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ineffably-human · 2 years

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guess I'm seeing enough bad takes that I'm gonna write meta about a thing I haven't even properly consumed yet, lord fucking help me

tagging this more broadly but it is about wwdits 4x9 and 4x10 leaks, mostly 4x9. here is the cut you are warned do not pass go etc etc.

So I'm not touching most of the Marwa side of things with a ten foot pole yet, because I want to hear certain specific lines in English/with full context before I determine how we, the audience, are meant to feel about how things end up with her. (Meant to is key term here.) We're gonna put that on the side table for the most part.

This is about 4x9 and Nandermo. This is about 4x9 and how it is actually good for Nandermo, in my point of view. Because if I've read summaries/translations/done Google Transcript the right way I think everyone is missing something here. Several somethings.

First of all, let me just say: this is a story in which Nandor likes the same things Guillermo likes. We'll come back to that.

Nandor specifically says he doesn't want to cheat on Marwa, marriage is important to him, he never cheated on any of his 37 wives. And he has no doubt he could steal him, but says it would be cruel to take Freddie from Guillermo.

So he reacts exactly how a narcissistic, polyamorous man with zero emotional intelligence, who's spent the last 700 years having orgies and casual threesomes with his married housemates, would react. He genuinely does not think there's a problem with what he's doing. Guillermo has a Freddie, Nandor has a Freddie, problem solved and everyone's happy.

On their twinsies dates, Guillermo says that this time with Freddie has made him realize how much he needs a life outside work, because somethingsomething about how he keeps thinking he sees Nandor everywhere and it's crazy how much room Nandor takes up in his mind. We will also come back to that.

When Guillermo finds them together, he basically says 'maybe this is a whim to you but it was important to me' and explains the seriousness of it, that Nandor has found a way to take everything from him. ("You take and you take and you take...") And Nandor could leave it at that. Because Guillermo is still video chatting with his own Freddie, and is resentfully just trying to kind of suck it up. Nandor can still have what he wants.

But Nandor doesn't leave it at that.

And he doesn't fully understand, at all. But he's genuinely happy with the Freddie situation, at least for now, as shallow as it is. And he still proceeds to try and give that up for Guillermo. To give his Freddie to Guillermo, first, although Guillermo refuses. (And again - this is a very dumb polyamorous man. He does not see the problem with this.) And then to let go of Freddie, which means letting go of Marwa, which means he has been trying to 'perfect' this marriage whim of his all season. He's finally located something that, at least for the moment, worked very well for him. And he has deliberately given that up for Guillermo.

He's chased after Guillermo before (which is reactive and based on his own needs), or tried to uplift him and make him feel included. But I don't think we've ever seen him sacrifice anything for Guillermo before. I don't think we've seen him do that for anyone.

Nandor at his worst is self-absorbed and self-involved. He's desperate for attention so he gets infatuated with the tiniest crumb of it. Someone who can take his reins, so to speak, like Jan or like Gail stringing him along - he can be incredibly giving to them, because he's aiming for the attention that comes with pleasing someone. But when someone shows him kindness or their own desire to please, he starts viewing them as an extension of his own whims. His own wishes. And that makes him happy for a while, until it bores him, and then that person is...just a little too familiar.

That's who Guillermo was for a long time. That's who Marwa is now, that's what Freddie might well have become eventually. And it means Nandor doesn't have to self-examine or deal with his insecurities, or be vulnerable, or risk rejection or loss.

But Guillermo both gives acts of service and is pushing for his own life and power. He'll both support Nandor and call him out. He's both lover and fighter. And Nandor spent season 3 starting to see Guillermo as someone whose power he could accept, someone he could trust to take care of him. Now he's starting to see Guillermo outside the lens of himself.

He keeps Marwa as Freddie because she seems happier that way. (Again, I...will deal with this post-season or at least post-episode because yeah.) He sends his Freddie back to England to try and make it up to Guillermo. And he says something along the lines of:

"Maybe love is more than someone liking all the things you like. Freddie always said he wanted to see the world. It looks like I'm the one granting wishes now." And he is genuinely hurting to see Freddie go.

Maybe love is caring about someone else's happiness over yours. Maybe love is learning to think about what others might want, and why. Maybe love is admitting you fucked up even if you don't fully understand it, taking someone else's pain seriously.

Meanwhile: Freddie. Who is open and agreeable and falls immediately into bed with Nandor, and just as easily starts snatching Guillermo's video calls away to chat with himself. Who has enough narcissism to not get bored by a copy of his own desires - instead he falls in love with himself, cheating on Guillermo in the process. Nothing about Nandor's wish forced him to do that. That's who Guillermo's first boyfriend turned out to be, and if that's true then maybe Freddie isn't who Guillermo thought he was. But Guillermo certainly isn't who Freddie thinks he is, either.

And in 4x10, he describes the breakup with Freddie as "my first serious boyfriend left me for...himself," so he doesn't blame Nandor for that either. There's a wall between him and Nandor but honestly? That's been happening all season.

4x10 is a whole other can of worms and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. I wrote about it a bit before and I want to write about it again after it actually airs. But what I will say is: Guillermo talks about how nothing changes. And that's the question of the season, right? Can you change or are you going to stay the same person forever?

Does Guillermo think Nandor's Freddie left of his own accord, or does he understand what Nandor did? Does he view that as someone who is starting to change? And is that change enough?

#wwdits leaks #here there be leaks #seriously here there be fucking leaks you are warned #i am a meta gremlin #fandom: wwdits

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spockandawe · 3 years

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Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting.

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned.

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

#jiang cheng #mdzs #the untamed #disk horse #long post/#abuse/#only tangentially #but better safe than sorry i hope

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

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luck of the irish

request from @stars-shaped-clouds: Hi! If your requests are still open I would like to request for Fred Weasley! :D maybe meeting Reader the first time and fred is all like it’s like love at first sight thing? I really love your writing!!!!

request from @keoghans: Hi! I love your work sm!!!! I wanted to ask for a Fred one, where the reader is a Beater in the World Cup finals, and is a friend of Oliver Wood, and he’s all giddy looking at her play and stutters a lot when they meet and yeah, idk, flustered, stuttering Fred gets me hahah thank you love! ♥️♥️♥️

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 2.9k

A/N: yo what the FUCK i loved these requests—also i know wood doesn’t play for ireland but let’s just ~pretend~ and also i knoooow that in gof they don’t go home for the christmas holidays because of the yule ball but again let’s just ~pretend~ and go weak for flustered, head over heels, desperately adorable fred and his love and first sight with a professional irish quidditch player

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @bobduncanlover @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!!!

Fred finds himself rather excited to get back to school. Not for the work, of course, but the mischief! He and George had also heard through the grapevine that this year is supposed to be more exciting, more chaotic—something will be happening, but what, he doesn’t know. He just has to sit tight and wait until the feast, where Dumbledore will undoubtedly give them a clue as to what’s about to happen. Fred can hardly handle the wait.

But when Fred ends up at the Quidditch World Cup with his father, siblings, and friends before he heads off to Hogwarts for his sixth year, the last thing he expects is to meet someone who makes him want to push off school for as long as he possibly can. He’s expecting the laughs and teasing and Butterbeer and Quidditch puns and stories shared with old comrades. Which, he supposes, he is getting, but also with something else, too. His twin makes sure to add in some extra teasing.

Fred’s skimming the campsite for a familiar face, and he finds himself becoming aggravated when he can’t spot who he’s searching for.

“Where the bloody hell is Wood?” Fred asks, searching desperately through the very large crowd gathered outside their tent. “I thought you said we’d be seeing him before the match?”

“I did,” George tells his twin, also skimming the sea of people in front of them. His voice gets lost in the crowd, “Could’ve sworn he told me so..”

Suddenly, Harry’s voice echoes loudly. “Oliver! Good to see you!”

George and Harry are giddy at the sight of Oliver Wood, their former Quidditch teammate and captain. The tall, lanky bloke stands outside of their tent, pulling both men into tight embraces. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen him, in fact.

It’s when he begins blabbering on about the Quidditch World Cup that Fred notices his arrival.

“Mate! Finally! How are things?” Fred says, seizing his hand for a firm shake. “Thanks again for setting this up,”

“Not a problem at all, glad you lot could join! Been ages since we’ve seen one another,” Wood beams, now offering greetings to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione respectively. Turning back toward the twins and Harry, he asks, “How was your travel? Okay? No hiccups?”

“Not a one,” George says brightly.

“Good,” Wood says, sticking his hands inside his pockets. “Really glad you guys could make it—I know it’s mad as a hatter, here, but I reckon that’s what makes it more exciting.”

Harry laughs at this and offers, “Going to be really wicked watching you play professional, you know.”

But Fred is no longer listening to the conversation in front of him; instead, you seem to have caught his attention, and to his surprise, you’re making a b-line right toward him! He feels as though his throat is closing up; it’s not until he realizes that you’re actually headed toward Oliver that he begins to breathe properly again. If you’re not the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—

“Merlin! Wood, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’ve got to head to the changing rooms in a bit. Reckon Lynch will want to give us a good chat beforehand.” Both you and Oliver erupt into chuckles, leaving Fred nearly breathless at the light, airy sound of your laugh.

“Who’s this?” Fred asks shyly, watching your eyes sparkling at the sight of all of them.

“Speaking of playing professional—” Wood begins, introducing you to the lot around you, “this here is Y/N. Wicked good Beater, started out just this year for the Irish National Quidditch team.”

Fred suddenly feels his insides constrict; you? A Beater? On a professional Quidditch team? You can’t be more than seventeen years of age, and the smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you shake hands with everyone nearly sends him to the ground in a flustered mess. Suddenly, you take his hand in yours and he feels the electricity almost immediately. He can hardly contain the nerves. He’s starting to believe in this whole ‘love at first sight’ thing—

“Fred and George are Beaters, too,” Wood explains to you, and Fred’s delighted to see an impressed look on your face, “really wicked, they both are. And Harry, here, what a brilliant Seeker.”

George playfully slaps him across the arm. Everyone around begins to laugh when he teases, “Stop it, Oliver, you’re embarrassing us.”

“You can’t be more than sixteen,” Fred says to you without fully registering what’s happening. He’s saying things without thinking. He apologizes, “Sorry—erm—what I mean to say is, you look so young to be playing professional Quidditch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I—I mean—” he’s finding it hard to now create coherent sentences when all he can hear are annoying snickers from his brothers behind him.

“Color you impressed?” you ask, and he feels his knees go weak. He offers a nervous laugh when you continue, “I’m flattered. Seventeen, actually. But, yeah, I reckon I’ve just gotten really lucky for my age.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Oliver cuts into the conversation, “you’re brilliant. Just wait’ll you see her play—madhouse, she is.”

You begin to laugh and turn back to him, “Neither one of us will be playing if we’re late—Lynch is looking positively dreadful, reckon we’ll need to go and give the pep talk ourselves?” Wood agrees and picks up his broomstick he’d placed on the ground. You turn back to everyone, “It was nice meeting all of you. See you after the match perhaps?”

“Yeah!” George begins excitedly. To Wood, he says, “Mate, when your team undoubtedly wins, come back here for a drink, eh? It’s the least we could do to thank you.”

The nerves are bubbling up inside Fred; he’s hoping Wood will agree and bring you along. Something tells him he’s not quite finished talking with you yet.

Wood looks at you and both of you shake your heads. “Alright, then! We’ll see you in a few hours time!”

Shouts of luck echo from everyone in the group, including some people nearby in surrounding tents. Can’t this evening last forever? The thoughts of Hogwarts, and whatever’s planned for this year, have seemingly left Fred’s mind, now that you’re here. Before you leave with Wood, he says to you, “Good luck! But from what Wood says, it doesn’t sound like you’ll need it.”

You grin broadly at him. “Thanks, Fred. Keep your fingers crossed for me, though. We still need all the luck we can get if we’re going to crush Bulgaria.”

From behind George and Ron, Wood yells with delight, “We’ve got the luck of the Irish—it’s all we need!”

— -

The match is underway, and Ireland is absolutely crushing Bulgaria. When he flies close to them, Fred’s excited to see a very large grin plastered across Oliver’s face. But there’s still a long while to go, and plus—the Snitch is nowhere to be found.

But why is it, Fred thinks to himself, is he feeling so nervous? Perhaps it’s the heights. He’s standing with his family up near the top of the pitch, what looks like millions of rows of spectators beneath them. Are they in the highest one? He’s too nervous to move and find out; he’s nearly rigid.

He realizes, though, that it’s not the height that’s got him feeling jumpy. An incoming bludger is headed straight for the Ireland Chaser hovering right in front of them, and Fred feels as though his entire soul is on fire when you quickly fly past, pummel the Bludger to the other end of the very large pitch (much larger than Hogwarts’), and send a wink his way before heading in the complete opposite direction, nearly vanishing in thin air.

George notices this and laughs. When Ginny and Ron question him on this, he nearly replies, “Just having a laugh,”

“Why?” Ginny and Ron ask together. Ron continues rather anxiously, “You worried Bulgaria’s going to catch the Snitch before Ireland, too? That Krum is absolutely wicked—”

“No,” George laughs again over the crowd, “I’m having a laugh at Fred. Someone here,” he continues, pinching Fred’s cheeks, “is a bit flustered over one of those famous Beaters.”

“Am not.” Fred replies, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. He pulls at his long hair, trying desperately to cover up the cherry red color now flooding his cheeks. George just cocks his head to the side, as if to say, Really, Fred? You’re an awful liar. He can feel his insides tighten at the thought of it. God, you’re brilliant. He wouldn’t mind having you wrapped around him for the rest of the evening after Ireland’s impending win. He finds himself watching you with dazed eyes and a lazy smile, not even paying attention at all to the match in front of him. Instead, he’s counting the times you fly near them and meet his gaze. Fred swallows thickly and then agrees, albeit begrudgingly, “Fine. So what? She’s gorgeous—”

“—and sweet,”

“and our age!”

“and plays professional Quidditch.”

Fred rolls his eyes at the mocking yet truthful statements coming from his friends. George opts to continue, “It’s no wonder you’re in love, Freddie.”

Ginny squeals, “Putty in her hands, he was!”

“Would you lot shove off?” Fred asks, eyeing Mr. Weasley curiously, thankful to see that he’s deep in conversation with Amos Diggory. “Make fun of me all you want, but for Merlin’s sake, don’t let dad hear you—he’ll absolutely never let me live it down.”

“All the more reason to keep teasing, mate,” Ron tells him, turning toward Harry and Hermione before the three of them erupt into a fit alongside George and Ginny. Again, Fred just rolls his eyes.

But he doesn’t really care what they think. Not now, anyway. Not when you’re hovering near them again and he notices the tight grip you have on your broomstick, the thin line of sweat at your hairline, the dimples in your cheeks when you grin brightly at another goal for Ireland. You turn and glance at them again, wiggling your eyebrows at him before pummeling another bludger straight toward a Bulgarian player, and Fred can’t contain these feelings of both admiration and jealousy bubbling up inside him as his eyes try to follow you all around the pitch. All he can remember is the way your hand felt in his when you introduced yourself just a few hours ago. All he can think of is how bloody adorable you look in those Quidditch goggles and robes. And all that’s flooding through his mind now, as he watches you slam yourself against a Bulgarian Chaser and call out to the other Ireland beater across the pitch, are the grins he keeps eating up each and every time you make so to fly by his seat in the stands.

— -

“Holyhead Harpies, for sure. They’re brilliant!”

“Couldn’t agree more. And Puddlemere United?”

“Merlin, no—don’t tell Wood I’ve said this, but they’re bloody awful. Just like the Falmouth Falcons. How about the Chudley Cannons?”

“My family’s exclusive to the Cannons, actually.”

“Knew I liked you for a reason, Fred.”

He lets a soft laugh escape his lips as he watches you tip your goblet backward and drink hastily the rest of your Butterbeer. Your cheeks are flushed; is it Ireland’s win? The copious amounts of Butterbeer you’ve consumed? The fact that the tent is so bloody warm? Fred doesn’t know, but he gets a sense that it might be something else when you bat your eyelashes at him and bite down on your lip to keep from smiling too much.

