a marriage for politics, there's no way in hell you are going to magically make me fall in love with you, like in the books."

"You read romance?" Heeseung cocked his head to the side, "Well there's a thing we have in common."

The door to the room burst open before you could get another retort out and you breathed a sigh of relief as the painter rushed in with his assistants and started running about arranging everything.

You were even more thankful when you had to sit down for the portrait, far away from Heeseung. Although a weird pose, you supposed the painter would magically make something out of it.

Heeseung was more interesting that you had previously thought. Atleast he didn't treat you with the insufferable respect most princes did. He was....cocky, rude, daring. A rather sweet taste on your tongue.

Oh how you couldn't wait to sneak out to the west wing again.

You remembered to bring a shawl this time, draping it around your shoulders so that the cold, carved rock of the palace wouldn't let your skin break. You cursed yourself for almost knocking over a piece of what looked like driftwood sitting atop a table, willing aways it's time. The kingdom of Tarnow really had its unusual traditions.

The conversation you had with Heeseung today ran in your mind over and over again and again. You liked the taste of him, the way he stood, the way he held himself. And the way he spoke. You were going to have to come up with new retorts everyday. Well that's more interesting than suffering a life of 'i love you' or 'i will die for you'.

But for now, peering at him through the slightly ajar door was more than enough. Oh how he danced, the movements he made, an astral ballet in the air. He looked at peace, that cocky and confident demeanor was no more, it was replaced, instead by calm and cool. Your eyes tried not to linger to his waist and arms, how his shirt pressed tightly against his muscles. The sinful thought of having a touch of them echoed through your mind. The curve of his body fascinated you, oh he looked as pretty as an angel. Perhaps there is more to Heeseung than you thought.

"She's interesting, too Interesting." Heeseung drawled, as he chewed on his quill tip. To his right sat Park Sunghoon, another crown prince, who had inherited his kingdom without marriage and without everything Heeseung despised. At the moment, he was the only one who could provide Heeseung some comfort.

"Interesting as in she didn't fawn over you or interesting as in she's no a virgin?"

"Both." Heeseung answered leaning back in his chair, "And she's such a mystery, god I want to know more about her."

"There is a thing called conversation you know." A third voice called from across the room. A red haired man was sitting atop the table, casually willing away at grapes.

Kim Sunoo. The youngest crown prince.

"Oh really?" Heeseung smirked, "I though conversation wasn't mandatory or what was it you said last time Sunoo? 'Conversation is only for the loveless?'."

"You know who I meant it for." Sunoo rolled his eyes and hopped off the table promptly, "Anyway the Princess of Witchelm seemed a lovely character. I had a brief incursion with her out in the garden, and she's.....interesting."

"That's what hyung said too." Sunghoon popped a grape in his mouth from the table, clenching his face at the sour taste, "Just run up to her and you know, ask her what she likes."

"Great advice, Sunghoon."

"As if you can do better."

The gardens of Tarnow were a place you reveled in. The freshly mown grass, the sweet scent of daffodils, and the sight of bees almost everywhere elated you. And most importantly, the willow tree.

The grandiose tree reminded you of someone who knew what they were worth, like a Queen who knows exactly what she wants. That's who you wanted to be. A Queen who rebelled, headstrong like your mother always told you to be. And you would fill the streets with dance, music and laughter. Maybe even prompt Heeseung to show off his moves....

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Death would have been more pleasurable than to endure Heeseung right now, as his voice disrupted your peace and quiet.

"You owe your hand in marriage apparently." You stared straight at him, not daring to break eye contact, which was hard considering how menacing Heeseung's stare was.

"Admiring the willow eh princess?" Heeseung plopped down next to you, landing on the grass with a soft thump, "You know, I planted this when I was an adorable child."

"Adorable?" You scoffed, "More like a fiend." Heeseung chuckled at your statement, turning his head to look out towards the landscape.

"I planted most of the trees in this garden." He said, staring ahead with unwavering affection in his eyes at all the greenery, "They've grown a lot since then, my mother says that planting them at a young age allows them to grow with you." The love in his tone made you want to coo at him, but you composed yourself, remembering what kind of a person he was.

"Was that too cheesey?" Heeseung smiled, turning his eyes to yours. "Just a little." You responded, not having the heart to break the moment.

The silence that followed was a dire one, but it was peaceful. Heeseung and you sat in it as if you were fluent, letting the breeze whip your hair about, and the grass seep into your veins. You were so immersed in the butterfly landing on the daffodil that you didn't even notice the leaves sticking to your hair.

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest right now, princess." You heard Heeseung laugh as you turned your head towards him. "Excuse me?" You said, pulling your hand up to stroke your hair, being horrified when you pulled pieces of leaves sticking to it.

"Oh for fuck's sake." You mumbled under your breath, "Ah damn this, I'm going back to the chambers. Good day, Heeseung."

"With a nest in your hair?" Heeseung raised a cocky brow, "Princess, be logical. No one is going to respect a future Queen who looks like she's walked out of a jungle." Heeseung's words were mean but true, "You know I can just remove them, if you ask kindly with that pretty mouth of yours."

You had never wanted to slam his head into a wall more than now. But your reputation also mattered. You were torn between the two choices; Heeseung or risking your reputation?

"Fine." You sat back down on the ground, "Take them out."

"Nicer, princess. Add a pretty please too."

Oh he was on thin ice. You rolled your eyes and grumbled, "Could you please take these leaves out of my hair? Pretty please?"

The scent of Heeseung's neck pressed to your nose as he leaned over to remove the leaves carefully. He touched your hair rather gently, as if you were a fragile doll, which surprised you. Your hand kept lingering at his stomach, holding itself back from touching his muscles.

"There." Heeseung leant back, "All pretty princess again." "Thanks." You muttered, making your way to get up.

"Uh uh uh princess, we aren't done yet." Heeseung pulled you back down, making you snatch your hand away from him, "I want to strike a deal with you."

That night as you watched Heeseung dance gracefully on the stone floor, you wondered how this was the same person you had met in the morning. The same person who had made you a wretched deal, now danced under soft candlelight, unaware of his future bride watching him through clandestine corners.

"Meet me in my chambers tomorrow, and I'll think about not spilling to everyone, your little 'pureness' secret."

Fuck the world. That was your first thought as you woke up the next day, got dressed, had breakfast, had a conversation with the Queen, and made your way down to Heeseung's chambers.

For what purpose must this have been done? For what purpose did you have to be betrothed to a man like him?

"Fine day, isn't it princess?" Heeseung smirked at you from behind his desk. Papers and scrolls were strewn all over the desk, along with ink pots and a couple of what seemed to be drying paintings. A few more were hung up on the wall.

"Is this why your mother asked me if I paint?" You traced your finger over a dried painting of a daffodil. Still life, boring as it may be, still caught your eye. Heeseung smiled to himself.

"She asks everyone that, thinks her grandchildren will be some sort of prodigies." "Grandchildren?" You looked up from the painting to Heeseung's smug face, "We aren't even close to friends and she wants grandchildren?"

"Rule of Law princess, there's an entire book about it." Heeseung leaned back, spreading his legs a bit further, god that shirt stuck to his muscles well.

"What am I doing here anyway?" You scoffed, sitting back on the chair facing him, "You want me to do your assignments or something?"

"Assignments, actually." Before you could blink a huge stack of papers lay in front of you, all stamped with decrees, "And in return you'll get some get sex and your secret not being spilt."

"Good sex?" You laughed haughty, "I highly doubt that. Especially from you."

"You think I can't fuck you better than your lovers?" Heeseung raised a brow at you, leaning back against his desk. "No I don't think so." You simply replied, reaching out a hand to get one of the decrees, but it was caught by Heeseung and before you could even flinch, he had you pressed against the desk.

"Want to test that theory?"

Your retort stuck in your throat when you engaged in a searing kiss and your lips met aimlessly—a real mess of tongues and teeth. Heeseung licked a strip across your teeth and thrust his tongue deeper, exploring the inside of your mouth like a sacred temple with only one chance to visit. Heeseung opened his mouth and gasped, lingering with a few more short, honeyed kisses between his panting breaths and your muffled moans. You scolded yourself for even getting a sound out of yourself at Heeseung's touch.

Heeseung's hand moved up your thigh, and you pressed your mouth to his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

"That's not the ideal place to leave a mark princess." Heeseung glared at you, to which you merely shrugged your shoulders. So what if Heeseung had a few hickeys on display to the kingdom?

Heeseung's hand travels upto your back, easily removing the dainty dress you had on. You silently thanked Giselle for giving you a dress instead of a gown today.

“is this what you wanted?” you slid your panties to the side, as Heeseung was about to reach further down your slide. He wouldn't have admitted it but he almost drooled at the sight of you. Taking a second to admire you, his voice echoes through your body, “I wonder how many others can have you like this.”

"Not many." You keep your eyes on him, "none of them fuck me as well as I want them to."

You lean forward a bit, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage. You decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of your bra's strap.

Heeseung's exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" His voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

The world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. You feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation. Heeseung's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

Your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as Heeseung's hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. You can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

His fingers catch the waistband of your bottoms. Heeseung traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips a finger underneath, swiping two fingers along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze. He presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. You groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. You rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

"Fuck you're a tight one." Heeseung smirks into the crook of your neck, taking in your delicious scent, "Is this good enough for you princess?"

His half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger. He coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. He nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. The squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

You can feel the tightening of your stomach, your intestines begging for air as your mind wants nothing more but to break free. The sweet edge of release feels better than ever with Heeseung than anyone else you've ever done this with. Fuck was he good. Just as you felt his finger sweep across your cunt one more time, and hot liquid come upto your cervix-

"Heeseung!" You gasped, feeling the painful feeling of having him pull his finger away from you. His smirking face added the fuel to the fire of your anger, as he slowly bent away from you, collapsing onto a chair and spreading his legs far. God did you want yourself propped on that thigh.

"I already told you princess." Heeseung's smug voice infuriated you, "Sex as a reward remember? And you haven't done anything so no reward. Simple logic."

"fuck you" "When princess?"

You were thankful Heeseung didn't make you work all night, you had time to admire his dancing again. He seemed so different when he was alone, so much more gentler, and it only made you hate him more. Why all the cocky behaviour when he was surrounded by people? You liked this softer side of him. You wished that he would get the courage to show that side to the world. Maybe in due time as all things come.

The rest of the days went the same. Rise and shine in the morning, greet Giselle as she gave you your bath, breakfast and burrowings, rush off to Heeseung in his chambers, do your 'assigments' whilst glaring at Heeseung, who glared back, get the desk a bit messier than it had been, and then sneak off to the western wing at late night to watch Heeseung. It was a bit redundant, but you liked this. Maybe it was the fact that Heeseung was someone who made you cum properly (although you wouldn't admit it) or maybe it was the fact that, from the past few days, he had started opening up to your more.

Ignoring the fact that your time with each other consisted of making angry retorts, you noticed that now, you knew more about Heeseung than before. His friends, family, ancient history, his hobbies everything, from A to Z was in your memory now. And you had to admit that you liked knowing more about him.

His sunlit eyes everyday as they silently perked up at the sight of you, the way his mouth dropped to give you the daily retort along with a tiny compliment too, the way his smirks now turned into smiles, and the way he leant nonchalantly against the great willow, when you'd go out into the garden for a little rest. Was this the love the poets described?

"Good news princess." Heeseung strode into his chambers as you stretched your neck from sitting in the chair all day completing a decree, "We're having a ball."

Collapsing on his bed with a thump, Heeseung groaned as he stretched out his aching limbs. Jay really did always do a number on him in practice.

"A ball?" You questioned, rising from your seat, walking over to the bed and climbing on, "For us?" Heeseung looked at you and nodded. "It's supposed to be a pre-pre-pre wedding ball, according to mother dearest."

"Will there be dancing?" You asked excitedly. You hadn't danced in so long that your feet longed to be in some tap shoes and a big flowy gown again.

"Yep, and guess what?" Heeseung smiled at you, "We're going to dance together."

"Oh I am an amazing dancer." You bragged, raising your chin high, "So it's fine if I outshine you right?"

"Please, I am much better at dancing." Heeseung sat up, facing you, "It's fine princess, they'll notice you at the wedding if they don't at the ball."

"Dance for me then." You gave him a cheeky smile. Would he agree? This is what you had been wanting for a long time. "No." Heeseung merely said, checking his bitten nails.

"Are you that horrible of a dancer?" You chuckled. But before you had time to laugh more, a fluffy pillow landed straight on your face with force. Heeseung's smile had never been wider.

"Don't do that you bastard!" You cried, picking up a pillow and hitting his shoulder with it to which he laughed raucously. "Or what?" He laughed again, hitting you with the pillow repeatedly. Stray feathers let loose from the pillows but you had not a care in the world as Heeseung chased you around the room with the pillow clutched in his hand. This had been the most fun you've had in ages.

Young love? So refreshing for a narrator isn't it?

You looked stunning. Your reflection, clad in soft hues of your favourite colour stared back at you, as your eyes ran up and down your body, hugged tightly by the fabric.

The ball had came sooner than you had anticipated, maybe it was the fact that you were so excited for it.

You'd be dancing your heart out tonight. With Heeseung. How you had longed to match his movements for so long, and now you finally had the chance.

"How do I look?" You meekly asked Giselle, who looked like a jewel in her own gown. "Like a true Queen, my lady." She giggled, dipping into a tiny curtsy.

"Shall we move then?"

Heeseung hadn't been too excited about the ball. He had seen too many of them to be entertained by any. And plus, there wasn't a proper lady to dance with either. Where were you? His thoughts, which were running aloof, came to a halt as his eyes landed on someone descending from the staircase.

Was that....you?

Indeed it was, as he blinked his eyes a few times to get into his mind the fact that you, his bride to be, were walking down from the staircase, looking like someone he's always loved for centuries. That, he did, but of course he wouldn't tell you that. Your snarky remarks from time to time, the way you smiled at his retorts and the way you remained a complete mystery to him, no matter how much he found out about you. Love, love, love, was what Jay had told him.

"My lord." You dipped into a curtsey in front of Heeseung. God he smelled exactly like the willow, enchanting and sweetly poisoning. You tried your hardest to avert your eyes from the tightly hugging fabric around his arms and his belt too. You fervently wanted your hands to be tied to it.

"You look pretty, princess." Heeseung winked at you, wrapping an arm at your waist, but not before giving you a look of access, "May we?" He motioned towards the dance floor, where a few women and men had their arms wrapped around each other lovingly. Would Heeseung and you ever be like this, you thought, as he led you over to the marble floor. You would have liked that, you'd have liked that a lot.

You could feel the eyes on you as Heeseung took your hands to his lips and pressed a small peck there. "Ignore them." He smiled up at you, "Time to show off your dancing, princess."

Gulping down the breath you've had in for a long time, you gasped in silence as one of Heeseung's arms pressed against your waist in a position for your waltz. You took your breath in accordance with Heeseung as the violins whipped their bows and the grandiose music began.

Dance was often described as the art of the soul, you'd never seen a living example of it, until now, as your entire body and mind moved in synchronisation with Heeseung. It felt as if dancing on a cloud you've longed to be on, when you were swaying with him. His grip on yours, his eyes tracing yours, and his demeanor being the one of the swan you had spied on in the western wing, it enchanted you, pulled you in to the whirlpool of Heeseung himself. You could have stayed like this forever, swaying in a gown with Heeseung at your start.

Heeseung was intoxicated as well, it was sweet venom lacing his veins, as the clandestine rendezvous of your movements got him to the highest of highs, one that even the most addicted couldn't have reached.

"Enjoying the view?" You cocked a brow at him, noticing the way he was staring at you. You were thankful that a lot of other people had joined the dance and you weren't the only ones dancing now.

"Funny, I was about to ask the same thing." He smirked at you, his eyes tilting down to your cleavage.

"You've seen more than just my cleavage and it's still driving you crazy isn't it?" You raised your chin, "Pathetic, Heeseung."

"Pathetic is it princess?" Heeseung's voice dropped to a low, as he leant over to your ear, his breath hitting your cold skin, whispering words that made your breath drop.

"More pathetic than the western wing?"

To be continued.....

