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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

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Game of Thrones Imagines - Dancing

in which i write waaay too much about this because ive been listening to waltz music and im absolute trash for dancing scenes

In this preference, you’ll enjoy little drabbles with: Ned Stark, Benjen Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Jamie Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn of Blackwater, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Brienne, Margeary Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Oberyn Martell, Yara Greyjoy, Petyr Baelish, Beric Dondarrion, Tormund Giantsbane

seven hells what order should I put these guys in

NED STARK

In his youth, Ned never really bothered with the ins and outs of dancing. He didn’t see the point; training or running Winterfell was more important, besides, it was more of a Southern thing. His brothers shared his lack of enthusiasm, so he didn’t really care about it.

However, this changed at a gala at Winterfell, when he saw you for the first time. You were so lively and kind, and your beauty seemed to increase tenfold when you danced. He didn’t even notice his brother Brandon was your partner at first, and suddenly, he couldn’t keep himself from asking you for the next dance, worried Brandon might keep you all night. As he put his hand to your waist and your hand in his, he internally panicked… But that melted away as you gave him a reassuring smile.

Ned didn’t even notice you were leading him, nor did he dwell on the few stumbles he made. He just couldn’t believe he was so close to you, and enjoying something like dancing.

He tried practicing and brushing up a bit after that, but really, it was a bit of a lost cause. After you married, he still loved to take you in his arms anyway, and he was never short of praise for you when the gala was over. You teased him about watching you all night instead of visiting with his fellow lords, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he loved watching your graceful movements.

The last dance was Ned’s favorite, as he loved it when you leaned your head on his shoulder and you two could just sway. If you were particularly tired, he’d wait until the guests had mostly cleared out and bridal carry you to your shared bedroom. He used to feel a bit embarrassed in helping you undress, but later he took great pleasure in how you'd sigh. This extended to him eventually sharing a bath with you afterward, soothing your body with the warm water and his hands.

BENJEN STARK

Benjen had never cared for dancing, especially these silly galas the Southerners liked. He never thought he was missing out, and rather enjoyed teasing Brandon and Ned for having to go to them, and later teased Robb for the same thing.

He was stopping by Winterfell and staying the night when he heard of a gala going on. Benjen wanted to speak with his brother and nephews, so he stopped by inside, surprised by the amount of people and the music. He spotted Jon and went to him, only for someone to catch his eye. He didn’t keep track of the family members of the North, as it wasn’t his place anymore, but he wished he had a name for your lovely face.

You were dancing with Robb, smiling at him, laughing when he leaned in and said something. He admired the way you moved with such elegance, despite Robb having some trouble keeping up.

“Uncle?” Jon found him first, and tried to get his attention.

Benjen quickly shut his mouth and greeted his nephew. As he hugged him, he still glanced at you. Jon had noticed and teased his uncle, mentioning your family was close to the Starks, and you were their only daughter. As Benjen had visited with his family, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you. He was ready to leave, wanting to keep you off his mind, and he was surprised when you sought him out first.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but you’re … Benjen, correct? My cousin is with the Night’s Watch, and he mentioned you - Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself…”

He thought it was so cute how breathless you were, and you were trying to be polite to a man of the Night's Watch, even if you had no reason to. He asked for your name, and many other questions, both of you drawing into conversation without realizing it. You noticed a few songs had passed already, and you took a chance. You asked if he would be allowed to dance with you. Benjen hesitated, and politely refused you, figuring a lady shouldn’t be dancing with someone like him. He was surprised by how disheartened you look, and he was disappointed as well.

As the evening grew dark, you noticed Benjen had disappeared at some point. You were glad to leave the stuffy hall, your feet and legs were aching. Outside, the frozen air was perfect, and you took a deep breath … and you yelped as a sudden gust of wind hit you. Your dress was thin, and you shivered.

Suddenly, someone wrapped a warm fur around you. You looked up. “Benjen? I was wondering where you were.”

“You were looking for me?” His pleased smile was cute. You pulled the fur further around your shoulders and spoke honestly. “Yes. I wanted to see you."

The two of you lingered, and you could feel a sort of tension. There was still music from the hall, albeit muffled and distant. You spoke first, asking him to dance with you.

Benjen couldn’t believe you managed to take him off guard, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice. He accepted, pulling you into his arms. As you shivered again, he pulled you even closer, and you wondered if it was his heart or your’s that you could hear.

From then on, anytime Benjen passed by Winterfell, you were sure to see him. You two shared several secret meetings, which weren’t limited to dances. He especially liked it when you snuck out of the galas early and curled up with him in your guest room, where he'd soothe your aching legs while whispering how beautiful you looked.

ROBB STARK

Like most Northern lords, Robb felt the entire idea of galas and dancing was silly. Still, he knew you attended them, so he’d do his best to practice a few steps when no one was looking. During a gala, he didn’t hide that he was looking around for you, and would try his best to have you at the first dance. When he danced with other ladies, he really wasn’t that attentive and sometimes made mistakes out of nervousness, or because he was too busy watching you across the room.

Once Robb finally had you as a partner, it was obvious how pleased he was as he held you. He’d try to play it cool, but you could tell he was concentrating on following the right steps.

Just for fun, you liked to throw him off by moving a little closer and whispering something sweet. His face would go red and he’d stumble, and you two would laugh to yourselves, stuck in your own little world.

He’d eventually grow in confidence and you could tell by how firmly he held you and how he began to lead the dance more and more. If you asked him about practicing, he’d have to blush again and admit he was doing it for you, as he loved watching you twirl with more experienced partners, and hoped that someday he could make you smile like that. You’d insist that you love dancing with him the most, no matter what, and he’d likely almost step on your feet again because he was so happy.

At the end of a dance, Robb always gives you an earnest kiss on your hand and lingers a bit, still holding your hand and looking you in the eyes. It’s so obvious he wants to kiss you for real, but then he has to hand you off to a partner, frowning the whole time. He’d definitely want to find you for a last dance, and at the end of that, he’d risk it and give you a kiss on the cheek - still holding your hand. He often lingers after the music ends, still holding onto you, and you have to teasingly remind him to let you go and return to his family.

Often Robb really can’t take it and finds you after the gala, in the evening, wanting to hold your hand and steal a proper kiss from you. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.”

“Ha! Get it all out of your system, before someone comes looking for us.”

SANSA STARK

Since she was a girl, Sansa always daydreamed about attending fabulous galas and dances in the South. Once she arrived in King’s Landing, you and her became fast friends after she met you at her first one. She looked up to you, loving your poise and grace. You began to teach her, and although she had some trouble with more complicated steps, she appreciated your patient instruction. Each gala was a whirlwind of emotion for her, and when it became too much, especially with Joffrey, she’d seek you out in the crowd. You’d take her into your arms and dance, quietly alleviating her worries as the music played.

The situation in King’s Landing became worse, but Sansa continued to attend your lessons. You noticed the toll the events was taking on her health and mind, but she insisted she was fine.

One day, she was especially clumsy in the lesson, often making mistakes and spacing out. You knew it was rather pointless you ask, but you did so quietly, whispering to her as you guided her along the steps.

Suddenly Sansa held fast to you, bringing you into a crushing hug. You heard her shudder and try to stifle herself, but several tears came out. You continued to sway, soothing her and petting her hair. As soon as you both heard someone, she pulled away, pressing her sleeves at her eyes to hide any tears. You both quickly returned to the lesson as several servants passed by.

From that point, Sansa would often exclusively seek you out at galas, pointedly dancing with just you even if propriety demanded you two part. She only would after a scathing comment from Cersei or Joffrey - and she would've danced with others for a time, but then she’d always come back to you. You’d still whisper soothing words when no one would hear as you two twirled.

Once the dances were over, you both would be exhausted, but Sansa would still linger with you. You’d hold her hand, taking her to her room, sometimes shooing away her handmaidens so you could brush her hair and keep comforting her. She wouldn’t always accept this, however, and would want to help you as well, smiling softly when you’d attempt to joke and make witty comments to lighten the mood.

JON SNOW

Jon was never expected to bother with fancy feasts or galas, and he told himself he was fine with it, especially since Robb was always dressed up and dragged off for them. He still found it a bit lonely, however, and he was curious about the music that was always playing for the galas. Sometimes he’d hang around outside, listening to the laughter and music. He was doing this on the night you saw him. Jon heard someone hurry out, and he was surprised to see a girl all dressed up and out of breath. You sat down on a bench almost fell over as you removed your shoes.

You turned around and yelped, and he startled, too. He apologized for frightening you, and was glad you just laughed it off.

“You’re … Lord Stark’s boy, right? Jon Snow?”

He was surprised you recognized him, and thankful that you were talking to him so kindly. You introduced yourself, explaining your shoe had broken and you were worn out. As you shivered, he quickly gave you his fur, and you two ended up talking for much longer than you expected.

“The galas aren't so bad, I promise. Yes, they’re tiring, and dressing up takes far too long, and the lords can be overbearing …” You trailed off, and he couldn’t help but laugh. You were so pretty in your outfit, and he wondered if Robb was one of those lords who annoyed you. You stood up and took his hands, further surprising him. “Still, they're fun! Here, I’ll show you!”

Even though Jon tried to protest, he really couldn’t argue once you were placing his hands. He knew something of dancing that he was taught, but not much, and he hoped he didn’t touch you anywhere inappropriate. You ended up swaying and dancing along, and he began to forget himself.

Once you began to shiver again, he remembered your feet were bare and offered to help you to your guest room. There were several more galas at Winterfell, and you liked skipping out to talk and visit with him. He still had plans to go to the Wall, and he considered his time with you precious, knowing it wouldn’t last long. A few times Robb or Theon teased him for having a crush, and he’d just tell them they were imagining things.

Whenever he'd hear the music of the galas, whether it be a minstrel that was playing or someone singing, he'd wonder what it'd be like if he were a true Stark and was allowed to dance with you like the other lords.

THEON GREYJOY

Naturally, Theon wasn’t allowed to participate in the few galas at Winterfell, and he didn’t think Ironborns should be doing flowery dancing, anyway. Still, his interest was piqued when he noticed you and Sansa practicing, and how the servants would gossip about how lovely you and Robb looked when you danced.

So Theon ended up sneaking into a few, especially at Robb and Jon’s urging. They were ready to get a kick out of Theon falling over himself or Catlyn dragging him out by the ear, but he surprised nearly everyone when he strode up to you with confidence, asking for a dance. You knew him, of course, and you were surprised when he kept up with you.

Not just that, he was almost a natural even if he didn’t know all the steps. He had an infectious energy, and you two ended up sharing quite a few laughs. If he messed up or you teased him about his hand being too low, he’d have a joke ready. Once you finished the dance, he made sure to kiss your hand with a wink, sometimes giving you a kiss on the cheek if no one was watching.

Theon’s absolute favorite thing to do was “steal” you from your partner, especially if it was someone he knew you disliked. He’d just whisk you off with a smirk and a quip, and you two would try to stifle your giggles at how angry the man would look.

Theon was only able to snatch you for the last dance once, and he got an earful for it later - but it was completely worth it. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, and he stole a kiss before being dragged off by Robb and Jon, who were positive that Catlyn was going to tear Theon a new one.

Theon would always try to find you after a gala. His usual flirting would fall a bit short, as he’d be a bit intimidated by how lovely and breathless you looked, but you’d still smile and would give him a real kiss goodnight.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You were a noble from Westeros who had long been travelling Essos, and you soon came into the service of the Queen of Dragons. You two had a surprising friendship, and she found herself quite drawn to you. One day, she heard you humming and dancing along to something as you tidied up, and she asked you with a laugh what you were doing.

As you described the grand balls you’d attend, and all the silly nonsense your parents would make you wear, she’d become thoughtful. She told you to demonstrate some more of the dances, and you were amused by how queenly her demand was. You’d do your best, but explain that it’s better with two people - perhaps one of her handmaidens or Missandei could help.

To your surprise, Daenerys would step forward and hold you with a strong confidence, all but telling you to instruct her. You’d do so, keeping your smile down as you guided her hands and began the basic steps. Daenerys did her best to follow, although she took it quite seriously, and thus would make a few mistakes. As you’d tease her good naturedly, she’d be even more determined, bringing you even closer and telling you to focus on the lesson.

Your lessons continued for some time, each one the two of you going longer and becoming a little more breathless. Daenerys loved how you’d hum the songs and would move with such confidence, it would distract her more than your lips or the feeling of your body against her’s. Finally, she’d push you against the wall and kiss you until you were breathless… And afterwards, you’d giggle and ask her how long she’s been wanting to do such a thing. The queen certainly punished that bit of cheek.

While you don’t have lessons all that much anymore, during celebrations Daenerys will take you to herself and lead you in the dance. She’d obviously be pleased with your compliments, which you found adorable.

Sometimes in her chambers, when the windows are open and you both can hear the sea, she’d pull you into her arms and want to slow dance. You both would end up making up your own dances, and would take turns leaning on each other and sharing kisses and whispers.