He’s feeling much more confident now—nothing a few drinks and slaps on the shoulder from George couldn’t fix! He’s surprised at how.. normal you seem. He’s hungry and desperate to learn more about you in your fleeting time together that he’s not even letting anyone else chat you up for a bit. Not that you mind, really. It’s not like you’re itching to get away from him. Actually, Fred thinks to himself now as he watches you, you might just be inching closer—

“So tell me then, you’ve been a Beater since your first year at Hogwarts, yes?” you ask, and Fred nods his head, eager to hear more, “you and George. What about the other two?” you nod in the direction of Ron and Ginny, who are animatedly chatting up Oliver Wood now. “Your other siblings don’t play?”

“Not those two,” Fred says, grinning a bit, “They’ll join us for little games we have at home, but not for school. Although, come to think of it, Ginny’s kind of brilliant actually—maybe she’ll play for Hogwarts one day..” he thinks fondly on memories of the last summer when they’d finally let Ginny join in on some of their matches.

“And what about you?” you ask, the glittering of your eyes very evident in the moonlight poking through the tent, “plans for after school? Pranks, maybe? Professional Quidditch, perhaps?” you tease him a bit, nudging him in the ribs.

Fred beams again and sips his drink slowly. He absolutely loves that you want to know more about him. “You joking? Follow you after that brilliant match? I reckon you’d have quite a laugh.” Which you do. You laugh at this, and he’s positively melting into the ground beneath him, itching to hear your laugh more and more. “George and I have some.. plans up our sleeves. Creating mischief at school isn’t just a hobby, you know.”

“No?” you inquire, sipping again on another Butterbeer, “is there such a thing as ‘professional pranksters’?”

“If there is, that’s exactly what George and I are.”

The two of you fall into a fit of laughter, grabbing the attention of the other group nearby. George wiggles his eyebrows at Fred, who feels the nerves bubbling up inside him again and shakes his head at his twin, before turning back toward you.

“So tell me,” Fred begins again, soaking up as much information as he can before the night’s end, “you’ve won. You’ve won the bloody Quidditch World Cup—” the both of you giggle lightly, and he watches as you nervously pull at your hair and bite down on your lip again, “—what’re your plans now? School, holidays?”

“I’m going back home tomorrow, to visit with my family,” you reply, and Fred digests this. “My parents are here tonight, but they’re off somewhere with my aunt and uncle—tomorrow’s when I get to go and see my extended family.”

Fred nods, taking this in. He just has to ask; it won’t sound strange, will it? “Yeah? And where’s home?”

“Ottery St. Catchpole,” you tell him, twirling the Butterbeer in your hands, and there’s a catch in Fred’s throat at your words, “right in Devon, if you’re familiar?”

“You’re kidding,” he replies breathlessly, and he sees you waiting with bated breath for his next words, “that’s where we are. How’ve we never run into one another in the village? We live just across the large hill!”

You sit back, surprised, and Fred’s happy to see an enormous smile on your face. You open your mouth to speak, but just then, Wood calls to you from the entrance of the tent, noting that Ireland’s captains would like to have a quick word before reuniting the players with their families.

Fred feels his insides tighten; he doesn’t want the night to be over, and he finds himself clutching his goblet rather tightly. He glances at his watch; Merlin, it’s nearly one am! How long had you two been at this? He peers at you, the rosy color of your cheeks still evident in the moonlight, and he wonders if you’re feeling the same way. When you turn back toward him and glance at him with sullen eyes and a weak smile, he realizes you just might be. You tell him, “I’m sorry the night has to end.”

“Me, too.” he admits, continuing to twirl his Butterbeer in his hands, “I’ve had fun.”

“Me, too.” you echo him, standing up from your seat and stretching in your Quidditch robes. Fred’s feeling rather woebegone at your impending departure, but suddenly he feels his spirits lift a bit.

“Can I write you?”

You peer at him with admiration in your eyes. A large grin spreads across your face. “Absolutely. Is that a promise?” you wink.

He laughs cheekily and hope he doesn’t sound as positively giddy as he feels, “It’s definitely a promise.”

He watches as you look around the tent and pull at your robes. Then you ask him, “Could I maybe.. maybe see you for Christmas?”

He’s beaming again; he feels that fire coursing through his veins once again. He stumbles over his words and clears his throat, “Y-yeah—that sounds great. I’d like that.”

You grin and place a hand on his arm. “Good.” And much to his surprise, you lean in and place a gentle kiss upon his cheek before squeezing his arm once again and making your way to bid farewell to everyone else, and then toward the entrance of the tent. Once more, you turn back to him, raise a hand in farewell, and nearly vanish into thin air.

Fred doesn’t even realize that George and Wood are standing beside him; he’s merely feeling the electricity buzz through him at this very moment, and is already beginning to count down the days until the Christmas holidays. When George pokes him in the ribs and interrupts his thoughts, he’s brought back to reality and notices everyone watching him now—each of them winking and chuckling lightly at this new relationship he’s seemed to have sparked. He can feel a chill wash over him when Wood leans in and says to him before leaving,

“I’m telling you—it’s the luck of the Irish, mate.”

reblogs & feedback are much appreciated lovelies, thank you for reading and requesting x

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 4 years

Text

Ashfâkh

Wow, I’ve been sitting on this chapter for awhile due to the fact that Estel had suddenly revealed an insecurity I didn’t even know she had... (I’m going to be brutally honest right now. When people say that author’s have complete control over their characters, they are lying. As an author, I should have control over Estel, but I really don’t. Honestly, I legit feel like I have a toddler.) That is what is going on right now. You guys will get the whole story about Estel and her stubbornness in the next chapter since it ties in with it, but for now, I’ll just let you read this piece...

Part 25 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’. Link to Series Masterlist.

Thorin falls for a Dwarrowdame raised by Elves, and tries to make know his feelings, but accidentally offends her, which leads to another and another misunderstanding between the two.

Based off of @immawriteyouthings ‘Falling Stars’

Note: If you wish to be tagged for certain stories, just let me know and I can add you to a tag list!

Tags:

@kumqu4t @pixierox101 @elvish-sky @ladylouoflothlorien @vicmackeybullshxt @lothloriien

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count: 1,391

Warning(s): Swear words.

Translation(s): Ashfâkh: Doubt

~~~~

WHAT?! Was I hearing him right or had I gone crazy? Surely I had not just heard him ask me to marry him--rather bluntly at that--today?!

I stared at the dark-haired Dwarrow before me, trying to process his hoarse words. "WHAT?" I gasped breathlessly, trying to calm my pounding heart.

What a funny little thing it was, taking his words so seriously when he couldn't possibly mean them. Eru, the Dwarrow was so sleep-deprived that he was delusional! Yes, that was it. He wasn't in his right mind...

"Marry me today, Estel." Thorin repeated quietly, his steely eyes hesitantly flickering over my face.

I searched wildly for a reply; anything to distract him. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" I asked weakly, trying desperately to keep my voice normal. "You have to be really tired, Amrâlimê..."

Thorin's brow began to furrow as he looked at me; lips parting ever-so-slightly. "You do not wish to marry me?" He questioned, uncertainty tinging his words.

I shook my head quickly, "no, no... I do want to marry you, Thorin, but right now? Today? Out in the middle of nowhere? I think you just need to get some rest. You're obviously very tired if you're talking like this..." I said, avoiding his heavy gaze.

A gentle hand cupped my chin and raised my gaze up to sapphire blue pools. "I assure you, Estel, I'm thinking quite clearly. Ask any of the others and they will tell you that I am not one to take such a life-changing decision so lightly." He murmured in a low voice, and I swallowed hard.

"But why? Why ask me now? Why can it not wait till Erebor is reclaimed?" I asked, and Thorin's gaze grew solemn.

"I don't know exactly why. It just seems like the right thing to do." He said slowly; eyes flickering across my features. "I just have this feeling..."

I pulled away from Thorin, rising to my feet and looking down at him as I played with my fingers. "I don't know about this... We've only known each other for a little over half a year, Thorin. And we've been courting for maybe 3 months at the most. Doesn't this just seem a bit fast to you?" I asked quietly, and Thorin rose to his feet, looking down at me with a sorrowful expression.

"Estel, I have thought over this for many a night. I did not take asking you to marry me lightly in the slightest. There's just this feeling inside me..." He muttered, gaze dropping down to the ground.

"Just let me think over it, alright? I promise that I'll give you an answer by tonight, Thorin." I whispered, giving him a small smile.

Thorin hesitated, looking at me with a sorrowful look in his eyes. "Of course..." He murmured, nodding slowly. "Estel, once we reclaim Erebor, we will have a proper wedding with whatever you desire. A ceremony for our whole kingdom to participate in. If that is something that bothers you, don't worry over it." He said quickly, and I laughed hollowly.

"That isn't something that troubles me, Thorin." I replied, "just let me think over it."

"If I had asked you once we reclaimed Erebor, would you have said yes?" The sudden, vulnerable question startled me for a moment and I stared at Thorin. "If we had been courting longer, would you have accepted?"

I took a deep breath, blinking back the sudden rush of tears. "In a heartbeat."

"Than what is the difference now? We have already seen the worst sides of each other..." Thorin said with a harsh laugh as he tried to hide the hurt my hesitance was causing him. "It is not as if we are complete strangers."

I nervously traced the tattoo on my hand, thinking over Thorin's words. Eru, he spoke the truth. We already knew each other almost as well as we were going to. Being on a quest and going from enemies to lovers did that. But I still just couldn't shake the lingering doubts that we just wouldn't work together.

"Would it help if we both spoke with Balin? Have him judge whether or not we are rushing things?" Thorin asked desperately, and I shrugged my shoulders. What could it hurt?

"Sure." I answered quietly, and Thorin was quickly off in search of the white-haired Dwarrow.

~~~~

"It is a bit unusual to have a shorter courtship, but I do agree that you both know each other quite well. Better than most courting couples, I wager." Balin murmured contemplatively, and Thorin gave me a look.

"See, it is not worrisome to be marrying so soon, Amrâlimê." He soothed, but I shook my head, bringing a frown to his bearded features. "What is wrong then?"

I took a trembling breath, tightly clasping my hands together. "What if we just don't work out together? Right now it might seem as if we are perfect together, but what if a few years down the road, we find that maybe we just don't fit as well as we thought? What will we do then? Split apart and carry the weight of the heartbreak for the rest of our lives? It is just wiser to wait." I murmured tremulously; a tear slipping down my cheek as my emotions swirled around me.

I did not want to end up like my Naneth; forced to leave her husband and endure that heartbreak because he wasn't the man she thought he was.

"Estel," Thorin whispered gently, pulling me close to his chest and wrapping his arms around me. "You are the only Dwarrowdame for me. Dwarves only love once in their lives, and that love endures until death and beyond. I would never leave you of my own free will. Even then, it would take Death himself to pull me from your side." He murmured into my hair, voice cracking slightly with emotion.

I buried my face into the warm fur of his coat, breathing in the reassuring scent of worn leather and sweat. "Elves only love once, but my Naneth and her husband split apart because their differences... I don't want to end up like her." I choked out haltingly, and Thorin ran a calming hand up and down my back.

"But did she not also say that it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all?" He asked quietly, and I nodded against his broad chest, remembering that dark night after I had woken up screaming from another nightmare. Thorin had held me close and listened as I chattered nonsense in an attempt to calm myself.

"Yes, but I am scared..." I responded, voice muffled by the gamey-smelling pelt lining his coat. "I'm scared of losing you."

Thorin's grip tightened around me. "I'm afraid you'll never be rid of me, Amrâlimê... Even when you want me gone, I'll still be around." He said teasingly, prompting a quiet laugh from me.

"Have you figured it all out?" Balin's voice awoke us to his presence, and I raised my head to look over at the Dwarrow I had forgotten was there.

"Yes." I said quietly, a hesitant smile winding across my face. Balin grinned back, nodding.

"And are you going to marry this royal pain in the arse?" He asked, and I laughed aloud at his unusual coarseness.

"Yes," I giggled. Eru, Thorin's expression was priceless.

"Royal pain in the arse? What are you talking about?!" He asked indignantly, looking between me and Balin with a disgruntled expression.

"Nothing, just a little conversation between me and Dwalin earlier. I didn't know you were listening in." I giggled, waving off his indignant protests before addressing Balin.

The aforementioned Dwarrow just shrugged, grinning broadly. "The conversation was too good to miss." He said with a wink before turning to look at the seething Thorin. "Now, me and the lass need to have a private discussion. You go find your nephews and clean yourself up. It wouldn't do for the King to get married with such filthy ears as you have..." He said, plastering on a scandalized expression before motioning for me to follow him.

I tried--and failed--to stifle my laughter at Thorin's horrified exclamation that followed us as we strode away from him.

"FILTHY EARS?!"

#thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin #thorin oakenshield #a deep misunderstanding #angst #marriage #courting customs #balin #dwalin #royal pain in the arse #stubborn estel #queen #erebor #the company

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

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Is it wrong to say that Sansa uses an out of sight out of mind coping mechanism? I noticed it because it's what I do a lot. I know some ppl say she rewrites traumatic memories to make the memories bearable but it doesn't make sense. If that was how she coped, wouldn't she have been telling herself lies about Joffrey still in acok? Or found a way to erase/rewrite Marillion's attempt to rape her?

Yes and no. She does that except all the times she doesn’t. ;) I think that characterization is extremely reductionist (and ignores character complexity and growth) when it’s applied that broadly to every situation Sansa has been in. You have to take these things instance by instance because they aren’t all the same. Sometimes that labeling doesn’t fit at all. In many cases, it feels more like the fandom pathologizing the act of romanticizing or trying to push aside or reframe something unpleasant or even traumatic when that’s just something most human beings do now and then. Some do it more than others, but its all within the realm of typical coping behavior and being older or more educated or more “logical” doesn’t make one immune to it. So I hope you don’t let those interpretations make you feel abnormal or more fallible for identifying with Sansa in that way. Romanticizing doesn’t even have to be about coping at all, but simply expressing desire through daydreams. People imagine being in idealized scenarios with crushes all the time.

You also hit the nail on the head. Sansa just doesn’t go around making up false narratives about every objectively awful thing that happens to her. In fact, her actual responses to those moments can be a useful basis for comparison when we’re analyzing the unkiss, for example. Misunderstanding the unkiss is usually where a lot of these assumptions stem from. That’s a whole other can of worms in itself. The unkiss is just too long of a discussion to put here, so I just recommend this post as to the reasons why it isn’t about trauma and take a browse through my unkiss tag. It does bear repeating that Sansa factually remembers every scary thing that happened during the Blackwater and why it happened, indicating she has processed it honestly and critically, before any incarnation of the unkiss happens. The unkiss is a mismemory added on to the facts, which began as her being the actor that kissed him first. It’s not a lie to deny the facts or to excuse his behavior. It’s regrettable to her that Sandor was not able to be the person she could rely on to get her out of KL at that time. Nonetheless, this repressed desire is just so strong in her that it manifested in a kiss so real she could remember how it felt after the reality of his leaving KL for good sank in.

Early AGOT Sansa tended to want to move past unpleasantness rather quickly. Just sweep those red flags under the rug so everything can go back to blissful harmony. Sansa is naturally averse to conflict and just wants her present with the royal family to be smooth sailing into a bright future. Ned had a very similar tendency when it came to concerns over Robert’s true character. He saw things that disturbed him, but he hoped and clung to his idea of Robert anyway. For Sansa, this resulted in some misplaced blame and rewriting events so she could deal with the aftermath. This is mostly seen in her processing the Mycah incident after Lady’s death and how her perception of all the characters involved shifted in varying ways. This is after she knew perfectly well what really happened, because Ned says Sansa had already told him the truth of what Joffrey did while Arya was still missing. However, it would also be unfair to completely chalk this up to Sansa’s idiosyncrasies. We have to put her flip-flopping in the context of the situation as well. She’s also experienced a gutting loss with Lady’s death and the fact that the first blow to her innocence was her father volunteering to put Lady down. She doesn’t have Catelyn to go to with her confusion and hurt, and Ned has largely been silent. She’s also still engaged to Joffrey through all this, this is still a patriarchy, there are political ramifications to speaking against a crown prince, and she doesn’t know how to deal with seeing such cruelty and vindictiveness in her future husband. Especially when he responded to her tender concern and wanting to help him with venom and hate.