Taglist: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @yunabi436 @kvmariii @sacrificeatmeup send an ask to be tagged

[cult-of-husbandos]

karasuda ren [soft!yandere] - All I Want For Christmas Is A Cute Yandere!

synopsis: you're spending another Christmas alone. there's only one thing you want and there's only one person who can make it happen. but, shenanigans occur!

genre: a little crackish, fluff, holiday love

word count: 6.29k

warnings: binge drinking, kidnapping, a little claustrophobia

Ahh, Christmas Eve. The most festive and romantic time of year. The city has never looked so bright and beautiful than when it’s decorated with wreaths and tinsel on every pole and building and fairy lights illuminating a soft glow of the pillowy snowy streets of your city. Not to mention the sights and sounds that sing this otherwise boring, claustrophobic place into jolly merriment. The delicious smells of bakeries and restaurants serving cakes and pies and nauseatingly sugary Christmas cookies. Buskers singing Christmas songs to afford a decent meal. Last minute idiots scrounging the shelves in stores and causing scenes to get that one important present or Christmas is ruined. Families walking with their children with excitement on their faces about what Santa will bring them tonight. Happy couples walking hand in hand and sharing hot cocoa and sweet treats before they get home. Retail workers resisting the urge to shoot themselves when Mariah Carey’s winter album plays for 6667th time that day.

Yes, it seems that everyone was in a rush to get home to be with that special somebody tonight.

EXCEPT FOR YOU!

Day after day. Year after year. Holiday after fucking holiday!

Seriously! It should be against the fucking law to have to work on Christmas Eve. Especially, when the workplace is complete ass and your coworkers take turns using the singular brain cell that seems to float aimlessly around the office. When you were just a fresh newbie, you used to blame your singleness on your work. ‘I don’t have the time right now, I should try when I get used to the environment.’ That was your thought process. But, now you know that it was all complete horseshit! The real reason you can’t make time for anything, let alone a relationship, is because your boss and your coworkers are required by the laws of fate and destiny to cockblock you until you’re that old Karen calling the cops on your neighbors for having too bright lights in their yard. When you first got hired, you promised that you wouldn’t become like the old greedy ladies at your work that glared at the smallest hint of happiness and bitched about it on their ‘Moms Against…’ Facebook groups.

Yet, here you are. Hours before Christmas, shuffling home like a morally depleted penguin hating every single happy and smiling face you came across. Even the forced ones.

As you trudged through the dirt clodded snowy and slippery as hell sidewalk, you couldn’t help but unintentionally glare at every single couple you passed by. Happy smiles adorned their faces as they shared intimate kisses and huddled together for warmth. You tried not to gag or roll your eyes because it wasn’t really their fault. They were just enjoying the festivities and snow. You on the other hand are huddled into yourself trying not to bust your ass in the middle of a public street and quickly get home so you can rip off your shoes that were sopping wet and nearing frostbite from the slushy snow penetrating your shoes. 

To be honest, the last place you wanted to be at was your apartment. You sigh to yourself in disappointment knowing what’s waiting for you: Nothing. In particular, no one. As stated before, day after day, year after year, holiday after freaking holiday, all that awaits you is a cold, empty apartment with comfort items and furniture that you either bought off of Amazon or got off the streets. No one would be waiting for you except the inescapable loneliness that you felt every day. Your plans are the same as last year’s, and the year before that, and the year before that, and so on and so forth. You’ll get home, take a lukewarm shower because your plumbing is always busted around this time of year, drink a 1/5th of Holly Jolly Krinkles Peppermint Vodka, and pass out watching the Polar Express on Hulu. Then, wake up Christmas afternoon and try not to throw up the rest of the day. Your ancestors must be so proud staring down at you after generations of their own hardship.

Peeking up from your huddled form you spot your apartment complex up ahead. You sigh again feeling the need for a drink. As you hurriedly jogged up the stairs and rushed to your door, you slowed to a halt as you saw a bottle sitting on your doormat. Titling your head in confusion, you looked around for any clues on who could’ve left this on your door. Cautiously, you picked up the suspicious bottle and felt that it was heavy and filled with liquid. A white and red envelope fell onto the mat and you picked it up as well. The envelope had your name addressed to it, but nothing else. You looked back at the bottle and squinted into the dark to read the label on the front. In the dark you could only make out ‘Feeling Pine Mulled Wine.’ You groaned at the pun. On top of the cork you noticed a green ribbon tied along with a small folded note. Inside the card read, “For you, from Santa Claus~♡”.

“Santa Claus…?” you muttered to yourself. You scoff and think of this as nothing more than corporate shilling and shameless advertisement to get people to spend even more money on this capitalist holiday. Everyone in the building must’ve gotten a bottle and since you got home late you’re the only one left. Shivering harshly as a chilling breeze rushed through you, you quickly shot into your apartment. Like a defeated animal, you ripped off every single piece of wet clothing and left it near your front door for ‘hungover you’ to worry about. Placing the mulled wine on the kitchen counter to worry about later you jogged to the bathroom for your shower. Second to drinking yourself to sleep, you looked forward to your shower the most. Flipping your shower nozzle to the highest setting, you jumped in and hopped around as the blizzard water hit your skin. You shivered as you rubbed soap aggressively on your body waiting for the lukewarm water to set in. After a few minutes, the water didn’t change. You waited a few more minutes and the water was still cold?! All of the frustration and anger bottling up inside you finally popped.

“AAAARRGGHHHH!!!” You screamed with all your might. Your screams bounced around your echo-ey bathroom as your next-door neighbor banged on your wall. You banged the wall back even harder out of frustration. What kind of shitty development is this?! You are a good person! Why is it that whenever something good happens to you someone shits all over you?! Who did you kill in your past life to warrant this sharknado level shitstorm that is your adult life?

“God-fucking-DAMMITT! I hate this shitty building and its shitty pipes and its shitty… shitty shit shit!!” You stomped as you frustratingly shut off the shower. Again, you’re reminded of your paper thin walls as your next door neighbor banged on your wall even harder. Completely fed up with everything, you punched and kicked at your wall with all your might.

“Evan Christopher Daniels, you motherfucker! I swear to God, you bang on this wall one more FUCKING time! I’m calling the landlord and telling him all about your basement cock fighting ring and we BOTH know we aren’t talking about chickens!”

The banging immediately stopped. You huffed and leaned against the cold tile wall. You needed a drink more than ever, but you did feel a little better after yelling. Walking out of the bathroom in your towel, your attention is brought back to the wine bottle and envelope. Staring at the wine bottle and label again in a better light you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Nothing obvious at least. So, with a shrug and popped the cork.

“Better than that shitty minty vodka…” you muttered.

*****

“A-And then… that Chevy-back refrigerator built asshole had the nerve to put his dirty face next to mine and breathe his hot Frito-shit pie breath all over me! Can you believe that?!”

You were venting. You were venting and drunk. You were venting, drunk, and talking to the only thing that brought you solace in this cruel time of joyful merriment: the characters on screen from the movie you were watching.

Wow. How sad.

“‘This is no good, Y/N.’ ‘You should try harder, Y/N.’ ‘How ‘bout spending Christmas stuck to my bed sheets, Y/N.’ How about you get the fuck outta my face, fix your hairline and get veneers you shitty generic ugly bastard-looking McFuck!!”

You sprawled out on the floor, sloppy lamenting over your life and where you could have possibly gone wrong.

“Why is it that whenever I get hit on, it’s either from creeps on the subway or fat geriatrics with greasy foreheads that get off on power harassment?” you ask your screen.

“‘Cause that’s the way things happen on the Polar Express!’”

You clicked your tongue and grumbled, “I wish I was on the Polar Express…” you spared a glance to your empty apartment. “Better than being here alone…” You took another drink from your bottle and set it down beside you. “This is good… I’ll have to drink this shit all-year round.”

As you silently surveyed your surroundings as the movie continued in the background, your eyes were drawn to the unopened letter that came with your wine. With a grunt and a sigh, you reached over to pick up predicting that it’s mostly like a Christmas themed advertisement for the company. However, instead was a Christmas portrait card. You opened the card and read the beautiful cursive that was inside.

“Wish upon the brightest star in the sky and your deepest wish will come true.”

You read the words over and over again. ‘Wish upon a star?’ you thought incredulously. What good would that do? You looked on each side of the card but there wasn’t anything else, not even a signature. The handwriting on the Christmas card didn’t match the note on the cork either. You scoffed after a while and flicked the card back on the floor.

“Deepest wish will come true…” you grumbled softly. “That’s only something a child would believe in.”

“‘Seeing is believing, but, sometimes, the most real things in the world are the things we can't see.’”

Your attention was brought back to your movie and the words that stood out by the conductor. Wait… was the movie playing out of order?

“Seeing is believing, huh?” you muttered to yourself. You looked to your bedroom window. Snow gracefully falling from the night sky down to the bright city lights from under your window. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just a plane, but there in the cloudy night you spotted a single light that penetrated the clouds. Again the words on the card rang through your mind like church bells, or maybe those were just the bells from the movie.

“Meh, fuck it.” You were already drunk and alone. Might as well do something embarrassing in the comfort of your own home than in a bar full of equally lonely people, right?

You crawled your way towards the window and sat on your knees. You already knew what your deepest wish was. You wished for it every holiday: your birthday, Valentine’s Day, hell, even Arbor Day. But, who should you even be praying to to make the wish come true? Santa Claus? God? Buddha? David Bowie? No, there’s only one person who could make a wish like this come true. Someone who you've never prayed to. Someone who could make your dream a reality.

“Oh, Supreme Lord Master Gege Akutami,” you called out. “I know I’ve never prayed to you before, but you’re a man that can make miracles happen. You’re the only one I know that can make my wish come true. The only thing that I want for Christmas is…” you took a deep breath.

“All I want is a super cute yandere boyfriend!”

You can’t be serious.

“I’ve seen your creations Oh Heavenly One and I know you can make that happen. The gorgeous men and women from your manga are only just as beautiful and holy as the animated versions! But not just an old yandere will do! I want a super cute one! The kind of yandere that feed, spoil, and give their unwavering love and affection to the MC! The kind of yandere that will only keep me to himself so I don’t have to work at my shitty job anymore.”

Oh you are dead serious, aren’t you?

“He has to have a cute smile, gorgeous eyes, and soft kissable lips! And he has to be taller than me, but not too tall! Just the right amount of height where I can give him headpats and forehead kisses and when he lays down on my lap only his feet go over the couch arms, not his legs! Also, I want him to have a nice build, not too skinny and lanky. I’ve seen the kind of men you’ve brought to light so I know you can make it work Oh Great One.”

Oh dear lord…

“And he has to know everything about me! Like super omega obsessed with me, but in a cute way that makes it hard to be mad at him. Oh, and extroverted as hell to counterout my introvertedness! Like the type of person who will go up to the fast food worker and tell them that I wanted no pickles on the burger! Y’know, and also…”

Okay, I’m gonna cut the rest of this drunken otaku rambling for the future therapy you’ll be court mandated to attend.

“Please, Lord Gege… if not you then… I don’t know what else I’m gonna do.” You squeeze your fist tighter and close your eyes shut as a last ditch effort. “Please make my deepest wish come true.”

You slowly opened your eyes to see nothing in the sky anymore. Nothing but dark snowy clouds. You let out a pitiful chuckle as you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“What the hell am I doing…?” you whispered. “I am so fucking pathetic…” Maybe it was just a stupid plane after all. You meekly crawled back to your spot on the floor and layed down a few inches away from your laptop. The movie was still playing and the time read “12:01 A.M.”. It was officially Christmas. And today, just like every Christmas, you were drunk and alone. The sounds of actual church bells rang throughout your room from the outside. You lazily stared at the movie that was nearing its end.

“‘Just remember, the true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart.’”

‘Santa Claus… Christmas… wishing… it’s all a bunch of shit…’

As you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you soon gave into your tiredness praying that your hangover in the morning wouldn’t be too bad.

*****

Rustle… Rustle… THUD!

You are jolted awake at the sound of a large thudding sound coming from outside your bedroom door. Bleary-eyed, you check the time on your phone. It was 3 A.M.. Thinking it was just your neighbors, you laid back down on the cold hard floor. Until, a few seconds later, you are woken up again this time with a large bang. 

Okay, that sounded way too close to be your neighbor. Someone was definitely in your apartment. You carefully snuck over to your bedroom door and pressed your ear against it. You couldn’t hear any voices (which makes sense), all you could hear was the sounds of something rustling.Are you actually getting robbed?! On fucking Christmas?! Oh hell no! Fueled with drunken courage and hazy eyes, you grabbed the empty wine bottle and quietly snuck out of your room. Peeking around the corner, you saw a tall, dark figure looming in your living room. You quickly flipped on the lights and jumped from around the corner raising the bottle above your head, ready to smack a bitch if they tried to run.

“Alright! Who the fuck are–!”

 You stopped dead in your tracks and the wine bottle you held tightly in your hands dropped to the floor with a solid thud. The man standing in your living room, staring you dead in your eyes like a deer caught in headlights of a lifted Ford truck, was wearing a vibrant red suit complete with black boots, white gloves, and a red had, had a long, fluffy white beard, a large white bag filled to the brim with wrapped presents, and twinkling blue eyes. You felt your breath catch in your throat. It was unmistakable.

“Santa Claus…?” you groggily called out.

The man’s face turned from caution to jolly in a matter of seconds as he let out his signature laugh.

“Ho ho ho!” he bellowed. “Well, this is odd! Shouldn’t all the little good boys and girls be asleep right now?”

“I… I was asleep… I-I think your bag woke me up when you set it down…”

“Ah! Of course! I was looking for your Christmas tree, but I can’t seem to find one. So, I was wondering where to leave your presents!”

“I don’t have a Christmas tree. I couldn’t afford one this year…” you told him, folding your arms. Wait. Why were you telling him anything?! This has to be a dream. Yes, just a drunk dream. There’s no way you could be talking to some strange man dressed as Santa Claus right now.

“I see… How unfortunate. Life must be so tough for you, Y/N L/N.”

Your eyes widened. “H-How do you know my name?”

Again, “Santa Claus”'s laugh rang throughout your tiny living room.

“Santa knows all the good boys and girls! And you have been extra good this year!” he exclaimed. He bent down and started rummaging through his bag as if he was looking for something.

Your attention snapped to your front door. You were sure that you had locked it. Squinting, you didn’t notice anything strange about it. The deadbolt was still locked. It wasn’t even left open for a clean getaway if this were an actual robbery or even a dream. None of your windows open, they’re more like decoration. It’s brutal in the summer when the building’s AC stops randomly. So how did–

“How did you get in my apartment?” 

“Santa Claus” stopped searching through his bag, but didn’t look up at you. He just… stared down into it like he didn’t want to make conversation with you.

“I don’t have a chimney. This low-rated rat hole would never give such a luxury. Plus, none of the windows open. I locked my door with a deadbolt so I would’ve definitely heard you if you had tried breaking in through the front door, not while you were looking around for a Christmas tree so… how did you get in here?”

You could feel the tension rising as silence choked the jolly air around him. After a moment, the man raised his head to look at you. You felt your blood run cold. He was smiling, but his eyes… no longer had that same twinkle in them like before.

“How do you think I got in here?” he asked stiffly. Shivers rolled down your spine and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a word. The man laughed again, but not his silly jolly laugh. It was more rigid and harsh. “I’m Santa Claus. Even if homes don’t have a chimney… I can still find my way in.”

‘Okay! I’m done with this dream now! I’d like to wake up! Wake up, me! Wake up!’

But, nothing changed. If this were a dream, something anxiety inducing would’ve happened by now. Like Santa Claus melting or turning into an eldritch monster. The air felt like it was suffocating you ever so slowly as your heart started to beat faster and faster.

“You look like you don’t believe me.” You jumped at his voice. He smiled even brighter and pointed the opening of his gift bag towards you. “Why don’t you see for yourself. I have a present here just for you.”

You swallowed hard. “A-A present…? But I–” You could barely stutter out a sentence before he spoke again.

“It’s what you deeply wished for.”

Your eyes widened again. Those choice of words… It couldn’t have been an accident. How would he… unless he…

You found yourself slowly inching towards the gift bag. It felt like an out-of-body experience. Like watching a first-person POV of someone doing something extremely stupid. As you stopped mere inches from the bag, you peered inside to see nothing but an almost seemingly amount of presents that ranged from big to small throughout the bag. Just as you tried to peek down further into the bag, you felt a large gloved hand grab the back of your neck.

“Sorry kid. No witnesses.”

Before you could utter a word or scream in shock, you are unceremoniously shoved into Santa's bulging sack of gifts. As the bag closed tight above you, your panic-filled mind finally kicked in as you screamed and thrashed around the bag. However, the more you screamed and kicked, the more the weight and closeness of the presents started to crush around you. This set in more panic and then more kicking and screaming.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be all over soon.”

‘What?! What does that mean?!’ You continued to scream and clawed at the walls of the bag to try and rip through. With a sudden jerk motion, you were lifted into the air and the bag was thrown over the man’s shoulder causing what seemed like a hurricane of presents to rain down on you. As you tried to kick up towards the opening again, you left out a gasp when your foot hit nothing. The more you kicked the more you stuffed yourself down the ocean of presents currently crushing you from all sides. When you tried to reach out to the side to claw at the bag again, you again found nothing. And again, the more you tried to reach, the more your arms got stuck wedged against the weight and size of the presents. There seemed no end as the presents continued to suffocate you, pressing hard against your stomach, legs, head, and chest.