JORAH MORMONT

Dancing with Jorah came about purely by accident. You were discussing Westerosi culture with Daenerys, as you were also from there and she was curious. You described attending galas, all the beautiful dresses and lights and music. Jorah had attended a few as well, even though they weren’t as popular in the North, and he shared his stories.

Daenerys looked to the both of you with a bit of mischief in her eyes. She asked if you two could show her how some of the dances are done. You quickly felt shy, as you had quite a crush on Ser Jorah, but the idea of being so close and dancing with him was a wonderful thought. You looked to him, and he also seemed a little flustered, but he gave you a smile. “A dance or two for the Khaleesi shouldn’t be a problem. It’s been some time for me, so you may have to lead, my lady.”

You gladly did so, you loved it when he called you a lady, reminding you of better times back at home. Despite his words, he took you in his arms with little hesitation and after you counted a few times, you both were easily waltzing around the room. You hummed a song you remembered, and he also remembered it, and began recalling when he was a young man and attended his first gala.

You didn’t notice, but he was discussing the story more with you than Daenerys, and she had long snuck out of the room with Missandei, the two of them grinning.

You two had ended up dancing along to several more songs, talking all the while. You hummed and sometimes sang a song, and he easily swayed you even if he didn’t know it. Jorah held you just perfectly, not too tight, and you felt so safe in his arms. It wasn’t until you turned to ask Daenerys a question that you realized you both were alone, totally out of breath and not knowing how long you’d been dancing.

You had a mix of emotions, you were homesick and lovesick. Jorah assumed your quietness was because you were tired, and he brought you water and took you to a place to rest. You were touched, and you two kept talking into the evening. You eventually began leaning on him and fell asleep, and he carefully carried you to your room and kissed your brow before he tucked you in.

You both confessed your feelings to each other shortly afterward. While there wasn’t much time for parties in the Free Cities, sometimes during quiet evenings you’d pull him into a dance and he’d love it, enjoying your closeness and how you’d hum and rest your head on his chest.

JAMIE LANNISTER

Jamie was always expected to be accomplished in most things, and socially-demanded dancing for stuffy galas was no different. Although he didn’t think much of it, he had a natural talent for it. Jamie didn’t have many chances to dance, however, as the Kingsguard was generally discouraged from participating in galas, unless it was for ceremony or some event.

You first danced together at one of these ceremonies, and Jamie was relieved. You two had known each other for a while, and he was glad not to get stuck with some lovestruck maid. He started out with a smirk, making sassy remarks about the silliness of the whole thing, and you teasing him about being rude while dancing with a lady. As it went on, Jamie started to become quiet. He began to realize how much he liked having you this close, how you smiled and reassured him, and lightly scolded him when he made a rude comment about a guest. He couldn’t keep his heart still, and told himself it was just the exercise.

He was disappointed when the dance ended, and ended up finding you for a few more. When you were taken for the last dance, he couldn’t deny how irritated he felt, and watched you and your damned partner the whole time.

After that, he was sure to attend more galas, but not enough to bring suspicion to your growing relationship. He’d sometimes play it risky, bringing you closer than was proper, whispering in your ear lovely or flirty praises if he knew his sister was away. He really only enjoyed dancing with you, and didn’t have a problem turning down anyone else, although he had to dance with a few others to avoid being seen as too rude.

After he lost his hand and returned to King’s Landing, the bright galas lost their appeal and he stopped attending, even for ceremony. He ended up finding you in a practice room one day, and you guided him to you, although he protested. Once you began humming a song you knew he liked, and guided him into it, he couldn’t help but bring you close against his chest. He leaned into you, swaying as he nuzzled into your hair, holding you so tight it almost hurt.

You knew he was overwhelmed with emotion from his captivity, so when you two got a chance alone, you’d hold him close and whisper how much you loved him, sometimes swaying and humming the songs you two used to dance to.

TYRION LANNISTER

Galas were like any other feast or party for Tyrion, he could have plenty of drink and banter, and if he got bored, he’d slip out and go to a brothel. If he knew you were in attendance, you two would sit together, trading drinks and stories.

He knew you loved to dance, and sometimes you’d step away to enjoy the music. He’d have some feelings of envy and sadness, wishing he could dance so easily with you. One day, you noticed him being particularly self-pitying, and you pulled him by the wrist.

“What’s this, my lady? Normally, I wouldn’t refuse you, but with so many people -”

You smiled and shook your head. “Oh, honestly, it’s not that. I want you to dance with me.”

Tyrion was obviously unsure, he didn’t want that sort of attention drawn to both of you. He knew his reputation, but he didn’t want to sully your’s. You insisted, but instead of dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, you pulled him out in the halls.

“Now I’m really getting mixed messages about your intentions,” He joked, trying to relieve his anxiety.

You rolled your eyes and took his hands, and gently instructed him. Outside, you could still hear the music, but you were alone, enjoying yourselves You both ended up losing track of time, and had to hurry back separately, so no one would assume anything untoward.

He was touched by your kindness, loving you even more, if that was possible. During galas, you two would hold hands and drink, and after you married you were more than able to sneak out and dance to yourselves under the moon and stars.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was the first time you had attended a gala at Casterly Rock, and your parents wanted you on your best behavior. You had to dance the appropriate amount of time with the appropriate amount of partners, at the appropriate distance. Just thirty minutes in and you wanted to leave.

You noticed Tywin Lannister sitting at a table with his family members; he was hard to miss, with his great presence. However, you became wrapped up in your irksome partners, and you didn’t notice he was gone until he was suddenly beside you. Your scared partner wasted no time in handing you over, and before you knew it, you were dancing with the Warden of the West.

He had a confident hold on you, and perhaps he was a little too close, but you hardly thought about that. You were surprised by his poise and practiced steps; he led you effortlessly and you found yourself complimenting him. You blushed and tried not to look away as he returned the compliment with his low voice. You'd never thought he would do such a thing, and to you of all people.

At the end of it, he gave you a proper bow and kiss on your hand, but it felt different than others you received. You were still buzzing. At the end of the night, he picked you for the last dance, and you were determined not to be intimidated again. You danced wonderfully in sync with him, and you could swear he tried to change some steps to trip you up. You didn’t fall for it, and followed his lead easily. The dance was over before you knew it, and he gave you another customary kiss on your hand, but there was a peculiar look in his eyes that made your heart flutter even more.

The gossip in court exploded after that, with your handmaids telling you that he almost never danced with any lady, and everyone agreed you two looked like royalty.

You still remember that night fondly after you two married. After you wed, he was sure to get the first few dances with you at each gala, and no one was going to take Tywin Lannister’s wife from him until he was quite finished. Once he was, he’d hand you to a partner and sit down, his eyes occasionally following you across the ballroom. No one would think of making an inappropriate move on you, especially at Casterly Rock.

If he felt someone was overstepping their bounds, Tywin wouldn’t hesitate to calmly stand from his seat, make his way to you, and give them a quiet but vicious reminder of who you were married to. Then, he’d guide you to his seat, where he’d keep his hand over yours until he calmed down.

For the last dance, no matter how tired he was or who he was speaking to, he’d seek you out. While Tywin always held you close, if he was in a particular mood, he’d make sure your body was nearly touching his, and his hand would have a firm grip on your waist. The two of you would talk quietly or you'd enjoy a peaceful silence with knowing glances. Tywin wouldn’t want to show too much affection in public, but you could tell from his soft gaze and the way he held you that he very much wanted you. Once the dance was finished, he’d keep you by his side until the gala finished and you two retired to your bedchambers.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Of all the stupid things nobles do, Sandor found galas especially fucking stupid, especially with all the fuss in guarding them. Normally he was glad to take the night off and drink, but since being hired by your family, he had to attend to guard you.

He’d already had growing feelings for you, and the damn galas only made it worse. You were always dressed beautifully, always smiling at this person and laughing with that one. At least you'd give cold looks to lords who didn’t impress you, but he still hated how everyone held your attention. Anytime one of the lords was too close or touchy, he’d be sure to touch his sword and quietly appear next to you two until they’d slink off.

After a well-known incident involving a drunk lord who ended up lifted by his neck and nearly tossed, the guests figured out you were well-protected and didn’t try anything fishy. It really wasn’t enough for Sandor, he didn’t give a shit about dancing, it just drove him up a wall how other men were so close and touching you. You couldn’t stand some of them, but you had to allow it, and whatever you two felt for each other had to be kept under wraps.

In the evening, when the gala ran long and your legs and feet were absolutely killing you, Sandor would wait until you two were alone and pick you up. He’d cradle you bridal style, secretly adoring how you rested your head on his broad shoulders and kept him close, sometimes touching his face as you closed your eyes. He’d be bold enough to take you into your bedroom and set you down on the bed, ignoring the scandalized looks of your handmaidens. Eventually you began sending them away, and when Sandor would set you down, he’d be sure to strip you from your clothes (perhaps a bit too roughly), rubbing your legs and meeting your lips as you held onto his face.

At one point you were practicing in an empty room and you offered to teach him. He snorted, saying he wasn’t doing that shit, and you laughed, figuring you’d give it a try. After a gala, you still have the music in your head, so when you’re both alone you’ll wrap your arms around him and hum, trying to sway him along with you. He’ll grumble and complain but still bring his arms around you, holding you a little too tight, as if trying to erase all the people who were touching you before. Sometimes he was feeling especially jealous, seeing how flushed your cheeks were and how you breathed heavily in your dress, and he’d be too eager to rip it while ‘helping’ you undress.

BRONN

No surprise, he’d scoff at the ridiculousness of the galas and dancing. He and Tyrion would have plenty of good laughs about it as you got ready, and he’d be sure to give you several compliments on your backside before you left. After he was knighted at Blackwater, Tyrion made several jokes about him attending to find a proper wife, which he always blew off. It wasn’t until Tyrion brought up your marriage in passing, and how you’d likely find a husband at a gala since you attended so many, that he got a little irritated.

He didn’t want to go, of course, but he recalled how you always dressed up for them. Were you dressing up for someone in particular? He didn’t think you were the husband-hunting type. The whole idea just left a bad taste in his mouth, so he agreed to go to one with Tyrion, fully intending to just drink and joke the whole time.

Naturally none of the lords and ladies looked forward to having Bronn or Tyrion there, but you still sat with them, laughing and drinking along. Bronn kept fighting the urge to pull you into his lap like he did when he visited the taverns, and right when he was about to pull you to him by your waist, you were asked to dance by some Lord Who Knows from Where the Fuck. Bronn definitely was glaring when the man took you away.

As the lord danced with you, and you smiled politely when he kissed your hand at the end, Bronn hoped that was it. Nope, several lords were ready to dance with you. Evidently, you were popular, and that wasn’t surprising. Bronn wasn’t a flowery words type, but the word ‘beautiful’ kept coming to mind as you twirled and glittered under the lights. It just irked him, so he kept drinking and suggested to Tyrion that they ditch and find a brothel. He remained irritated, despite the distractions.

The next time you readied for a gala and stopped by Tyrion’s office to see if he was joining you, Bronn felt that ugly feeling again, and urged you to come to one of his favorite taverns instead.

You thought he was joking. “In my jewels and one of my favorite dresses?”

“Eh, leave the jewels. I can help ya out of that dress, if ya need it.” He grinned.

You realized he actually meant it, and you sighed, thinking about how upset your family would be, especially since you were still unmarried… But Bronn looked almost eager, and it was hard to refuse him to begin with. You rolled your eyes, told him to give you some time and returned in a much simpler outfit. He couldn’t keep his grin and laugh to himself as he pulled you out of the castle, with Tyrion smirking to himself as you two left.

At the tavern, there was plenty of music and drinks already flowing. After you two drank plenty, Bronn pulled you up, telling you he’d show you what real dancing was. You’d never actually been amongst the smallfolk like this, so you were a little overwhelmed, but you loved the way his hands touched and wandered across your body. He was risky, giving you kisses here on there, sometimes on your jaw or your neck, encouraged by your laughter. Once you two were tired and thirsty, he eagerly pulled you into his lap, calling for another round of drinks. The two of you spent quite a bit of time at the inn and the room upstairs. From then on, you began shirking attending galas, having more fun dancing with Bronn in various taverns and dance halls in King’s Landing.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Not too surprising, Stannis saw no enjoyment in galas, even when he was unmarried and expected to find a wife. The regular feasts were pain enough, and Renly and Robert always took the attention of others anyway.

While courting you, he never actually met you at a gala, preferring to see you elsewhere. When you two married, he realized that he eventually had to attend them, as you couldn’t go by yourself … and he knew how much you loved them. So even with his discomfort, he made attempts to practice with you. You guided him patiently, and he paid attention, although he often got distracted by your happy smile, and how you’d reward him with kisses. He’d tell you to let up on all the affection so he could concentrate, but …. Nope, you didn’t. If you kept showering him with praise and affection, he’d become terribly flustered and try to pull you back into the lesson.

When a gala finally came around, you could tell he was nervous, even if he seemed the same to anyone else. He danced with you through two songs, which surprised you. You forgot yourself more than once, giving him a chaste kiss or a compliment like you’d do in practice, and you both would blush and hope no one noticed.