I mean, jeez, she’s 11. I don’t expect an 11 year old to understand how to identify the signs of emotional manipulation or see how this situation can escalate into domestic violence. Just because Sansa can’t articulate what is happening within her relationship with Joffrey, doesn’t mean she has blocked out any notion that Joffrey can turn his anger on her. Part of the reason she misplaces blame on Arya (and rewrites what happened) is because Joffrey turns scornful of Sansa for being a witness to his emasculating shame. He punishes her with the cold shoulder because she didn’t immediately take his side and pretended not to see instead. He regains power through making Sansa feel small and fearful of his moods.

“He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him.” -- Sansa II, AGOT.

Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. -- Sansa II, AGOT.

This is coming from someone who is supposed to love her and someone she will spend the rest of her life with. To fix things, she must be unequivocally on Joffrey’s side going forward or suffer the consequences, which we can see happening as her story completely flips over breakfast sometime later. This is not saying Sansa is fully exonerated from not supporting her sister when she needed her, but that it’s understandable how she arrived at this point. Even when things start to get really bad after Ned’s arrest, Sansa still holds out some hope that she can appeal to Joffrey’s (and Cersei’s) love for her to get him to be merciful. Is it really her fault she believed a part of Joffrey really loved her (and thus was reachable by her pleas) if he also heavily love bombed her and treated her like she was the most special girl in the world? Love bombing is a classic feature of the seduction phase leading up to abuse.

So we can see Sansa does ignore truths and rewrite events sometimes and her personality is a factor; however, the context surrounding it matters a lot. Post Ned’s execution, Sansa does a full 180 regarding Joffrey and Cersei.

Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered. -- Sansa VI, AGOT.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. -- Sansa I, ACOK.

"A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." -- Sansa I, ASOS.

There’s also her conscious efforts to push away thoughts of her dead family and Jeyne Poole, but she states why she does that. It’s traumatic, the tears start flowing uncontrollably, and she is desperately trying to avoid falling into another suicidal depression. Her survival in KL depends on her holding it together and appearing loyal and obedient to Joffrey. Mourning her loved ones would imply to Joffrey she is plotting treason. Besides, she knows that even if she did ask Cersei or LF about Jeyne, she has no reason to believe they’d do anything but lie to her face in a patronizing way. There’s no point being plagued with wondering what the truth might be when she can’t do anything about it. Still, she prayed for Jeyne wherever she might be. She genuinely thought Arya had made it to WF on the ship and was safe at least until she got word of her brothers’ deaths and her home being sacked by the Iron Born, though there was initially a touch of projection and fantasizing about Arya being free while she remains captured. As of Feast, she believes she is the last Stark left alive and she has no one but Littlefinger to help her. So while she is suppressing her grief, it’s done with good reason, and it’s not being replaced with any false narratives to cope.

We also cannot ignore that her relationship to Sandor Clegane has instilled in her an appreciation for the un-sugarcoated truth now that she has experienced betrayal and injustice first hand. In his own way, he’s encouraged her to listen to her own inner bullshit detector. The rose-tinted glasses have become a lot more clear compared to where she started. This is a newly learned skill though, and her self-confidence has been wrecked by internalized verbal abuse. She’s also been left on her own to figure out people’s intentions by herself, which runs parallel to her mounting desperation to get out of KL as Joffrey’s violence escalates. Developing a touch more of a jaded, skeptical side does sometimes clash with her enduring idealism and faith in other people (like with the Tyrells). This struggle is not a bad thing. The goal isn’t to become as cynical as the Hound, but to arrive at an earned optimism that has been tempered by wisdom and practical experience.

Her situation with Littlefinger is much more challenging than anything she faced in KL. He moves her where he wants her to go with complex web of lies, manipulation, grooming, isolation, coercion, dependence, guilt and shame. Her safety and desire to go home are tightly bound to being complicit in his lies and criminal activities. She feels indebted to him for getting her out of KL, even though his methods push her past her boundaries and force her to compromise her moral integrity. The thing is, there are things Sansa does know about LF, but she doesn’t seem to be ready to try and put the puzzle pieces together. She’s not daring to ask probing questions about Lysa’s reference to the “tears” and Jon Arryn or about the possible dangers of Maester Colemon prescribing sweetsleep for Robert’s convulsions. While the subject of Jeyne’s fate is still one she doesn’t want to revisit, somewhere in her mind she does know LF took custody of her friend. If it feels like this is somewhat of a regression back to her early AGOT self, there’s probably some truth to that; however, it’s perfectly okay for positive character arcs to be an imperfect progress. There can be relapses, regressions, setbacks, missteps, and misguided actions. All that growth isn’t lost. Everything she knows is just stored in the back of her mind, not forgotten completely. The general trend line moves her toward successfully confronting Littlefinger with the truth when GRRM is ready to pull the trigger. She’s definitely aware of Littlefinger lying to her more than she lets on and she knows his help is not out of the kindness of his heart, but motivated by what he wants her to be to him. But it’s not like she has the option to go anywhere else, does she? She’s a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head and has no other friend or ally in the Vale she can trust with the truth of her identity. Confronting LF without any means of neutralizing his power over her isn’t the smartest thing to do when he’s shown her he can literally get away with multiple murders. Again, it’s not just her personality that makes her hesitant to pull back the veil and face the horrible truth head on. The outside forces pressuring her perceptions and behavior cannot be discounted either.

#valyrianscrolls #sansa stark meta #sansa stark #joffrey baratheon #sandor clegane #littlefinger #cersei #asoiaf characterization #the unkiss #character arcs #my meta #anonymous

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bobathirstaccount · 4 years

Text

Stars Above

GN person, slight use of Y/N, angst, smut

TW: unprotected sex

Tags: @vesperstalksclones

CHAPTER TWO

You turned involuntarily, having felt a presence materialize to your right. Boba’s eyes met your watery ones.

“That was intense,” you murmur softly. A tear trails down your cheek.

Soft leather touched your face, wiping the tear away. You blink in surprise and open your mouth to say something. You close it becase you realize you have nothing to say.

 “You did well, little one.”

This acknowledgment made you feel even worse. More tears fell from your face.

Both his hands came up to cradle your face while you looked down with your eyes. He pushed your glasses up to the bridge of your nose and wiped your tears with his thumbs. Your eyes met again. He was magnetic. You inched a toe closer to him. Then another one. You were still making eye contact. He looked as if he was trying to solve an arithmetic problem, his brows furrowed with a curious expression. His dark eyes looked deeply into yours. You looked back, a tear seeping out of one eye, causing you to blink it away.

“I don’t know why you seem so intent on this,” he said gruffly.

You half smiled and blinked away more tears, which he wiped away. You weren’t quite sure what to say. This moment was tenuous. A ghost of a thought. You paused, thinking, then decided to throw caution to the wind again. When it came to him that seemed to be your way.

You took one big step and crashed yourself into him, not giving him the time to stop you. Your lips met with his. They were dry, slightly chapped from the weather. Not unlike your own. He doesn’t resist you, but he also doesn’t kiss back. His hands have landed awkwardly on your shoulders. You press yourself to him as tightly as you do when you’re on the speeder, and kiss him feverishly.

Suddenly he is kissing back, drinking you in. His hands run over your body to your waist. He puts his arms around you and crushes you into him. His tongue parts your lips and explores your mouth. You tentatively do the same. He pulls away, his face an inch from yours. He regards you for a moment. You are out of breath, flushed, eyes still slightly swollen from crying. Before you can react, he pulls you into another deep kiss.

When you finally come up for air, both of you are out of breath, dazed, excited. You slowly realize you can feel his erection through your clothing. You smile and tilt your head in the direction of the Slave 1, asking to go inside. His eyes slide over to the Slave 1 and back to yours. Suddenly he grabs your ass with both hands, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around him. You are pressed into his broad, strong chest. You swoon, hardly noticing him walking up the ramp, closing the door, and making his way through the ship. You experimentally kiss him again, and he responds, deeply. He walks into a wall, and then corrects his course slightly. You look up at him innocently and he shrugs.

Suddenly you were in a room you had never seen before. It was a slightly larger version of your own quarters. The captain’s quarters. You let that sink in the same time that you realize you’ve been set down on the bed. You look up at Boba, who is still standing. He looks down at you.

“Why are you here?”

“No questions,” you say slyly.

He raises an eyebrow, but gets into bed, pushing you down into the mattress. His eyes wander down your body to your groin. You moan softly, wishing it was his hands. Suddenly, he yanks your pants off, hands darting out from his sides. The speed in which this happens shocks you, and you nearly feel scandalized. He tosses your pants to the side. You realize your underwear is also gone. You feel strong arms grip your thighs halfway up, and spread your legs wider. You assist gladly, and he smirks.

 “Eager are we now?”

You blush, but your arousal can’t be denied. He pulls you down the bed, closer to him. You shiver in anticipation. He eyes you darkly and slows down to a drag. You shiver again, and try to move yourself down. He grips your thighs more tightly in warning, pushing back against you. You realize he’s teasing you. You eye him and mock pout. He looks at you intensely and resumes pulling you down the bed.

When you finally arrive, he lets go of your thighs and slides his hands up, up, up. You quiver and a moan slips out. He grins, stopping. You pout for real this time. He lowers himself to barely above your body. You can feel his breath on your most sensitive area. He knows it and quietly drives you crazy for a moment.

Your legs spread even wider and a louder moan slips out. Suddenly his hands resume their mission, but this time he slides them down and grabs your ass. He pulls you closer to him and licks you. You writhe in pleasure, moaning. He continues for a moment, then pulls away slowly. He is still close enough for you to feel his breath. You crave his touch, whimpering honestly and looking for his eyes.

He smiles, “So needy, little pet.”

Your body is filled with electricity at the moniker. You can hardly focus your eyes on anything. He is on you again then, licking and sucking greedily. You feel your orgasm approaching. You moan loudly, your hands reaching for his head. They run over the ridges and smooth areas of his scars. The electricity in your body is nearly overwhelming.

He abruptly pulls away, making you gasp.

“Not yet, pet.”  He flips you over and pulls your ass into the air. His hands leave you and you hear clothing rustling. You would turn around to look, but you were wrecked with arousal and anticipation. His hands return lightly to your ass. You shudder and almost cry in happiness. He takes one finger and lightly circles your entrance. You squirm and push back onto it. He removes it.

“Patience.”

You moan loudly, trying to convey your displeasure. It comes out a desperate plea. He resumes. Slowly. He continues to tease you until you are begging for his cock. He gently pushes two fingers into you, then pulls out agonizingly slowly.

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

The words almost make you cum. He removes his fingers, but replaces them with something better. You resist the urge to push back, knowing it will earn you a time out. You were done with waiting.

His cock circles your entrance slowly. Ever so slowly. Your body buzzes. He finally begins to enter you. Your body shudders and you cry out softly as the head of his cock splits you open, sliding in, stretching you. He painstakingly slowly enters you. You try not to react, not wanting him to stop but hardly able to keep from crying out. Finally he bottoms out in you. He pulls out suddenly, making you quiver. He enters you again at a faster pace. You writhe under him, feeling him split you open again. Then it begins. He gives you a little time to get used to him, then starts to pump into you with force. He slams into you, bottoming out over and over. You feel your orgasm approaching, and start to squirm under him. His hands grip you like a vice as he holds you in place. You scream out in earnest then, on the edge of a precipice as he is deep inside of you.

He pushed you over it,” Cum for me, pet.”

You teeter off the edge of the cliff, your orgasm exploding. You moan his name over and over, unable to stop. Suddenly you realize he is moaning too. His rutting becomes sloppier, more urgent, needy. His hands grip you, keeping you in place. You push back against him, pleasure still flowing through you as he fucked you through your orgasm. The thought of him cumming because of you was almost too much. Suddenly, you had a thought.  ”Cum inside me Boba,” you pant.

This was the right thing to say. He cums, grunting, and you feel his cock twitch as he spills himself inside of you. You smile a self satisfied smile. He continues to fuck you, but at a slower pace, until finally he pulls out. The absence of his cock in you makes you whimper. He lets go of your hips and you drop to the mattress, sweaty, panting, and wanting more.

He pushes you to the side, laying down between you and the wall. Your side touches his chest, and you sigh happily. He runs a hand through your hair, surprisingly gently. You both bask in the post coital glow.

After a few minutes, you roll over to look at him. He is lying on his side with his eyes half closed, unfocused and unguarded. You smile broadly, not thinking of the future or anything really other than the present. He suddenly seemed to snap out of his trance, eyes focusing on yours.

“Your quarters are in use for tonight; you can sleep here.”

He stirred to get up. You reach out impulsively, grabbing his strong shoulder and trying to pull him down. He doesn’t budge in the direction you’re trying to pull, but he also stops moving away.

He exhaled gently and met your gaze as you said, “Stay with me.”

You wanted to say more but your breath caught in your throat. You were circling around something.

“If you insist,” he said gruffly, his lack of argument surprising you.

He lowered himself back down to the bed. You stared at each other.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

He seems surprised. His lips part, “My story is not very suitable for bedroom talk.”

You flush at the phrase ‘bedroom talk.’ You try to recover, “That’s okay; mine is boring so it’ll balance out.”

He smirks, presumably at your flushed cheeks, “You first, pet.”

You adjust your positioning on the mattress, being careful not to lose physical contact with Boba. He hums softly.

“I was born on Tatooine to a slave,” you started. His expression softened. “She worked all my life to buy my freedom. When I could finally leave, I was 17, and she sent me away with a few credits to find a better life. Well, I landed several settlements over as a mechanic, and I’ve been there ever since.”

“And now you’re 18,” he said jokingly, raising one eyebrow jovially.

You roll your eyes in jest, “I’m 23, a ‘real adult’ now.”

He became serious then, but before he could say anything you tacked on, “A very callow adult.”

He looked at you skeptically but said nothing. Silence filled the room.  You couldn’t take it, “Well?”  ”Well what?”

“You said you would tell your story if I told mine.”  He mercurially said, “I never said that I would, I just said you first.”

You stare at him in shock. Was he really not going to tell you anything?

He broke eye contact, “I’m just a simple man making my way through the galaxy. Like my father before me.”

You pushed down the annoyance that that told you literally nothing, and instead grabbed ahold of the one thing he had dangled, “Tell me about your father.”  He looked at you then, a strange look on his face. It was a mixture of many emotions that you could’t read. Part of being callow, you guessed.

“He was a great man. He was a wonderful parent to me.”

This felt like to him it was revealing a lot, so you nodded encouragingly. “Tell me your favorite childhood story.”  Boba seemed lost for an answer. You tried again, “Tell me about a time you were a little shit and got in trouble.”

He grinned at this. You had unlocked something. You settled down as he began.

***

When you woke he had gone. You stretched out, enjoying the extra space as well as the fact that it was Boba’s bed. You stayed there for a few minutes until you sat up. Your insides were sore and you noticed the bruises on your thighs and hips. Boba. You didn’t mind, it was a reminder that last night had in fact happened. You grabbed your pants and underwear off the floor and dressed swiftly. You began to glance around his quarters, but without him there your presence felt invasive. He had left you here alone, but still it didn’t feel right.

You heard the door swish closed behind you. You were standing in the cockpit, behind the chairs. You looked up at the captain’s chair, oddly enough horizontal while Slave 1 was on the ground. You filed this thought away for later use.

You stopped at the kitchenette and ate quickly, then grabbed a cup of coffee to drink as you went off in search of Boba. You had entirely forgotten about the mysterious woman until she came into view. You stopped abruptly, both surprised at her existence as well as the fact that she was out of bed. She was facing you when you entered the cargo bay. She was sitting and Boba was standing near her. It appeared you had interrupted a conversation.  ”And here you are,” the woman said.