You felt your vision starting to blacken out and called out once more.

“Please… someone… help me…”

But, your voice was too low and soon, you did not speak again.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open to see nothing but darkness all around you. You let out a grunt as your head pounded harshly only to find out that your mouth had been taped shut. 

‘What the fuck?’

You tried to take the tape off your mouth only to find your hands tied together.

‘What the fuck?’

You stretched out from your fetal only for feet to to hit a solid wall. Not only that, your feet were also bound together.

‘What the fuck?!’

You jerked up only for your head to meet a solid wall.

‘Ow! What the FUCK?!’

Your head pounded again and you laid back down trying to remember how you got in this situation. All you can remember is drinking your problems away and watching the Polar Express, and then… wishing on a plane in the sky…? And then Santa Claus showed up?

‘Ugh… fuck me… Did I sleepwalk into an empty plot again?’ You tried with all your might to try and bang on the walls of the box that you were currently in, but with this hangover all you were doing was making yourself tired and nauseous. You sighed with a huff. ‘I swear if I die in here, I’m gonna ghost sue these assholes…’

How long had you even been here? Were you even alive at this point? If you are, how long until the air in here runs out and you suffocate? Ugh… too many thoughts were making your head pound even more. Oh, what a tragic and pitiful end for our tragic and pitiful protagonist–

“Oh, wow! What a huge present!” a voice from outside shouted. You jolted in surprise. Who was that? And did they say present?

“I wonder what Santa got me~?” the voice asked melodically. Santa Claus? Wait, so… that wasn’t a dream?! The sounds of gift wrapping paper answered your question. You didn’t get super drunk and walk into a cemetery and crawl into a coffin like last time. You got super drunk and got stuffed into a giant Christmas present. You want to be disappointed with this development, but honestly you’ve found yourself in much worse situations than this. Like how on three Valentine’s Days ago you unknowingly joined a cannibal love nest cult when buying candy for yourself.

The lid of the box was aggressively thrown creaked open, revealing the most enchanting sight — you were surrounded and bathed in the glow of fairy lights. Blinking away the haze, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room, illuminated by soft, colorful lights and warm furniture. This place was definitely better than your dinky apartment. Your eyes then landed on the strikingly charming individual with the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen and an endearing yet unsettling aura seeping from him. You felt your heart skip a beat as you locked eyes with the gorgeous hottie staring you down. His cute smile was twice as blinding as the dozen of lights surrounding the two of you.

“Looks like Santa got my letter. Just what I wanted for Christmas~.”

‘Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitsholyshitholyshit–’

“Homy shmpf! Phuu’re hmpf!” You tried to shout.

Blinking a few times, the hottie deliciously chuckled and reached for the tape around your mouth. “Lemme get that for you, sweetheart. Only if you promise not to scream.”

Oh please, like you’d scream in a situation like this.

“There you go–”

“Holy shit! You’re hot!” you shout again. “Whoa… this has to be a dream. There’s no way that I’m sitting in a human sized box in a hottie’s apartment. I gotta buy more of that wine.” you muttered to yourself. You felt a tiny pinch on your cheek and snapped out of your muttering to lock eyes with those gorgeous eyes again.

“Ow… that hurt…”

“Then you’re not dreaming, sweetheart.”

“Woah…” You reeled back into the box. “I’m actually sitting in a hottie’s apartment…”

He chuckled. “House, my love. Not an apartment.”

“House?”

“Yes.”

“Like a house house? Like with a mortgage and shit?”

“The house is fully paid off. My parents paid it off and handed it to me when they retired and moved.”

“For real?!” you gasped and gasped even harder at the sights behind him. “Are those Sanrio plushies?! And a 5-foot Rilakkuma bear?! A PS5, a polaroid camera, an Apple laptop?! What are you, loaded or something?!” you exclaimed in astonishment.

“Well, it’s true that I spared no expense getting this place ready.” he chuckled again. “After all, I spent a lot of time getting all this stuff ready just in time for you.”

“For me?”

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t know what my girlfriend liked?”

You paused for a moment, soaking in his words. “Boyfriend…? Girlfriend?”

“That’s right.”

“You and me?”

“Yup.”

“Me and you?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes, my love. I was getting a little impatient waiting to take you for myself. So, I asked Santa to deliver you to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears and eyes. You wished upon a stupid star/plane, got kidnapped by Santa Claus, and got unwrapped by a gorgeous man that’s now your boyfriend. 

“Where the hell have you been hiding, huh? If I knew a hottie like you was scoping me out all this time I would’ve delivered myself without the gag and restraints.”

The hottie paused for a moment and smiled again. It seems like your reaction to all this wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’ll untie you if you promise you won’t start trying to escape.”

You scoffed and handed him your bound hands. “Oh, please. Yeah, I’m gonna escape and run back to my 250 sq. ft. apartment with no hot water, no heating, and no one waiting for me that even notices I’m gone.”

The hottie laughed softly and began to untie your hands. “And trust me. I wasn’t hiding. I left you gifts every moment I got. However, whenever I saw you, you never had them.” After untying your hands, he gave you a sullen look. “Did you not like them?”

You rubbed your wrists and titled your head in confusion. “Gifts? I never got any gifts.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ve been leaving you gifts and small tokens for two years.”

“I’m not lying! If I had gotten anything from someone like you, I would’ve been here two years ago.” you defended. “Where did you leave them?”

“On your desk at work, on your doormat, in your mailbox! I placed them everywhere you could see.”

If you weren’t so hungover you’d scream your head off. “Ugh…! Oh my fucking God…” you grumbled angrily, lightly banging your head on the corner of the box. You knew it! Your coworkers were cock-blocking you from finding true love. “All my coworkers are conniving, evil, love-hating bitches! And my boss is a misogynistic, sexual power harasser. They probably threw those presents away when I wasn’t at my desk.”

Your new boyfriend’s eyes grew dark. “What about your apartment?”

“Ugh… those animals would steal chewed up gum after you spit it out. They probably stole it while I was out at work. And my mailbox got broken into 6 months after moving in. All my bills are on autopay.”

As your boyfriend’s face grew darker, his smile remained. “Well, it’s a good thing I told them you quit and got you out of that disgusting “apartment”.”

Your mouth dropped at his words.

“R-Really? So, my job?”

“You don’t need one. I make enough money to support 5 of you. Plus, everything you could ever want is here anyways.”

“My apartment?”

“Considering most of the things in your “apartment” came from the side of the road, just tell me and I’ll buy whatever needs replacing.”

You leaned in close. “And my boss?” you whispered.

He leaned in closer, both your noses touching. “Dead, if you want him to be.”

Holy shit. Let’s go over the list.

He is: 

✔ Hot as fuck

✔ Obsessive

✔ Tall

✔ Built

✔ Has a cute smile

✔ Puppy face

✔ Not too overbearing

✔ Dommy

✔ Willing to support your lazy piece of shit lifestyle

✔ Owns a home

JACKPOT!!

“This is the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!” you shouted, but immediately regretted it when a sharp throbbing pain pierced your head. You clutched your head, tenderly rubbing your temples.

“Woah, are you okay?” he gently asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a hangover…” you smiled wearily.

“I’ll get you some water and Ibuprofen. Wait here. Don’t move, okay?”

Again, you shot him a look that told him that you didn’t have anywhere to go.

“Oh, and uh, thanks… um…”

“Karasuda Ren. But you can only call me Ren, okay Y/N?”

“Okay, Ren.” you smiled. He smiled back at you and headed to the kitchen. You sat in the box looking around at the beautiful home filled with Ren’s things combined with the things you love. If you weren’t on cloud 9 right now, you would plan a vindictive revenge plan on your job. But, now you had nothing to worry about anymore. Your wish came true and he was even cuter than you could’ve possibly imagined.

“Oh!” Ren suddenly called out. “Since you might be hungover, you probably won’t be able to eat this cake I made huh?”

“Homemade cake?! I love– Woah?!” You shot up at just the word cake and fell out of the box and face first into the floor.

“My love! Are you okay?” Ren asked, rushing to you with a glass of water in his hand.

“Yep! I’m okay! I forgot that my feet are also tied up sooo… can you help me?”

Ren laughed and helped you back on your butt and began to untie your feet. After that, he handed you the water and the bottle of Ibuprofen. Swallowing the pills dry and drinking a few gulps of water, you began to feel a little better with some water in your system now.

Just as you were about to get up, you were immediately swept off your feet and carried bridal style across the living room. You let out a tiny yelp as your head made contact with Ren’s warm chest.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Oh. Did you think I wasn’t going to hog you all to myself? You’re my Christmas present and I intend to enjoy this day and many more with you by my side.”

You felt your face burn as you were sure your face was as red as a habanero. Well, this was your Christmas wish too. It’s finally your time to enjoy the lovey-dovey part of this holiday. 

Throughout the entire day, you had never felt more love and content. Despite your initial shock, you soon got used to the huge shower of affection your new boyfriend continued to give you. Karasuda Ren, while intense and possessive, showered you with affection and attention unlike anything you had experienced before. He filled you with so much cake and food, you felt like you were gonna pop.

The loneliness that had haunted you dissipated in the wake of this blooming, although unconventional, relationship, was replaced by a new sense of belonging.

As Christmas lights flickered outside, you found yourself entangled in a love both warm and intense. The hours that passed brought a mix of emotions that you could get used to feeling everyday for the rest of your life.

This was it. Your deepest Christmas wish came true. You were finally happy. Only one question was left on your mind.

“Hey, so, how did you start liking me? Have we met before and I just didn’t pay attention or…?”

“No, we’d never even spoken to each other. About 3 years ago on Christmas Eve, I was riding the subway on my way home when I heard a bunch of drunk people get on.” Ren grimaced just remembering the situation. “I wasn’t anywhere near them, but I could smell the alcohol. I was going to change cars when I heard them start to argue with someone, I turned around and I saw you. You looked so tired and angry.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.” you hummed, trying to think back.

“I was going to step in, but you had already clocked one guy in the jaw and dropped the other guy like a sack of flour.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that now!”

“That moment, I fell in love with you at first sight. It took a while to find you again, but after I did I knew in my heart that I could never ever let you go.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, Ren! Man, I guess first impressions always stick. Kind of embarrassing that your first sighting of me was when I was drunk.”

“...You were drunk?”

“Oh, I was fucking wasted. I always get smashed on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of a tradition. I was drunk off my ass the night Santa took me too.”

“...Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“You can’t drink in front of other men. If you plan on drinking, let me know and I’ll take care of you. No one can see you drunk and vulnerable except me, okay?”

“Of course, my love! Maybe next year, you can show me where you got that kickass mulled wine from.”

“Mulled wine?”

“Yeah, that one you left on my doorstep. With the note.”

“I didn’t leave anything on your doorstep.”

“...”

“...”

“Hmm… maybe I should stop drinking random alcohol that appears next to me…”

“Y/N?!”

Bonus:

As you both were cuddled up on the couch half-asleep, watching a random Christmas movie as the fireplace crackled in the background, you were brought back to a realization. You never thanked the person that made this all possible.

You quickly got up causing Ren to jolted up at your sudden movements and stare at you wide-eyed as you made your way to his window.

“Baby, what’re you doing?” he asked cautiously with a yawn.

“I need to probably thank the person that brought us together today.”

You collapsed your hands together and smiled up at the starry-night sky, immediately catching a glimpse of the brightest twinkling star in the sky.

“Oh, you mean Santa–”

“Oh, thank you Lord Gege, you are truly my savior. If I had known praying to you would’ve gotten me results like this I would’ve prayed sooner. You are truly the ‘God of Handsome Men’.”

“Wait– what?”

“I will continue to support you and buy all of your merchandise…”

“...Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you praying to another man? While your boyfriend is right here?” You could hear the pout in his voice, but his face screamed baby-faced yandere.

You smiled and made your way back to your spot on the sofa. “Well, Lord Gege is more like a God amongst men to me now. But, of course I had to thank him.” You softly poked Ren’s puffed up cheeks. “I prayed to him the night before and he granted my wish. I am now the girlfriend to the cutest man alive!”

Ren blushed your words and decided to let your little prayer slide this time. Looks like you found the cute yandere’s weakness. Whether you decide to tease him in the future only time will tell.

—

a/n: merry christmas, my trash babies~˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i know it's been a while since i've updated, but i couldn't leave the year off without a little slight yandere fic. i was planning on uploading two fics this month, but adhd brain and procrastination are praying on my downfall. so enjoy, a cute fic with a cute soft yandere for the holidays.

happy holidays~!❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

[homunculus-argument]

Your post a couple days ago about reading things you acknowledge as silly nonsense and not the Height Of Intellectual Literature, and letting yourself enjoy it anyway, unearthed a memory for me that I just. I'm sorry, I just need to share this.

So, there was a phase I had, years ago now, where I for some reason ended up somewhat regularly reading James Bond books whenever I was in the mood for something light and kinda dumb but entertaining to read (I was reading Outlander and A Song of Ice and Fire at the time as well, never finished either of those series tho, so I kinda ended up reading lighter stuff in between those long books to relax and let my brain take a breather if that makes sense). I honestly couldn't tell you which books I read, and it wasn't in any particular order, it was sort of like, starting with whatever my dad had in the shelf and then continuing with whatever the library happened to have. Some of what I read were the original ones written by Ian Fleming, some were by later authors. Idk, point is, it was light spy-adventure nonsense I read when I didn't have the energy to think too deep about what I was reading.

Sorry about how long I took to get to the point, but, anyway. There was this one James Bond book I picked up mostly because hehe suomi mainittu. Not by Fleming, one of the later authors, I remember neither the author name nor the book name and can't be assed to google it rn. Anyway, a fair amount of the plot of that book took place in Finland. I could not say for the life of me what the actual plot of it was, just that part of it was set here. I remember like exactly two details about it, and both of those I only remember because I thought they were funny back when I was reading it.

One of those details was that there was a bit of Bond's internal monologue at some point that was just him basically being a whiny bitch about the fact that he thought the sort of thick winter clothes you need for Finnish winters didn't make him look sexy

The other is that there was a scene where the baddies tried to kill him by ??? crushing his car (while he was driving on some little road somewhere in the middle of nowhere) between two lumiauras??? like i just. that seems like a highly impractical way to attempt to kill anyone, but sure (ja sori siitä et mä en ny suoraan muista et mikä helvetti lumiaura on englanniks, mut sä ny puhut suomee kuiteski)

Idk you talking about silly stuff in books just unearthed this memory for me, no idea why, and i just needed to share it with someone

It's a snow plough. The english word for lumiaura is snow plough. Also that mental image is hilarious.

[beingsuneone]

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs - Top Rated Fics (by hits and kudos on Ao3)

Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

✨ Likes are lovely, but please reblog to share this content with your mutuals! 😁

🟪 sacred word, bind me by @brokendrums // brokendrums [E, 8K] Tim takes a vow of silence, Hawk vows to break it.

🟪 we are tragically meant to be by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] He looks softer in his sleep, Hawk muses; fingertips lightly skimming over the ridge of Tim’s cheek bone, the curve of his ear feeling the small indent from where the frames of his spectacles rest whenever he’s awake. Part 1 of fellow travelers

🟪 feeding on chaos and living in sin by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 2K] Tim doesn't expect Hawk to call. And even when he does, the call doesn't go as Tim expects. But then he should probably stop trying to predict what Hawkins Fuller will do. Part 2 of fellow travelers

🟪 more. by @redmyeyes // redmyeyes [E, 1.8K] "You would drop to your knees and blow me right here if I told you to," Hawk said, marveling at the realization. Part 2 of Fellow Travelers * *Red has their own series, not to be confused with fuddlewuddle's series of the same name. Two different series'--same name!

🟪 I'd walk a thousand miles without my shoes to make it work by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] The strip of milk on Tim’s top lip gives Hawk ideas. Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 all through the midnight. by southernkiss [E, 9K] Hawk's eyes burned with lust and something dark, something that both terrified and excited Tim.

🟪 teacher's pet by @ascandalinpink // ascandalinpink [E, 10K, WIP] Tim’s first class for today is his first class ever in this particular elective. It’s a foreign affairs course taught by professor Fuller, whom Tim has never met, but he’s heard about him. All high praise, which leaves this course highly sought after.

As the professor enters the classroom and the chatter around him dies down, Tim understands perhaps why this course is so popular. And it might have nothing to do with the curriculum itself.

Or, Tim starts sleeping with and develops feelings for his college professor.

🟪 have you ever? by Cozy_coffee [M, 1.4K] “Has anyone ever licked that cute little ass of yours?”

A fic in which a bold Hawk introduces a somewhat shy Tim to the pleasures of rimming.

🟪 a joy, hard learned by @partialresonance // partialresonance [E, 12K, WIP] Tim and Hawk get snowed in together.