He’d sit out after that, feeling too out of place. He’d feel nervous seeing you dance with more loud and outgoing men, evening starting to grind his teeth if they looked too cozy with you. Eventually, Davos would have to point out that you didn’t smile nearly as much for the other lords, nor did you stay close to them or laugh at their silly jokes.

For the last dance, you could tell he was happy to return to you. He held you much closer, even giving you subdued smiles as you beamed up at him and noted his improvement. At the end, he’d give you a kiss on the hand, but wouldn’t be satisfied and would end up giving you a sweet one on your lips.

RENLY BARATHEON

While Renly was good enough at dancing and he had friends at the gala, he preferred feasts and tourneys, especially since galas were full of starry-eyed girls chasing after him. You two met when you were forced to partner up, you both were trying to escape more undesirable partners and easily danced away from them. Once you’d both realize what you just did, you’d have a good laugh about it and started to get to know each other.

Since you two often visited at other events after that, there were rumors, but you knew his heart was with a certain Tyrell. He was a fun friend anyway, especially when you both wanted to escape at a gala. You’d dance and make jokes, complain about your families and snigger at certain guests. One time you both were being pursued by especially annoying partners for a last dance, and you literally spent half the song dodging through couples, avoiding them and finally finding each other, only to be totally out of breath and the song nearly over.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You attended more than enough galas for one lady; your parents were so eager for you to marry, they dragged you to dozens. At least you enjoyed dancing, however, the instability of Westeros had other ideas. You followed your father on his campaign to support Stannis, putting a solid end to any future galas.

As you were often at Dragonstone, you befriended little Shireen, who naturally wasn’t allowed to attend galas. You began giving her little lessons, teaching her some of the songs and steps to them, which she loved. Eventually you began to befriend Davos as well, ans he thought it was adorable to watch the two of you. He especially liked the grace and ease that you moved with, it reminded him of a ship sailing on an easy breeze.

One evening, Shireen suggested that you teach Davos how to dance. He was taken off-guard and quickly said that he really wasn’t a dancer, besides, you were a proper lady who ought to dance with proper lords.

“You are also a lord, and a knight, Ser Davos.” You reminded him. "Besides, in these times, the realm has little need for fancy parties."

He still seemed uneasy and tried several other excuses, until you walked up to him, put his hand on your waist and took up his right one. Of course, he felt insecure about his missing fingers, but you didn’t even bring it up. And it was hard to focus on them, when he had your lovely eyes and your sweet smile so close.

Shireen sang the songs you taught her, and you sang along, carefully guiding him into a simple two and three step dance. He was stiff and nervous the whole time, worried about touching you inappropriately, wanting to touch you but knowing he shouldn’t. After that, several times when he stopped by to see you and Shireen, he’d be dragged into another dancing lesson. He actually did love being so close to you, and how sweet you were with the princess. It made his mind wander to what sort of family you two would have.

Davos never really saw you at a proper ball, which he considered a good and a bad thing. He’d never see you in a lovely dress enchanting the room, but he also wouldn’t have to see younger, handsomer men dancing perfectly with you.

Sometimes when you were feeling anxious, you’d wrap your arms around his warm torso and hold him close to you, humming one of the songs and swaying with him. He’d hold your waist, kissing your brow and giving you words of comfort, knowing you liked the movement and closeness.

MARGAERY TYRELL

The two of you began dancing in the practice room. Margaery was quite drawn to you based off the rumors she heard, and she wasn’t disappointed, as you two quickly dazzled the room. From then on, you often practiced together, usually trading gossip and jokes the whole time.

At the next gala, she surprised you with asking you to dance. You two twirled around the floor, enchanting anyone who watched with your combined grace, not knowing you two were cracking jokes or sharing flirtations while the music played.

You danced often together, although you both knew when it was appropriate to stop dancing together and dance with a possible suitor, it never made you happy. A few times Margaery would notice when a man was getting too close, and she’d swiftly whisk you away with a charming smile, leaving him none the wiser that you were being rescued. Often, you two would catch each other’s eyes while dancing with other partners, and she’d give you a knowing smile.

After one of the parties was winding down, you accompanied Margaery to her private chambers so you two could get out of your dresses and soothe your aching feet. She noticed you were feeling down most of the evening. “Is something the matter, love?”

“Well…” You felt foolish. “I was thinking how you and I will never get the last dance. If we ever did, people would think it was some joke.”

Before you knew it, she whisked you off the bed and onto your feet. “Then, we’ll dance right now! This will be our last one, or the one after this, or the one after that. The last dance will always be just the two of us, when we decide.”

From then on, you two had a little tradition, having your “last dance” in one of your chambers, humming to the ballroom songs in your nightgowns and usually ending it with a fit of giggles on the bed.

LORAS TYRELL

It wasn’t too surprising that Loras was just as graceful in dance as he was on horseback, and all the ladies of the realm were eager to dance with him when he attended a gala. Loras was polite, giving the proper amount of time to each lady, as he truly enjoyed galas, even if his partners could be lacking, and even if he’d never get to dance with the one he really loved.

However, Loras was surprised by you, pleasantly so. He loved that you knew the complicated steps he couldn’t try with other partners, and would give you challenges to keep up. You two would end up getting lost in the music, dancing through several songs. Several guests would stop dancing or talking just to watch, and you both usually got a hearty round of applause by the end of it.

Of course, you both would be exhausted and sweating, but he had a high respect for you and began seeing you as a friend.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne wasn’t crazy about guarding galas, as it just brought back painful memories of her own rejections and trying desperately to fit in. She’d sigh and bear it, moving all her focus to protecting you. She took the duty seriously, thus, she always watched you.

She began to admire the grace and beauty you had as you danced. She always thought you were pretty, but when you smiled and twirled, and your hair and gown moved with you, it was almost dream-like. More than once, her heart beat quickly as she watched you effortlessly pull off some move she couldn’t attempt or even name. She didn’t even pay attention to your partners, unless they were obviously pushing their boundaries - which she’d be quick to correct if you didn’t stop them first.

One day, you were in your practice room and she was once again taken with you. You noticed her staring, and asked if she’d like to help you practice.

Brienne was taken aback by the suggestion, and quickly became uncomfortable. She insisted there was no way she could be of any help. As you pressed her, she kept insisting, saying she wasn’t graceful and she’d just end up hurting you.

She sat in on several other practice sessions, and you began to get specific with her. You’d ask her to stand still or hold you a certain way so you could practice a dance. She’d get what you were doing right away, but she’d be obedient, trying to calm her beating heart. As you two became closer, and you reassured her, she’d slowly try to hold you and try a few moves, but she’d quickly lose confidence and retreat into herself.

At one gala, during the last dance, a lord was much too forward with you and even tried to follow after you once it ended. Brienne was quick to put him in his place, face-first on the ground. She escorted you back to your room, noticing how upset you were by the whole ordeal.

“Who cares about the last dance, anyway? It’s just stupid ceremony, yet men act like fools over it,” You ranted, taking off your heels and dress. Brienne agreed, trying not to be distracted by you disrobing.

“My last dance will be with whomever I please. Brienne?”

She stood at attention. “My lady?”

You held out your hands, dressed in only your nightgown. “Will you be my last dance, my knight?”

She blushed to her ears and began to refuse, but she thought of all the men who would try to grab you, coerce you into a dance or just act tasteless. Setting her sword aside, she took your hands carefully. You hummed a song and led her into it, and she swore you could hear her heart beneath her armor. In spite of all her worries and insecurities, she loved having you so close, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving you a proper knightly kiss on your hand once your impromptu dance finished.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You knew of Ramsay’s reputation when you married him. You weren’t a fool, you were aware he certainly had feelings for you, and he was willing to keep his more … unsavory aspects away from you, for the most part. He was especially good at playing the dutiful lord husband where guests were concerned, although Roose still kept an eye on him during galas.

You adored dancing and you weren’t going to stop just because he didn’t partake. But to your surprise, one day he took you in his arms, and impressed you with how he followed the music and steps. He was rather clumsy, and perhaps a little too fast, but it was obvious he had been practicing.

You complimented Ramsay, and he was clearly pleased, holding you closer and giving you that charming smile he liked to use. You could always see behind it, but this time it seemed genuine. Sometimes he’d slip up and give you a kiss, often whispering something less than appropriate to you, but before you knew it several songs played and you had enjoyed yourself.

He was still holding onto you when a man came up, asking for your hand. Ramsay looked confused, then clearly irritated, and you had to remind him. “My lord, it’s customary to change partners every other song.”

“Is that so?” His expression changed again, to a darker one you easily recognized. He handed you over to the man, obviously not enjoying it, and you hoped he stayed out of trouble.

As you danced with other partners, you could see he had a few dances with other girls, but then he returned to the table. You could tell there was strong emotion brewing behind his eyes, you just couldn’t be sure what he’d do.

One of the lords dancing with you was quite drunk, and ended up stumbling. You tried to catch him, but he grabbed ahold of you, specifically on your backside. Before you could push him off, Ramsay was already there, taking the man by the collar. The room went totally quiet as he smiled. “I’d recommend you find a different place for those hands, my lord, or they’ll end up separated from your wrists.”

You pulled Ramsay away and Roose urged the musicians to continue. Before you could even speak to Ramsay, he had you in his arms again, but this time with far more possessiveness. He gripped your waist and brought the two of you completely together, and kissing your neck as you two swayed to the song. He began to bite you and leave marks, his tone sweet but his words told you that you belonged to him, and if you or any lords forgot, he’d be more than happy to remind them.

ROOSE BOLTON

It was common knowledge among the Northern lords that Roose didn’t dance at galas. He wasn’t the only Northern lord who did this, of course, but he already had a reputation for being cold. He’d simply sit at the table, observing the guests and occasionally speaking when it was polite.

It wasn’t until Roose was courting you that he finally stood, asking you for the first dance. You were just as surprised as anyone else, but you accepted, and you couldn’t help but notice the confidence and ease that he held you with. His movements weren’t flourishing or energetic, but held your attention with his steely eyes. Occasionally, he’d murmur in your ear a lovely compliment, and it would almost break your concentration.

You noticed as the dances would go on, he’d bring you closer, and you didn’t mind at all. Afterward, he may have accepted a dance here or there from someone else, but he really didn’t get asked, and he seemed quite fine with that. He’d sit at the table at his usual spot, his eyes following you, sometimes catching your gaze and giving an expression that you couldn’t place.

He was able to catch you for the last dance once or twice, and his movements were so slow and steady, it was almost hypnotizing. You found yourself swaying into him, sometimes leaning, and you had to remind yourself to keep an appropriate distance - but then he’d gently pull you back in. As your cheeks flushed, he asked why you suddenly became so shy, and you managed some excuse. At the end of it, he took your hand and gave you a perfectly polite kiss that still gave you goosebumps because of the way he lingered and kept his eyes on you.

Once you married, he’d only dance with you. During a gala, he’d keep an eye on which men were dancing with you - if he felt one was keeping too close, or one was dancing with you too often, he’d come from seemingly nowhere and more or less threaten them away, always in his calm tone. Then he’d take you in his arms, swaying you in his gentle and slow way. As you melted into it, he’d give you a kiss on your brow or cheek. He’d whisper to you sometimes, complimenting your loveliness or reminding you that you two still had the business of making an heir.

At the last dance, he’d only seem to want you more, especially if he was feeling jealous through the night. His long fingers would softly rub the small of your back, often slipping lower if he could get away with it, and he’d give several kisses to your lips and neck. By the end of it, you’re usually a mess, and you’d want the gala to hurry up and be over so you two could get to your shared bedroom.

EDMURE TULLY

As much as his father and sisters attempted to instruct him, Edmure was always clumsy with his feet. Lysa and Catlyn often teased him, pulling him into the practice room and insisting he dance with them. He attended several galas through the years, always quite shy and sort of bumbling when he was dragged to dance with someone.

When your mother not so subtly suggested that you two dance, the panic on his face was obvious. You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d met, and now he’d be making a fool of himself in front of you. You took his hand, giving him a gentle smile, whispering that it would be okay.

You took the lead and he was surprised by how kind you were. You would quietly instruct him and carefully guide him, and he became confident, enjoying several dances with you. He was so disappointed to hand you over to someone else, he almost forgot to kiss your hand.

After you two married, Edmure actually put a lot more work into his practice, since you loved dancing so much and he wanted to spend time with you. He admired your confidence in all things, but especially when all eyes were on you as you went from partner to partner. He’d try to participate as much as he could, but he still was quite clumsy and didn’t want to slow you down, although you insisted he was doing quite well.

When the last dance came, he almost couldn’t wait to be by your side. Your cheeks would be flushed from the evening, and he’d lovingly brush some of your stray hair behind your ear before taking your hand and waist in the last dance. He probably couldn’t resist giving you a kiss on your cheek or forehead, being a little embarrassed by his own behavior. Once it finished, he’d again lose himself and give you a lovely kiss before remembering propriety and placing a kiss on your hand.