You stopped where you stood, only just having entered the room.

“Good morning,” you said, feeling awkward. Your eyes flitted from her to Boba. He seemed relaxed, so you decided the woman was okay.

“This is Fennec Shand,” Boba began. “She’s going to be staying on the Slave 1 from now on.”

Your mouth drops open and you quickly pick it up. You look to Fennec for confirmation. She nods her head. You suddenly dislike her and her smug face. You try not to let this show.

“Oh,” you say.

Boba shifted his weight, “Fennec will take your quarters and you will have mine until you are finished with the work. I’ll take the hammock in the meantime.”

“I hope that’s okay with you, Y/N?” Fennec asked.

 You are focused mostly on composing yourself and almost miss the question. “Yeah.. yes, it’s totally fine. I’ll get my stuff out of there before night.”

There is a short pause. “Well, I have work to complete,” you blurt out. Without another word you break off from the conversation and duck practically inside the Slave 1’s wall just about as far away as you can get from them. Which is not far. You feel vaguely ridiculous. You do have work to do, so you hide in there and get to it. You hear their conversation continue, but you can’t make it out and honestly you don’t want to.

 ***  You sighed and took one last look around the room. You had gathered your things from your old quarters, now Fennec’s. You headed to the captain’s quarters to drop your stuff off. After that it was time for dinner, you were starving.

 When the door swished open, Boba was inside.   “Sorry!” You exclaim, but he waves his hand.  ”Come in. I made some space,” he indicated the small area that was now cleared out.  You smile at the kindness, “Thank you.”

Boba looks from you to the door, now closed. Before he can make for it, you say, “You know you don’t have to sleep in the hammock. There’s room for two?” You end up asking the last sentence as a question, your tone heightening. Ridiculous, you thought.

“The hammock is fine.”

You reach out to touch his arm. He looks down before returning his gaze to yours, but doesn’t move.

“But they’re your quarters, Boba! .... I... I want you to stay.”

You lightly squeeze his arm. A deep silence settles for a moment.

“I don’t think we should get that attached,” he stated, as he brushed past you to the door. When he was on the other side of it he turned and said, “I am not a person that you want to know, little one.”

“I’ll decide that,” you shot back as the door closed. You had no idea if he heard you.

*** Boba heard you as the door swished shut. As much as he would like to stay, where would that lead? In a few days’ time the work on the Slave 1 would be done. There was also the fact that someone like you didn’t belong in his world. You were quick witted and intelligent, but you weren’t hard. You were open and soft and beautiful and he wanted to preserve that in you.

Fennec and he had come to an understanding that morning. She owed him a life debt. It felt strange to have someone that was going to be a fixture in his life. A flash of you popped up in his mind, and he lingered on it momentarily before filing it away.

#boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x y/n #boba fett smut #star wars smut #boba fett fanfiction #the mandolorian

29 notes · View notes

smellysluna · 5 years

Text

The one where Luka is a clown | Fictober19 #1

Prompt number: 「 one 」“It will be fun, trust me.”

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Luka Couffaine & [YOU]

Rating: T (Teens And Up)

Warnings/Tags: none

Summary: you’ve always had a crush on him bcs he simply was your type but nothing really happened unitl You & Luka get set up as project mates

Side note: I know that it’s the twelth of october but i just started it, i’ll write some more for fictober but i’ll use the prompts as i see fit bcs i’m just like that so yeah. anyways i hope this makes some kind of sense, its been a long time since i finished something i began writing. okay so i also wanted to write luka because there’s not many fics with him with an “x reader” tag. okay talk over, enjoy the story babes!!!!

"Hey."

I turned around in my seat and smiled. "Hi, Luka."

"So... how'd you wanna do this?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Do what?" Luka shared an amused smile. "Oh!" I face-palm. "The project! Right." I picked up the notebook with my notes from my desk and slammed it on his desk. Then I rotated it in his direction. "This is how we're going to do it."

"Wow, you've really thought this through already."

I rest my face on my hand and smirk. "It's no coincidence that I ace my presentations."

"I guess I'm lucky then."

"More than you think." I straighten my back. "Okay, no funny business tho. You fuck up and I'll make you suffer all the way to June. Take a picture of them notes so you have a copy and have a slight idea of what's going on."

He puts up a half-amused smile, "this ain't my first rodeo."

"But it's your first bullfight, so keep up." He laughed and I bit my lip. I might've gone overboard.

"I'll do my best," he assured in a soft voice. Holy shit. He's so mellow. As soon as I was sure he had a picture of my notes, I took his phone. I entered into his contacts and added my number then dialed myself.

I show him the screen of my phone. "Now we have each other's numbers." He smiled before I turned around just in time for the teacher to get in.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I was watching dessert recipes on YouTube when I received a message from Luka. The popup appeared from an Unknown number which reminded me that I forgot to add him to my contacts.

"hey"

"hi"

"what's up?"

"i went through ur notes"

"yeah?"

"they're amazing, aren't they"

"u made those in class"

"how???"

"they're too good"

You sent an image:

Unknown sent an image:

"anyhow"

"i wanted to know when you want to get the project finished"

"i thought that you'd want to finish it asap"

"u look like you have a busy schedule"

"i'm free whenever, really"

"but i don't want to finish it in one go"

"so we'll spend a couple of days on it"

"if u dont mind that is"

"btw you give me too much credit"

"right"

"it's fine, yeah"

"more time to clown around"

Unknown sent an image:

"> AUDIO (laughter)"

"IM DYING"

"WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY"

"i took clown courses in my childhood"

"where's the diploma huh?"

"wait, lemme look"

"wait"

"ur serious???"

"photo(clown certificate)"

"I CAN'T BREATHE"

"clown code: never joke about being a clown"

"AND HERE I WAS"

"THINKING YOU WERE THE COOLEST GUY AT SCHOOL"

"BUT ALL THIS TIME YOU WERE JUST A CLOWN"

"I WAS SO FOOLISH"

"ur now officially added to my contacts as clown boy 🤡"

"coolest guy huh? ;)"

"don't let it get to your head, clown boy"

"as much as i'd love to know about your clown career, i have to go make dinner"

"we'll talk more about it at school"

"don't vanish on me"

"i'll snap my fingers into Thanos' ass if i have to"

"right 😂"

At dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about Luka. We might've never talked much to each other but I always had the hots for him. He was just my type: tall, supposedly long hair for a boy, dyed hair, punk-like feel and especially (these just get me going) those black gauges in his ears. Anyways, I'd lie if I said I never got distracted in class because of the smell of his cologne.

"Thank you for dinner, [Y/N]," said my mom after she cleaned the table.

"Don't forget to do the dishes, love."

"Yes, Dad," I chuckled.

"We're off to bed, then. Goodnight, [Y/N]."

"Goodnight, mum. Goodnight, dad."

That night, I fell asleep thinking about how nice that chat conversation with Luka was.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I groaned loudly when I got into class. I ran because I was late for geography. When I got to class, the lack of a teacher at the desk made me want to kill myself. My classmates were scattered around the classroom in groups, as usual when a teacher was absent. Done with life, I walk to my desk, drop my backpack and accommodate my face on the desk. Suddenly, somebody is standing next to me. But I really just wanted some sleep so my first intention was to ignore whomever until well, it's self-explanatory.

"Looks like someone spent all night thinking about me."

"What!?" I see Luka. Now fully energized and heart pumping, I stutter: "No, no. What are you even saying?"

He laughs and takes a seat on the vacant spot in front of me. He rests his arms on my desk. "I'm just messing with you, wanted to see the reaction I'd get out of you. I wasn't expecting to fully wake you up." He smiles broadly and I stare into his eyes.

Have you ever met that person, no matter who they are, their eyes are so enthralling that you just can't help but keep staring at them? These kinds of eyes just have something... Something I'm unable to describe. And when I stare at them, they're so glossy and shiny.

"I think you'd look amazing if you wore eyeliner."

"Huh?" Half of his face moves upwards in sync. "That's very random."

"I mean, yeah." I look away, fidget with my bracelet and then look back. "I just thought it'd bring your eyes out even more."

"Ooh," he exhales knowingly. "Because they're blue, right?"

I knit my eyebrows together. "No," I say offended. Had this boy never realized how nice his eyes are?

"Why then?" He asks and nods his head onto his arms.

"Well," I lick my lips, "I don't know." I shrug "It's not because of the color, which is beautiful just so you know." I caress my arm and try very hard to maintain eye contact, occasionally looking away. "Your eyes, I don't know, they just have something."

He smiles at my words, "look who's talking."

"Not a clown, that's for sure." He groans in a boyish way and it melts my insides so warm I almost let it show.

"You won't let it go, won’t you?" He lays defeated on my desk, arms sprawled.

"You did that to yourself." He hummed in a way that seemed a mixture of displeasure and annoyance. His long hair was sprawled in every direction of my desk. I could tell that he washed his hair either last night or this morning —it smelled so nice. Luka smelled really nice and I couldn't help but bite my lip to restrain myself from sniffing him all over like I was some kind of dog-bred. I started playing with his hair and it was so much softer than I expected it to be, it was dyed after all. He let a pleasurable groan slip through.

"Does this bother you?"

Luka abruptly opened his eyes and forced my head to rest on the desk as well. With very soft caresses he ran his hand through my locks and I understood what it was that he intended.

"What about you?"

I stared into his eyes for a moment and closed them, then resumed playing with his hair as he did the same. We were so close, I could hear his silent breathes. I wondered if this could be considered as cuddling. Honestly? I didn't care because I was enjoying it.

"Hey, guys, look at [Y/N] and Luka."

"Woah, when did that happen."

"Never thought [Y/N] liked that type of guy."

"You're kidding, right? Luka's definitely her type."

We spent the rest of the hour like that. Somewhere in between, the rest of the class noticed us but, frankly, we paid them no mind. But it made me anxious. Not because of what they said but about what Luka might've thought about it.

"I kind of like this," he whimpers softly as if scared he'd break whatever we had going on.

I agree with him softly, just as scared to ruin the mood.

When the bell rang, we hesitantly broke apart. Luka returned to his assigned seat behind me and then class started. The moments the teacher repeated subjects the class already went through, Luka played with the ends of my hair.

After the school bell rang for the last time that day, Luka approached me. He asked if I wanted to start on the project today. Luka was so cute while he asked. He didn't do anything particularly cute but the way he looked when he leaned on the wall had sent me flying. Obviously, I said that it was a good idea. Not desperately, of course, even though I wanted to grab him and steal him away. I kept my cool.

"What time?"

He grimaced to hide a grin. "I was hoping, like, right now?"

"Uh, well... On any other particular month, I'd agree and take you to my house. But we're getting reformations done so it's a very big mess."

"We can go to my place." He states like it's a universal fact.

"But all my shit's at home, and I'd want to empty my backpack, grab some money, etcetera."

"Okay, I get it. I can take you home and we'll head right over to mine?"

Even though I might pass out any moment out of pure embarrassment, I cross my arms in an 'X' in front of his face.

"No way that's happening, clown boy."

"What? Why?" He frowns.

"No way in hell I'm letting you drive me on your motorbike."

A small laugh escapes his lips. "You've never been on a motorcycle?"

I act displeased.

Luka laughs with a hand on his stomach. "You haven't!" I scowl and his laughter subdues. He waves his hands in front of him and apologizes for laughing. "I'll be careful, just for you." He assures.

"Even if I agreed... I doubt you'd have a second helmet. And we all know that police officer which has an obsession for the law."

"I got us covered on that one, I have two."

I stare at him. "You had this all planned out, didn't you?"

"No," he grins, "it just happens to be that I usually pick my sister up from her school."

"Oh, so she's gonna have to walk all the way back to your house. We can't let her do that, can we?" No matter how much I crush on Luka, anything that can get me out of sitting on that devil's contraption, I'd go with.

"I said 'usually', didn't I?" I can feel his smirk soaking right through me but in a much more softer tone he said "it'll be fun," and smiles "trust me."

It was his goddamn smile that convinced me to agree.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"I never knew you could live in a boat."

I looked around the main deck and, for some reason, I felt very lightweight and free.

"You don't like it?"

"The contrary, I love it!" I smile at him, "it adds to your charm."

Luka smiles back, "thanks."

Both of us walked inside the boat. I took everything all at once. You rarely get the chance to be inside a boat-home. But the most surprising thing was that it was stable —at least more than I thought.

"My room's the one at the end. Get yourself comfy —I'll be right there."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Okay."

Once I get into his room, I relax and take a look around. I leave my backpack by the door and head straight for the most valuable thing to me in his room. Luka had one of the nicest guitar stands available on which laid the most basic electric guitar ever... but since looks can deceive, I pick it up.

I make myself comfortable on his bed along with Luka's guitar and a guitar pick I snatched from the wall. Without thinking twice, I started to play. It didn't matter to me that I hadn't plugged the guitar into an amplifier, this particular tab didn't need the magic of electricity. I suppose I should have asked first if I could play but it's too late now-

"That's 'Lonely Day', right?"

"Ah! Shit! Sorry!" I stood up hastily, the guitar pick went flying to the floor and I placed the guitar back where it was supposed to be. I turn to him to apologize, "I should've asked-."

Luka walks past me, grabs the guitar by its fretboard and puts the strap around himself. He shuffles around me and I was too confused to realize what he was doing. Then he hands me the guitar fully-tuned-connected-to-an-amplifier guitar. He lifts it by the fretboard again and hands it over to me as if telling me to take it. I stare into his eyes and do exactly that.

At that moment, we didn't need any words as I accepted his silent offer. I strum dumbly and then start fidgeting with the knobs on his amplifier. I bite my lip, it doesn't have as many options as mine and it's smaller than the one I have at home but I managed to get the right sound.

I started playing a song that I had played countless times and felt very confident. This moment was about impressing Luka and I was determined to blow him away. But the moment I started playing, I couldn't keep up the cool-girl act and grinned as I played around the room.

"Wow," he said amazed after I finished. "I never knew you played guitar, let alone that well."

"I'm amazing, I know," I wink.

"What did you play?"

"You don't recognize it!?" I gasp loudly. I put my hands over my heart. "Oh, my heart! It hurts! I have never been so hurt before!"

He holds back an embarrassed smile. "Guilty as charged."

"It's Crowd Chant, by Satriani," an exaggerated sad smile adorns my lips.

"Oh, right! The guy from 'Surfing with the Alien'!"

"Yes, that one! I love him, he's my idol!"

"He's good."

"Good? He's a GOD." I pout at him. "Your idol is Jagged Stone, that's why you have so little appreciation for him."

"Right."

I playfully punch him. "Just kidding."

"I thought I was supposed to be the clown around here."

I laugh very loud at that. "Yes! I will - haha - leave - ha - the rest to you."

During the week we were making the project we had gotten really close and we kept hanging out at each other's houses even when the project was long ago finished. I met his very cool mum, and his sister, who is physically exactly like him but both of them don't seem to admit it. And he met my small family too.

"I keep telling you! You do look alike! Genetics is no joke."

"I agree with [Y/N]!" Juleka's friend said one day over dinner. I can't remember what her name was but I always thought there was more than 'friends' between her and Juleka.

"We do not look alike; you both must be very blind," Luka jokes and I pinch him very hard. "Ow! Stop!" He pinches back.

"No! Luka! That was payback for yesterday!" He stuck his tongue out at me and I growl. "You're very mean."

He shrugs, "whatever you say, [Y/N]."

"Oh, 'whatever I say' it is, is it?" I crossed my arms and pondered without breaking my staring contest with Luka. "So if I said you're ugly, you'd agree?"

He smirked, "sure." I felt how triumph tasted and literally a second later I tasted defeat. "But it won't affect the fact that my eyes have 'something'."

I became a blushing mess and everyone at the table stared at us.

"So..." Juleka started, unsure. "Does that mean that [Y/N] confessed first?"

Juleka's blonde friend nodded, "I knew it!"