Later, Tim comes back from the war a changed man.

🟪 perhaps, perhaps, perhaps it's real by drabbleswabbles [NR, 16K, WIP] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

🟪 sweet by Kimora_V [M, 1.4K] Tim noticed how Hawk is being sweet lately.

Or, what happened before the cuddle scene in episode 5.

🟪 this spells love by Cozy_coffee [M, 540] When Hawk gently cups his cheek and calls him ‘my beautiful boy’ and looks at him with nothing but pure, everlasting love, that is all Tim’s heart needed in this tender moment.

🟪 flame trees by @waterlilyrose // WaterlilyRose [G, 1K] (“I received a package from Marcus a few days later. It had been sent by Tim. I thought that Tim’s last gift (and a gentle fuck you to me) was that paperweight. But no...”

“What did he send?” Kimberley asked gently. Her father had looked at her and almost seemed ready to tell her… but then he closed his mouth.

“More than I deserved” was all the answer he gave. Kimberley wondered if he would even be Hawkins Fuller anymore if he didn’t have some secrets.)

Or, Hawk keeps Tim's final parting gift close as he faces his mortality.

🟪 lost somewhere by @trainofcommand // anagrrl [E, 1K] Humming to himself a little, fingers digging into his palms briefly, Tim leans forward.

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🟪 love by ikharys [E, 1.8K] "It's going to be okay," Hawk whispers.

Something in Tim's eyes makes it clear that he doesn't believe it, but he's not willing to argue.

Or, the cabin scene, but a little different.

🟪 mad about the boy by @redmyeyes redmyeyes [E, 2.8K] “Tell me,” Hawk said, tilting Tim’s head back to give his forehead a quick kiss, “what does my boy want for his birthday?”

“Am I still? Your boy?” Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 you're my religion by anonymous [E, 956] After Tim and Hawk’s conversation on the bench, Tim does go to Church, and eventually finds that Hawk has attended the same mass.

Things go awry in the chapel.

🟪 i want you to fuck me by @carnivalrow // nightfall_in_winter [E, 2K] THAT scene from Episode 8 but slightly different. :) Chapter 1 is Hawk's POV, Chapter 2 is Tim's POV.

🟪 who do you belong to? by mrschesapeakeripper [E, 2.5K] “That’s my good boy.” All those years later, and the praise still made him blush.

Or, the missing scene from the mutual masturbation episode. None of that "no touching" nonsense.

[xreaderbooks]

All I breathe (3)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Language and violence

Summary: Y/n and the shadowsinger travel across the Winter Court and finally arrives at the Autumn Court.

A/N: The monster is a mixture of a yeti and that one snow monster from the first frozen movie. Also, one line, in particular, was taken from a scene in twilight. Send me a message or comment if you'd like to be tagged.

Available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

After a quick breakfast with Nuan, the High Lord still not present, you said your goodbyes. Azriel was around, hidden in the shadows. You didn’t comprehend why he didn’t come out at all during breakfast and how he thought he was being discreet, you felt his shadows creeping behind your neck. When he finally revealed himself to say his thanks and goodbyes properly, he had given you a death stare and a nod to get going.

Hours felt like days that felt like months that felt like years-

Azriel had not failed to make this time utterly unbearable. Once you both had winnowed separately (still not willing to touch each other), you had met at a specific location at a specific time to avoid certain creatures that were sure to be lurking about.

You had proved to be more of a hindrance than help from the first point where you had agreed to meet, you didn’t know what to blame it on. Whether it was that you didn’t recognize what area you were in or if you had gotten disorientated but you had gotten yourself trapped.

“Honestly, and you called yourself a spy.” Azriel sneered coming out of nowhere, one slice of truth-teller and he released you from the entanglement of the net you accidentally winnowed in.

“My skills pertained to people and getting information out of them without having any blood on my hands- a more social approach.” Not entirely true but he didn’t need to know that. You dusted yourself off from the fall to the ground.

“So you were a whore.” The audacity of this man, so the dinner last night had meant nothing in improving the status of your acquaintance. Good to know, you thought to yourself.

“Maybe you should be the one who doesn't speak of what you don’t know, Shadowsinger.” You repeated the words he spoke to you the other morning, alerting him of the nerve he struck.

“Very creative, Firewielder” He sheathed his dagger. “It’s a wonder you got anywhere with people considering everything that comes out of your mouth is absolute-”

He paused, his eyes wild in search of something you couldn’t see. You impatiently urged him to continue, “Well? Let’s hear it then, everything that comes out of my mouth is wh-” Your shouts were muffled by his gloved hand. He had shoved you against a tree, his shadows appeared to be warning him of something.

You realized the closeness of the situation and didn’t like it one bit. While he was distracted by whatever intruder was nearby, you bit him. He didn’t so much as let out a noise when he released you from his hold and pushed you to the snowy ground. You pictured stabbing him in the neck repeatedly, it managed to calm you down.

“Fucking asshole,” You insulted him in a hushed tone. “What the hell was that?”

“There are scouts spread around the border,” His shadows stretched wide in search. “No doubt they heard you struggling.”

One curious shadow reached toward you as if wanting to help you up. You fought the urge to run your fingers through them as you rose from your spot. The amount of power you had to have to have dark wispy figures whisper all kinds of information, a constant watch. It was fascinating. Azriel didn’t like you but it seemed like his shadows did. He reigned it in, sensing one of them go astray.

“I’m ready to go when you are,” You squared your shoulders. He shook his head, “No.”

You furrowed your brows, “No?”

He grabbed a hold of your bicep and suddenly you were in a cave, hidden in the darkness, Azriel’s shadows shielding you from the light as you witnessed Winter Court soldiers attempting to fight off a giant monster made of snow. They were losing.

“We have to help them,” You whispered. A soldier screamed as he got thrown to the mountains above you.

“Not our problem.”

It was like the monster had heard you, it let out a deep roar that shook your bones. It ran on its two legs in your direction. It picked off each soldier one by one until they were all gone.

“Shit,” Your flight or fight skills urged you to run deeper into the cave, maybe the height of the monster and its thickness wouldn’t allow it to pass. Swiftly, Azriel tackled you and rolled you both out of the cave, successfully dodging the large snowy arm that reached into where you were just standing. You exhaled and looked up at Azriel whose body was shielding you from the attack.

His eyes met yours in silent question, are you alright? you gave a slight nod.

The monster caught sight of your new position and roared in anger. Azriel pushed himself off of you and unsheathed his dagger once again, immediately in a fighting stance. You summoned your flames, you felt them though they were not in full power, it would have to be enough for this fight. One hand had held a ball of fire, you now regretted not bringing along your bow and arrows, this was supposed to be a diplomatic mission.

“Y/n!” Azriel shouted to you in warning, and a spare dagger flew in your direction. Your reflexes caught it faster than your mind did. The hilt landed in your hand, now you were prepared. The shadowsinger flew into the air and swiped at the snow monster, once-twice, he sunk his blade into the monster and managed to drag truth-teller down its back. Nothing.

“It’s impenetrable,” Azriel growled as he attempted to shrink his dagger deeper and lower. Your mind whirled in a calculation, and it suddenly clicked, a tale you read once about the monsters that lived deep into the mountains of the Winter Court.

The name of the monster would not come to mind but what you did know was the skin was covered by deep layers of snow and ice. Finally, you thought, this would be a way to prove how useful you could be. With your powers, you could melt away its defenses to strike skin and blood.

You outstretched both your hands, willing all the heat to come to them, once you felt like your hands were overflowing with the desire to explode within you- you let out a fiery blast.

“Are you insane?” You heard Azriel’s furious tone as he flew beside you. He had almost become a victim to your flame, you trusted he would move out of the way in time.

“I’ll keep aiming my fire at him and when I tell you, you go in for the kill.”

Azriel’s face gave away the lack of faith, but you were going to die trying to run away from it.“What makes you think that it’ll work?”

“You’re just gonna have to trust me,” You tilted your head side to side, cracking your neck. The creature lunged for you. You tucked in your neck and rolled to the left behind a large tree, you took a deep breath in. You sent a silent prayer to the mother that you were right.

Azriel was in the sky, distracting the monster, probing and stabbing at it. He maneuvered with ease around it, like an annoying mosquito, you thought. You smirked and snapped into action. You aimed at the same spot where Azriel had dragged his knife earlier. You held out both of your hands, grounding your feet into the snow. The heat in your hands exalted steam against the frozen air. With the right timing, you released your power onto the spine of the monster, your fire melted the snow right off, the first layer gone.

You pushed, your teeth grinding as you were about to reach your limit trying to melt off the second layer of ice. You could see the last layer of thick dark grey skin. The monster wailed in pain. “Now!”

Azriel followed your order though you knew he was still mentally fuming about how you fired at him. He held truth-teller high with both hands, then descended with high speed down directly at the spot you cleared.

~~~

You and Azriel agreed to winnow a little further into the winter court before continuing your trek to Autumn. He had not spoken a word to you after you had instructed him to strike at the appropriate time, the monster had bled and died. You and Azriel winnowed a couple of miles deeper into the woods, not wanting to be associated with the murder of the soldiers.

“Show a little gratitude- I just saved our asses,” You were panting from the strength it took to burn the creature.

“I’m supposed to thank you for doing your job?” Azriel asked distastefully. “Get over yourself.”

You exhale deeply, a rumble in your chest arises and you barely notice how your body is shaking from the burnout. The fire that normally sat in your veins couldn’t keep you warm anymore and the small cloth (the cloak that was thick enough for any other court) draped over your shoulders isn’t enough to protect you from the cold.

Azriel sighs and spreads his wing out nodding for you to come close. His insinuation made you roll your eyes and walk a little bit faster. You clutched your cloak closer to yourself, shivering and teeth chattering. You couldn’t care less if it made you seem weaker in Azriel’s eyes. He would find some way to judge and talk you down either way.

You spent a full 20 minutes before you were panting, your warm breath coming out in puffs from the winter air. You found yourself shifting closer to him instinctively. Soon enough you were by his arm, he wrapped his wing around you in silence. You sighed and looked up to the sky, thanking whoever, for some semblance of warmth.

Azriel kept you tucked into his side all the way to when you recognized how close you were, no comment was made of your inability to withstand the cold.

Eventually, he had spoken, “We’re going to need to discuss what will happen going in.” He said.

“We travel by foot and going in I will bend the light to hide you,” Your teeth chattered a little less than earlier but still audible while you speak. You stepped away from the comfort of his warmth, commanding yourself to walk the rest of the way on your own.

“Will you be able to?” You took his words as a hit on your inability to perform after everything.

“Bast-”

“I only mean that you are exhausted,” He interrupts.

“Didn’t know you cared, Shadowsinger.” You shivered, feeling the chills roll off your back, the weather getting warmer with every step.

“We cannot have this mission go wrong because you cannot pull off simple fae magic.”

Simple fae magic he says, bending light to your will was fairly simple but what did he know of it? “Rest assured it will be done,” You murmured. You didn’t have the energy to argue with this stubborn male.

Once you reached the border you gave him the cloak from your shoulders in hopes that it will shield his scent. You knew of all the quickest paths and entrances to the palace, soon you were there at the front steps with your magic engulfing the spymaster.

~~~

“Dear Y/n,” Beron sat upon his throne looking down at you as you bowed low in his favor.

“My Lord.” You prayed to the mother he couldn’t sense Azriel behind the pillars in the darkness, you hoped with the way you were close to him throughout most of the journey nearing your home court and the added security of your cloak that your father wouldn’t be able to scent him out.

“Now my dear, we will not start off your visit with lies.” He tutted.

“How long has it been dear sister?” One of your brothers purred out. Your lips quirked, wanting to scowl but you remembered your place. Attitude would not be taken lightly, especially from you.

“Not long enough,” You mumble under your breath.

Your other brother equally as distasteful piped up beside the one who had spoken previously, “I’m not sure she belongs to any High Lord, hopping around from court to court like a common wh-”

“Enough,” Eris, your eldest brother’s voice boomed throughout the throne room. He did not meet your eye as he said: “She is not worth the extra breath it takes to insult her, brothers.”

“Well said,” Beron ended all conversation. “You may retire to your room, servants have taken care of everything you need, we have much to discuss tomorrow.”

You took the short greeting as a mercy. Eris coming to your defense (though it didn’t seem like it) was a gift and you hoped your father and your other two brothers wouldn’t seek to question him about it. Your relationship with your eldest brother was an odd one. Though he was a bastard like the rest of them, he had a line that he didn’t cross which made you more fond of him than the others. It was almost as if he cared, in his own messed-up way.

Either way, you kept your distance from all of them when you could. You kept note of his ‘kindness’ and moved on, if you dwelled on specifics it would be easier for you to get hurt.

Azriel was standing with his back to you, your wardrobes were open, along with your cabinets and drawers. His shadows around the room, looking for gods knows what. You let the door slam behind you, “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He ignores you and continues his search.

“May I ask what the hell is wrong with you?” You stand with your hands on your hips, demanding an answer.

He gave you an inquisitive stare, you try to shake the annoyance off of you. You couldn’t understand this male, one second it was dinner and what you dare call a pleasant conversation, the next he rummaged through your drawers looking for gods knows what- “Your mood swings are giving me whiplash you know.”

Azriel turns to face you, “We are not friends, Y/n.”

You were taken aback, you knew that. You knew it probably more than your actions gave off but this was you trying. Trying to be better, the emissary in you always trying to build relations with people. You knew better than to try with him but you did anyways, for the sake of your sanity. You would no longer try anymore.

“Right, silly me for thinking you were a professional and could at least act civil.” You begin to close your drawers in your path walking up to him.

“This is me being civil,” He growled. “Any second I am near you and not ripping you apart, is me being civil.”

“I thought we were past this,” You let out a breath. You already knew what this was going to lead to. “You hate me, I hate you. Can we just skip to the part where one of us stabs the other and we can find some sort of way to breathe in the same space?”

Azriel rolls his eyes and runs a hand stressfully through his hair, “You are unbearable.”

“And what do you think you are?”

“Not a useless pathetic excuse of a spy.” You saw red. You wanted to kill him, everything that you had been through, all you had made up for and he had the audacity to insult you. You didn’t owe him shit.

Before your mind could stop you, your hand flys to meet his face. He snatched your wrist and backed you up against the wall closest to the door.

“I despise you,” You snarl. Your breath mingled with his, that was how close he was. You were chest to chest, his forehead pressed against yours, and his hazel eyes met your wild ones. The energy was feral, your eyes flickered from his eyes to his mouth which was set in a threatening scowl, matching yours.

“The feeling is mutual Firewielder.”

He releases his hold on you, backing away from you. You rub at your wrist, you didn’t realize how much he did not hold back his strength. You let out a humorless laugh, “You are a petty son of a bitch.”

“Your mouth is foul,” He retorted.

“I’m sorry, are my words too harsh for your delicate ears?” With arms crossed, you watched as he paced your room.

“Hardly,” He shakes his head violently. “I will have you know that I am loyal to my High Lady and I will not stand idle as you live your life not paying for how worthless you were in her capture.”

Azriel knew nothing of your experience with Feyre while she was in the Spring Court. You had done what you could to help her, and though your efforts were fruitless in the grand scheme of things, you had done what little you could. Kept her company, kept Tamlin's wrath from getting to her completely, and in the end, you had chosen a side. Her side.

He continued with a shake of his breath, “I know you are not your brother Y/n. But it is not enough for me not to hate you. Not to mention the power you wield the most retracts every fiber in my being that will allow me to be near you.”

There it was; the true unabridged reason why he was a cruel, unfeeling monster toward you.

“Then let us be done with this so that we may finally be rid of each other.”

You let the weight of your body be heard in your footsteps as you make your way to the bathroom, slamming it shut, sliding down the door, and pressing your hand to cover your mouth. You would not let him hear your sobs, you would not give him the satisfaction. 

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist: @kuraikei - @americancowgirl19 - @feyres-fireheart - @brekkershadowsinger - @marina468 - @highladyofhogawarts - @parker-natasha

(if your name is crossed out that means tumblr won't allow me to tag you)

[greenhikingboots]

Jon’s Pre-Canon Crush

Okay, Jonsa fam. I’ve seen a lot of great posts, especially in the last few months, about Jon’s reactions to Val. Among them, there’s one particular vein I like to assume everyone loves as much as I do. That is, when Jon thinks of Val’s hair as silver vs. when he thinks of it as the color of dark honey. You’ve seen those metas, right? They explain the likelihood of Jon’s future connection to Dany being negative — The air tastes cold. / My tongue is too numb to tell. All I taste is cold. — while his future connection to Sansa will be positive — It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Well, in this post I want to expand on the angle of Val-is-sometimes-a-stand-in-for-Sansa. Only, I don’t want to speculate on what will happen between Jon and Sansa in the future, if we ever get GRRM’s last two books. Enough people have already done that, and they’ve done it so wonderfully that I have little to add. Instead, as the title of this post says, I want to focus on Jon’s pre-canon crush. More specifically: I want to focus on what Jon’s thoughts and feelings about Val say about his thoughts and feelings about Sansa.