Once the evening is over, he’s incredibly attentive to you, massaging your legs and getting you water or whatever you needed. When you tease him about it, he blushes quite a bit, but says he can’t help but look after and spoil his lovely wife.

BRYNDEN TULLY

When you first asked him to dance, he laughed out loud, assuming you were joking. When you insisted, he certainly was surprised, but he set his ale down and gladly stood to join you.

The Blackfish knew he wasn’t graceful in any sense of the word, but he held you firmly, and he led with confidence. If he ever missed any steps, he recovered so smoothly it was hard to tell. He didn't give a damn about any gossip between the two of you, and respected that you felt the same.

Often you’d push yourself closer to him, and he’d grin, only holding you tighter, making your heart race. He’d have plenty of witty comments, loving to see you laugh as your cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and maybe you two could sneak in a few flirtatious whispers. He loved how small you were in his arms, and sometimes he'd make a snide comment about hoping his brother and the Riverlands court were thoroughly scandalized by the two of you.

Brynden would really only have a few dances with you before insisting you ought to partner with some younger men, and better suitors. Even if you’d pout, he’d sit down and go back to drinking and joking with his friends. However, he’d unmistakably look up and watch you, loving to see you twirl and move, and sometimes laughing to himself whenever his nephew nearly stepped on your feet. If he was feeling particularly bold and had plenty of drink, he’d swoop you up for the last dance, insisting to your partner that you were in good hands - and really, it was hard to argue with such a man, especially when he was already whisking you away.

At the end of the evening, he always gave you a “proper” kiss on the hand, which you know he wasn’t taking seriously at all, as he'd often give you a wink or would scoff at anyone staring. You’d kiss him on the cheek in return.

Once the guests were turning to their rooms, Brynden would find you, pulling you into an empty hall to give you a proper kiss, grumbling about damned propriety. You'd laugh softly as you guided him to your room, though he'd insist on carrying you, delighting in how you'd hold onto him.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn vastly preferred the galas in Dorne, which had both livelier music and dance. As much as he enjoyed causing a little ruckus or scandal here and there at typical galas, for the most part, they uninterested him.

He ended up attending one, and he was quite ready to leave and find himself amongst far more interesting company. Then, he spotted you just in time, and he wondered where such a beautiful and graceful gem had been hiding all along. Surely he had to have heard of you, and when he realized he hadn't, he would make sure you knew of him.

He more or less whisked you from his partner and pulled you into a dance full of energy, and he was delighted as you met his unpredictable steps. He'd flirt shamelessly, asking all about you, and if you'd be interested in meeting him in a … less formal setting. There would be endless gossip on you and the Dornish prince, but you didn't care, and danced the rest of the night with Oberyn. It was obvious he loved dancing as much as you did, and he made for a wonderful partner.

You attended a gala at Dorne for his brother's birthday, and Oberyn couldn't believe his luck you that were there. He pulled you into his arms at once, bringing you close and instructing you in the more sensual Dornish dances that most of Westeros was too scandalized by. If you would have him, he'd want you to be his paramour by the end of the night.

Oberyn liked to watch you at galas, and how you adapted so well to other partners and enjoyed every song, not taking a moment to rest. It was painfully obvious how taken he was with you by the way he’d smile in your direction, and when you two danced, you seemed lost in your own world. In the evenings, he’d do his utmost to spoil you and soothe your sore legs, praising your grace and movement the entire time.

YARA GREYJOY

As hard and bitter as the Iron Islands were, they liked loud music and good drink as well as any place in the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes a tavern would just be full of both, and a great party would carry on into the night. You loved partaking in these, losing yourself in the music and singing along with the old sea shanties, even if you had plenty of hands to slap away. You didn’t let a bunch of foolish, drunk men ruin your fun.

Yara had seen you plenty of times before, and of course you knew her. She’d sit back with a drink and watch you sway your hips to the beat, and you’d give her a smirk or a wink in return. You were patient, she was not - eventually, she’d finish off her drink, stand up, shove off whatever man was hovering around you and bring you close to her.

You loved teasing the Greyjoy captain, often saying things like “My, haven’t we met before?”. Sometimes she played into it with you, other times she just hovered close to your ear and responded, “You know exactly who I am.”

You could tell Yara wanted to see you at times other than this, by the way she’d talk of you two ‘touring’ her ship’s quarters or where she might find you again, but you liked to keep her on her toes.

PETYR BAELISH

When Petyr asked you to dance with his disarming smile, you didn’t realize what you were in for. He was an absolute natural, holding you and leading you with expertise. He moved quickly, forcing you to keep up, but you loved the challenge. Fast songs that most people would sit out for were no problem for him, and he even had several sweet compliments for you, or playfully traded a few rumors he’d heard about you and some lord, secretly hoping you’d dispel them.

As you complimented him on his dancing, stating he was a natural, he’d brush it off with false modesty and insist he just practiced… but you knew from that prideful smirk that he was glad to impress you. He especially loved seeing you flushed and breathing heavily after several dances with him, imagining you with the same face in a much different setting.

If you were stuck with a particularly boring or sleazy partner, he’d time it perfectly, swooping in to rescue you right when you were at your wit’s end. With his usual charisma, he’d tell them you were needed, perhaps giving a swift insult to them in the same breath. Sometimes he’d hint that you were already involved with someone else, and would be delighted if you wouldn’t correct him.

The other side of Petyr would come out if you were having fun with other men, laughing along with their jokes or enjoying their dancing. It wasn’t that they were men specifically, but they were lords, rich lords with far more money and lands than he had. At that moment, he’d wait again, taking you in his arms once you were free. His usual quick step and cadence would seem slower, more deliberate, as he’d bring you closer to him. He’d be smiling, but he’d whisper all the things he could give you, how much better he was than them, and how they’d all hurt you anyway.

BERIC DONDARRION

Sometimes around the campfire with the Brotherhood, they burst into song and drunkenly dance along. You often felt a little out of place with them, even if you believed in them, as you were a highborn lady. They began singing a song you were familiar with, and since you had a few drinks yourself, you pulled Beric up with you, asking for a dance. He surprised you with properly holding your waist and hand, and you remembered he was a lord before this.

The men began to whistle and holler as you two attempted a waltz, but eventually it came back to you and you guided him. He laughed, as he had mostly forgotten, and cooed about how cute and lovely you looked. Eventually you slipped a bit and he caught you, picked you up and sat you back down with him, giving you plenty of kisses and holding him to you. You teased him, saying you wanted to keep dancing, and he promised he’d join you anytime you wanted one.

He knows you left behind a lot to join the Brotherhood, and as much as you say you love him, he still sometimes worries and just wants you to be happy. So he’s sees no problem in indulging in your dancing and singing, and often gets overwhelmed with how precious you are during those times.

Since he learned how much you enjoyed it, sometimes he’d surprise you, scooping you up and pulling you into a dance. Beric adored hearing you laugh with happiness, and he thought you looked especially pretty when two danced around the fire. Sometimes you’d jokingly teach his men how to dance ‘proper’, and even though they were playing around, Beric would get a little forlorn and eventually pull you back to him.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

When you tried explaining to Tormund what galas and dancing in the South was like, he’d be quite confused, not understanding the point of it, but he just loved to hear you talk and describe it. Eventually he’d ask for a demonstration, and since you two were alone, you’d sigh and give it a try. “Well, it would be a bit easier to show you if I had another person-”

Instantly he’d stand up, and you’d laugh at his enthusiasm. You’d take his hands and guide him, rolling your eyes at his whistling when he grasps your waist and instantly brings you close to him. You try to attempt a few steps, but he’s having so much fun holding onto you and peppering you with kisses that you just laugh and let him.

He’d try to show you some wildling dances he’s picked up, although they’re few and far between, and mostly ceremonial. Again, he’d have so much fun watching you that he’d get distracted and just want to hold you.

At some point, when you’d all be gathered around a fire, someone brought up galas. You jokingly danced with Jon, who could somewhat remember the steps, and Tormund suddenly felt a little jealous. He got between the two of you, again holding to you and bringing you to his lap. He’d want to try it again, although he’d be quite drunk and would just end up holding you to him and swaying. You’d give him several kisses, all while whispering what sort of dresses you’d wear for him and how you two would dance. More than once you two would’ve been told to get a room.

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flowerbeom · 5 years ago

Text

Go For Broke | 05

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 6.8k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way. Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in. Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Sorry it took a while.

All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

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Jaebeom was irritatingly easy to talk to. Even after you had both adopted loose grips on your almost empty glasses to curb the steady flow of replacements down to a trickle, it didn’t stop the admissions from spilling through your lips. Whether or not the Amaretto was at fault, it became increasingly hard not to answer Jaebeom’s questions; not when he seemed to drown in every word you said.

“So your brother’s agent and your father was a scout?” He spoke softly into the rim of his glass, Jaebeom merely smelled the fumes in lieu of taking a sip. And as if his eyes weren’t piercing enough; the hazy, golden reflection of the whiskey rippling just beneath his bottom lashes made them intoxicating; hypnotizing almost, provocative absolutely.

You hummed, gaze flicking to the ceiling before speaking. “Yup, Dad was taking us to shows before we hit ninth grade.” Jaebeom’s eyes flickered when your gaze shot to his, keeping solid eye contact when you spoke again. “And yeh, I agree.”

His nose scrunched in the most insignificant way, but his lips slanted just enough to show confused interest; urging you to continue. “They were questionable parenting decisions.”

You enjoyed the way Jaebeom’s steely demeanour cracked, for that one second where his eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled into his glass; pleasantly amused. Pleasantly amused by you. And for some reason you felt a small ripple of giddiness stir in your stomach, as if making him laugh was something you had set out to do all night, and accomplishing it felt satisfying. So you blamed your next admission on that, the words simply slipping through your smile that had Jaebeom’s name etched in its edges.

“But I loved it.”

“Until you didn’t.”

It was a loaded silence. A spine straightening silence. And you knew it was a baseless response from the lick of assumption in his tone and merely formed off his knowledge of who you were now. But to you, in that moment, it was as if he had sauntered into your little vault of secrets and rifled through that one unlocked filing cabinet and started skimming through the file of the life you once lived. Dot points of your past decisions laid out in front of his scrutinizing eyes and it made every ounce of air in your lungs thick and sticky. And words started to form on your tongue but none of them fit together, and somehow you knew that Jaebeom could see it.

“So why’d you quit?” It could have sounded interrogative, but there was something in the way Jaebeom looked at you that made it sound like polite curiosity. Your eyes dove to the corner of the room, and searched for the right answer in the corner of your memory.

“I didn’t… I didn’t like playing God.” Your teeth ground together saying those words and Jaebeom’s eyes narrowed at the sight. “I didn’t like… “ A sour taste started to pool in your mouth, a bitter resentment; so you swallowed the rest of your diluted cocktail to wash down the taste. “I didn’t like having this false power to decide whether someone was good enough or not.”

Jaebeom inhaled slowly. “Clearly some people aren’t good enough, though.”

You exhaled sharply. “And some people are, and they still don’t get signed.”

Jaebeom sat up straighter, swallowing quickly to say something but there was something in your eyes that stopped him. Something in the way your jaw clenched, as if years of bad memories were uncontrollably bubbling up but they were too hard to say out loud. Your chest rose with a long and heavy breath and your eyes drifted to the stage. Jaebeom’s stare remained on you.

“People stand on that stage and back themselves with skill and dreams alone..” You could feel your eyes dilating and your fingers curling into your hands. “Who sing or rap or play an instrument so well that there could be no other explanation than having been given that talent from God or whatever..” Your tone was rising to a slightly elevated level of hysteria. “And they still don’t get signed and it’s.. It’s..” You could feel your nails digging into your palms and caught Jaebeom’s wide eyes. You released the tension in your chest with a sluggish exhale.

“It... doesn’t even matter.” Uncoiling your fingers, you laid one hand flat on the table and rested your cheek in the other. There was an uneasiness in Jaebeom’s eyes - an internal turmoil evident in his knitted brows and it distracted you from your own restlessness. Mainly because it looked like he was trying to make a decision about you, or even more, a decision about himself. But that was neither here nor there when he slowly lowered his glass, knuckles grazing yours when he leaned forward to rest his other forearm on the table.

“But I take it you’re happier now, yeh?”

You hesitated.

“Umm, I--”.

His fingertips were ever so slightly smoothing against his glass, the consequence of which were the softest of caresses against your knuckles that gathered all your scattered attention from every corner of the room to the tiny wrinkle beneath his left eye. And in any other circumstance you never would have noticed, but the way his expression read concern and how every nerve in your body fired every time his knuckles glossed over yours left you with no other option other than to tunnel all focus onto his face and for some reason to wonder how warm his hand might be if you held it.

Jaebeom tilted his head, a pout desperately trying not to reveal itself on his pink lips. And you felt that part of you snap once again. So you withdrew your hand from the table and lifted a beckoning finger to the keen eyed waitress who was definitely not just standing there waiting for you to call her over and gave a curt smile when she immediately strode to the bar. Dragging your eyes back, Jaebeom smiled; more with his eyes than his lips and everything but the table, and the chair you sat on and the glasses that reflected the soft light above you and Jaebeom, especially Jaebeom, started to disappear.