"I'm happy for the both of you," Mrs. Couffaine cheered with a very sweet smile.

There was a problem with their cheers which made Luka and me quite uncomfortable. It was wrong. Nothing had happened between us.

"It's...! It's not like that!" I attempt to defend ourselves and turn to Luka. "That's not what that was, right, Luka?"

He was looking in the opposite direction, scratching his crimson red neck. "I mean..."

I hide my face in my hands. "Oh my God, I want to kill myself."

"You know what? We will leave you both to work out whatever misunderstanding there might be, okay?" And with no answer, all three of them left.

"Let's go outside." With no warning, Luka took me by the hand and guided me to the main deck. It was chilly outside and I shivered but kept it to myself. "Here." Luka handed me his jacket.

"Thanks," I smile and put it on. It still smells like his cologne.

"About what Juleka said..." He avoided my gaze by looking into the river. "I might've told her that I like you," he turns to me and takes my hands, "a lot." Luka squeezes my hands out of nervousness. "The way you and I understand each other, without any words, just the music is enough. I feel like we're connected through it like we are the power-chords to any rock song."

My heart was melting, I always knew deep down that Luka's a very sweet romantic and he was killing me with his cuteness. I never knew you could look cute and hot during a confession. "Luka, I-"

"Remember when we sang 'Anything better than you'?"

"Yeah."

I recalled the memory. At the end of the song, when the part that goes "I can sing anything sweeter than you" our lips were so close... I couldn't stop thinking about it before I fell asleep every night.

"I wanted to kiss you so badly, but I just couldn't do it." Luka pulled me in and we were as close as that other time, my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. "Until now."

Luka kissed me and I kissed back. We kissed each other so desperately and I ran my hand through his hair. Fuck, how I loved the softness of his hair. We break apart for a kiss and stare at each other's eyes, dumbfounded. We kiss again except this time it wasn't as desperate. It was softer, a kiss only Luka could make amazing. Luka had thin lips but made up for it with the way he kissed. I wanted to kiss him more, I wanted more from Luka so I kissed him harsher. Then he broke apart the kiss, clearly taken aback from it.

My heart stopped, "I... I'm sorry-!" He cut me off by kissing me harsher than I did and I loved every second of his harshness. I began feeling his neck, his back, his chest and pushed myself closer to him as every second that passed it became hotter.

We broke the make-out apart. Our flushed faces appreciated the cool night breeze. We keep wrapped around each other. "I think we should get back inside."

I listened to his pounding heart through his chest. "Not yet, clown boy."

"Whatever you say, love."

#fictober19 #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #luka couffaine x reader #luka x reader #fictober19 day 1

777 notes · View notes

shnuggletea · 4 years

Photo

Okay, I promise the next chapter won't be so Kagome heavy... I think. I had to rewrite this one because it came out angsty instead of funny. Ooops!

I’ve stolen hubby’s laptop to do some work today. Which, in theory, is great except I have nothing saved on it! I have to go and download all my covers and banners and such and remember passwords to sites... ug. But at least I cane type yeah??

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Greed

"Greed is your god, Kaz."

He almost laughed at that. "No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever."

― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

There was little doubt in my mind that both Sango and Kagome would be pissed about this but I was doing what I thought was fair. It wasn't right that these guys were expected to spend their entire lives connected to one woman without some additional experience first.

I was surprised at how into it they were though. Especially Miroku. The look on his face, I half expected him to strip himself. Inuyasha took a little bit to warm up to it all. And a few drinks. But now he was loose and enjoying himself. As was I, watching them and the show they were making.

All that was interrupted by the vibration of my phone. I had been ignoring it but it wasn't stopping and I was sure I knew what it was about. I sighed loudly as I spied Kagome's name on the screen.

"Where are the boys?!" Kagome yelled as soon as I answered.

"And a hello to you too…"

"Hellos are for people who answer the fucking phone. We've been calling you for over an hour now!" Sango screamed.

They had it on speakerphone. This was already getting annoying. "The boys are with me and they're fine."

Break time was over music blasting and making the girls hard to hear. But Sango had a very loud voice. "Where the fuck are you?!"

I hung up because there was no point. They would never hear me over the noise and I didn't want to hear their bitching. So I shared my location. They would find us eventually. As it were, it was too late to change or stop anything. Inuyasha and Miroku were no longer completely innocent.

It was just greedy of them to expect Miroku and Inuyasha to be all theirs. They would understand in time. And see that this was not only a good idea but good for the boys and would be healthy for their relationships.

Inuyasha had been planted in a chair since he arrived, but now he was on his feet, really getting into it. His sexy smile was back and I selfishly soaked it up. Because this time, I caused it not Kagome.

The time I thought for sure we still had was cut in half, the girls getting there far faster than I expected. If I'd known they'd be that quick, I would have enjoyed the time we had more. Maybe focused more on Inuyasha intently and taught him a few things.

But the party was over, Sango and Kagome glowering at the three of us.

Sure, I knew the girls wouldn't like it but it was covetousness to expect these men to only have one woman as an example of all their desires. I knew Sango had body issues, so I understood her anger. But Kagome had no reason to glare at me. It wasn't like anyone was cheating.

So once they were close, I defended myself in the manner I felt was fitting, yelling at the two of them over the blasting music. "Chill out, it's just a strip club!"

They continued to glare and went off towards their Mates. I felt no guilt but I did feel something, noting that Naraku wasn't with them. He wasn't behind either, near the door or exit or anything. The two of them ran off to find him when he didn't give a damn about any of us. Did they give up? Or did they never go look for him in the first place? Kagome wouldn't do that but Sango would and she made it clear she didn't care about Naraku already.

My nerves were all over the place and my heart felt gross. I was jealous of Sango and Kagome, their men both around and trying so hard to please them that they came here with me just to learn. While my soulmate was where exactly? He was gone, missing, as far from me as he possibly could.

I didn't want him around, I really didn't. I don't even know why I participated in the stupid spell. I didn't need or want a soulmate. But I wanted to support Kagome and Sango. Now I wasn't sure why I wanted to do even that much because they were far more focused on themselves than on me.

Did they not see how upset I was? How torn up? Naraku was gone and they were more focused on getting their men away from some trained professionals than what I was going through. Some friends they were. I was feeling even less guilty about bringing Inuyasha and Miroku here. And about feelings I had growing for Inuyasha.

oOo

Miroku sat, a girl with only a thong on grinding on his lap while Inuyasha stood at the stage, a girl in a tiny bra set flirting heavily with him and I was in shock. I glanced over at Kagome who was silent and still as well. She looked just as I did, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

Turning back to the trash fire before us, I found Kikyo. She was sitting with a drink watching the two of them enjoy themselves like a pimp or something. I didn't know if she brought them here because she wanted it or they did but already I was full of disappointment.

Miroku was having a blast with another woman on his lap.

Snapping out of it, I mostly followed Kagome's lead as she made for Kikyo first. She hopped to her feet in full fight mode. "Chill out, it's just a strip club."

Just a strip club. Of course, she would see it that way. Kagome split from us for Inuyasha and I went for Miroku.

The girl was giving it her all. Wonder if Kikyo paid her or if Miroku's looks got her to be so enthusiastic? He was a very good looking man especially when he smiled. Which he was, broadly, at the girl servicing him.

His smile brightened his eyes, that's why he looked so much prettier when he did. Bright eyes that flicked to me and my approach but didn't dim or change in the slightest at being caught. "Sango!" It was then I noticed he held his hands up high in the air as if being frisked. "I get it now. Why didn't you tell me of your profession?"

I was tired and pissed so that threw me more than I think it normally would have. But maybe not. "Huh?!"

We were both yelling over the oppressive base as it pounded a rhythm for the girls to gyrate to. Miroku kept his hands high but gestured to the girl on top of him. "Your profession?"

Miroku looked genuinely happy with himself like he had figured out a piece of a difficult puzzle. As cute as he was about it, the pretty girl sitting on his dick had me feeling only outrage. I grabbed his ear and pulled him up to his feet to scream into it with ease. "I'm not a fucking stripper!"

The girl scattered with that. She didn't have a lap to sit on anymore. The guilt I felt for the girl was real. It wasn't her fault, she was just doing her job. Even if that included getting to grind on a good looking guy like Miroku.

With his hands still up in the air, he clearly didn't believe me. So I pressed my body against his and got up on my toes to speak in his face. "I don't want you touching me because I don't know you. Not because it's part of my job, you asshat!" I dropped back to my heels and he dropped his hands. "We're going home."

Confusion marred his beautiful face, "but I've yet to see the entire show…"

My glare shut him up, slapping his mouth tight and moving with me towards the door. Home. I wanted to go home, shower the sweat and now the stink of desperation that filled the club, and go to bed. Hopefully, when I woke, all of this will have been a bad dream and my soulmate wasn't a man of excess.

My eyes drifted to the stage where I had last seen Kagome and not a single molecule of my body would move. Not even my eyes as the train ran right off the track before me. "Oh my god."

oOo

Okay so it had been a while since I'd worked out like this, huffing like a smoker as Sango and I turned the corner Naraku had last disappeared around. It pushed us into a thick crowd that we couldn't run through. Not easily.

Naraku's dark brown waves stood out in the crowd, especially with him taller than most those around. Sango pushed through the people while I tried to remain calm and polite. But that was waning the further Naraku got ahead while strolling along.

"Naraku!" I caught the flinch he did. It was hard and impossible to miss so I tried again. "Naraku stop!"

And he did. Right there in the middle of it all, people had to part like steam around a rock. Because he was unmoving. Sango and I stood before him, eventually, and he still just stood there, waiting. Once we were still, he opened his frown. "I want to be free."

Glancing at Sango, I saw she shared a feeling of guilt as well. "You can't just… run off. You don't know how to be human yet."

"And you do?" He countered.

"More than you do!" Sango squeaked.

He laughed, dark and evil like a villain. "If being human means being weak, then I'd rather continue to be me…"

"But you're a human. Whatever you were before, that's over. You're no longer top… bird."

The smirk he had fell at my words and a knot formed in my belly. "I didn't ask for this. And I certainly didn't ask for that mate."

"I'm sorry but we didn't choose or force any of you…"

"Didn't you?" Naraku shouted towards my face. "You used a power you didn't even understand to bring us here. Bring me here. Never once did you ask any of us if we wanted to come. Even now you're trying to force me to return to that Kikyo. If I align myself with such a loose woman, I will die."

I had to push past the lump in my throat and it hurt. "If you just talk to her, show her how you feel…"

"Impatient? Here you are, rushing me to return to that viper all because you fear leaving your own mates alone with her." Naraku moved for the first time since I 'stopped' him, stepping up close to tower over me. "If I were your mate, you would never have a worry."

I took my eyes off the shadow over me to look at Sango. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. I didn't know if we could stop Naraku from doing whatever he wanted even if that was to squawk us to death. Sango had her doubts too, that we could control him. My only option was, be honest and hope for the best.

"I don't want you, Naraku. I want Inuyasha."

With that, he stepped back and smirked. "Then I'll be on my way then."

In shock, it took both me and Sango a second to regain ourselves. Which was more than a head start for Naraku. I wanted to let him go, I really did. But after today's display, I was concerned for him and others if he was left all alone.

"Naraku!" He ignored me this time, continuing on his way. Anger swelled in me because he saw us as selfish and greedy. Maybe we were demanding mates to appear before us. But right now I was just worried. "Naraku freeze!"

And he did.

Literally.

One foot hung in the air and his arms were held up at his sides in mid-stride. Sango was thoroughly freaked out now, as was I. But then she laughed. "Cute Naraku. Real cute. Now cut it out."

She giggled some more while Naraku didn't move, not even to look at us. "Yeah, Naraku, stand right."

My heart jumped back when he listened again, doing exactly as I asked. Sango didn't seem to notice, snorting as she tried to calm herself. I faked a laugh while Naraku studied me. He knew what was going on too.

I could control him.

With just my words, Naraku was doing exactly as I asked. Even earlier when I was clueless, he had calmed just because I asked him to. I thought he was just placating me but now it seemed he had no choice in the matter. If Naraku was like this… then Inuyasha and Miroku were the same.

So how much of what Inuyasha said or did to me was because I told him to?

The only thing I could remember telling him to do was to speak. Other than that, he had acted on his own… hadn't he?

Now, on top of the guilt, I already had, I felt like I was now swimming in it. But that didn't change the problem at hand and now I had the means to fix it.

Stepping up to him this time, I looked Naraku dead in the eyes. "You will explore, enjoy this world, and learn as much as you can. But once it's dark, you will go home to Kikyo. Understand?"

He nodded slowly and walked away in a trance. I was going to throw up.

Sango patted me on my shoulder sweetly. "Good job. You handled that well, considering."

"Considering?"

"The fact that he's a big, bird monster in a human suit? That wants you? We should tell Kikyo what he said."

I shook my head, feeling dizzy with disgust. "No, we shouldn't."

"Come on! It'll knock her down a few pegs! Her own soulmate finds her repulsive?"

I flashed her a glare and she got it. That was far too cruel to ever say to anyone. Even Kikyo. "Let's just get home. Who knows what Kikyo is doing to them."

Sango shivered and sped away. I didn't like that either. I knew Sango never really liked or trusted Kikyo but with no one to worry about around her, I never gave it much thought. But now we both had men who were new to this world and its expectations. Did they even know what a soulmate was? Or how to treat a woman in this century? Men weren't known for being faithful, it was something the history books showed as well. It was as if it was in their DNA. Not that women were perfect angels and always monogamous. Case in point, Kikyo.

I had always been faithful. I had always been the best girlfriend I could be. And it had never mattered. So I was biased but also yet to be proven wrong and now my supposed soulmate was hanging out with the Queen of loopholes and sin.

When they weren't at our home, I got nervous. But when Kikyo sent her location and we got there, I was just disappointed. In Kikyo and especially in Inuyasha who stood at the end of the stage, grinning like a fool at the stripper before him.

He had a drink in his hand and I had no clue how many that was for him. With the small sway of his hips, I had to assume it wasn't his first.

Inuyasha hadn't noticed me yet, too busy watching the girl take her clothes off before him. Great. Another man that couldn't see me through all the other more attractive and sexy women around him.

Before I could get to him, he took a step closer to the stage and my heart pressed against my throat. Just how much was I going to have to see my soulmate do with another woman? I was set into a confused stupor when he gently pushed the woman to the side and off the stage. A stupor that was turned to confoundment when he took hold of the pole.

My mind was spinning. Just how many drinks did Inuyasha have? The man I met was affectionate, sure. But nothing about him struck me as the type to do a striptease on stage. I quickly passed my gaze around the place. The men that whooped were either too drunk to notice Inuyasha was a man or didn't care. Sango was dumbstruck, her mouth frozen open but with the corners of her mouth upturned. Miroku was clapping in earnest, truly cheering his friend on.

When I turned back, Inuyasha was upside down on the pole, spinning around with his legs split like a pro. What. The fuck?

The hat he had on hit the floor and so did Inuyasha, so hard the place shook as he scrambled to get his hat back on in place. I raced to him then, grabbing his arm tight and pulling him the rest of the way off the stage.

"Are you alright?!"

He tilted his head to the side, his backward baseball cap on top nearly falling off from the movement. I reached up quickly to grab it off but he stopped me, grabbing my wrist hard and painfully. "Leave it."

"Why?!"

He shook his head at me, "I'd hate to be an embarrassment."

Said the man who just made the other strippers jealous of his skills? "What the hell does that mean?"

Letting go, he barely threw my hand away gently. "Means I ain't a puppy and people will be uncomfortable. Especially Master."

Never once had I been uncomfortable with him or his ears. Didn't he notice that when my tongue was in his mouth a few hours ago, licking his fangs?! How much of that had been him anyway?!

He jumped back on the stage, spreading his arms wide and tilting on his drunk feet. He was wasted, I could smell it on his breath when he spoke and see it in his once careful movements. It was why he almost ripped my arm off, keeping it from his stupid hat. Inuyasha started rolling his body, a wave or ripple with his torso. Then he lifted up his shirt just enough for all of us to see his muscles move.