But let me lay some groundwork first, okay? Until a few weeks ago, I went back and forth on pre-canon crush theories. I agreed they held a lot of potential and were a lot of fun to daydream about — a great premise for a one-shot, to be sure! Oh, and I’ve always loved it when people said things like, “Hey, Jon, your Targaryen is showing.” That’s classic stuff. But did I really think GRRM meant to hint at prior feelings rather than just laying a foundation for future feelings? Again, until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t totally convinced either way. But now I am fully committed to the Pre-Canon Crush Camp, assigned to cabin Jon-Had-Feelings-for-Sansa. [Did Sansa have feelings for Jon too? Ummm maybe? I think there’s some evidence to support that, but not as much. But, hey, that’s not the point of this post. Sorry. Moving on.] So what changed? Well, basically some ideas I’d previously had sunk in on a deeper level. It started with this post from @sherlokiness. It talks about GRRM commenting on a discrepancy in the books, two occasions where Jeyne Westerling’s physical descriptions do not match up. GRRM said the discrepancies were a mistake, a really unfortunate one because it distracts from the times when he intentionally included discrepancies of physical appearances. And basically us Jonsas loved it. Like, “Yep! Make sense! We assumed as much already, Mr. Martin.” And that’s because of the canon line mentioned earlier, right? You know the whole thing, don’t you? Oh, but you want me to quote it here anyway? Okay, fine, I’ll oblige.

They [Ghost and Val] look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white [bleh, bleh, bleh] …but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Direwolf. Lots of white. Suspicious ellipses. Blue eyes. Long braid the color of dark honey. Right, okay, got it.  [BTW. Did you know there’s also a point, early on, where Val’s described as having high cheekbones? You know, a feature Sansa has as well!?!?] Anyway, when I saw sherlokiness’s post about GRRM’s comments and the Jonsas relating it to that canon scene with Ghost and Val, I reblogged it. Naturally. And in the tags I said something like, “I’ll have to double check but I’m pretty sure the willowy creature line comes after this line. As in, maybe Jon knew exactly who Val reminded him in that moment and he was trying to talk himself out of his pre-canon crush coming back to the surface.” I’m paraphrasing here. My tags were probably not as clear as that. Also, I was being a bit facetious. It was a thought I’d had before, but just a passing one. Again (AGAIN! Do I say that too much?), I’d been going back and forth about pre-canon crush theories for a long time. But @agentrouka-blog saw my tags and was like, “You might be onto something there.” And then @zimshan saw my tags too and did the double check for me. Thanks! And guess what? GUESS WHAT, JONSA FAM!? I was right about the order. First, Jon sees Ghost and Val, thinks her eyes are blue and her hair is like dark honey, and it is a lovely sight. Second, this line:

Val looked the part [of a princess] and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

But guess what else? The order isn’t even the most striking thing. The most striking thing is how closely these two lines appear to one another — within just a few pages!!! That's what zimshan said. So I went back to read it myself. Not just the two lines to check the order, but a little before, and a little after, and everything in between. If you want, you can do the same. It’s ADWD Jon XI.

Want to know what stuck out to me most? The willowy creature line actually seems… so odd, and out of place, and unnecessary. I swear to you. Let me try to explain.

Basically, by that point in the chapter, Jon has already clearly established his take on Val. She’s beautiful, everyone knows it, but she’s more than that. She’s strong and capable. She found Tormund and brought him back to Castle Black when Jon’s Night’s Watch Rangers couldn’t manage it. Like, Jon’s thankful for Val, okay? 

Oh, and he also seems aware that he holds her in higher regard than the rest of the men who keep calling her a princess even though she’s not one. I think he feels smug about it, to be honest. Like, he wouldn’t use these words because it’s ASOIAF, but he knows he’s a budding feminist and he’s proud of himself for it. Like, “I’m so much better than these asshats who don’t respect women and think all Val has to offer is her pretty face.”

How great is that? I love book Jon so much.

Where was I, though? Oh! Oh, oh, oh! This next part is key. Up until the willowy creature line, Jon has not had a single disparaging thought about Val. Val being cruel about Shireen’s greyscale hasn’t happened yet. But for some reason — *Getting too executed. Brain malfunctioning!*

AH! I SWEAR JONSA FAM! If you read the willowy creature in fuller context, it comes across as if Jon’s correcting himself for having a disparaging thought about Val, like he’s reminding himself of who she truly is. She’s a warrior princess, not a willowy creature. But like, why? Why does Jon feel the need to do this? He hasn’t had a disparaging thought about Val, so why correct himself as if he has?

Just because she’s beautiful? Just because he’s tired of other men calling her a princess? I mean, I guess that could be the whole story. That’s certainly how we’re supposed to take it, if we’re taking it at face value. But I’m not convinced. Go read it again, and I think you’ll see that when the willowy creature line happens, it actually feels like a weird logic leap.

The dots aren’t connecting because one dot is missing!!!! Let me put a pin in that for a moment while I turn to other mini metas in our Jonsa fandom. Antis like to say, “Jon doesn’t like girls like Sansa. He doesn't like willowy creatures, he said so himself.” But we know that’s crap, right? The boy who liked Ygritte’s gentle side? The boy who helps Alys Karstark by marrying her to Sigorn? The boy who dreamed his mother was a highborn lady with kind eyes? The boy who wanted to show his hypothetical wife Winterfell’s glass gardens and bath with her in the hot pools?

Yeah, that boy is a budding feminist, like I said.

So again I ask (AGAIN!) why would Jon — who is not especially critical of women in general and has not been critical of Val at all up to this point — feel the need to correct himself by thinking this critical thing about willowy creatures? In other words, why does he lift up Val by putting down some vague idea of other women he’s never had a problem with before?

Well, obviously it turns out that I believe my facetious, tongue in cheek tags more than I realized when I wrote them. My position is that somewhere in the two pages between ...a long while since Jon had seen a sight so lovely… and ...not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair… Jon realized Val reminded him of Sansa, he felt guilty and ashamed about it, and then felt the need to do damage control. And because guilt and shame are icky, confusing feelings, his damage control took the form of being critical of Sansa even though he isn’t normally critical of such women. 

Am I making sense? How do I explain myself further? Like, why am I so stuck on this idea Jon’s willowy creature line being two pages after the Ghost and Val looking lovely together line must mean Jon had a pre-canon crush?

I think the crux is what I said about the willowy creature line feeling like a weird logic leap — like the dots aren’t connecting because one is missing. The missing dot is Jon being aware that he’s mentally swapped Val with Sansa. He just doesn’t acknowledge this on the page.

Let me be extra clear. I’m now differing from several others who have written about pre-canon crush theories in that I think Jon was aware of his crush. I’ve seen many say it’s all subconscious. But this stuff with Val makes me think otherwise.

I mean, I know Jon has a pattern of dissociation. For him, thinking, and speaking, and acting from his subconsciousness is a common occurrence. So, yes, he could have subconsciously thought Val looked like Sansa and subconsciously felt guilty and ashamed and therefore subconsciously decided to do damage control by subconsciously reminding himself Val is a warrior princess and therefore not a willowy creature.

But I think GRRM was hinting at an exception to Jon’s pattern with these canon lines. Because if the first part is happening subconsciously — Jon thinking Val looks like Sansa and that it’s a lovely sight — then he wouldn’t feel the need to do damage control afterwards? If he wasn’t aware of thinking of Sansa in that moment, isn’t it more likely he’d just carry on with taking Val to meet Selyse, and the odd, out of place, unnecessary line about a willowy creature wouldn’t have been included? What else, what else?

I said earlier that I think Jon’s crush is an innocent, not sexual thing. Let me expand on that. And uuuuuhhhhh... let me clarify that I think that might be changing some over time.  My guess is when Jon was younger, his thoughts were more along these lines: “Sansa is pretty, and a proper lady, and everything men are taught to want. She’ll be a good wife for someone someday. Obviously not me. That’s sinful, I don’t want it, and I’m a bastard so I can’t marry a highborn lady anyway. But objectively, Sansa’s a good catch.” Which kinda matches how Jon thinks of Val at times, right? Like, she’s a catch but he doesn’t want her. He’s not taking Winterfell and a Wife because Winterfell belongs to Sansa and he’s a man of the Night’s Watch, dammit! But hang on a second. Sometimes Jon’s thoughts about Val are more elicit, aren’t they? He thinks about the size of her breasts and she’s the hypothetical wife he pictures romancing in Winterfell. Don’t worry, I’m not saying I’m secretly a Jon/Val shipper. What I’m getting at is this other thing we’ve talked about in the Jonsa fandom. Jone projects his general desires onto Val. He’s getting older. He’s unhappy at the Wall. Winterfell isn’t Robb’s like he thought it would be, and Bran and Rickon are thought to be dead. And Stannis is offering Winterfell and Val to him. Plus he’s now been intimate with a woman, Ygritte. So he knows that sex feels nice. All in all, Jon’s becoming more in tune with wanting Winterfell, and a wife, and a family, and wanting to fu—

You get the idea. ;)

Soooooo. If you buy into the premise that A) Jon considered Sansa a good catch when they were younger B) He’s thinking more and more about romance and sex C) Val is also a good catch and easy to project feelings onto and D) Woopsies, Val just reminded me of Sansa! Well, then where does all that leave Jon? Feeling like he needs to distance himself from positive thoughts about Sansa, right? But without ever thinking her name because of his pattern of dissociation and because GRRM is tricky like that.  Am I making my point clearer, or just talking in circles?  Like, I know plenty of people have already said Val is a switch-back-and-forth-stand-in-for-other-characters. The first two short paragraphs of this post mentions those metas.  But holy smokes! If Jon is aware of A-D mentioned above, that adds a fascinating layer of subtext to his scenes with and thoughts about Val.  Let’s talk about it forever!

Just kidding. I think I’m almost done here.  Basically, I think the willowy creature line is Jon knowingly saying to himself, “Yikes, the thoughts I had about Sansa in the past didn’t bother me much because they were 99% innocent. But they are less innocent now and that’s a problem! You can’t like Sansa! Don’t confuse Sansa with Val,  dummy! Val is a warrior princess! Sansa is a willowy creature and willowy creatures are bad!”

Okay, sure, Jon.  Let me wrap up with one more canon line.

Of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

We often link this line to Ygritte for obvious reasons, but I’m now in the habit of linking it more to Val and the canon lines mentioned previously. I think GRRM wrote a the three lines — a sight so lovely + willow creature + of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat — as a subtle continuation of one another. Us Jonsas saw the potential for underlying romantic feelings in the last one, that’s nothing new. But I want to add that it’s a direct contrast to the willowy creature line. As Jon is bleeding out, he can no longer be bothered to put up a front and pretend he doesn’t have feelings for Sansa, feelings that have gotten more complicated as of late.

Oh so subtle. Really not that much different than what others have said before me. But different enough I wanted to mention it. Now someone put it in a fanfic!!

[alexanderlightweight]

You know what I rarely see? In the show after wooing Alec, Magnus is not shown as overly invested and it always appears as Alec reaching/apologizing/moving the pair along. Which was definitely a writing/directing choice. But what I’d like to prompt if it suits you, is Magnus being the one to apologize or to reassure Alec that he is important and not temporary-I’m team immortal but this convo certainly should happen. I liked the way you had Alec be angry in that prompt fill about his birthday and Magnus had to own up to that. If this isn’t your thing no big deal! Hope the weather is nice where you are and nightshade has enough pets and treats for the day!

i believe in 'no partner is perfect' and while i don't tend to write the angstier couple stuff 'i like my malec happy' i don't mind occasionally dipping my toes into partner angst (with an immortal happy ending)

this particular fic isn't about about immortality but it's about haing two people who have fundamentally different lifestyles having a miscommunication that devolves and while the argument is based on the show scene, it doesn't follow it perfectly. nor is the actual argument written. just the aftermath.

my thoughts are that magnus tries to spoil alec in season two still but it's more intimate and offscreen and he sort of in season 3a but magnus relies heavily n his magic to spoil alec and he kind of is spiraling all of season 3 tbh. they just really were sprinkling angst on malec like it was salt and they realized the show was bland.

all they did was get oversalted content which got salty fans, since they forgot to add actual herbs and spices.

it's a bloody hot day okay. i love the sun as much -nevermind apparently this is a lie-

so i don't hate the sun okay. i enjoy sunshine in specific environments. the sun is not a tyrant devoid of compassion.

anyways i live in a desert because its whats best for the people i love but give me mist and foggy days and give me winters of waist deep snow i can fall in. oceans so cold your lips go blue and rivers so deep and clear and still cold with melting ice.

if people are going to send me 8-10 feet to the bottom of the lake because they lost their electronics. it better be cold and clear. not warm and murky. (this has only happened 3 times but i have a preference).

So I made Say breakfast and nightshade breakfast and then I made @saeths breakfast a few hours later so i made an extra egg for nightshade to tempt him to eat another bowl of kibble.

so i fed nightshade twice and forgot to make any eggs for myself ^_^ so he is plenty spoiled (don't worry his egg was made without cheese and salt).

also the reason i'm awake is because he needed snuggles and after that he wanted to play in the pool and then i was too awake to bother

but that's our wednesday so far and i'm getting my work out of the way so i can focus on writing and house things.

<3 lumine

-

Magnus is ready with another quick retort when Alec’s face goes blank for a moment.

The argument fades from Magnus’ mind in an instant, because while this is the perfect moment to land another barb, the words die and his sentence stops, ending with a snide comment he doesn’t really mean.

“That’s fine Magnus.” Alec says and he’s not angry, which is worse. He sounds tired and yet professional. His manner restrained and placating in the way he does when he no longer has any fight left and he just wants to retreat and lick his wounds.

Wounds that Magnus caused.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts, because he didn’t intend to get so upset but Alexander just shakes his head.

“You’ve said your piece, Magnus. I get it.” Alexander sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he shuffles. “I messed up, again.”

Magnus winces, because he’s begun to feel more like a scolding mentor than a partner.

“I need to get to the Institute—” which makes sense, the argument started as they both got ready for their days. “I’ll—” and Alec hesitates and then shrugs, “I’ll see you tonight.”

—

Magnus waits until it’s dinner time and then portals to the Institute, already preparing words to once again explain that it’s not Alexander, it’s just not time yet.

He opens the door to the office without knocking and steps in.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts and then he hesitates.

Because for once, Alexander’s eyes don’t soften when they meet his. They remain cold, devoid of the warm ardor they normally contain but once again, without anger. Only an empty tiredness that Magnus longs to chase away.

“Do you have an appointment today, Magnus?” Alexander asks, setting down his pen and turning off his tablet with a sigh. Even upset Alexander will still give him his full attention and Magnus steps closer to the desk when Alexander continues, “because I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for a meal, or a conversation if it’s not official. So, if you don’t have an appointment, it needs to wait until I’m off.”

Alexander doesn’t mention coming home like he normally does, and Magnus suddenly misses it, with a deep lonely ache.

It also reminds Magnus that despite how often Alexander drops everything to join him, his boy is being worked to the ground and also driving himself to his limits in his pursuit of building a better Institute. Alexander is struggling to create ties between an Institute and local downworld leaders that would be revolutionary, with a sincerity that is unmatched by anything Magnus has ever seen.

Of course, he’s exhausted, and Magnus feels hollow now, remembering their fight all over again with a new clarity.

“No darling, it’s nothing official. I’ll see you tonight—” Magnus pauses, wanting to offer to summon Alec something to eat or drink, but it feels too much like an emotional bribe with how shuttered his boy is. Alexander nods and gives him the same perfunctory, polite smile he gives his siblings when he’s too exhausted to deal with them and doesn’t know what else to do.

It cuts Magnus to the heart to have that same expression directed at him, when he’s supposed to be safe for Alexander.

Magnus can’t handle the idea of reaching out only to be shied away from, so he runs from the possibility and instead summons a tiny flower to land by Alexander’s pen when the door shuts.

No one in the Institute seems to notice anything is wrong. Magnus gets a few strange looks, but he quickly realizes that it’s because everyone expected Alexander to be leaving with him, like his boy usually does.

Magnus feels cold and it’s with determination that he sends out an emergency message.

—

“I became stagnant in my old, single age.” Magnus bemoans, “I spent so long on my heartbreak that now, with a man I adore over every living being, I keep pushing him away.”

“Truth potion?” Catarina offers but Magnus shakes his head. Alexander deserves Magnus explaining this without the aid of something to help his thoughts form, even if it’s a trick Magnus has used continually and without remorse on himself.