“I--” You coughed, feeling like the entire situation was caught in your throat. “I.. ahh, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” Jaebeom was demanding an answer. From the tilt in his lips to the teasing narrow of his eyes, the warning flags of danger waved in your mind but who were you, in that moment where Jaebeom’s resolute stare was holding you to account, to pay them any attention. Straightening your back against your chair, you felt no sense to deny him and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“What do you want me to say?” A small and timid laugh escaped you. “That I love my little store? That I love being my own boss? That I’m happier now despite the sizable pay cut I gave myself?”

“Yes.”

You swallowed thickly. Jaebeom’s sharp candor took you aback that you thanked the waitress for delivering your drinks at the exact moment you felt the floor begin to crumble beneath you. You slid her a tip, even though you knew you still didn’t have to pay for those drinks.

Jaebeom didn’t reach for his glass. Jaebeom didn’t move. He didn’t even blink while he waited for you. Yet your hand was curling around your drink, fingers tapping in rolling succession against the glass and every breath sunk heavy in your lungs. Though in that moment, where you felt his glare burrowing into your skin, you remembered exactly what you were there for. So you swallowed down the look he gave you with the amaretto on your tongue and set your jaw.

“Yes, much happier.”

Jaebeom smirked, and you felt the air grow thinner around you, the smog-like tension finally clearing. “And your brother’s artists, do their records make it onto your shelves?”

You both lifted the rims of your glasses to your lips.

“If they’re good enough.”

Jaebeom sneered and dipped lower in his chair, his knee brushing against yours.

“I thought you were done deciding who’s good enough or not.”

Sliding your foot up the back of his calf, your lips curled devilishly feeling Jaebeom’s leg jerk beneath the table.

“Yeh.” Admitting through a slanted giggle. ”But, right now I’m wondering if you’re good enough or not.”

You watched closely as Jaebeom clenched his jaw and cracked his neck and swore you could feel the heat starting to radiate from his body. You had struck a nerve. You had found that one little locked box inside Jaebeom’s ego and cracked it open with a simple flick of your tongue. You questioned him in the one thing you knew, well - quite highly assumed, he’d excel in and didn’t care for the consequences. And, by god you relished the feeling. You got drunk off the way he tried to conceal how haphazardly the cogs were turning in his mind. You wanted to bathe in that seemingly insignificant triumph and to see just how far you could push him.

And in a flash, roles were reversed when his knee pushed your legs apart. The side of his knee brushed against your thighs as his foot spread your legs, and your mouth fell open to the sight of his snarling smile. Yet, you did not retreat.

“It’s a bit early for you to decide that, don’t you think?” Taking a long sip, his eyes never left yours.

Heat swarmed between your legs, your throat cracking dry from his advance. Resolve flooded your body, fervour coursed through your veins and you watched your eyes grow dark in your reflection in Jaebeom’s glass. Clamping his leg between yours, you took your own sip; rolling the alcohol in your mouth as you felt his pulse against your skin.

“Well, we’ve got all night.”

Jaebeom yanked his leg back, pulling you closer to the table and closer to him. And all you could do was smile, with your tongue pressed against your molars and an aroused arch of your brow. Raising his glass to meet yours halfway across the table, Jaebeom spoke softly, growling almost; setting your skin on fire.

“Yes, yes we do.”

“What do you mean you won’t choose!?” Your voice rang shrill.

“I won’t. I mean - I can’t. It’s impossible.” Jaebeom crossed his arms against his chest, tilting his chin to the ceiling; defiant in his decision.

“Surely, you’re kidding? You have to be.”

“I’m deadly serious about this.”

You lowered your glass to the table clumsily, eyes wide and your bottom lip quivered; confusion painted on your face. Leaning forward to close the distance between your nonplussed expression and Jaebeom’s unperturbed one, your tongue licked the edge of your top lip before speaking.

“So you’d easily choose Queen at their worst over The Beatles at their best..“ Jaebeom nodded, pouring another shot of whiskey into his glass. “But you refuse to choose between Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder?”

“Yes.” He replied, deadpan.

“Really?” Your brow arched further than you thought it could.

“Yes.” Again he replied, tone flatter than before, lifting his glass to his lips.

“No contest, seriously?” You sat straighter, crossing your arms like he had before and quickly folded your lips between your teeth when Jaebeom drained his drink and slammed his glass down weakly on the table.

“Yes! What more do you want from me?!” Throwing his hands into the air.

Slipping down in your chair, you let your knee graze against his and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Well..”

A beat of silence passed before you both broke, comfortable laughter filling the space around you. A tiny dribble of whiskey spluttered through Jaebeom’s lips and you did your best to bury the snicker erupting in your throat but Jaebeom’s leg pressed firmly against the inside of your calf proved that you failed to do so.

It had become apparently clear that had you found a keen adversary on the other side of the table. For every tit, he returned with a well formed tat. And every smooth spoken insinuation was met with his own brand of cocky flirtation. But for lack of a better word, it was easy. And it was fun. More fun that you could have ever anticipated that at some point in the evening you had called over the waitress with a I-know-you-know-who-I-am ‘come hither’ of your index finger and asked her to tell Dommie to stop pouring cocktails and to give you that bottle of Hakushu 25 instead. No ice necessary. You made the decision to run the race hard and fast and Jaebeom met you at the start line with no hesitation.

During your entertaining conversation, or back and forth, or slick-tongued tête-à-tête - call it what you will; the line up of the night’s budding artists had started taking their turns on the stage. There was a jazz saxophonist. Then, a honey-voiced song writer, who despite trying his hardest not to let it, held a large portion of Jaebeom’s attention and watching him return to your conversation with haphazard delay was admittedly funny. So much so that when he turned back to tell you his thoughts on Miles Davis’ influence on music in general, he was met with a rather baffled look on your face; hidden slightly by your hand covering your mouth that wanted to giggle, but merely smiled in lieu of such. A genuine smile. But you wouldn’t let him see it.

A trio of rappers came next and Jaebeom snickered when he caught you hiss against your teeth, followed quickly by a large swig of whiskey.

“So that would have been a no from you, I take it?” Pressing with a cocked brow and you almost choked. Jaebeom merely licked the edge of his canine despite how cold your eyes were.

“I mean.. Their sound is not.. They.. well-- they weren’t what we were looking for, maybe someone e-else might like.. ahhhhumm--” Stuttering. You were stuttering.

“So..” You could just feel the pretension oozing off Jaebeom and it made you want to punch him. “You’re saying they’re not good enough.” Despite the marginal alcohol induced wobble that you felt bounce between your temples, better judgement prevailed when you almost threw your glass at him but opted for a napkin instead; Jaebeom merely swatted it away like a fly. And what made the pounding swirl of impending inebriation worse is that he said nothing more, he only chuckled. A knowing chuckle. A sensual chuckle and fuck, did it unnerve you.

“I’m curious..” You harped, a little too bluntly. “What do you do with all the records you buy off me anyway?” Good girl, that’s it. Throw him off. And it did. For the satisfied smirk he had held almost permanently in one cheek melted off to reveal a look of watered down anxiety. You saw his jaw clench beneath his skin and his eyes shook in the most controlled manner he could muster. His hand reached timidly for his glass.

“You obviously love music. And I can tell you know a lot about music. And you--hey don’t shake your head at me, I watched you cringe when that blues crooner hit that diminished fifth he should have hit the dominant fourth instead..” Jaebeom exasperated sharply. “And I know it wasn’t because it sounded off, it’s because it sounded wrong and you knew that.”

Jaebeom’s neck flared as he exhaled, slowly and it stuttered with irritation.

“And half the records you buy aren’t in the easy listening category. I see you choose from the same sections every bedroom DJ in this town chooses from.” He raised his glass to his mouth carefully, awaiting the words that hung dangerously off your soft lips.

“So what do you do with them all, Kid? What’s your shtick?”

Jaebeom’s leg bounced under the leg and it bounced harder when you pressed your calf against it. You held his eyes that didn’t drop to take a long sip from his glass and tampered down the twitch in your lips that wanted to smirk at his discomfort. Moments passed in loaded silence. The trio of rappers had cleared the stage and the lights dimmed in preparation for the next act. Jaebeom still hadn’t answered.

You pulled your leg away from him and instantly felt his leg jolt to a halt. The hardened gaze he maintained slowly eased as if he had resigned to answering. But instead of pushing for it, you leaned back into your chair and picked up your glass. You knew you had nothing left to say, nothing left to add to press against his weakening fortitude and sipped patiently as he stewed. Whiskey rolled over and under your tongue and you watched as Jaebeom’s own tongue dug into the base of his mouth behind his parted lips. Then, you swallowed in unison. You on single malt, he on indignation. Whatever he was going to say, you were ready with bated breath to hang onto every word. Jaebeom shifted, cocked his neck and reached forward to pull the whiskey bottle back to his side of your metaphorical drawn line.

“I.. tinker.” Your back straightened, intrigued. “Mess around, make beats. Simple shit.”

“Just beats?” Your eyes narrowed and Jaebeom couldn’t hold the gaze; blinking away to carefully monitor the whiskey he poured into his already half-full glass.

“Yeh, beats..” He paused, watching the ripples in his glass slow to still. “Sometimes full tracks. I’d layer samples with stuff I recorded, it’s not a big de--”

“So the Kid’s a bedroom DJ, on my god...” Cutting him off, voice feathering by your own laughter; too incredulous to listen to the rest of what he had to say; the wide grin on your face not mirrored in the slightest on his. Jaebeom grizzled, dulled only by your fluttering snickers. “Man, and to think I had you all worked out.”

Jaebeom scoffed, loud and almost cruel. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

His voice chilled you to your core. To the deepest place within you, you could feel it like ice hardening your veins and every breath moved like sludge in your lungs. Your eyes had blown wide, pupils shaking and you felt the threat of tears burn across your bottom lashes. And through your panicked stare, Jaebeom matched it with his own; eyes locked on yours in a desperate attempt to understand why you had suddenly frozen; all colour drained from your face. For it wasn’t his voice that shot through you, it was his.

That voice. That smooth and lilted voice, that held just enough gravel in it that you could feel it roll down the back of your throat whenever you used to listen to it. That voice that whispered compliments into your just awoken ear and made you tremble when it growled against your skin. That voice that pooled between your thighs and hung drifted in your thoughts. That voice that slowly stole your confidence when it belittled you, that voice that quickly fed you lies. That voice that made you trust him. That voice that used you; that used your connections, your past against you. That voice that stepped on your heart like it was nothing to build his career. That voice that slammed the door in your face once his contract was signed and his first single released. That voice that ruined you. That voice, his voice. And it was his voice that made your fingers claw at your glass to drain the remaining whiskey down your throat. And for the first time that night, it burned.

Swallowing hard on so many things, you stood from the table. Jaebeom followed you only with his eyes, and you set your jaw hard enough that you swore Jaebeom could feel it.

“Let’s get out of here.” Cold, distant, enraged. Jaebeom sat confused, until your eyes flickered for the smallest of moments to the man on stage who was thanking the crowd for all the support they had always given him, and that he wanted to come back to the first stage he had ever performed on to celebrate the release of his second album.��

“You wanna leave?” Jaebeom asked, if only to confirm, but he was quick. Jaebeom was already shifting off his seat when your body tensed and contorted to the giggle that reverberated through the speakers.

“Yes. You wanna continue this somewhere else, or are we done?” You had become reckless. The calm, collected demeanour you sported was gone, shattered and dispersed, and what stood before Jaebeom was a vessel of raw emotion. Raw emotion, seething and charged; and as you watched Jaebeom stand to face you squarely, his hand reaching behind you to pull your jacket off your chair, you decided to just fuck logic.

No further than half a step behind, Jaebeom’s hand ghosted the small of your back as you weaved quickly out of the bar. Once outside, the eleven-eighteen-p.m air stung your skin and you slipped your jacket from Jaebeom’s outstretched fingers.

Standing before you, Jaebeom merely waited; one hand in his pocket, his analyzing eyes laid soft upon your face.

“Your place or mine?” Your question pushed Jaebeom slightly off balance, his weight shifting between his feet before he steaded. You remained stoic. He quickly met your stance.

“Either. How far is yours?” An insignificant hitch in his voice.

“Nine blocks. Yours?” Your tone made of liquid steel.

“Five.”

Headlights of passing cars illuminated the curiosity and unwavering intention in Jaebeom’s eyes. Taking a step towards him, his breath danced across your top lip; not blinking even once when something inside you stirred, that same something threatening to snap. But you held tightly onto whatever it was and drank the way his jaw clenched when you pressed closer to him. Your lips parted, he inhaled, your fingertips brushed against his knuckles and you saw a spark set off behind his dark eyes.

“Take me there.”

Was it one bottle or two? Probably two but one was tequila because you were sure you could taste white wine clinging to the sides of your cheeks. And who even suggested tequila? You don’t like tequila but Jaebeom seemed to from the faintest recollections you could remember him ripping off the lid to pour some heavy handedly into two glasses perched neatly on his coffee table. One of them now firmly gripped in your hand as your other traced timid lines across the top of his dresser.