Sweet sassafras.

The men had sobered or figured out, Inuyasha wasn't a buff woman and began to fuss. At his side, I yelled as loud as I could. "Get down now!"

And shit if he didn't obey, doing it at a speed far faster than human. I was shaking, feeling a mixture of sick from Inuyasha's and Naraku's obedience and a fever from Inuyasha's rocking body.

And I meant that literally and figuratively as the roll of his abs was currently playing on repeat in my brain.

Home. We needed to get home and all in one piece. There was too much going on and too much that had happened today. I needed time to think and figure out just what the hell I had done.

And what the hell I could do to fix it.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha sins #sinfully human #greed

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 6: Envision

Summary: The question rings through her head, pulling forth a contradictory mix of optimism and pain as a decision is made.

Series Masterlist

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382063/chapters/60404746

Words: 1158

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

Warnings: angsty, but not too much, and some fluff to fill in the edges :)

A/N: Bit of a shorter one here, just setting up for/transitioning to the next portion of the story!

“Come travel the Path with me.”

Eskel’s voice wracks your brain, your mind trying desperately to form a coherent thought in response.

He wants to travel with me? Why? Where will we go? Do the others do that? Fuck, he’s probably waiting for an answer, what do I say?

In reality, none of this is said aloud. You only stare at him, mouth slightly agape as your mind does backflips in your head. The forest around you is still and quiet, silent save for the sound of pounding heartbeats and leaves rustling in the autumn wind.

Eskel stares at you, his hand rising to lightly scratch the scars on his cheek. The one on your brow tingles as you see this, and you can’t help but break the eye contact as you rub the scar. You turn to your horse, focusing on the smell of leather and old bread in your pack to keep your mind from reeling too far from your grasp.

“Why would you want that?” you say, still not meeting Eskel’s gaze as you sense him shuffle a bit. You run your hands along your mare’s mane, the silvery blue strands sliding through your fingers.

“Well…” Eskel starts, “I figure it would probably be a bit easier if we did contracts together…”

You hum at his words, knowing by his tone that he was holding something back. You let the silence linger in the air, figuring that Eskel never grew out of his habit of filling uncomfortable silence.

“And…” you were right, it seemed, as he takes a slow step towards you. “I just found you, I can’t lose you again that easily…” His voice is barely above a whisper, loose stones tumbling down the expanse of a mountain.

You look up then, meeting his eyes. Eskel’s face is soft, pleading with you to accept his offer. You feel torn in two, wanting so desperately to follow him to the ends of the continent but terrified of who may get hurt along the way.

“We could stay in the area here a bit longer, and then head up to Kaer Morhen for the winter.” His words spark something in you, anger and fear and bitterness poisoning your tongue as you step away.

“Why do you think I stayed away? Because of some stupid nightmares of the trials?” You ask, not waiting for an answer. “No, I stayed away because it puts every single one of you in danger. I’m hunted, some fucking crazy mage on my tail willing to do anything to anyone to get to me.”

Your voice breaks a little, but you continue on. “I would never forgive myself if any of you were hurt because of this, because of me.”

Eskel steps forward, and this time you don’t step back. You look up at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. He is close enough to touch, but you only wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your middle.

“The stories they tell, about those girls, becoming monsters of their own making, I don’t know what’s true. But I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost it, snapping and breaking and hurting one of you myself…”

Eskel lurches forward, enveloping you in his grasp. You are startled by the sudden contact, but soon enough you break differently, melting and sobbing into his chest. You cling to the fabric of his shirt as he rubs soothing circles into your back.

As your sobs quiet, leaving only wet cheeks and glistening eyes in their wake, you can’t help but laugh a bit. They always said that the mutations stripped us of emotion, you think, what horseshit.

You pull back and Eskel moves to hold your shoulders. You are transported to when you trained together, him always consoling you when you were bested.

“If you think, that for a single moment, that we will not kick that sorry bastard’s arse if he ever dares show his face around you, then you are sorely mistaken.” Eskel’s tone is light, but his eyes burn with the deadly seriousness of his words. “And, maybe we can talk to the others, try to find a way to get rid of this guy, and keep you safe. You’ve been running for far too long, let yourself rest.”

His eyes are soft once more, hopeful and optimistic under the idea of traveling together. You can’t help but long for this dream he has posited in your head, and before you can really think through it further, you feel the words spill from your lips.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

…

After some brief discussion of logistics and where to meet back, you had left the forest, departing in separate directions towards the towns that had hired you. You brought the charred harpy head to Kasper, inwardly chuckling as his face pales at the sight. You never have gotten tired of seeing people react to the truly vile things you deal with on a daily basis. He handed you your coin and you tucked it away, apprehensive of your upcoming journey.

Now, you approach the crossroads that sit between the two towns on either side of the forest. You hear him before you see him, his warhorse loudly plodding along the dirt path. As they come into view, you let your mind briefly wander.

While time is almost always cruel to a witcher, only gaining scars and unsightly wounds through the years, Eskel seems to look even more handsome than you remember. Especially when you know the softness of his soul that resides just under the hard exterior sculpted over decades of thankless work.

Eskel pulls his horse to a stop just next to yours, smiling broadly to you. The setting sun drapes across his skin, a wash of light shining gracefully along the slopes and planes of his face.

“You know,” he says as he glances over, keeping an eye on Lil’ Bleater as she grazes along the side of the trail, “you never told me your horse’s name.”

You chuckle, certain that he has been thinking of this since you parted earlier. He has always had a soft spot for animals, intent on giving each and every one of them appropriate names as a part of his family.

“Her name is Lady,” he crooks an eyebrow at you, surprised at the delicate name you’ve chosen. “I called her that because she’s the closest to nobility I ever plan on getting.”

Eskel throws his head back and laughs, drenching you in the sound of his joy. Your heart swells in your chest with the open display of emotion, and you so very desperately want to hear more. As he settles once more with a gentle pat to your horse, he looks over at you with eyes still twinkling with unbridled glee.

“Ready to go?” He asks, and you can’t help the small smile that dances across your lips.

“Yes.”

............................................

Also, I am envisioning Reader’s horse, Lady, to be a blue roan, something like the one pictured below. I wanted to include the picture, cause sometimes I have trouble imagining colors of animals like this XD

#hollow things #eskel x reader #fem!reader #female witcher #my fic

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aeide-thea · 4 years

Text

god, i really wish people would tag for use of jaskier’s birth name as an indicator of intimacy, bc that trope is an instant, total dealbreaker for me whenever it shows up in a fic: like, the show’s whole thing imo is that your truest identity isn’t what you’re born as, but rather what you become?

which, i mean, obviously i have a whole lot of trans feelings about that, but it’s not just that, it’s about self-determination and self-actualization more broadly, and about the idea that what you grow into is more important than what you grow out of, and more meaningful to share with people—look at geralt snapping at visenna, ‘you don’t get to use that name!’ it’s his new name that’s an intimacy too far, not his birth name—and i just, i really feel very strongly about this! like, if anything’s a gesture of intimacy, it’s the way geralt lets jaskier define his own narrative, takes jaskier’s own word for what he’s to be called, which we know matters, because it’s the precise courtesy geralt himself is repeatedly and devastatingly denied, every time someone calls him, yet again, the butcher of blaviken, tethering him to a hated past that he can’t escape… and then of course ciri’s birth identity is a literal danger to her, and yennefer’s spent her whole life desperately trying to get the muck of that pig pen off, and i just… how many hints does it take to convince you that points of origin aren’t what’s meaningful here, but rather points of convergence?

but ultimately, it’s okay if i don’t convince you; you’re allowed to think and feel as you like, and ultimately the fandom is richer for having multiple interpretations. i just wish authors would tag for this one, so i could do the responsible thing and stay out of it!

#names and naming #the witcher #the witcher netflix #witcher meta #jaskier #‘but what’s your *real* name?’#identity

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the-roanoke-society · 5 years

Note

i want to know more about a camping trip w/ devil bois tht you mentioned in the tags!!

well you’re in luck because there are s e v e r a l. however! in the interest of not stepping on other peoples’ canons—because, after all, i’d love best to hear those stories from the agents who were there themselves—the tale i’m about to tell you features our darling boys and our token exorcist.

seraphim is excellent with demonology, but she is absolutely susceptible to the charms of the fae folk—and creatures like them.

she’d been freshly granted the title of ‘senior’ the first time she went camping with xander and jd. it’d been lilith’s idea. between centralia and enoch, seraphim’s promotion hadn’t been entirely positive—more stressful than anything.

“you two are our best outdoorsmen,” lilith said quietly to jd, one quiet fall afternoon. “i think some time out in the wild will do her some good. xander said you were thinking of going out to one of the lakes this weekend? i know this is probably like asking you to take your little sister with you, but—“

but jd grinned. ever good-natured, ever understanding. “don’t worry about it. we ah, heard about what happened the last time she went camping. probably a good idea that she has someone out with her.” spoiler alert: it was Not Good. but that’s another story.

to their credit, everything actually went well for the first chunk of the trip! seraphim’s a little shy when she meets new people, but xander was the one that eventually had her singing along with him, “i’m so fancy, you already know—!” by the time they’d gotten to their reserved site by the edge of cloud lake, it felt like she’d known them for ages, the chill of pennsylvania forgotten for the moment.

the place where they set up camp (“what do i do with this?” “… morgan when’s the last time you put up a tent?” “… uh.” “here, let me have that—“) was a small clearing that jd had found on a hike, near where the mouth of the beargrass river met the lake. if they followed the river farther into the surrounding woods, they’d eventually find a small waterfall, flowing over the lip of a jagged, rocky outcrop.

jd’d—always thought it was a bit strange. the rest of the forest that he’d seen was either flat, or gently rolling. this was the only part of the land that had such an abrupt rise, and fall.

but landscapes were just landscapes and he knew that nature wasn’t exactly one to give a fuck.

jd had only a vague knowledge of centralia, knew that it aged people. but as he watched his boyfriend and seraphim walk along the river underneath the light of a bright afternoon sun—it was like watching the years fall off of her.

and xander, well—

“did you just check out my ass?”

“…”

“honestly, can’t blame you, let’s be honest here, it is pretty fantastic.”

the love of his life, a new friend, and perfect weather.

this was perfect.

“ohhhh my gosh look at the waterfall!” seraphim squealed as they rounded a bend in the trail, grinning broadly. “does it have a name, jd?”

“not one that i’ve ever heard spoken out loud.”

“cryptic answer, all right, i dig it. oh, have you ever been around to the back of it?”

jd frowned, looking towards the falls. had—had there always been a path of stones along the water’s edge, leading towards the cliff? did he just not notice before?

“uh—no. no i haven’t.”

“cool, i’mma go back there.”

“uh, morgan, wait a second—“ but jd was interrupted by xander’s lips on his, his eyes closing to the taste of his mouth. he didn’t see seraphim stepping carefully over each stone, finally disappearing behind the falling white of the water. his entire world filled with xander’s arms around his waist and the smell of his cologne.

“you can let her explore for one second,” xander murmured. jd could hear the smile curving over his words. “i’m a little surprised that she’d be up to heading right back into the unknown, y’know, considering.”

“she’s a senior agent now, xander.”

“i know that, but still.”

jd kissed him one more time before finally glancing over his shoulder. “… hmm.”

“what?”

“i just—i don’t remember there ever being a path like that to the waterfall.” jd shook his head, “i’ve been up here plenty, you’d think i’d remember coming across something like that. and i mean, i’ve brought you up here, too, do you remember seeing that the last time we were here?”

but xander’s eyes were wider than they were a second ago, his face a bit paler. “… like they just appeared when we brought morgan?”

it dawned on jd slowly. “… hey so let’s go back there.”

“yep, yes, please.”

xander led the way over the stones, his eyes cast downward as he went. they looked normal enough. sort of. how many times had he seen rocks cut like commercial garden stones just out and pressed into the dirt like this? they looked worn, old.

like they’d been here the whole time.

and it did get dark as they walked into the back of the falls, the cliff opening up into a kind of corridor into the side of the hill—but it didn’t stay that way. the rush of the water covered the sounds of their footsteps, but as soon as it dimmed, xander spoke.

“—honey?” he blinked, staring down into what looked like the soft glow of neon. “do you smell that?”

“yeah.” jd crinkled his nose, and their pace quickened, because it definitely didn’t smell like moss, or damp, or petrichor, it smelled like—

a bar.

they’d walked into a bar.

the rock of the cavern gave way to something that gleamed like polished marble. the long countertop itself was all black and chrome, lit by several neon signs bolted into the back wall; they all looked like brands of liquor, but none that either of them had ever heard of, or seen before at any of the bars in the city. there was no sound except for the faint sound of the falls, and it felt alien in a distinctly uncomfortable way.

the change was—jarring.

which meant that they didn’t immediately see seraphim sitting on a stool, facing away from them—or the bartender.

“… oh! well you didn’t tell me you brought friends, sweetheart!”

his hair was the same color as the lake water, piled up in tall, thick curls on top of his head. his skin was too pallid, his eyes were too big, too wide, and he was standing wiping a towel inside of glass over and over and over again. his teeth ended in delicate points, as did his ears.

“oh i think the fuck not,” xander muttered. but then seraphim turned around—“ohhhhh boy.”

her pupils were so wide that he couldn’t see any brown anymore. “oh hi guys!” her words weren’t slurred, not exactly, but she definitely didn’t sound sober. “this is my new friend, uh—i’m sorry what did you say your name was again?” she rested her chin on one hand, leaning forward over the counter, and looking desperately in love with the bartender. she had a tall, narrow glass at her elbow filled almost to the top with something frothy and smoky grey.

jd had already begun walking towards her.

“it’s just el, darling, just el. now,” and he had the audacity to pout, reaching out to push the glass further towards her hand, “you promised you’d try my new recipe. please, please, just take a tiny sip—“

“no, no, no, no, no, no,” that finally broke xander out of his mixture of awe and with every step he took, another “no” echoed through the bar. jd had his hands on seraphim’s shoulders and was trying to tug her away, but it wasn’t until on the sixteenth (seventeenth?) “no” when xander took the glass and sent it sliding all the way down to the opposite end of the counter. (“heeeyyyy that was mine!” seraphim whined, but jd yanked her back as she reached for it.)

el didn’t even have the space to argue, because xander knew exactly what he was doing. “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you dick, you absolute dick, no, no, fuck you—“

there were a few rules he’d learned in his time with roanoke. one was that with anything you thought was even a little bit fae, you never even gave them the chance to argue with you. you did not shut up. you were as obnoxious as possible. secondly, you absolutely never drank or ate anything they offered you.

and the third he remembered as he saw jd walking backwards towards the entrance, the exorcist stumbling along with him.

never turn your back on them.

not in situations like this.

el watched them leave, pissed off and very, very insistent on telling him off (although his eyes, jd noticed, lingered on seraphim’s face—or at least, he thought they were, it was hard to tell where exactly he was looking due to the lack of pupils). xander didn’t stop talking until he felt the water of the falls hitting the back of his head. “—fuck you, fuck youuuoohhh my god, okay, that was weird, that was super fucking weird, we have to tell lilith this guy is out here, and… oh.” jd had seraphim gently lowered to the ground at the base of a tree, her head lolling forward. “is she—“

“morgan. morgan. hey.” jd lifted up her face with his hands and the relief he felt when he saw her eyes flutter back open—irises back to their normal size—was acute. “oh, thank god—“

she blinked, looking around. “i—what happened? did i pass out or something? what’s wrong with you two? you look like someone walked over your grace.”

xander’s gaze kept flitting between xander’s back and the waterfall, but nobody—and nothing—came out. seraphim followed his eyes. “oh what a pretty waterfall! oh, hey, there’s a path, have you e—“

“NO.”

“i was just asking a question don’t yell at me!”

#seraphim speaks #agent jd #agent chimera #devil bois #agent seraphim #(i have not written in a while and it shows.)#(i am so sorry it took me forever to answer this.)#(i've never written either jd or chimera before so i was--a little intimidated.)#(and this may still be super out of character for them and not what you were hoping for at all.)#(but! if that is the case!)#(then tell me and i can take another whack at it.)