This is different though because Magnus wants to become aware of what is wrong, not rely on a potion to figure it out.

“He wants to move in.” Magnus starts, about to launch into it when Cat laughs, interrupting him.

“What do you mean he wants to, he already has. Or did you just move him in on the sly and forget to ask him if he wanted to?”

“Cat—” Magnus says hesitantly, “he’s never moved in. He’s the one who brought it up. I told him no.”

Catarina pauses and then she sighs, and she summons her favorite, light summer beer and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Start from the beginning, Magnus. I need details.”

Magnus does, realizing things that he missed as he’s explaining so many details that he just assumed and took for granted.

“I did wonder that the Loft hasn’t changed much. It seems more like Alec’s an addition to your things rather than his own person.”

It’s that comment that drives Magnus into a frenzy the moment he’s home.

Magnus doesn’t go overboard; Alexander wouldn’t want him to. Also springing this on his boy after the prior rejection will be too much like whiplash.

So, Magnus starts very small.

He finally creates the foyer he promised himself and Alexander he would make.

Alexander’s never pushed but Magnus remembers the tightening of his shoulders and the way Alexander will be too tired for anything but cuddles — rarely even hungry — after barrages of people through the loft.

The kitchen he only summons when Alexander asks, which is rare, so he makes it a permanent fixture and makes sure to hang an apron with little angel wings up. It’s with a pained smile that he sighs and wonders when he got so old that he forgot to enjoy life, and instead spent all his time focused on the past, just like Ragnor always warned him about.

Magnus doesn’t want to regret any time with Alexander, and he finds that he already does.

Not the time spent with his boy, but the time he could have focused on him more.

Magnus has spent so long protecting himself from losing Alexander, that he hasn’t noticed that he’s pushing him away, stopping him from coming too close.

Except Magnus has also bound him tightly.

Alexander sleeps more often in Magnus’ bed than his own. He’s rerouted his own schedule so he can take the last patrol before shift change, come to Magnus’ loft, write his report there and send it in, and be in bed for Magnus to return to.

Except for work, Alexander spends the majority of his daily life either in the loft, or with Magnus.

There are signs of him, all over the loft, but Magnus can’t look at a single piece and think, “Alexander picked that out.”

It aches in way that is almost visceral, because now that Alexander isn’t here, it’s only more obvious.

Magnus is chest deep in a drawer when he becomes aware of his boy stepping slowly into the bedroom.

“Is this a bad time?” Alexander’s tired voice asks. “I noticed there was a new door and tried to knock but the door just opened.”

Magnus wants to say something except he’s furious with himself and everything and the idea that Alexander saw a new door and knocked instead of walking right in, tears something in him.

They stare at each other for a moment, Magnus with his hands still wrist deep in the dimensional dresser, sure he’ll eventually find more than the sparse offering of Alexander’s clothes that he has.

“Where are all the clothes that you leave here?” Magnus asks instead of answering because he genuinely doesn’t know, “I was cleaning, and I couldn’t find them.”

Alexander sighs and Magnus just knows that he’s gearing himself up to — once again — explain to Magnus that it’s not about the clothes, before his boy visibly gets too tired. Instead, he just shrugs and potions to the paltry pile that Magnus has found.

“You have more than that!” Magnus exclaims, frustrated because he knows Alexander does. “That green shirt I got you that you loved. And those pants, the black ones with the umber stitching. The cream sweater I adore you in! That suit I had tailored for you in Milan and the other one in Hong Kong.”

Alexander sighs and he rubs a hand over his face, the stubble he normally shaves away in Magnus— in their bathroom, shadowing his face.

“Magnus, those don’t exist anymore.” Alexander doesn’t seem upset, if anything his face softens into an almost reluctant fondness, “you tend to vanish all the clothing you get me, some way or another. Mostly before fucking me. I tried to ask you one time where they went and you waved a hand and said, ‘another dimension, nothing to worry about’.”

“Surely that’s not all I said.” Magnus protests weakly.

“Well, you proceeded to fuck me unconscious so no, it wasn’t the last thing you said. But it was the last thing you said abut clothes.”

Magnus gives a flat chuckle and then sighs, snapping his fingers to clean up the mess.

“Have you eaten?”

“I figured I could grab something from the cafeteria when I head back. It’s fine.”

It most certainly is not fine, but Magnus doesn’t think coaxing Alexander into eating is going to work this time, which means that Magnus has accidentally undone weeks of effort.

Magnus doesn’t press, doesn’t remind Alexander that he can here. Or that, if by normal standards Alexander stays until he usually leaves Magnus, it would be the early evening of the next day.

“So, you were cleaning.”

Alexander is looking around, voice faltering but face devoid of actual emotions.

“I realized some things, after this afternoon.” Magnus admits slowly, “you’re the first person I opened my heart to, Alexander. In a very long time, I’ve told you that before.”

Normally, explaining things is easier but all Magnus can think is he’s not explaining it correctly.

“I know. But Magnus, you’re the first person I’ve ever opened my heart to.” Alexander interjects and he sounds raw and broken, like he’s been torn apart. “Doesn’t that get to mean anything too, to you? Because I don’t know what I’m doing, and you told me that there was nothing wrong with that. That I had nothing to feel ashamed about but now, it doesn’t feel like that.

"It feels like I can’t do anything right and I thought, I hoped something was coming together with us but now—” Alexander gives a heavy sigh and shrugs. “Now I don’t even know what I am to you anymore. Where do I belong, in your life Magnus? If you tell me where to fit, I’ll make it work.”

And that breaks Magnus’ heart, because Alexander was never meant to feel like he had to cut off pieces of himself to ensure Magnus loves him, that he has a place in Magnus’ life.

“Oh darling, beloved.” He murmurs and Alexander flinches, like it was a knife to his side. “You belong. The entirety of you. You belong in my bed because it’s no longer just my bed. How can I say it’s my bed when I lay in it without you and can’t sleep? When I reach for you in the night and can’t find you?” Magnus moves across the room with slow, purposeful steps and then reaches out to carefully — only because Alexander allows it — cups his face.

“Alexander, I have no excuses. My heart is old, and it is scarred and it is a wonder that you love me with all the cracks you’ve seen exposed. I don’t fear men or demons or angels, Alexander. I fear my heart being torn from my body and leaving me alive, an empty hollow cavern where it should be in the shape of you.

“I’ve always been too much, Alexander. I put my own fears on you, not that you deserved any of it, sweetheart. You’re right. I am your first relationship, and you grew up and live in a shadowhunter society. The relationships you've witnessed aren't similar to ours at all.

"You trust me to guide our relationship but I’m always encouraging you to ask me for things and you rarely do. I’m sorry, that you finally trusted me enough to ask me for something and that I broke that trust.”

And Alexander breaks, his eyes filling with tears and he coughs, scrubbing over his eyes because he hates being emotional during talks like these. As if Magnus will use the crystal sorrow streaking his face against him.

“I don’t understand.” Alexander murmurs against Magnus’ shoulder, “I thought this was already my home, here with you. I don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry Magnus.”

“Oh sayang.” Magnus whispers, eyes stinging because his heart is lanced every time Alexander apologizes. “You did nothing wrong. My heart was too scared to admit that you already were home for us, I pushed you away because I panicked. I’m sorry, my darling.”

Magnus is as tender and sincere as he can be, because he doesn’t want Alexander internalizing anything over this. Especially not when he realized that for Alexander, the loft already was home and he just wanted permission, for it to be official.

It’s endearing and sweet and Magnus presses a kiss to Alexander’s temple, softly and then harder when Alexander pushes into the caress.

"This is already your home. Where ever I am, will be your home." Magnus promises, "that will never change, my love. This is our space, for us to grow together and live together in.

Instead, Alexander tackles him to the bed and just lays there, pinning Magnus to the comforter as he snuggles into Magnus.

"Alexander?"

There is no answer, just a soft, exhausted snuffle and Magnus wonders how upset Alexander's been, thinking he was deprived of the home Magnus gave him.

He uses magic to change their clothing. More conversations and decisions can be made after rest and well, Alexander certainly isn't going anywhere and neither is Magnus.

[readingreylo]

The best Reylo Fanfics I read in 2022

(Not necessarily written in 2022)

My 2021 wrap up was such a hit I thought I would do another one! While I didn't read nearly as many fanfics this year, I did discover a few new authors whose bodies of work are just *chef kiss*.

(Don't forget to check out my All Time Favourite Fic list and my pinned post with all my rec lists!)

And in no particular order...

Dog Day Open Hydrant by LinearA | @linearao3 | Explicit | 4k | One Shot | PWP | Modern AU | Summertime | Strangers to Lovers | Antagonism | Fireman!Ben Solo | It's too hot for this shit | One Night stand ??? | Ben POV | "Ben's come to close an open hydrant. The kids playing in it don't want him to, and a pretty girl on the street is backing them up."

Get Close by iffyluv | Explicit | 4k | Oneshot | PWP | Modern AU | Snowed-in | Cuddling for warmth | Co-workers | Multi POV | Stranded on the side of the road during a blizzard, Ben and Rey share a blanket to stay warm *wiggles eyebrows*

Take Your Shot by Anonymous | Explicit | 4k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Hook-up | Strangers | "secret" identity | Missed Connections | Soccer/football | Multi POV | Rey hooks up with a guy at a sport bar not realizing he might be a famous player. Ben solo aka Kylo Ren of First Order Premier League is visiting his parents in his home town and stops by a pub for a drink...

A for... by crossingwinter | @shmisolo | Explicit | 5k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Maturbation | Anal Sex | Co-workers | Jewish!Ben Solo | Falling in love | Rey POV | A fantastically written oneshot about Rey's affinity for anal sex and how she ends up having it with Ben Solo.

tell me you recognize defeat by emphemeron | @emphemeron | Explicit | 10k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Office setting | Co-workers | Friends to Lovers but Rey's too stupid to see it coming | Zero discussions of boundaries | mildly dubious consent | ANGST because Rey is an idiot | Shy!Ben Solo | Rey POV | "Rey just wants to be friends with the tall, quiet IT specialist who sits by himself at the company all-hands meetings."

Yes, and... by slipgoingunder | @slipgoingunder | Explicit | 10k | Complete | PWP | Modern AU | Actors | Christmas | behind the scenes of making a Hallmark movie | Mistaken Identity | Actress!Rey | Acting coach!Ben Solo | Rey POV | "Newbie actress Rey lands the starring role in a Hallmark Christmas Movie...but she finds it's not so easy to become a wholesome Hallmark heroine. Enter a mysterious stranger who just might turn out to be her Christmas angel."

Ben Solo Is Not His Brother's Keeper by LyricalRiot | @lyricalriot | Explicit | 13k | Complete | Historical AU | Unspecific Setting | Strangers to Lovers | MISUNDERSTANDINGS | Arranged Marriage | Prima Noctis vibes | Infidelity | Ben and Poe are brothers | Hunting/trapping | Han Solo is an idiot | Poe and Rey are engaged | Loss of Virginity | Deflowering Ritual | HEA | Multi POV | It is expected that the great honor of deflowering his bride will fall to Poe's younger brother Ben. Ben who is secretly in love with Poe's bride wishes he was dead.

Orion by ianixela | @ianixela | Explicit | 14k | Complete | Modern AU | Strangers to lovers | Slowish burn | Photojournalist!Rey | Guide!Ben Solo | Ex-military!Ben Solo | Amputee!Ben Solo | PTSD | Implied/referenced abortion | Past Adultry | Desert | Oasis | Stranded togther | HEA | Reylo Baby | Rey POV | "Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way."

The Single Father by xtenn | @xavtenn | Explicit | 15k | Complete | Modern AU | College/University | Professor/Student dynamic | Single father!Ben Solo | Professor!Solo | Single mom!Rey | Student!Rey | Post Partum Depression | ANGST | Baby OCs | Breastfeeding | Roommates | Pining | Past Sexual Trauma | HEA | Ben POV | Returning to work after becoming a single father, Professor Solo is struggling to keep his head above water when he receives an unexpected offer from one of his student's.

For the Record by canox | Explicit | 16k | Complete | Modern AU | Office setting | Co-workers | Mistaken Indentity | One-night-stand | Drama at work | Snoke is a toxic boss | Rey POV | "Rey is a sharp-eyed editor at a top magazine. After a frustrating day at work, she has a one-night stand with a musician, never thinking he might be someone she knows. But she’s about to discover that, between sleeping with a stranger and missing what's happening at work, maybe she's not as sharp-eyed as she thought."

Avant Gardenerby bobaheadshark & kalx58 | @bobaheadshark | Explicit | 21k | Complete | Modern AU | Pandemic/Quarantine/covid-19 | Texting | Plant Nerds | Strangers to friends to hook up to friends to lovers | Rey wants casual | Ben wants Rey | NO-STRINGS-ATTACHED sure jan | Bisexual!Rey | Character study | Rey POV | "The ideal person to break Rey’s quarantine dry spell? The guy she’s been talking online with about plants for months. A harmless one night stand. She’ll never see him again. But the universe might have other plans."

hive. by indiecisivepsych | @indiecisivepsych | Explicit | 33k | Complete | Modern AU | Idiots to lovers | Casual no-strings-attached relationship | Honey Porn | Rey loves Bees | Ben loves Rey | Angst | Pining | HEA | "Rey Niima loves bees. And she doesn't want to admit that she also loves Ben Solo, the man who keeps giving her honey."

Similar Creatures by quamquam20 | @quamquam20 | Explicit | 36k | Complete | Historical AU | 1700s | Venice | Pretty Woman retelling | Sex worker!Rey | Mafioso/enforcer!Ben | "no kissing on the mouth" | Angst | HEA | Multi POV | "As the Hammer of the Medici, Benjamin Solatti has a lot of practice crushing dreams and wringing every coin from nearly empty pockets. Sent to Venice to collect on a debt, he doesn’t have time for pleasure. Nobody knows the winding alleys and canals of Venice quite like someone who works them. So when street-smart Rey notices a lost Florentine noble, she’s more than happy to offer her services. Worlds apart, they lead very different lives. Brought together by chance and an irresistible proposition, those same differences might be what tear them apart when their time runs out."

You Can Have Manhattan by reylo_addict | @thereyloaddict | Explicit | 41k | Complete | Modern AU | Manhattan | Established Reylo | Break ups | Flashbacks | Falling in love | Devoted Reylo | Angst | Break up sex | HEA | Rey POV | In the past: Rey falls in love with New York at the same time she falls in love with Ben Solo. In the present: Rey is angrily (and drunkenly) phoning her Ex from the otherside of the country.

what if the storm ends by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explicit | 61k | Complete | Historic AU | 1950's | WW2 flashbacks | England/Yorkshire | Growing up together | Estrangement | ANGST. SO MUCH BLOODY ANGST | Author!Rey | Widower!Ben | Ben was happily married to another | Farmer!Ben | Rey has PTSD | HEA | Rey POV | "As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower."

Pressed by mzladybird | @mzladybird | Explicit | 4k | Oneshot | PWP | Modern AU | Strangers-to-lovers | Employee/customer | Rough sex | Rey POV | Rey works at a drycleaners and takes some *ahem* liberties with Ben's shirts.

A Scent Like Peony by mzladybird | @mzladybird | Explicit | 6k | Oneshot | Arranged Marriage | Strangers | Jealousy | Hate sex? | Rey!Palpatine | Steamy AF | Rey POV | As heiress to the Palpatine Empire Rey always knew she was going to marry Ben Solo.

a good woman by AnonPenguin | @penthescoundrel | Explicit | 9k | Oneshot | Historical AU | Victorian? | American West | Small Town | Widow!Rey | Teacher!Ben Solo | Eniemes to lovers | Misunderstandings | Spanking | Feral!Rey | HEA | Rey POV | "Upstanding citizen and businesswoman, Rey Johnson, has an indelible sense of the way forward. But, that all changes when the new school teacher, Mister Solo, comes to town."

little sir by AnonPenguin | @penthescoundrel | Explicit | 14k | Complete | Historic AU | Medieval | Robin Hood vibes | Injury Recovery | Strangers to lovers | Turbo-virgin!Rey | Ben Solo is a tits guy | Rey POV | Rey is a vigilante who is caught by Lord Solo but instead of turning her in he wants to worship her tits marry her.

Heirloom by AnonPenguin | @penthescoundrel | Explicit | 24k | Complete | Historic AU | Regency/Victorian | Arranged Marriage | Wedding Night | Curses/Magic | Sex Pollen Vibes | Age Difference | Dirty talk | Brat!Rey | Idiots In love | Ben POV | "Ben is encouraged to give an heirloom ring with "hopes" for the marriage to his new bride written inside. Showing a general disdain for the arrangement, he inscribes it, "May we fuck like bunnies, and never have enough", not realizing that magic binds the wish to come true."