Why were you in his bedroom again? Oh, that’s right. You wanted to listen to that original press Abbey Road vinyl you begrudgingly sold to him over a year ago and Jaebeom told you, through the most endearing of slurs, that you’d find it on the shelf under his window. That way? You asked, with a wobbly pointed finger, lips curled around the edge of your glass and rolled off his living room rug to saunter to where his eyes had gestured.

It didn’t seem right. How fucking tidy everything was. As if you were browsing through a virtual-reality simulation of what the ideal bedroom in an Ikea catalogue would look like; everything in his room was immaculate. And not even his room, but his entire apartment from what you had seen. Not a plate in the sink, or a picture frame hung even slightly crooked; even the remotes were lined up in a straight row on the TV unit. Nothing was out of place and everything had a purpose. A home that would give Marie Kondo an orgasm on sight. Everything was pristine. Except, maybe for a rogue collection of indoor plants in the corner of his living room that looked like they were clinging to life, but that was long forgotten when you were staring, far too hard at his record collection. Alphabetically sorted. By artist. And then sub-categorically, by title.

You were glad that B, for Beatles-comma-The, came quite early in the alphabet and that A, for Abbey Road, was unsurprisingly first to pick when you weren’t even sure how you were managing to read the small font on each of the ridiculously thin vinyl covers when you could hear your own heartbeat vibrating off your eyeballs and you could smell tequila on every exhale that came out of your nose.

Record player? Where was the record player? Ah, obviously on top of the shelf, right where it should be - next to the records. Who the fuck was this Kid?

“Found it?” Jaebeom bellowed, a thud following quickly after, then a grunt and a hiss with the sound of a few things hitting the floor ending with some mumbled words you couldn’t make out.

“Mmmmyep.” Drawled out and muddled with the sound of you trying to drink your god forsaken Patron Anejo and carefully place the fifty-one year old record onto the turnstile at the same time. Why do I only have two hands? Who thought only two was a good idea? I could get so much shit done with three.

Abandoning your glass on the shelf, you lowered the needle onto the spinning record; heavy bass began to pour into the room. The rolling drum beat and smooth lick of the guitar swarmed around you, clouding your mind and stirring your senses. Light seemed to bounce around the room and closing your eyes was the only thing that stopped you from toppling over. You could feel the stillness of the room around you, music surrounded you and your body started to sway to the easy grit of John Lennon’s voice.

Then, like the stillness of the room, you felt the air around you shift. A presence crowded you, warm breath spilled over your shoulder as a hand roamed your waist. Another crept across your throat, pulling your hair away from your neck, leaving pebbled skin to soft, wet lips to whisper onto it. The bass was hitting harder, the drums crashed into the suspended air and inside your mind as the hand on your waist slid down your hip and onto your thigh, fingertips playing with the hem of your dress, tickling the flesh beneath it.

It was the knuckle dragged across the inside of your thigh that drew the shudder to fall from your parted lips. And the guttural chuckle against the stammering pulse in your neck that sent one hand onto the wrist between your legs and the other into the hair of the person behind you. Gripping hard, you pulled them into you, closing the already minuscule gap between you. He chuckled again.

“Ugh, you smell so good.” Jaebeom’s voice shot through you like a drug; charging your nerves and coursing through your bloodstream. The groans that rattled off the teeth he had nipping at your neck felt like ecstasy pouring into your ears and you knew getting addicted was the worst thing you could do, but the way his fingers continued to travel up the inside your thigh clouded any better judgement you could have executed in that moment. His hand was resting on your throat, fingers gripping just enough to pull your head back to rest on his chest as his other hand began to play with the edge of your underwear. Your back arched against him, more of your neck exposing to his greedy mouth that licked a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“You feel so good in my hands.” Your fingers yanked at his hair, unimpressed with his teasing. And through the pounding music that flooded the room, and your whimpers that mixed into the air, Jaebeom must have gotten the hint. Nimble fingers pushed past the boundary of your underwear, sliding between your folds, his teeth sinking into your neck at the sensation of your arousal on his fingers.

You keened against his touch, arching your back further, grinding your pelvis down onto his hand. Jaebeom groaned, the tip of his finger circling your entrance before tracing up to your clit, gently pushing against it. Your body quivered and it edged him on. His finger began to pulse, rubbing circles into your clit at a speed that matched your ever increasing whimpers. Your fingers clawed into his wrist, but he stayed firm, switching to two fingers to up the ante; leaving you clutching for breath.

You were contorting to his touch, back fully arched against him, pushing your hips even harder into his hand. In a moment of lust-filled clarity, you released your grip on his wrist to snake it behind you. Finding his stomach, you felt for his belt, unbuckling it as best you could with your mind almost completely fogged by the orgasm charging inside you. Pushing your hand under his waistband, you felt him hitch against your neck, and when you found him hard you couldn’t help but smirk.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you gripped forcefully; feeling his girth pulse against your hand. Hearing him hiss spurred you on, pumping him firmly inside his jeans while his fingers continued to work you. Steer you, lure you, push you over the edge and fuck, were you eager for it.

Jaebeom’s hand grasped tighter around your throat and your fingers gripped harder at his hair. His mouth left trails of wet messy groans down your neck and your voice cracked with every moan. You worked him faster, matching his pace on you; euphoria was racing towards you, ready to crash.

You were close, so close, body reeling and jerking with every firm rotation of his fingers on your clit, that when Jaebeom chuckled again, your body ignited.

“That’s it. Ugh, you look so good like this.”

Your eyes shot open. Lowering your head from his shoulder, you saw it. You saw yourself. And him. You and him. In his mirror. His hand around your throat, yours raked in his hair. Your hand coiled behind you, pumping him mercilessly, his other between your legs pulling you to climax.

But it was his eyes. His dark and piercing eyes, almost veiled by your hair that fell unkempt upon his face. His sharp and hungry eyes that stared at you in his mirror as he drew utterly sinful moans out of you. It was his eyes, carnal and impure and dripping with intensity that ruined you. And what finally made that part of you completely and irreversibly snap.

Ripping your hand out of Jaebeom’s pants, you spun around violently, catching only for the moment the shock glazed over his lustful eyes. His hands were raised, hung suspended by his shoulders, as you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tore it over his head; discarding it carelessly on the floor. Spotting the bed behind him, you slammed your hands against his hard chest and pushed him onto it. His body hadn’t even settled on the mattress before you were mounting him; hands ripping down his pants, freeing his throbbing dick of its cotton bonds.

“Woah, what the f--” Jaebeom stuttered and your body stilled. Eyes fierce and wicked, they bore into Jaebeom’s shaking stare and you watched a hard swallow track down his throat.

“Do you want me to stop?” Your needless question rolled off your tongue as your hands snaked between your legs, one pulling your underwear to the side and the other gripping him at the base and guided the tip between your folds. He only shook his head once.

You lined up his dick to your core and lowered onto him, filling you fully and wantonly. Feeling him thick and pulsing against your walls, your head dropped back to moan to the ceiling. Jaebeom groaned through gritted teeth and as you began to roll your hips on him, his hands reached to find purchase somewhere, anywhere on your body. One hand grasped your breast but you were quick to force it down onto your hip. His other reached forward, but it missed its target when you snapped your hips and lunged forward to curl your fingers around his neck.

His eyes were blown wide, both his hands now firmly clutching your hips as you grasped his throat firmer. Lowering your face to a mere breath away from his, you tutted; clicking reproachfully against your teeth as your hips continued their rolling onslaught on his dick.

“No. Touching.”

You felt Jaebeom’s adam’s apple roll against your palm, his tongue licking his lips as if enticing you to kiss them. But you turned away, moaning loudly in his ear and felt his hips buck at the sound. His fingers were clawing into your hips, and a consuming feeling was building inside you.

You bounced harder on him, feeling the coil inside you tightening and tightening and by the way Jaebeom’s eyes were beginning to roll into his skull, you could tell he was almost there too. The sounds you were making were filthy, erotic and Jaebeom groaned so loud you felt his entire neck rumble under your hand. You snapped your hips harder, unrelenting and as Jaebeom thrusted deep into you, the wave of delicious pleasure crashed over you, pulling Jaebeom into the riptide with you.

His body reeled towards yours, the lewd and obscene mixture of your joint satisfaction coated every atom of air in that room. Once your high began to subside you released your grip on his neck one finger at a time, relishing how he mewled beneath you. You pulled yourself off him, stepping off the bed and tilted your head at the sight of an utterly spent Jaebeom; limbs sprawled messily on the bed, his chest rising and falling in exhausted heaves.

“Bathroom?”

Jaebeom lifted a weary arm, one finger pointed lazily out the door.

“Down th-..down..”

“Down the hall, got it.”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw an accomplished woman; feeling surprisingly sober and especially satisfied. You made quick work of your own aftercare, the perfectly lined up assortment of toiletries not lost on you. You figured they were sorted by necessity. Then sub-categorically by height. This Kid, you swear to God. Content you looked decent enough to face society, you exited the bathroom, but doubled-back; a tinge of consideration overcoming you. So you searched, and quite easily found a towel for the worn out Kid you left in the bedroom.

Upon returning, one eyebrow quirked as amusement swept over you. Jaebeom, in his half naked, disheveled, still semi-hard-dick state was snoring. Little nasally snores that started at the end of his inhale and trailed off into a sort of whistle in his exhale. You thought it was kind of cute, if it wasn’t slightly pathetic at the same time.

Draping the towel over his chest, because obviously there was no better place to put it, you simply left the room. No goodbyes needed. No forehead kisses or tucking him in bed. Casual. No strings attached. You hit it. So all that’s left was to quit it.

Your jacket was easy to find, draped over the back of his coach - it was your phone that proved to be the problem. Fumbling around Jaebeom’s living room, you eventually found it under the coffee table and proceeded to put on your boots and leave.

Turning and pulling the doorknob, the door opened faster than you thought; pushing you back a step from the force. Once fully open, you saw a solid man on the other side, eyes doe-like and almost startled. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t pick why; perhaps his shirtless torso and sweaty glistening chest was to blame for the lack of recall. But his mouth merely opened and closed, sound departing him as words failed to form on his tongue. So you simply gave him a curt nod and a tight-lipped smile and slipped past him; not looking back even though you could feel his eyes following you all the way to the stairwell.

You weren’t paying attention to the streets on the way to Jaebeom’s apartment. Rage consumed you and all you wanted was to be somewhere completely different and away from everything that haunted you. But as you made your way to the end of his street, you realised you weren’t very far from home. Not at all. Three blocks away to be precise. How had you never run into Jaebeom before? Not even an embarrassing supermarket interaction where your basket was filled with tampons and double fudge ice cream was in your history. How could you live three blocks away from him and never cross paths?

Ignoring the awkward coincidence, you soldiered on; enjoying the two-something-am air that you always loved and actually considered stopping by the 24hr convenience store for some double fudge ice cream.

But in the corner of your eye you saw a tall, slim figure approaching you at a pace you wouldn’t deem a casual midnight stroll. It was purposeful, it was determined and it was coming right at you.

You considered running, but the legs on that man would out-stride you in no time. You considered screaming, but no one gets up for anything in this neighbourhood. It’s why the rent is so good. So you stood your ground, ready to unleash all four of your krav maga classes on his sorry ass.

But as he drew closer and the streetlight started to reveal more of his round and beaming face; you quickly realised you couldn’t forget that smile even if you tried.

“Noona!” His long arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug you didn’t know you had missed.

“Oh my g--hi! Hey!” Hugging him back with all the force your tired body could muster, you smiled against his shoulder until he put you down.

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the hell!?” His hands were on your shoulders, shaking you slightly and all you could do was laugh while trying to muscle out of his grip.

“Yugyeom, dude, oh my god. It’s been so long, what the hell!?” Yugyeom smiled so purely, his eyes folded into little moons that had you smiling just as genuinely in return. His hands slid down your arms to hold your hands, swinging them in the air between you like the adorable giant man he is.

“I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, how’s dancing going? Have you picked up any contracts?” Yugyeom bounced on his heels, your body jumping involuntarily to match.

“So many! I’m choreographing for groups and solo artists now. I’m building my portfolio really well, just like you said I should.” You giggled, proud and happy for your long-missed friend. “But miss me? How can you say you missed me when you won’t even answer my texts?”

“Shit, I changed my number when I left the company. I’m so sorry!”

Yugyeom’s put-upon pout made you frown. Immediately letting go of his hand, you pulled your phone from your pocket. Yugyeom did the same and you swapped them wordlessly, an impromptu dance of sorts.

Keying your number into his phone, you left the name blank; knowing Yugyeom would want to save you as something uniquely special to him.

“Okay, here’s my number.”

“I can’t save mine.” Yugyeom said bluntly, staring down at your phone.

“What? Why?”

“There’s a passcode on your phone. You didn’t unlock it for me, silly.”

“I don’t.. I don’t use a passcode.”