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docholligay · 5 years

Text

Run

Written for @keyofjetwolf, a Kitty and Seth adventure, which now finally has its own tag! 2,300 words

“Kitty…” Seth let her voice trail off on the air, the strange feeling of knowing too much, of feeling Kitty’s embarrassment and hating it.

“Shut it, Seth,” She said, walking on down the trail, moving into a canter, “let’s just get on with it.”

Seth Fuzlae would have, by no means, considered herself an open person, who wished to talk about things, ever. But she and Kitty had been traveling together long enough, and were enough of friends, that she honestly felt concern for her, from time to time. It was obvious enough, from the way Kitty was hurrying away from town, that it had shaken her, and Seth didn’t understand it. She would have thought Kitty would be thrilled to see another centaur. They were an insular people, and rarely moved outside of their own realms. Seth hadn’t even known there were several different bands of them before she’d met Kitty.

And yet, Kitty had turned tail, which was the greatest surprise Kitty’d given her in all the time they spent together.

Seth respected silence--traveling along with Kitty for years had made it necessity-- but there was a part of her that also wanted to know everything. With anyone else, she would have simply reached into their mind and plucked it out, simple as grabbing something from the cupboard, but she had promised Kitty, when they had started working together, that she would never do that, not without Kitty’s permission.

If Kitty wanted her to know, she’d just tell her, and this had been true for their entire time together.

Kitty didn’t want her to know.

“I, of course, would never ask you what’s wrong,” Seth leaned forward, as Kitty ignored her entirely, “But have you considered, oh my equine friend, that we’re heading into the Thieves’ Forest, at dusk?”

“Let ‘em try,” Kitty felt at the revolver tucked under her arm, “I’m in the mood for it.”

Seth frowned. Kitty had a fantastic ability to handle emotional problems by means of rejecting them entirely in favor of trying to shoot or punch her way out of the place, and while Seth wasn’t immune to the charms of that particular strategy, she preferred when her life and her belongings weren’t quite so much on the line.

She could only talk her way out of so much, and the thieves worked in gangs too big for her to enchant them all.

“You know what is, I think, a fantastic idea?” she took hold of the small strap at the back of Kitty’s holster that was almost certainly not so Seth could hang on when she galloped, “Let’s head back to Northmire, freshen up in your room that, and, I can’t emphasize this enough, we already paid for, and I’ll buy you a big dram of whiskey and some raemen noodle. We can go on a death march through the middle of the Thieves' Forest in the morning!”

“Should never have come to Northmire,” she replied, “I know where Northmire is.”

“In the north.”

“Right.”

Seth sighed heavily and took her coin purse off, wondering where she could possibly stick it that she had a hope under heaven or over hell of keeping it. Everything was so exposed, and only seemed more so as they walked deeper into the forest, the thin sticks of branches black against the reds and purples of the sunset sky, bringing to mind the bars of a prison.

She was annoyed that Kitty wasn’t telling her what was wrong, and she was annoyed that Kitty was taking them on a bid to get robbed in the middle of the night, but perhaps most of all she was annoyed that she had been wrong about what Kitty might want. She prided herself, to an extent, on knowing what people were about to do, and Kitty was fairly predictable, to say nothing of the length of time they’d spent together.

And Kitty had so often spoken longingly of home, of the way centaurs were and festivals and traditions they shared. She would offhandedly mention a street dance she had gone to, or the yearly Strawberry Festival, or any number of things that Seth could ask about, be interested in (and it was no small pleasure to her that so little was known of centaur society, and that she was likely one of the experts in the field at this point) but she could k=never know, and never understand.

Seth had been meaning to do her friend a kindness by introducing her to a fellow centaur.

It had been exciting enough when she saw him in the bar, bigger than Kitty, bay with blonde hair and thick mustache, wearing the same sort of patterned cotton shirt and bent-brim hat Kitty always wore. Seth had sidled up next to him, enraptured by her own cleverness as she managed to get him to reveal that his name was Frank, that he was in town on business, before he asked her about her hand and briefly reminded her that centaurs noticed things, too. They weren’t humans, whatever the top half of them looked like.

She had genuinely thought Kitty would be thrilled. She had had a very romantic notion of leaving them to catch up, slipping a few gold on the table for dinner, and receiving helping servings of grumbled gratitude from Kitty the next day, fresh off of having gotten all the newest news and gossip from home. Maybe she would have heard something about her mother and father, or her aunt, who she seemed to genuinely miss, in the moments Kitty allowed herself to sound like she regretted anything.

Seth knew she’d been wrong the second Frank saw Kitty.

“Well, then. Kitty McCrae.” Was all he said, in a straight and steady voice, but Seth had been around Kitty long enough to know that it was a question as much as it was an answer.

There was a snap in the underbrush, and it took Seth out of her thoughts. There was no way they were going to get out of here. They were going to die in the north because Kitty got her feelings hurt, and Seth had kept to her promise not to ever wade into Kitty’s mind without her permission. Seth didn’t think that the way she was ever going to die was defending her principles, but life had a way of surprising her despite her efforts to counter it.

“Kitty,” she leaned forward, “Kitty, you know I love when you get in these surly little moods of yours and refuse to tell me anything. It’s my favorite. You’re the best. But can we just, on this one occasion, maybe turn back and--”

All of Seth’s attempts to convince Kitty were suddenly at a pause as a man jumped down from a tree and blocked their path in the middle of the road.

“Oh look, a thief, in the Thieves Forest, whoever could have predicted that, this is going so well Kitty, I love when we go on these girls’ trips.” Seth buried her face into Kitty’s back. “Well, I’ll have to try to get us out of this one.”

She glanced behind her, already knowing what she would see there but needing to confirm for herself, two men, burly, with a sword and a club, coming up behind Kitty. The man in front had a series of knives strapped to a bandolier across his chest, and Seth was certain there was a ranger somewhere in the distance with a trained arrow, waiting.

Truthfully, it was better odds than she’d expected. Kitty was strong, and the men were on the kicking end of her, and while the whole probable knife-throwing situation didn’t thrill her, Kitty’s gun was something she’d only ever seen centaurs and figures of myth carry, so that was going to be a surprise to them.

She stood up on Kitty’s back, ready to give them all a very generous and reasonable chance to escape, when Kitty growled.

“Move.”

There was no fear in it, no waver in her voice, but her hand did move to her gun. Kitty was, as she herself would say, spoiling for a fight, and it looked like she was about to get it.

Seth always hated it when Kitty got her way.

“Ladies,” the man who had descended from the tree gave a grin as he took a step toward them, “We’d be happy to give fine women such as yourselves safe passage across--”

“Move or I’ll kill ya.”

There was no sense of presentation in Kitty’s manner, particularly when she was aggrieved, and this had always irritated Seth, who thought that it was a waste of physical presence not to dress things up at least a little bit. Now there was no getting out of this fight, which was exactly the way Kitty had wanted it, and if Seth was going to take a risk on her life in the middle of a miserable, dark, damp forest, in the middle of a miserable, freezing region covered mostly in grassland, she was not going to do it without a flourish.

“Oh, we shall,” she gestured broadly, “Eventually! And when we do, you shall pray for death, for we are known criminals, dangerous woman in this land and this world. Do not be fooled by our humble appearance!”

She was turning in a circle now, making eye contact, and projecting her voice, knowing the ranger could hear and not wanting to spoil the show even for those in the back.

“The danger!” She pointed to one of the mken, and whirled around, “The power!” She pointed at another, “The passion!” she rested on the third, the man in front of them, whose smile began to turn to a laugh.

And this, of course, was what Seth was looking for. A moment. An opportunity.

Kitty took it, and drew her gun, firing in front of her. The man sidestepped it and flung off a knife, Seth barely getting out of the way of it as she drew her own dagger. She waved her hand as Kitty backed up, a bucketful’s worth of water materializing out of the air and dumping on to his head.

He howled and shook his head as Kitty bucked, slamming her hooves against the man with the sword, throwing him into the trunk of a tree where he lay still. The man with the club swung at her, and she whirled, Seth holding desperately onto her back, and she might have gotten him as well, but for the high whistle of an arrow coming through the air and narrowly missing Seth as it thundered into the back of Kitty’s shoulder.

“I hope you’re happy!” Seth yelled, trying to tamp down the concern that this might actually be it, realizing she had never thought, whatever she told Kitty, that the two of them could be taken down. “Rear up!”

Kitty gave a yell and shot again at the man with knives as she obeyed Seth. The bullet jolted into his chest, but his last knife slit Kitty across the side as life left him.

Seth let go of the loop on Kitty’s holster and flew through the air, where the man with the club was swinging again at Kitty’s hindquarters. She closed her eyes, thought for a moment, and landed on the side of the man. Before he could respond, his sight left him, snatched away by Seth as if he was a small child with a cookie. His club slammed down into Kitty, and Seth responded with the courteous disagreement of her dagger in his throat.

Another arrow slipped through the trees, coming what Seth considered unacceptably close to Kitty’s chest.

“Kitty!” She yelled from the ground, “Can we please, PLEASE, go now??”

Kitty nodded, her eyes hazy, and extended down her good arm for Seth to climb up. There would be more than one set of thieves in the Thieves Forest, and there was no way they could withstand another assault, not with all of Seth’s powers working at their peak, but Kitty just kept running. She ran and ran, Seth holding on as tight as she could.

The forest whirred by her, a long path in the night, no moon or stars to guide them but only the two of them. Kitty began to stumble, and Seth cast light into her dagger, pointing it forward to illuminate the path. They needed to get through this. If they could just get to the other side, she could sit, and she could mend Kitty, refusing to consider for even one moment that perhaps she couldn’t.

Kitty was surly and short-sighted and annoying, but she was Seth’s, and Seth refused to let people take anything that was hers without her express permission.

Guilt was not an emotion Seth was friendly with, and yet she felt it creep up in her, the sense that Seth should have asked Kitty if she was interested in seeing another centaur first, that she had gotten so wrapped up in the idea of the surprise that she had not even assumed she could be wrong. Later, she would tell Kitty this was all the fault of her bad temper and poor coping skills, but there would always be a part of her shaking her head, reminding her that she knew who Kitty was, and had failed to protect her in this way.

She should have rifled through Frank’s brain. She didn’t promise not to do it to centaurs who weren’t Kitty.

Kitty slowed into a canter, then a walk, but then the forest cleared, and Seth spied the softly-lit thick walls of High Pines.

“Kitty?” Seth rubbed at her back, trying to ignore the wide smears of blood soaking the blue and white of her shirt, “we’re here now. We made it,” she heard the softness of her own voice, and it frightened her, “And you are, let me tell you, in so much fucking trouble with me, you don’t even know.”

Kitty looked up at the lantern gratefully, nodded, and collapsed to her knees in the dirt.

#the adventures of Seth and Kitty

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

Text

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 21

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“I still don’t understand,” Tony says through a bite of salad. They finally decided to bring food to these meetings. “I don’t get why Gast has six different…,” he snaps his fingers searching for an appropriate word choice.

“Department heads,” Val suggests over her cheeseburger.

Thor made an excited noise, unable to speak through his own food. When he finally swallowed, shaking his head, he said, “Think of them as levels.” He scrambled to his backpack and pulled out a large pad of paper and a pen. He flipped through the pages and found a blank one and began to make a large pyramid with six layers. “Think of it like a feudal society. You got your serfs and basic townsfolk,” he used the pen to point to the bottom two levels. “They have a representative but Gast never knows their day to day. He knows how much money he made and spent on them. Your next two are your knights and vessal lords. Minor players but now he knows more. They get privileges may know actually see the Grandmaster from time to time. But they still have their reps. Top two are basically your nobility and they represent themselves. There’s really Game of Thrones style of backstabbing going on, but Gast loves it. He sometimes incites disagreements just to start a feud.”

“That sounds chaotic and dangerous.”

“That’s why he has the penthouse crews. Peacekeepers and enforcers.”

“Crews? There’s more than one?” Bruce asked.

“He’s got more than one penthouse. But they all answer to Mario.” He wiped his chin. “Technically speaking, I’m part of one of the penthouse crews.”

They all stared at him, unsure how to proceed with the next question. Questions about his brother since the incident with Odin were usually met aggressive if evasive responses or the interview being shut down completely. Finally, Natasha asked, “Is Loki as well?”

Thor didn’t blink at the question, thankfully. “Yes and no. Loki’s really good at gathering intel and he can act if pressed, so Grandmaster likes to use him more for political purposes. You gotta be strong to be part of a crew, though.”

“Were you forced?”

“It’s not like I could really say no.” Thor laughed as though it was obvious.

“Thor,” Val nervously looked around at the others at the table, “you do know that when uhm Loki spoke to us, he told us you killed someone. A cop.”

Again the blonde didn’t seem surprised. “Okay.”

“You can be charged.”

“Are you going to charge me?”

Tony blew out a sigh. “Not up to me.”

[read more cut]

“Is that the only person you’ve…dealt with for Gast?” Natasha tried to be delicate with the question.

Thor said nothing, looking away from all of them. “What happens if you charge me?”

“Well, you’d be arrested for one. We could leverage a deal with you to testify against Gast-”

He shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“You’re going this far! Why not go all the way?!”

Thor again shook his head. “I can’t do that to Loki.”

“I know he’s your younger brother, and we want to protect him too, but you can’t do that if you-”

“He’s more than my younger brother now,” Thor gave their general direction a cocky if apologetic smile.

“Thor,” Val reached out to his hand. She was pleased when it was yanked away. “What that bastard forces you guys to do, that can-”

“He only forced us one time. All the other times, without him present, have been us consenting to one another.”

The ADAs and detectives stared at him in confusion and unease. “We know about Loki’s support groups, from when he was younger. We know he had a uhm crush on you.” Bruce explained.

“He wasn’t the only one. But mine was more a lust. When Grandmaster forced us that first time, he showed Loki my internet history too. I tried to tell you, that one time you brought my Dad. I had all these porn sites, fuck it was disgusting. About brothers. And I would follow any person who looked just a bit like Loki. I’d had that crush since I was sixteen. Once I turned eighteen, I tried desperately to get rid of it, grow out of it. Loki was younger than me and he was actually doing a better job in that department! Those support groups…if I had known….well, Grandmaster would have just found those too.”

Val didn’t retract her hand nor did she recoil at his words, though she could see Natasha doing that in the seat across from her. Tony seemed nonplussed, though he had a look of sympathy. Bruce seemed about ready to punch something, but she knew it wasn’t directed at Thor. Most likely it was directed at Gast or even Odin.

“Y'know, when I imagined sleeping with Loki for the first time, I thought it something special. I thought it would be while we’re on vacation or when the apartment we rented was empty of roommates. I didn’t imagine….I couldn’t relax enough to do it. And Gast kept saying these awful things. Loki pleaded for something to help me. I think he hoped for weed or something. But we got that. Loki had done it before, I hadn’t. Fuck, it was so fucking weird…”

“You said Loki was blue,” Tony said, almost to himself.

“He looked like a fae creature when I was high. Blue skin, red eyes. I thought he was so beautiful. But I was so fucking high I didn’t prepare him completely….he bled. Just a little but still. Gast loved it. Loki kept saying he was fine but I never wanted to hurt him again. I never touched the stuff after that. But after the first time, we were free to do whatever we wanted with one another. We both knew now. And it’s nice, to be touched by someone who….actually loves you.”

“I can understand that,” she said, hoping she could convey how much she felt for him. “But you have to realize, this relationship you two have, it isn’t healthy.”

Thor stared at her hand and didn’t reply.

“You guys have been abused for ten years, I can understand wanting to feel loved. To be with someone who understands what you have been through, completely. And I’m sure you two love one another, but you both deserve to have a normal healthy relationship.”

“I love him so much.” Thor said quietly. “He’s my everything. I call him my moonlight y'know, because even when I don’t see him shine, I know’s he’s there. And he calls me his sun…”

“That’s very sweet. But after this…all this…don’t you want him to move on? And you too? Imagine it, three years from now, Gast is rotting in a cell and you two with partners who can help you heal from this.”