Let's Eat by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 4k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Strangers to lovers | Food Porn | Bathroom sex | Rey POV | "The restaurant serves a tasting menu for two, and Rey wants to try it. So does the man sitting beside her at the bar. The solution? She shares a meal with a stranger. And if they end up sharing so much more than just food, well, Rey’s okay with that. Ben Solo isn’t so bad. Not really. And it’s nice, not eating alone."

Happenchance by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 5k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Office Party | Mistaken Indentity | Mention of sex work | Rey POV | "When Rose hires an escort to be Rey’s date for their company’s fundraising event, Rey’s livid. Until… Well, until she spots him in the hotel’s lobby. Tall and gorgeous, with dark hair nearly brushing the collar of the suit he fills out sinfully well. Maybe Rey doesn’t hate Rose. Maybe she should write Rose a thank you note. Or, Rey thinks Ben is an escort. Ben is not an escort."

Differential Equation by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 8.6k | Oneshot with a sequel | Modern AU | College/University | Enemies-to-lovers | Rivalry | Rey POV | After overhearing some comments about herself at a party Rey hates privileged frat boy Ben Solo.

The Twelve Dates of Christmas by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 16k | Complete | Modern AU | Blind Date | Christmas/holidays/ Hanukkah | Fake Dating | Dating | Falling in love | Christmas parties | Skating | Multi POV | "After a disastrous blind date, Ben and Rey can at least agree on one thing—between fancy work galas, ugly sweater parties, Hanukkah with the Solos, and Christmas Eve with Rey’s rowdy group of friends… facing December alone is tiring. Being chronically single with friends trying to pair you off is worse. But fake-dating their way through the holidays? What could go wrong."

Thin Ice by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 14k | Complete | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Hockey | Multi POV | To get revenge on her Ex Rey asks His favourite hockey player to be her date to said Ex's wedding.

Rental Girlfriend by PurpleSugarQuills | @purplesugarquills | Explicit | 18k | Complete | Modern AU | College/University | Enemies-to-lovers | Friend group dynamic | Escort!Rey | jealous/posessive/idiot!Ben Solo | Misunderstandings | ANGST | Rey POV | "Being a rental girlfriend was the best thing that ever happened to Rey. Until she met Ben Solo." or Rey can't stand the new guy at pub trivia. And the new guy cannot figure out Rey.

Trial and Error by Celia_and | @whatceliawrites | Explicit | 7k | Complete | Modern AU | Enemies-to-lovers | Rivals-to-lovers | Scientists | Angst | HEA | Rey POV | "When rival scientists Rey and Kylo keep meeting at out-of-town conferences, the growing tension isn’t strictly professional."

To Heal by Celia_and | @whatceliawrites | Explicit | 8k | Complete | Modern AU | Flashbacks | Big Buisness | Acquisitions/mergers | Enemies with History | College/University | Falling in Love | Marriage | PTSD | Night Terrors | ANGST | Break-ups | Reconciliation | Rey POV | "When CEO Rey Palpatine faces down her rival Ben Solo across a boardroom table, it’s been ten years since she’s seen him. Ten years since they belonged to each other."

How to Save a Life by Celia_and | @whatceliawrites | Explicit | 8k | Complete | Modern AU | Co-workers | Blizzard | Snowed-in | Scorned lover | Misunderstandings | Bickering as sexual tension | Steamy AF | Rey POV | "Ben rescues his coworker Rey from her cabin in a blizzard, and she can’t forgive him for it."

underworld by elle_p (need ao3 account to read) | Explicit | 2k | Oneshot | PWP | Modern AU | College/University | Rave | Strangers | Hookup | Outdoor sex | Rey POV | "Rey goes to a rave. This tall guy won’t stop staring at her."

 I hold it towards you by elle_p (need ao3 account to read) | Mature | 2k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Pandemic/Quarantine/covid-19 | Loneliness | Anxiety/Depression | Neighbours | Strangers | Age gap | Angst | Happy/Hopeful ending | Rey POV | "After spending time alone in quarantine, Rey meets her next door neighbor, a poetry professor by the name of Benjamin Solo."

melatonin by sevenofreylo | @sevenofreylo | Explicit | 3k | One shot | Modern AU | Summertime | School vacation | Enemies-to-lovers | Bullying | Teenagers(?) | Awkward virgins | Masturbation | No p-in-v | Bunkbeds | Rey POV | "Rey can’t sleep, not with Luke’s nephew in the same room."

Feet Cute by sevenofreylo | @sevenofreylo | Explicit | 3.6k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Meet-cute | Ben has a foot fetish | Adorable then steamy AF | Rey POV | "Rey buys new trainers from Ben’s store."

Making Emends by alantieislander | Explicit | 3k | Oneshot | Modern AU | A/B/O | Alpha x Beta | Ben POV | "In which Alpha Ben meets Beta Rey, and has a biological crisis."

Snowmates by alantieislander | Explicit | 5k | Complete (One shot in two parts with a small epilogue) | Modern AU | Roomates | Rey/Finn | Ben&Finn friendship | No Infidelity | Friends to lovers | Multi POV | When they met Rey was dating Finn. Then Finn and Ben became roommates. Then Rey and Finn Broke up. Then Rey moved away. Now she's back for a visit.

Holdings by alantieislander | Explicit | 5k | Complete | Modern AU | Rich!Ben Solo | Assistant!Rey | Wrokplace relationship | Romantic | Multi POV | "In which Rey is a congresswoman's assistant's assistant and Ben is one of the richest men in the world, and they really like each other."

Leave It All, Lock to the Tide by alantieislander | Explicit | 11k | Complete | Historic AU | 1860s | Maine Coast | Shipwrecked | Magical Abilities | Injury recovery | Depression | HEA | Rey POV | Rey has the ability to take away other's pain, but unlike her mother or grandmother before her she cannot get rid of the pain, only magnify it. Rey exiles herself to a small coastal island to live out her lonely days in peace. Until Ben Solo washes up on the shore.

full fathom five (little lies) by lachesisgrimm | @lachesisgrimm | Mature | 45k | Complete | Modern AU | ANGST | Unplanned Pregnancy | Hurt/comfort | injury!recovery | Broken friend group dynamic | Villian!Luke | Rey needs a hug | Devoted Reylo | HEA | Rey POV | Ben ghosts Rey. He wont even answer her texts when she tells him she's pregnant. Then one day a phone call revealing that Ben has been in a coma for 5 months and he wants to see Rey. Slowly the truth comes out that a master manipulator has been pulling strings in the shadows.

mouth, stomach, heart by lachesisgrimm | @lachesisgrimm | Mature | 80k | Complete | Modern AU | Strangers to lovers | Rey needs a hug | Sick!fic | Food | Angst | Feral!Rey | Utter simp!Ben Solo | "i licked it and its mine" | Stalking/harassment | OC Antagonist | Falling in love | Loss of Virginity | Marriage proposals | Friend group dynamic | Rey POV | Rey works at Han's garage and his son starts hanging around. Rey's shitty childhood has left her with issues surrounding food and Ben wins her over with his cooking.

Here's to more amazing fics in 2023!🥂

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Been a while since we did this: It’s midnight and I’m thinking about six of crows, so let’s chat. I’m currently thinking about the experiences of Wylan and Inej echoing each other on opposite ends of the spectrum of cruelty created by the environment in Ketterdam, because ultimately it’s a system that favours no-one but the men who created it. Even though Inej is a foreign immigrant brought to the country against her will and Wylan was born to one of the richest families in the country, they both suffer greatly at its hands - arguably even in similar ways.

*Spoilers ahead!!!!*

Ok so this particular thought occurred to me a little while ago, and it was first sparked by the conversation Van Eck has with Inej at the beginning of Crooked Kingdom when holding her captive. He tells her he is not “a brute” but has simply “employed the methods you are most accustomed to - threats, violence” and her immediate response is “He sounded like Tante Heleen”. She goes on to remember Heleen’s words saying “Why do you make me do these things? You bring these punishments on yourself, girl”. So of course there’s this immediate link between them, and I would argue that the parallels are perpetuated throughout the novel as well. Quickly want to add as well that it’s really interesting to see Tante Heleen call her “girl”, because although this denies Inej identity and aligns greatly with the way she sobs at hearing her own name said aloud for the first time in a year when she meets Kaz, it doesn’t come across as immediately dehumanising in the way that other epithets used against her, like “little Lynx”, do. But interestingly enough, I actually think that it still is a dehumanising word when it comes from Heleen - because she does not see “her girls” as human. First of all, whenever the children at the Menagerie are referred to as “girls” it’s always in an entirely possessive manner - “your girl will he returned to you” “where is my girl?” “That is not my girl” (these are literally all from one scene, and there are way more throughout the books) - but the idea is only intensified by Inej’s own sentence: “not really people, not even really girls.”. As if “girls” and “people” are two separate entities. As if “girls” are not human. This is the language and the attitude that she was surrounded by at the Menagerie and is still surrounded by in the city, and what was forced upon her throughout her experiences in the country. But you know what else might be a genuinely horrifying little detail of this????? Inej may have actually taught herself that the words “people” and “girls” are not synonymous. Because when Inej was brought to Kerch she wasn’t fluent in the language, she spoke some of it and quickly learnt the rest through circumstance, so if this was the way she heard Kerch people use the word “girl” this is how she would internalise the definition of it. I hope this makes sense I’m not sure if I’m relating my thoughts very clearly, it’s kind of like how Matthias was forced to learn Kerch because he was in a Kerch prison so he doesn’t know words that would easily come to him in Fjerdan, like the snow goggles, but instead of simply having gaps Inej has actually learnt a false grammar system that defines “girl” as a dehumanising term because it means someone who is less than or someone who is property. Anyway, that was quite a tangent so let’s keep going.

I talked quite a lot about Wylan’s experience with abuse in my post about the similarities between him and Kaz so I won’t go into too much detail here (if you want to read that though it’s on my page, it’s called Kaz and Wylan’s Potential to Become Each Other, I can tag anyone who’d like to be tagged) but I want to mention the way Van Eck has conditioned his son to blame himself for everything he’s been through, rather than his father. Wylan actively blames himself, even after he discovers what his father did to Marya he says to Jesper “you don’t understand, it’s my fault” because he believes that Van Eck needed a convenient way of getting rid of her so he could remarry and have a child that he didn’t view as “defective”.

I want to talk about Inej during the bathroom scene in Crooked Kingdom, specifically focusing on the fact that this is really the moment she is most open about her trauma and reveals herself to be at her most vulnerable. Now I could talk for DAYS about the way she expresses herself in this scene in comparison to Kaz and why their vulnerabilities differ in different moments, but I’m trying to stay on track so maybe I’ll talk about that another time, the focus here is that in this moment when she is her most open with another character about what she went through she tells Kaz that “Tante Heleen wasn’t always cruel” and explains emotional abuse and manipulation that Heleen layered with her physical and financial abuse. It so importantly echoes Van Eck’s abuse of Wylan, because ultimately he was always an emotionally abusive and manipulative person. Discovering that Wylan couldn’t read at age 8 didn’t magically switch him from a loving husband and father to the monster we see in the duology, and it is implied that he was abusing Marya in some form prior to sending her away. But Wylan clings to the things that his father did that seem loving, at least on the surface, and blames himself for any problems in his parents marriage - “they argued a lot, sometimes about me. But I remember them laughing a lot too”. (The quote is along those lines sorry I don’t have my book on me right now). This quote always intrigued me because not only does Wylan label himself as the common denominator in any issues they had, he also quickly jumps in to add defence as if their relationship is never supposed to be touched upon or examined too closely. Wylan also says “My father trusts himself first, Alys only so far”, which is really interesting to me because it clearly implies that there is a limit to anything positive Van Eck shares with his supposed loved ones. I don’t think there’s supposed to be any implication that Van Eck is abusing Alys right now, but if you disagree please let me know if be interested to hear it, but I do think that we’re supposed to be aware that he would begin to do so further down the line.

Ok I won’t lie to you guys I’ve kind of lost track of my point, so I’m gonna leave this here for now and if I decide to add anything later then I’ll reblog to continue. If anyone would like to add anything please do, and thanks for reading!

[russellsppttemplates]

I love how we all cal mick and y/n, mick and mama. And me, personally, always see his gf face when reading those!

I'm also really enjoy the little blurbs where mick and mama are a bit more frisky, specially the kids.

What do you think about Mick and Mama in each one of their babymoons? I can see them enjoying some tropical beaches in some of those, but they're so adventurous I feel like they'd come up with something else to relax and be frisky before they're little ones arrive.

Note: me too! I hadn't thought much about it because it never happened before, but since the soft launch, it happens to me too!

Tw: small allusions to smut, pregnancy

Aurora's babymoon

"Do you want to stay in?", you asked Mick, feeling him kiss every bit of skin that your maternity pyjamas didn't cover. The cabin was warm despite the snow outside, and while you had booked the trip so you could enjoy a few activities just the two of you before you became parents for the first time, you had to admit that staying in between the sheets and loving on eachother was a great plan.

"I would like that, yes", he mumbled against your skin, moving down to kiss your chest as he worked the buttons on the piece covering your torso, the sight of your baby bump looking nothing short of endearing and a constant reminder of your growing family and always getting him to smile, "you're growing our babygirl", he kissed your belly button, "and you look so good, liebling. Everything you do is amazing and should be valued, but growing our baby, keeping her safe and comfortable, that's on another level, I can't possibly ever thank you enough", he placed his hands on your bump, soothing the skin and laying his head next to it, planning on caressing it for as long as possible.

Sebastian's babymoon

"Let's go this way, it's not as steep", Mick urged, letting you walk in front of him as he kept a watchful eye on you. He knew you were capable of it. After all, it wasn't the first time you were on that particular trail, but he couldn't help his protective nature, especially when it only took a good look at you for him to grow into papa bear mode. This time around, your bump grew a lot quicker and bigger, so the image was hard to ignore and not act up on it.

"Soon, we could be doing this with two little ones", you smiled as you sat in one of the benches, "and we can have those carriers we see other families with, and show Seb and Rora all of these wonders", placing your hand on top of Mick's that was on your bump. The warm weather and the exercise made you feel warm, so you had discarded the sweatshirt and stayed in your sports bra and shorts, so the bump was on show and taking some sun, "speaking of Rora, how jealous do you think she'll be if we send my mother a picture of us so she can show her?", he nudged, unlocking his phone at your question.

"Maybe we begin with that, a big promise of family hikes, and maybe she won't be so mad at us for not bringing her", Mick said, taking a selfie of you two before getting up and taking one of the view and sending them.

When you got up, you took the opportunity to stretch your body a little, knowing that otherwise the pains would be unbearable and making the way down even harder, not noticing your husband taking pictures of you with a loving smile on his face.

Harriet's babymoon

The breeze was helping your body regulate from the warm temperature and the natural demand that was growing a baby, and the feel of your husband's hands in your bump was making the whole scene quite perfect.

"Have you given it some thought?", Mick asked you about the subject you had discussed recently, "I have", you started, "and I still stand by what I always did. As long as it makes you happy, we will be here to support you", you smiled, grabbing his hand and kissing it before placing it back in your bump, playing with his fingers, "I would never want you to give up something that you love so much, but if you want to do it, then me, Rora, Seb and Harriet are going to be here for you".

"I feel accomplished, for now, at least. And I want to be involved in their lives. I never felt like my father was not involved because he always made the effort, and I want to do the same. And I want to be there when they wake up, to get them from school, and three kids will require a lot more juggling. I don't want you to have to do all of that juggling", he reasoned, "we're in this together".

"Okay then", you smiled, settling the subject for now, "you know where I want to go together, too?", you smirked, "that beautiful ocean looks incredible, and its salty water is going to make me feel like all of this weight has just been lifted off of me, and I'd really really really appreciate the company of my handsome husband", you smirked, seeing Mick get up and help you up with his hands, "let's go then".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[glittervame]

My butterfly...

May I have this dance?

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya! <3

Fred Weasly x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

As the first flakes of snow gently descended from the inky sky, Y/n found herself standing outside the ornate entrance of the great hall, her breath forming little clouds in the air. The Yule Ball was next month, and she couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling in her stomach. She didn't have a date yet but that didn't matter, she was well liked among her peers and there was still a number of boys that would like to take her to the ball.

But there was one boy in particular that she couldn't stop thinking about, and it wasn't just because he was her best friend Fred. Ever since they were kids, they had been inseparable, sharing countless adventures and secrets. And lately, she had started to see him in a different light. His mischievous grin and playful teasing made her heart race, and she couldn't deny the fact that she had a massive crush on him.

A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts, "Y/n, you'll never guess what happened" Choe said while sitting next to her at lunch. "Harry Potter just asked me to the Ball!" She grinned, clearly delighted, "I was coming back from the Owlry (I can't spell that word i'm dumb) and I ran into Harry on my way down and he asked me, I had to say no though because Cedric already asked me to go with him" She says the rest with a sigh.