Confusion knitted your brows and Yugyeom handed your phone back to you with a similar look on his face. Staring at the phone in your hand you examined the illuminated screen. The lockscreen, a photo of some abstract art you had never seen before. Shit.

“Noona, are-are you okay?”

A message flashed on the screen.

2:21am Mr. A JaeBOOM, sorry for the lateness. Of course you can have tomorrow off. Enjoy your date. And bring me a new CD!

One hand wrapped slowly across your mouth. Eyes darting across the screen of the phone that didn’t belong to you. And totally belonged to Jaebeom. Panic started to set in. Yugyeom was crouching in front of you trying to figure out how to help you but nothing could.

You thought you made it out. Sure, you’d see Jaebeom at the store but that was manageable. It was just one night. One night that was meant to get you out of your funk. One night that was successful in doing that. One night was obviously not successful in doing that.

That whole hit-it-and-quit-it thing, fuck that. Not when you have to go back to the apartment of the guy you just left passed out on his bed after topping him mercilessly for fun. The thought dawned on you, just give it back tomorrow at work. But it would be Monday, your day off - and now Jaebeom’s too.

You’re not that much of a bitch to make someone go to work on their day off just to be turned away awkwardly and then be met with your stupid face sheepishly giving him back his phone that you took by accident after fucking him and leaving him without even the curtesy of covering his softening penis with a blanket. Or a towel..

Either way, there was no other choice. You’d have to go back. With your ego swallowed harshly down and maybe some tylenol for the headache. Yours. Not his.

Either way, it was going to be painful.

You continued to stare at the screen, every part of you simultaneously wanting to explode and recoil into itself. You sighed, but it did nothing to calm you.

“Fuck.”

#got7 #got7 story #got7 smut #got7 humour #im jaebeom #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 jaebeom #got7 jaebum #jaebeom smut #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jaebeom story #im jaebum #defsoul #def.#🌙#Go for broke #GFB

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leverage-ot3 · 5 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Stork Job

leverage 1.06

Joe: Where is he? What have you done with him?

Dana: Why haven't you returned our calls?

Joe: Did you think we'd just go away?

Dana: We’ve given you the money. What else do you want? (approaches Irena) What have you done with Luca?!

(thug grabs Dana and pushes her aside)

Joe: Dana!

(Joe goes to help Dana and is stopped by the thug. Joe punches the thug, who then beats him into the ground as Irena and Nicolas walk away. Thug leaves, and Dana crawls to his side)

yo can we take a moment to respect and love these parents??? like technically luca was just a kid they were going to adopt but these two were ready to THROW DOWN for him because even though they didn’t really know each other, he was going to be their kid if that’s the last thing they did

- - - - -

Dana: $120,000. We had to take a second mortgage out on the house.

Nate: Well, we can get the money back.

Dana: We don't want the money. All we want is Luca.

Nate: Right. (looks at picture of Luca)

we love to see the clients being noble as hell

- - - - -

Eliot: Are we seriously considering this, huh? Swiping a kid?

Nate: Yeah, well -- What happened to you?

Eliot (scrapes on his face): Well, how was I supposed to know it was a lesbian bar?

...I bet it was from something fucking stupid

eliot “distinctive” spencer would have known it was a lesbian bar

(edit: I heard that on the commentary for that episode CK got the injury from trying to play football while wearing cowboy boots and honestly what a chaotic fav)

- - - - -

Eliot: How do we even know this kid is an orphan?

Parker: See him pocketing those cookies? He’s hoarding food. That bag on the table -- he keeps his essentials light and portable. He knows he's gonna be taken away at any moment. And there, when she goes to touch him, he flinches. He’s expecting… for her to... Trust me. He’s an orphan.

parker’s Tragic Backstory™ is about to be told in 40 minutes, let’s go

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, can we -- can we stop off in Paris on the way?

Nate: Uh... maybe on the way back.

Sophie: Cool

sophie loves paris and was so happy and excited im-

- - - - -

Parker: Yes. And she's with someone.

Eliot: That’s never stopped me before

parker, rolling her eyes: bruh

- - - - -

sophie being “princess magda of slovenia” rb if u agree

- - - - -

Nate: You know, just hurry up.

Hardison: It’s not so fun working in the crappy command center, is it? No, see, you're usually off doing your European spy thing. Well, welcome to my world.

(Computer shows facial recognition program working on picture Eliot sent. Hardison offers Sophie a bottle of pop)

Hardison: Orangescu?

even in a foreign country hardison manages to get something akin to orange soda

- - - - -

Sophie: Who was it? -- Dagmar from the car-rental place was a lovely girl, but listen, Irina’s a professional grifter. She's gonna see straight through your moves. She does this for a living. You know, gets people to like her and trust her, even to fall in love with her. She doesn't do this for sport.

Nate: Mm. Sounds like someone I know.

s a v a g e

- - - - -

Nicolas: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Tell me, Hardison, what brings you to Serbia?

Hardison: Oh, do my fangs and cape frighten you

hardison being Done™ with a skeevy guy hitting on parker and making jokes to ease the tension 🥰

- - - - -

parker says that sleeping is one of her hobbies and honestly bitch me too

- - - - -

Parker: It’s amazing how far Serbia’s come, but the scars must still be there. I mean, all the families who suffered during the war.

Nicolas: Yes, but history always has its casualties.

Parker: Yes, but those families and those children.

Nicolas: It’s tragic, yes. But the strong, the smart, the... the beautiful, they survive.

[Flashback]

(Joe, Dana and Luca on home move.)

Joe: Smile!

Dana: Smile.

(A young Parker swinging, cuts to Luca sitting in the car that will take him away, cuts to young Parker on a merry-go-round, cuts to Luca being driven away)

Woman: What’s wrong?

(a young Parker in a car holding her bunny, cuts to Nicolas driving the car that takes Luca away)

Nicolas: It’s time to go.

[American Embassy]

Nicolas: Not everyone is worth saving.

(Parker gropes behind her and grabs a fork from the table, stabbing Nicolas with it. Everyone in the room looks in their direction)

parker’s past is developed a lot in this episode and we love to see it + bby you can stab anyone you want

- - - - -

parker fucking yeeting out the window is me after I do anything remotely embarrassing

- - - - -

Eliot: I’m lucky to have you on such a short notice. (takes paper from man) Zhavaliti. Is that right? Zhavaliti? Thank you? See? Yeah? No? Welcome to the set.

Hardison: Fire in the hole!

(Hardison sets off explosion of flame behind them)

Eliot: Yeah, it's exciting, isn’t it?

Irena: yes.

Eliot: That guy's our special-effects guy. He ain't all there.

friendship means gently bullying each other

- - - - -

Parker (sits down near prop truck): This is ridiculous.

Hardison (sits down next to her with fake gun): Tell me about it. We’re supposed to believe these are real?

Parker: This is what he expects me to do, fetch scripts and water?

Hardison: No, it's a trust thing. He just needs to know that you’re gonna go along with the game plan.

Parker: Yeah, yeah. I get it; we're a team.

Hardison: A little more than a team. I’m just saying

this was such a big episode for parker and her opening up to the team (hardison in specific)

- - - - -

Hardison (picks up papers): Sophie, are you -- seriously, Sophie. It was supposed to be a two-page scene between Irina and a boy.

(Eliot grabs pages)

Sophie: That’s still the heart of it.

Eliot: "The heart of it"? There’s like 10 pages here! You have a stunt. You have special effects.

Parker: "Sister Magda crosses and gets a loaf of bread." Wait, who's sister Magda?

(Sophie rolls out dramatically wearing a nun’s costume while ethereal music is playing)

Hardison: Tell me you didn't see that coming.

(Eliot grabs the pages and walks away)

sophie: is dramatic

eliot: surprised pikachu face

hardison: ??? were you expecting something else

- - - - -

Sophie: Listen. All right, look, look -- look at all this. This is my world, okay? You need -- you need someone to, I don't know, crawl through an air duct, you call Parker. Bash her head in - Eliot. Internet porn -- Hardison. If you need someone to take over a movie, then...

Nate: yes, an -- an actor. Right

sOpHiE bRuH

poor hardison, he never gets enough credit

- - - - -

Nate: And... cut!

(everyone claps, Sophie sits up, smiling)

Eliot: She can't act.

Nate: She can act when it's an act.

Eliot (going to Sophie): Unbelievable.

Sophie Really?! Really?!

Eliot: Yeah, really. It was great.

eliot is such a supportive friend because literally his jaw dropped at her acting and literally the first thing he did when they said cut was rush over to her and compliment her

eliot is secretly a hype man disguised in many layers of gruff

- - - - -

Hardison: Just take it slow until she leads you to Luca.

Parker: I can't believe they sent you to babysit me.

Hardison: I’m here on my own

hardison cares about her so quickly I’m soft

- - - - -

parker’s haunted look and glassy eyes when she stumbles into the room with all the children? her heavy breathing? how she has to brace herself on a bed frame so that she doesn’t fall over? heartbreaking

- - - - -

[Harbor]

(van pulls to a stop and Parker and Hardison get out, Parker pacing nervously)

Parker: This isn't just an adoption scam.

Hardison: I know. I already called Nate.

Parker: These are arms dealers, and they're using the orphanage for cover.

Hardison: I already called Nate. Now, look, we can go over this with the others back at the hotel.

Parker: We have to bail.

Hardison: No. no, no, no. What about Luca and the others? We can't leave them like that.

Parker: Why not?

Hardison: You don't mean that.

Parker: You think this is the only crappy orphanage in this place? This is a country full of orphans, okay? We can't save them all.

Hardison: No, but we can save this one. Parker, we can -- we can save this one. Look, I know growing up was tough. I-I know that you -- you grew up in the system. It was -- it was bad. I know. It was, it was worse than bad, but that doesn't mean that all foster parents are monsters. Mine wasn't.

Parker: You grew up with your grandmother.

Hardison: We called her "nana," but she was our foster mom. She, uh... she -- she would cuss like a sailor. The old girl would tan your ass just as soon as look at you. But -- but she fed us, she bathed us, she put a roof over our head. And, oh, she would raise hell if you so much as looked at us crooked.

Parker: Yeah?

Hardison: Yeah.

Parker: Well, you were lucky. No. We’ll put these kids in the system, and odds are, they're gonna -- they're gonna... (trying not to cry) they're gonna turn out like me.

Hardison: I like how you turned out.

(Parker breathes hard, getting control of herself)

Hardison: Let’s go

this whole conversation was a lot meta wise but also this was one of the real defining moments in their relationship in s1. it’s also one of the first times parker starts to open up to the team for real, even if it’s only hardison

also, I personally will never get over the “I like how you turned out”

- - - - -

Hardison: I ran humpty and dumpty through the usual databases. Chechen separatists. Seriously bad dudes.

(Eliot chuckles)

Hardison: After reading their bios, I don't think I’m ever gonna sleep again.

Eliot: Never tell a Chechen his sister has a nice smile. Trust me

eliot is an idiot

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, let's go. (leads Luca forward)

Sophie (in Serbian): Everything’s going to be okay. Do you understand?

Eliot: Maybe this will help.

(Eliot leads Luca over to the Mortons)

Dana: Hi, Luca. Do you remember us?

(Luca smiles, Dana hugs him)

Dana: Thank you.

Joe: Thank you so much. Come on.

(The Mortons and Luca get in their car)

Eliot: I got to tell you, I had my doubts at first, this feels pretty good

and the eliot-being-soft-around-kids saga B E G I N S

- - - - -

parker trying her best to translate but just making the kids giggle

“men will sadden you” same

and what gets the kids up and going? Haagen-Dazs

- - - - -

fierce, determined parker beating up scumbags is my sexuality

parker isn’t violent a lot in terms of being anywhere close to the team’s fighter/hitter, but she fights so hard for the kids in this episode and it’s one of the only times we see her fight fight and that shows just how much she cares

- - - - -

Parker: Shh, shh, be quiet, they have armed guards at that door.

(door bursts open and a man falls through. Eliot stands in the doorway, looking angry)

Sophie: No, they don't

her team always has her back, even if they’re angry at her trying to go at it alone

- - - - -

parker spreading herself out to cover as much space as possible, bracing herself to get shot over and over with the hopes that at least none of the kids will im-

she’s so selfless sksjdnnsns

- - - - -

eliot being all gruff that things happened the way they did but smiling at the exploding building because they did it and the kids were safe

- - - - -

THE FUCKING PROP TRUCK PLAYING SPOOKY AND WEREWOLF NOISES AS THEY DRIVE AWAY JUST TO MOCK THEM

bonus: nate’s “anD CUT”

- - - - -

Parker: Hey, how did you know I’d be at the orphanage?

Nate: Thank Hardison for that. (follows Eliot)

Hardison: You know you could have gotten killed. Did -- did you even have an exit strategy?

Parker: I didn't really think that far ahead.

Hardison: You don't work alone anymore. You know that, right?

Parker: I know.

Hardison: We're a team…?

Parker: We're a little more than a team.

this important conversation but also HARDISONS SMILE

- - - - -

Parker: (gets on the van) Hey, Nate. I have to tell you something.