Thor’s eyes were watering as he smiled. “We’ll still be together. We promised. We promised one another. Until death do us part and even after that.”

“Come one, kid,” Tony said. “It isn’t like you married him!”

Thor laughed, tears rolling down his face.

~2013~

“Same last name! That makes things easy! Very unusual with a name like that,” the county clerk giggled conversationally as she typed on in their information.

“It’s very common from where are families are originally from,” Loki explained, leaning his lead on Thor’s shoulder. He was smiling broadly, the first time in a long time. A genuine smile that made him look so beautiful. But then again, to Thor he was always beautiful.

“How long is this going to take?” He asked, trying not to sound too much like they were in a hurry. When the clerk stared at him in confusion he replied, “We already booked our honeymoon.”

“Oh!” She winked. “I’m almost done. Where are you going to go?”

“Paris!” It wasn’t a lie. Gast had business in Paris in two weeks and they were going to go with him.

“Smart thing you guys are saving a fortune by doing everything here and not having a huge to do! Some couples blew their entire savings once the law passed.”

Thor didn’t respond. He nervously fidgeted, hoping that their ‘babysitters’ were still circling the block wondering which building they had gone into. He wasn’t sure how Gast would react to what they were doing, but he wouldn’t put it past him to be angry. Or punish them. But he didn’t care.

“Alright, now you sign here and you sign here,” the clerk announced passing them a pen. “And just like that, it is my honor to pronounce you two married! You may now kiss the groom!”

Loki had barely finished signing before Thor gathered him and kissed him deeply. The county clerk’s office clapped and cheered! There was one old man who booed, but he was shushed.

“Have fun in Paris!” the woman called as they left. He thanked her, but his eyes were only for his husband.

“Oh my god!” The brunette said as they walked outside. “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming this?”

“No. We’re…married.” He felt so happy and yet so terrified. “Do you want to wear your ring?”

“Yes! Can I wear it on my left hand?” He had given Loki his ring nine months ago, but had only let him wear it on occasionally or in the evenings alone in their room and only ever on his right hand. The Grandmaster got jealous and any time the ring was worn two or three days consecutively, he began to ask questions, making wild accusations about anyone and everyone in the penthouse crew. While the older brother was more than happy to watch the mobster decimate his entire crew over petty percieved ‘rivals’, he was didn’t want Loki endangered in the process.

He took out a small tin container that once contained mints from his pocket. It now carried about forty dollars and two small gold and silver bands he had stolen from one of Gast’s hotel jewelry stores. He placed the smallest and most intricate on Loki’s finger and kissed his new husband’s forehead. “You hungry, babe?”

Loki wiped his eye as he placed the other ring on Thor’s finger. “Yeah, please honey.”

There was a small cafe a few blocks away. They were out of New York City and in a small rural county of the state. They had pleaded, begged, and bartered for this time away from the city. Gast, a devoted urbanite, had agreed on the condition they bring several 'escorts’ and return within the week. Thor was already ready to agree to go back after they had accomplished what they came to do, but he didn’t want to tell that to Loki just yet. He didn’t want to dampen the mood.

Once in the small restaurant, Thor ordered them both a glass of wine, as well as a sandwich and a piece of cake to share. He only had the forty left after all, discounting the credit card he had taken from one of the thugs when they weren’t looking. He had used it a few times for small things like more pencils and movies, but he knew it was going to be shut off soon. He didn’t want it to be now. Loki didn’t seem to care. He looked like the sandwich was the best thing he had eaten in his whole life. And when the cake came, he playfully made a comment about 'their wedding cake’. Thor beamed ear to ear.

It was round the time they were asking for a round of waters before they left that Mario and his crew found them.

“You two have a lot of fucking nerve losing us like that!” He growled as he leaned over their table. “What you two do with the two hours? You fucking squeal, you brats?!”

“We went looking at shops,” Thor said simply, sipping his drink safe in the knowledge that they were in public and the older man couldn’t do anything to them in public.

“You went looking at shops?” Mario looked at him skeptically.

“Our Mom used to go to small niche towns like this and spend hours going through shops.” Loki explained, looking very authoritative in that moment. “We missed that. And we didn’t want you breaking something or causing a scene, like you are now.”

The thug glanced over his shoulder at the patrons staring at him. Unlike New York and the establishments Mario usually frequented, these people would not look away or hesitate to call the police. He turned back and glared at them, but said nothing.

“If you feel uncomfortable with what happened,” Thor couldn’t help but enjoy sounding like he had more power in this situation, “Loki and I will agree to leave this evening back to New York.”

Mario looked shocked at that. “You…. you serious?”

“And we won’t even mention you lost us,” Loki smiled mischievously at him.

He could tell the thug was having a hard time believing it. “Give me your cell.”

“What?”

“Give me your cell. You won’t believe us unless I do this.”

Nervously, the older man fished his cell from his pocket and passed it Thor. The waitress skirted by him and dropped off the two younger men’s waters before retreating, staring all the while as she did.

Thor thumbed through the contacts of the cell phone, making a passing comment about using more security on the device. He reached out to Loki’s hand, who gently squeezed his showing his support and understanding. He found the number and clicked 'call’.

There was a out three long rings, Thor smiling like an idiot all the while. Finally, on the fourth one, the familiar voice answered, “Yes?”

“Hi Daddy,” he said brightly and sweetly into the phone. Loki looked ready to burst out into laughter or tears of satisfaction and Mario looked just dumbfounded and rooted in place.

Gast’s voice immediately switched from business to his playful purr, “Hey Sparkles! What are you doing calling me, I thought you wanted a vacation?”

“I’m bored,” he whined, dramatically pouting for effect. The brunette mimicked him as he nodded to other man. “And so is Loki.”

“Thought you wanted to go to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“We did. Now we’re bored. Is it okay if we come home tonight?”

“Of course, sweetheart! Of course! You come home tonight and we’ll go to a nice late dinner, have a few drinks, and then I’m going to have you two on your backs and begging for my cock. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful, Daddy!”

“Pass me to Mario please.”

Thor did just that grinning ear to ear after that. While Mario nervously prepared their journey home, recounting their time in the small town sans the two hours they had gone missing, the couple ordered another piece of cake and glass of wine. Today, they had beaten the odds and survived.

#thorki #frostmaster #thundermaster #GrandthorkiB #playthings #submission #sfw #fic #cw dubcon #cw noncon implied #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #playthings part21

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

Text

Jercy Week Day 7: Mother

Jason Grace was having a mental melt-down.

"Please stop crying, VJ. Please, kiddo", pleaded Jason. "Please. Daddy's not home and I don't know what to do and I can't call him, he'll immediately return home and I'll be a failure. Please."

He was nervously pacing the apartment, rocking his baby son back and forth. He had no idea what to do. Victor Jackson Grace was barely a year old and he had not been sick yet. Nothing serious, beyond teething or anything. And now that Jason was home alone, their son had to get sick.

"Percy is gonna kill me", whispered Jason, eyebrows knitted. "If something is seriously wrong with you, if you seriously got sick while I was alone with you... He'll be so worried. Please stop crying."

But his son just kept coughing and crying and Jason kept growing more desperate.

/break\

Paul nearly had a heart-attack when Sally's phone went off in the middle of the night, blaring Imagine Dragons' Thunder. Right next to his head. In the middle of the night.

"Thunder, feel the thunder, lighting and the thunder!"

"Sally. Sally, wake up. Our son-in-law is calling", groaned Paul, shaking his wife.

Sally grunted sleepily and reached out for her phone. "Jason? What's wrong?"

"I—I... I don't know what to do, Sally. I don't... VJ won't stop crying and coughing and I don't know what to do and it's the middle of the night and I don't..."

"Jason. Hey. Hey, kid, calm down", whispered Sally gently as she sat up. "Percy left you Mrs. O'Leary, right? Take her and come over. I'll help. It'll be okay."

The call disconnected and Paul sighed heavily. "What's going on?"

"VJ is sick and Jason is having a melt-down", sighed Sally. "Time to get up."

Both of them barely had time to put on their robes and then get out into the living room, where Mrs. O'Leary just exited the shadows. Jason climbed off her back, wearing worn-out sweat-pants and a blue hooded jacket that definitely belonged to Percy. He looked like he hadn't slept in three days.

"Hey, if it isn't my favorite grandson", whispered Sally gently, smiling. "Give him to me."

Carefully did she take the baby from Jason. VJ looked up at her with sea-green eyes, his blonde fluffy hair ruffled. He was rasping badly. Frowning, Sally carried him over to the bathroom.

"Leave him to her. Come, I'll make us coffee", grunted Paul, patting Jason on the shoulder.

"He's sick", muttered Jason, rubbing his face. "He's sick and I'm useless and Percy will-"

"Percy will fuss, like you're fussing, but he's not gonna blame you for your son getting sick", interrupted Paul gently but firmly. "Come on. Coffee, sleep, tomorrow things will look better."

Mrs. O'Leary whined as she got comfortable on the floor in the living room while Paul and Jason went to get coffee. Looking Jason over again, Paul judged that the boy probably hadn't eaten in at least a day either, so he placed the box of left-over pizza from dinner in front of him.

"Eat something", ordered Paul. "You look awful, kid."

Sighing, Jason accepted coffee and pizza at three in the morning. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be sorry, Jason", chided Paul with a frown, sitting down opposite him. "You're family. Believe me, I freaked out the first time Laura was sick and Sally was out too. She was visiting Percy in New Rome and Laura got a fever and I thought I was going to die. You and me, we're absolutely useless without the Jacksons in our life."

"We are", sighed Jason and took deep gulps from his coffee. "I miss him so much. It's stupid. I mean, it's not the first time we're apart. He's been on plenty of away-games with the team. Even after we had VJ. But... But now that he's sick and... I lose my head so easily over this, because I feel like I can do everything as long as I have Percy at my side. Without him..."

"You're helpless", ended Paul with a fond smile. "I'm the same with Sally. Or rather, without her."

"Dad? Dad, why are you awa—Jason!"

Bare feet patted into the kitchen and then came a squeak. The next moment, Jason's sister-in-law collided with him. Laura Blofis grinned broadly up at him, her brown curls a mess from having just woken up, azure-blue eyes sparkling as she looked at him. It had been fairly easy to wrap her around his little finger; she had barely been a toddler when Percy and Jason had first gotten together as teens, two years after the Giant War. Three years later, Percy and Jason got engaged. It was another year later that the two got married – it was a beautiful beach wedding at Camp Half-Blood, Chiron officiating it, with Leo and Grover as their best men and Laura as the flower-girl.

And a bit over a year after their wedding, Jason and Percy learned that apparently, Jason inherited one of his father's trades – giving birth through a thought. Jason and Percy had been talking a lot about children by then, Jason was twenty-four, Percy was twenty-five. Both of them were working, Jason as a social worker and Percy as a teacher and swim-coach in New Rome. Both were around kids all day, so it felt nearly natural to think about it, about what it would be like to be dads. And then, one morning, they just woke up to this beautiful, perfect little baby-boy laying between them in their bed - with Percy's sea-green eyes and Jason's golden-blonde hair.

"What are you doing here, Jay? Is Percy here too?", asked Laura eagerly.

"No. Perce is on an away-game with his team", grinned Jason, ruffling Laura's hair.

"Is my nephew here?", wanted Laura to know next.

"VJ is with your mom. But he's not feeling well", sighed Jason. "But you can play with Mrs. O'Leary. She's in the living room. Maybe you could bring her some food or water?"

"Oh! Ye—es!", exclaimed Laura excitedly. "I love playing with her."

"Honey, you need to... oh, why am I even trying?", sighed Paul fondly and shook his head. "She is as excitable as her brother, you know. There is no going back to bed for her now..."

"I really hope VJ doesn't take after Percy in that", muttered Jason mortified.

Paul chuckled at that and filled Jason's cup again. "Victor's probably gonna turn out even worse considering he has both your DNAs. Let's just pray he won't manifest his powers too early."

Jason made a high-pitched, terrified sound. The last thing he needed was for their son to make it rain over his bed, or control the electricity in their house, or... who knew what.

"Jason?", whispered Sally gently. "Come."

Stiffly, Jason got up and followed Sally to the bathroom, where everything was very steamy and... VJ was sleeping peacefully in a laundry basket. Staring surprised, Jason turned toward Sally.

"He'll be fine. The steam helps open up the lungs", assured Sally, resting a hand on Jason's shoulder. "I know this is scary. You're still a young dad. But your son is stronger than you think. He'll be fine. And you, young man, you need some sleep too. You look awful."

But before they could leave the bathroom, Jason pulled Sally into a tight hug. "Thank you. T... Thank you, I don't know what I'd be doing without you. Thalia is nearly always gone and... and my mother is... dead and you're... I don't really remember what it was like having a mom, but ever since I got together with Percy, you've been... you've been the mom I never had."

"Oh, of course, sweetie", chuckled Sally gently, wrapping her arms around him in return. "You are my son now. You married Percy, you made him happier than I've ever seen him and you gave me my first grandchild. You are part of this family and I will always be here for you, okay?"

Jason nodded and swallowed his tears before following Sally over to Percy's old bedroom that now mainly served as guest-room and VJ's bedroom when he stayed over for a weekend. Jason pulled out the sleep-couch and just collapsed face first on it, exhausted beyond belief.

"That boy is in over his head", whispered Paul as he stepped up next to Sally.

"I already texted Percy and told him to come to us when the game is won", agreed Sally.

"Laura is eating pizza in the living room", tagged Paul out after a long moment.

"Of course she is", chuckles Sally and shook her head. "You can't say no to her at all. Why don't you go ahead to bed, I'll make sure our daughter goes to bed too, mh?"

"You're a saint and angel, Sally", sighed Paul and kissed his wife.

/break\

Percy frowned doubtfully as he attempted to side-step a sleeping Mrs. O'Leary. He had gotten a cryptic text from his mom last night, but when he found her in the bathroom, everything steamy and VJ nestled against her chest, things made more sense. Sighing, he stepped up to them and kissed the top of her head, reaching out to gently caress his son's cheek.

"Jay panicked?", guessed Percy with a fond look. "I swear, VJ sneezes once, Jay's already getting our coats to bring him to see a doctor. VJ actually being sick..."

"He panicked spectacularly", confirmed Sally fondly. "I calmed him down. And VJ is already better too. Your husband is asleep on the couch in the guest-room. Join him before breakfast? Laura is looking forward to seeing her favorite big brother, you know?"

"You're the best, mom", grinned Percy, kissing her temple. "And you, young man, I hope you didn't stress grandma out too much, mh. Wanna come with me and check on papa?"

Yawning widely, because he had been flying all night to get to his family, Percy took his son from his mother. He smiled faintly when he entered his old bedroom. There was a baby-bed in it, for VJ, and a fold-out couch. Jason was sprawled out on the couch, wearing Percy's hoodie. Holding VJ with one arm, Percy grabbed a blanket with his free hand and then joined his husband on the couch, sneaking in and throwing the blanket over them both. Instantly, Jason started waking up, blinking bleary-eyed.

"Good morning, Mister Grace", whispered Percy with a smile, leaning in to kiss Jason's cheek.

"Morning, Coach Grace", yawned Jason. "How'd the race go?"

"Oh, we won. Which, not a surprise. My kids are the best", grinned Percy broadly.

He snuggled in against his husband, their son tucked between them. For a little while, they talked softly, until exhaustion from last night overcame them and they fell asleep arm in arm. That was how Laura found them two hours later when she wanted to get her big brother to make blueberry pancakes (mom's were great, but Percy made the best blueberry pancakes). And when Sally came to check on them another hour later, Percy had his little sister tucked under one arm, holding VJ in his other arm and with his head resting on Jason's chest, all four deep asleep. Sally smiled at that.

~*~ The End ~*~

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3

#jercy week #imaginejercy #jercy #jason grace #percy jackson #pjoverse #fanfiction #family fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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