Y/n smiled at her friend, "That's great Choe! I'm happy for you" she said, trying to sound convincing. She glanced at Fred who was sitting across from them, his eyes locked on her, a playful glint in them. Y/n couldn't help but feel her heart race at the sight of him. "So," she began, trying to sound casual, "what do you think you're doing for your Christmas prank this year?"

Fred grinned, "Oh, you know us, we've got something big in the works" he said, winking at her. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at the attention, and for a moment, she forgot all about the crush she had on her best friend. They continued to chat about the ball, their plans, and their hopes for the holidays. As the bell rang signaling the end of lunch, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement building inside her.

On the way to potions with Angelina, a boy from Hufflepuff stops them in the hallway with bouquet of Pansys and a nervous expression. "Um, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me, Y/n?" He stutters, holding out the flowers to her. Y/n is taken aback for a moment, not expecting this at all. She glances over at Fred and George, who are walking just a few feet behind them, trying not to laugh. "Oh, um… I-I…" she stammers, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Go for it, Y/n!" Angelina encourages, giving the boy a reassuring smile. "It's not like you have anything else going on, right?" She teases, nudging her friend playfully. Y/n laughs nervously, grateful for her friend's support. "Well, I-I mean, I guess so…" she says finally, taking the flowers and accepting the boy's invitation. "Thank you, Jackson," she says with a smile.

Fred and George exchange amused glances as they watch the exchange, Fred, feeling a mix of emotions. He's happy for his friend, but at the same time, He can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He's always known that Y/n was the one girl who could never be interested in him in that way. She's been their best friend for too long, and they've shared too many secrets. But lately, He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be more than just friends with her.

As they walk away from the scene, Fred turns to George with a frown and says, "You know, I'm really happy for her, but man… I can't help but feel a bit left out." George nods in understanding, knowing exactly what his brother means. "Don't worry, mate," he says reassuringly, giving Fred a friendly punch on the shoulder. "There's always next year's ball, or the one after that. You never know what might happen."

Y/n is in a chipper mood for the rest of the day, and even the anticipation of the ball feels different now that she has a date. Fred and George, on the other hand, can't help but feel a bit down. They've always been there for her, but now that someone else is in the picture, they feel a little left out.

As the weeks leading up to the ball pass by, Y/n spends more and more time with Jackson than she did the rest of her friends. Fred didn't like it that The Hufflepuff boy was taking away her time with them. He tried not to show it, but he was hurt. Sometimes, when they were all together, she would catch him glancing at her, and it made her feel guilty. She tried to explain to him that she hadn't meant to leave them out, but Fred only seemed to grow more distant.

The night of the ball finally arrived, and Y/n was nervous but excited. She had borrowed one of her mother's old dresses, and it fit her like a glove. Jackson had gone all out with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates, a pretty little baclet that matched her dress too.

Y/n had started to feel like something was off with Jackson a couple of weeks ago, he started to get more touchy and he started to be around her more. It was making her feel uncomfortable, but she didn't want to say anything. As they danced to the waltz, she couldn't help but feel his hand linger on her waist for too long. She tried to ignore it, but it made her feel even more uneasy.

Fred and George were also at the ball, George had come with Angelina, Fred didn't have a date but it seemed he was enjoying himself just fine. He spotted Y/n and Jackson from across the room and couldn't help but feel a little envious. As He watched them dance, something about the way Jackson was touching her made Fred's stomach churn. He knew that feeling, he had felt it before. He knew that Jackson was going too far, and he had to do something about it.

Deciding that he couldn't just stand there and watch, Fred excuses himself from his group and makes his way over to the pair. He approaches them cautiously, not wanting to ruin the night for either of them. "Um, Y/n, can I steal you for a moment?" he asks, offering her a small, apologetic smile, a new song plays in the back ground, "May I have this dance?" he holds out his hand towards her.

Y/n is taken aback by Fred's words and actions, but she's also grateful for the intervention. She looks at Jackson, who seems annoyed but tries to hide it. "Um, sure," she says, taking Fred's hand. As they begin to dance, she leans in and whispers, "Thanks for doing that."

Fred nods, feeling a little guilty himself. "Listen, I don't want to cause any trouble or anything, but I just had to make sure you were okay. Jackson, you're a…guy, but you need to give her some space."

Jackson's face turns red with anger, and he storms off the dance floor. Fred and Y/n exchange worried glances, not sure what to make of his reaction. But then George appears, clapping Fred on the shoulder. "Not bad, little brother," he says with a grin. "You handled that rather well."

Y/n thanks Fred once more, and they continue to dance. As they sway together to the music, she can't help but feel a sense of relief washing over her. "I'm sorry I haven't been the best friend lately," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to leave you out."

Fred shrugs it off. "Hey, we've been through worse. And besides, you're not alone anymore. You've got us, and that's all that matters." They share a small smile before Fred adds, "And who knows? Maybe one of these days, I'll find someone special too. Then we can double date or something."

Y/n frowns at his words, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry about that, Fred. I never meant to make you feel left out." She sighs, looking down at her feet as they dance. "You know I care about you both, right?"

Fred nods, knowing that she means it. "Yeah, I know. And it's okay. I just get a little protective sometimes." They share a moment of silence, lost in their own thoughts, before Fred speaks up again. "So, how are things with you and Jackson? Are you two, you know…" He trails off, leaving the question unspoken.

Y/n shrugs, unsure of how to answer. "I don't know, Fred. He's…he's different, I guess. But I'm not sure if that's a good different or a bad different." She pauses, considering her words. "I just want things to go back to how they used to be with us."

There's a beat of silence before she speaks again, "I didn't want to go to the ball with him Fred" she starts, trying to explain herself "I wanted to go with you" she glances up at him, her green eyes pleading with him to understand. "But I thought if I didn't, he'd be upset and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. It's complicated."

Fred nods, understanding a bit more now. He takes a deep breath and then says, "Look, you don't have to make any decisions right now. Just take some time to think things through and figure out what you really want. And if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where I am."

Fred blinks and the tip of his ears turn red, "You wanted to go with me?" He whispers, the question barely audible over the music. "I would have loved to dance with you tonight." He smiles, feeling his heart skip a beat.

Y/n's cheeks flush pink in response to Fred's words. "I mean…I would have, if you'd asked." She stammers, trying to find the right words. "I guess I just didn't want to make things weird between us."

Fred shakes his head, "No, nothing's weird. And honestly, I should have asked. I just…I didn't want to assume anything." He takes a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions washing over him.

"So everything is right in the world?" she smiles at him

"Everything is alright my butterfly" He hums in response

The next morning Jackson found one single Yellow carnation on his plate a breakfast.

Rejection.

[thesweetnessofspring]

I'm not sure if this has already been asked to you, but what do you think about the Peeta and gale convo in the basement in mj? About how Katniss will choose whoever she can't survive without? It really confused me when I first read it coz Peeta was still considering himself a contender while he's not himself and wanted to just die at that point.

Hi Non!

I have been asked about this conversation before here. So that has a lot of my thoughts on that scene, but as to your question about Peeta in particular:

I don't think Peeta wants to die. I think after he saw what he did to Mitchell and how he was going to attack Katniss, he thought it was best for him to die to keep the rest of the squad safe and that he did have a period of feeling suicidal when first realizing he was a "mutt." However, later on he agrees with Katniss that the nightlock pill Gale gives him will only be for the worst-case scenario, if he's captured by the Capitol. He doesn't take it as his first opportunity to die.

Most pivotally, this Peeta and Gale scene comes after the "stay with me"/"always" kiss. This is the kiss that keeps Peeta from falling into the brink of "going mutt" as his fight-or-flight instincts kick in during the lizard mutt attack. It is what gets Peeta to keep going. At that point, Peeta is fighting to stay alive because Katniss asked him to. Because no matter what Snow did, he couldn't take away Peeta's love for Katniss. And part of that love was saying, "I'll keep going, because you're asking me to." It's the event that I think really ended up turning the tide for Peeta to not just continue to live, but also that Katniss needs him, too.

And in their interactions, in Katniss reaching out to him, in real memories coming back, in Katniss stopping in the middle of a chase to smack him one on the mouth, there's enough hope there for him to not reject the idea of Katniss still needing to choose between him and Gale. Because the thing is, he is coming back to himself. Katniss notes it in his encouraging remarks to Pollux and Tigris and his memories are coming back. Many things like Katniss's favorite lamb stew and the beach kiss were filmed and likely part of his therapy, but he private moments, like Katniss's favorite color and the "stay with me"/"always" were just between them. He's still there. Snow didn't replace him. And that's the Peeta we see there. Confused and hurt, but still hopeful and still in love with Katniss.

[ryttu3k]

Thoughts on Space Babies and The Devil's Chord, in no particular order:

So we agree that the overarching storyline for this season is stories becoming real, yeah? Starts with invoking folklore at the end of the universe, is solidified with the Toymaker and his rules of play, used heavily in The Church on Ruby Road, and now children's fairytales and musicals? Fascinated to see where this is going!

Generally ridiculously camp and bonkers and you know what, I goddamn missed that. It had whimsy. It had space babies and musical battles! It was fun and ridiculous and just. Felt good, man.

And it also had far-future dystopias and reproductive horror and slow starvation and suffocation and refugees and a timeline of depression and nuclear winter simply to create the universe's biggest aeolian harp so, you know. Doctor Who is back, baby!

Space Babies

Okay the episode was pretty fun and, at times, sweet (they saved the monster!) but oy the CGI/voice acting for the babies was… not great XD;;

Rani reference!

RTD detractors: "Ew, fart jokes with the Slitheen, so immature." RTD, writing an elaborate snot joke that ends with a colossal projectile shart: "Watch this :D"

Okay yes the projectile shart to get the space station moving is one thing, but, uh. How is it going to stop? XD;;

The nanny filter made me giggle each time.

I actually had to go back and check because I was squinting at the readout trying to work out what's weird and somehow failed a spot check and missed the fact that it had started snowing. Good observational skills, self. Anyway, the snow is definitely a Message. (Is it snow? Like I agree that it's connected with the day Ruby was born, but is what's falling in the church scene snow to begin with?)

Do you. Do you think the butterfly can regenerate now.

The Devil's Chord

Oooh, a Pantheon! Love a Pantheon. There's mention of the One Who Waits, speculation on whether 'the Oldest One' was there the day Ruby was born, we already have the Toymaker -> Maestro line, so maybe we'll be getting others? Also, the way Maestro phrased something earlier was fascinating too - "the Lord Temporal who sealed my father in salt". The Lord Temporal. There's been a lot of references to how the Doctor isn't just a Time Lord, maybe they're part of the Pantheon too, as the personification of time? Regeneration and Time Lord society all coming from this base primordial being?

Anyway I goddamn adore Maestro.

I wonder if we'll get Susan at the end of this season? (See: last link of this section!)

July 2024? So that's a good six months of travelling unaccounted for! Big Finish just going 👀

Semi-related but Ruby saying she was born in 2004 gave me a Crisis. Rose was 19 in 2005 and born the same year as me. Yeah okay I am good with that! Martha born in either 1986 or 1984, yep, fine, all checks out. But now there's a companion who was born when I was already an adult how is that legal.

"He ripped my soul in two." Oof.

The sonic actually did something sonic!

"I thought it was non-diegetic!!" I have so many questions. The walls are getting thin. Yeah, especially the fourth! (Random thought: Doctor Who official ARG?)

Lennon-McCartney saves the world! (I still like Harrison's stuff better.)

Apparently Murray Gold had a cameo but I have no idea what he looks like so it went completely over my head lmao

Missed opportunity to play The Devil Went Down To Georgia or The Devil's Trill, although we did get Danse Macabre and Rhapsody in Blue (which I put on as soon as the episode finished)!

Fun fact about Danse Macabre: "The solo violin enters playing the tritone, which was known as the diabolus in musica ("the Devil in music") during the Medieval and Baroque eras, consisting of an A and an E♭—in an example of scordatura tuning, the violinist's E string has actually been tuned down to an E♭ to create the dissonant tritone." (People hated it when it premiered. It made them feel anxious. Which is... kind of appropriate.)

There's always a twist at the end~ (I thought it was little H.Arbringer, but who knows?)

[moonlight-blue-rose]

Part 4 of my journey with the 1863rd arc, yesterday I didn't even realise I've spent 4 hours on 4 chapters....

ch 295

… h u h? huhhhhh?????

This,,, makes sense actually. I wondered how she would kill yjh but never guessed it would be through such means…

Oh. Oh. It was Yoo Joonghyuk, wasn’t it? He was the one who told her to protect the people he loves until the end she thought of. That’s why he promised to die, didn’t he…

Ahhhh the back and forth, “some call it salvation” – was that a dig at kdj’s modifier? Because it sure feels like one

And what does she mean “it isn’t the world I made”? Is it because of the Covenant? Or is it because it is a world reached after 1862 regressions? I really don’t think kdj is right about his guess for hsy’s Covenant. Something just doesn’t add up

Of course he didn’t haha

Oh Kim Dokja you sly little- So that was the decision he reached in the end

... holy-…

Ch 296

Wow, just, the description… I have already spoiled myself yjh’s sponsor but every time they are referenced in the story is with such mystery and ‘otherness’ that leaves a big impression. Just, wow…

Snow… reminds me of the snow garden between the letters, the space only a reader can hide in…

Oh Yoo Joonghyuk… (╥╯^╰╥)

It’s a very faint voice… A voice suffocated underneath all the others… But it’s still there… Kim Dokja heard it…

The whole scene that feels like slow motion… Kim Dokja’s determination, his desire to see the ending, an ending, even if it’s not the ideal one he wanted… Why does all of this feel like defeat? And yet at the same time like a culmination to everything he has ever wanted... Even if he is not part of that story… he still wanted to see it…

I want to go there and shake him, ask him why is he giving up? The Kim Dokja I’ve read about didn’t give up, even if everything looked impossible. I want to tell him there is another way. But there isn’t, is it? He tried. He gave his best. There is nothing he himself can do anymore… And it’s just so unfair, to see him bow down like this, here and now… But at the same time, it’s a decision only he, the person who loves this story the most in the world, can make… The decision of a Reader… God, this arc is giving me too many emotions

Hahaha, of course he would throw himself on the path of an attack meant for yjh. He did the same with the 41st sys too after all

"Director of the false last act" such a fitting name

It does! It does… It’s a world only Kim Dokja could create…

Ch 297

It’s what you deserve for making yjh eat soil lmaooo

Honestly, the whole orv feels like that one post here on Tumblr “I’m asking you to endure it.” Yes, it may be incredibly selfish. Yes, you will suffer and it will hurt so much. But, still, please, endure. Orv just has this particular taste…

*crying* It’s the first time he admitted that he just doesn’t want Yoo Joonghyuk to die…

Honestly, it felt really strange since we got wos’s revisions but, the original text of wos disappeared forever. It was the story he grew up with. It was the story he fell in love with. And yes, it means so much that he can influence the third turn so they can reach the end but… But the original text disappeared. If I was Kim Dokja, I would feel heartbroken. Your memories can remain for only so much, that why losing the original text hit me hard. Yes, kdj has his strange mind library thing but can he go there at will? Maybe he could in the future. But it still makes me wonder whether kdj represses these feelings. I wonder whether he reread the text again and again in the 1863rd round not only to find a way out but also for himself. As a last attempt to keep this story with himself just for a little longer…

This whole arc is just pure pain, I understand why everyone is crying about it

… I knew it but having it confirmed hurts a lot more… Yoo Mia… His only baby sister… and his mother figure too… (╥╯^╰╥)

…. Everything until the end of the chapter… I need a moment… Yoo Joonghyuk…

At this point I can’t even explain what I’m feeling (╥╯^╰╥)

BOTH, BOTH ARE REAL!

He picked Kim Dokja’s coat… He abandoned the person he was and turned away so he can become someone new, someone who isn’t “the protagonist”… Yoo Joonghyuk, who found a different answer altogether

One of them is gone forever… I can’t believe this. I-

At this point I’m just crying- He isn’t a character, he isn’t a character

Ch 298

Kim Dokja having a panic attack is really understandable, with the way everything ended. Dissociation time yay! *sighs*

Of course he would want her to be honest with the rest of the party… He loves them too much not to do at least this for them…

Yeah… Maybe it was finally a time he did that… Not being chained down by the “protagonist” title but just being Yoo Joonghyuk…

A baby?? Is this referencing yjh’s sponsor? There was the sound of a baby laughing when they were described earlier. Uhhhhh I don’t know at this point

Hahaha of course she got attached. No matter which one it is, hsy has such a big, bleeding heart

I don’t think I can finish the arc today, these few chapters were just so draining. Hopefully there won’t be much to cry about in the next chapters, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear so much emotional damage in such a short time…