Nate: What is it?

Parker: We have to stop at Hagen Daaz.

Children: Hagen Daaz!!!

after all that they deserve like a billion pints of ice cream

#leverage #the stork job #leverage 1.06 #leverage 1x06 #notable moments #mine #leverage season 1 #season 1

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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🎵everything’s coming up ivar🎆🎇 what a morning of fortunate revelations for him! i know i must say this after like every chapter, but you have truly done such an exceptional job building up these characters and this relationship. there were so many neat little tie ins to other things i noticed in the story! and every other line, i was just struck by how well theyd come to know each other. i remember after the first time he broke a bone (and smth similar in ch36??), she thought something to the extent of “if i try to push him on this, ill just hurt him. if i don’t, then he’ll just accept this situation as immutable, so im at a loss.” but she absolutely could not miss in this chapter. after all this time together, she knew exactly what to say—and he finally felt like he could completely sincerely trust her! “Of course you wouldn’t leave, he knows you wouldn’t leave him” 😣🥺😭 he’s got a new certainty!! also cracked me up to read half the lines and think “you’re gonna give him a heart attack!!!” only to move to the ivar pov to find that he was in fact having a heart attack. i Love that for them💕 sub ivar is like inspired choice #17266 for this fic but damn!! does it go hard you do just an excellent job!

it’s been such a convincing and satisfying journey for them. theyre really doing it!! i feel like my child has learned to ride a bike. you have been cranking out bangers only since the hiatus so thank you very very much for another fantastic chapter!!!❤️(bit of a tangent but i briefly looked up some baseline historical symbolism for lavender bc i was so struck by freydis and the mint smell and i wanted to get ahead of the game and like the first meaning that comes up is silence lmao—somehow i don’t think that’s it so ill have to keep looking!)

OMFG ILY ❤️

I’m so happy you liked the newest update! That morning was A Lot™ for Ivar lol, all positives but still, his mind tapped out halfway through Gǫfga and none of us can blame him, poor guy was a tad overwhelmed lol. And yeah, her not really knowing if she should push or not is a thing that happens a lot (that will happen a lot more in a certain AU lol) because there really is no way to navigate around that until there’s the established trust and vulnerability that they have by now.

I’m so glad the fact that he now holds on to the certainty of her promising to stay by his side was noticeable!

Omfg yeah, the inside of Ivar’s head anytime she started talking was probably just a loop of a very loud alarm going off lol

I’m so happy you like sub!Ivar, it is a blast to write him actually surrendering to his lover like that. I cannot see him any other way to be honest, especially with my priestess. She’s been thinking about making him hers for a long time: “Even after he has imprisoned you, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder what it would take to have the Viking underneath you, or the different ways you could make his proud façade crumble."

Thank you so so much for your kind words, they mean so much!! I am so happy you have been liking this so far, and that you enjoyed the latest updates. Thank you so much, you wonderful person!

I answer your intrigue about Lavender under the cut by the way, if you’re interested. It is not as interesting as with Mint and Freydis I’m afraid, but if you were curious as to why Ivar lingers on it, and why specifically Lavender, under the cut is the (very rambly, but that’s expected of me by now lol) answer 😉

As for the lavender, I commend your resolve to get ahead of any plot twists, but surprisingly this isn’t one. Lavender is actually the scent she uses in her baths, and thus her skin smells slightly of lavender. In a deleted scene of one of Ivar’s PoV’s it goes into how he has started to relate this slight lavender scent with her so much that walking into their room already makes him feel like she’s there even if she isn’t; and in his newest PoV he just lingers on it because it’s just one more way she clouds his senses.

As for why lavender? Ah, that’s where my irrational need to research everything comes into play. Lavender is a flower that symbolizes Persephone first of all, and it was (according to some of the sources I handled) one of the flowers used in the temples in Ancient Greece, so for the Priestess it has a strong meaning regarding her faith (and her retracing Persephone’s myth in the Goddess’ role, but she doesn’t know that lol). Also, Lavender was fairly common, and it has a lot of medicinal uses, including relaxation and the such, but most importantly for this story, it is one of the many herbs used to heal burn wounds. Lavender was one of the flowers used on the Reader (and that once she was better she used on herself) after the Eleusis thing, and either consciously or not she uses it still, it is a source of comfort in a way.

Cause here’s a thing/headcanon of the Reader/Priestess that really means nothing but I always snuck into my work: she is a healer first and foremost (is the one thing across all AUs and all the places she has been that remains consistent, from the Roads to Greece to Kattegat and beyond, in Nostalgia, and Hope and Alatheia and all others), and her insistence on keeping plants close to her is mostly because she wants life to be around her in a land like Kattegat, yes, but it is also because she trusts/relies on the herbs and what she can do with them. Her own sword and shield, her own way of fighting, like Sieghild told her in the flashback of Ch 33.

At the beginning of her time in Kattegat, stretched to her marriage to Ivar even, she mostly just kept plants like Lavender, Poppy, Summer savory, Field scabious and the such, which are all used medicinally to treat burns and as antibiotics. She is more scarred by what the Byzantines did to her in ELeusis than she would like to admit, or that she ever would in her PoV, that’s why I like sneaking in comments by Ivar and Freydis in their PoVs about how she flinches when someone breathes too much life to a fire, or how when she feels unsafe (even when she is freezing her ass off, bc she is not used to Scandinavia’s cold) she sits far away from any fire. Keeping plants like this is her way of irrationaly wanting to keep herself safe if they ever do the same thing to her again, even if it is incredibly unlikely. Slowly, she starts to be able to let go of that, and really all that remains by now (~Ch 42) of those plants is the Lavender.

When she marries Ivar (and more importantly when she starts truly caring about him) she starts keeping plants like Comfrey, Chickweed, Buckeye, which are used for broken bones or for rheumatic/arthritic pain, or for pain general, like Willow or Elderberry. Freydis makes a point of it in “Until spring comes.”, of how she has been relentless on keeping both the common/accesible ones like Comfrey and Willow around, but has also secured plants from the East, like Ganglong (which was traditionally used for bone fractures). Again, the plants and her ability to heal is her own way of fighting, her own way of keeping the people she loves safe and protected, limited as it may be. Which, around Ch 31 she uses (in a different way) to try to keep the man she loves safe, which is by making the wreath of flowers and praying to her Gods.

And once she really starts settling into her life in Kattegat, even if she doesn’t realize it, she no longer keeps plants only for the use they may have, and brings things like that Marsh Violet (that as far as my limited reseach told me has no real medicinal uses). Her own way of making the world around her a little more hers is by putting plants around her and caring for them (she did this in the Roads a lot too), and with time the stubborn little shit accepts letting this world make her a little theirs too by caring for plants like that one.

You are on point that I use plants and symbols a lot, most of them you know about by know. Ivar/Hades and snakes, Melinöe/Freydis (especially once the revelations of Ch33-34 happen, which is when the Minthe parallel comes to an end and she embraces the role of Melinöe in the Priestess’ eyes now that the lies are discovered) and howling dogs, Hermes/Galla and hawks/falcons. I used Snowdrops a few times I think, towards the beginning, which was a little nod to Freyja’s myth and the Priestess’ threading the line of it, because I like the parallels between some of Freyja and Persephone/Hecate (which by some sources could sometimes be intertwined, or one and the same, much like Melinöe and Persephone).

Anyhow, sorry for the long-ass answer, I hope it doesn’t dissapoint. I really cannot put into words how happy it makes me that you’d care enough about this story to search the meaning of lavender, thank you so much for your support, and for the undeserved love you keep showering me and Nostalgia with! Thank you so much sweetheart!

Sending you my love!! ❤️

#answered asks #asks and replies #νοσταλγία asks

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kendelias · 5 years ago

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OTP ask game for Oliver and Isaac?

skipped number thirteen cos it bummed me out and the last one bc it was to make up your own q!

1. What was their first impression of each other?

oliver was immediately attracted to isaac, and crushed on him for most of their childhood. isaac thought oliver was hot, but an asshole (which isn’t 100% wrong but he thought he was like a bully and boy was he wrong!). plus, he was busy crushing on lydia, so he also viewed him as lydia’s sidekick (which also wasn’t wrong).

2. What is their ship name?

olisaac!

3. Describe their relationship dynamic.

oliver going “BNJFNSKBNELBNKLEN” and isaac smiling, softly, but putting his face in his hands and going “oh my god” nonetheless. dumbasses, empty heads but full hearts.

4. What was their relationship like before they got together?

oliver was quietly pining from afar, isaac was slightly afraid of him (for no good reason).

5. How would they describe each other?

isaac would describe oliver as a dumbass with a great ass. a know-it-all, but in a good way, and extremely caring and loyal. (also lowkey a crackhead)

meanwhile, oliver would describe isaac as gentle, kind, and very, very handsome. also semi-aloof. like isaac wishes not to be known but uh oh! oliver is going to know him!

6. What do they love about each other?

everything, but specifically isaac loves oliver’s brain (intelligence... hot) and his very cute ears (pointy. isaac monsterfucker confirmed.)! oliver loves isaac’s (at times hidden) kind heart and his back!

7. What do they have in common?

crunchy outside gooey inside, ride-or-die loyalty, putting their lives on the line for dumb reasons

8. What are some differences between them?

oliver thinks things through whereas isaac jumps headfirst into danger; oliver is super extroverted whereas isaac is more introverted; oliver is very nosey whereas isaac is like “please can we mind our own business”

9. What made them realize they were in love?

oh great question. i think for oliver it was more of a long-time realization than an abrupt moment, but i think he really acknowledged it to himself when isaac was hospitalized and nearly killed in 3x01. for isaac, it’s legitimately the next episode, after he’s put in the ice bath and there’s a scene for them that’s like. very. important. (it’s kind of spoiler-y and not yet written so im being vague as hell)

10. What are their love languages?

a little bit of everything, but mostly words of affirmation and quality time!

11. Do they get married? Who proposes and how?

they do!!! oliver proposes but only after long and extensive conversations about it; it’s probably a surprise but like. just the two of them in their own home after watching a movie on netflix or something.

12. What would happen if they never met?

bro..... hate to think about it. BUT oliver would probably be very promiscuous (as he kind of was beforehand) and wouldn’t settle down til much later in life. he probably would have stayed with his mother and taken on the duties that were meant to be placed on him which... would be bad! meanwhile, things would have gone pretty much the same for isaac as in canon im sure, which is upsetting in its own right!

14. Are there any love rivals?

i mean besides the nameless people oliver dates before isaac (and technically lydia i guess), not really!

15. Describe your favorite moment of that ship!

okay so from what i’ve written (because i’m sure there’s some i haven’t written that’s gonna be really good), right after isaac decides he’s going to leave beacon hills with erica and boyd in 2x11, he goes to see oliver, and asks him what he thinks. oliver tells him outright what he thinks and it’s a very mature and honest conversation that shows the serious side of oliver we rarely get to see! they have like a really real conversation about their relationship and why isaac shouldn’t stay for oliver particularly, but for himself. it gets to me every time.

16. What do other characters think about this relationship?

for the most part, nobody cares JSDMFKMKSDNKF like they’re just chillin! but lydia thinks they’re very cute (although she was a little jealous at first), murphy thinks they’re annoying but he’s really secretly happy for oliver, and imogen is like “hell yeah go off lil elf boy.” oliver’s mom, elaina, has forbidden oliver interacting with the pack but she also doesn’t know he’s like. gay or anything let alone dating isaac jdfkewfkn

17. Describe or write a really fluffy scene!

okay so after their first date, oliver drives isaac home and they have a (joking and flirting) conversation about their relationship and how isaac should stop, like, endangering his own life. they also have their first kiss! here have some dialogue

Oliver: Hey, what you did tonight? It was kind of stupid.

Isaac: Which part?

Oliver: See, the fact that you have to ask that question concerns me. [Isaac chuckles.] Some of us kind of care that you keep endangering your life, you know.

Isaac: Kind of?

Oliver: Okay, really care. Really, really care.

Isaac: That’s new for me. You, Derek, and Scott might be the first people to care.

Oliver: Somehow I got that feeling.

18. Describe or write a really angsty scene!

okay so the scene after isaac gets dunked in the ice... angst! but besides that, the scene where gerard corners them both in the locker room during the lacrosse game in 2x11

19. Talk about a headcanon you’ve never talked about before.

okay so i kind of talk about everything about them to at least saraid and nicole BUT for part of their honeymoon they go to disneyland in paris, france and are very obnoxious the entire time

20. What does a typical date look like for them?

they love going on long drives!! they also love museum dates and taking walks in parks

21. What’s a really significant moment in their relationship?

oh when isaac admits that he cares... that’s a good one! because it shows oliver that this is more than a one-sided infatuation. plus it’s just after when gerard’s cornered them in the locker room and oliver’s healed him. it’s a moment,,,, whew.

send me a ship for the otp ask!

#oliver clark #teen wolf #ship: isaac x oliver #maddie #ask #asks #randomestfandoms #what kind of woman doesnt have an ask #i'm still finding out queue i am

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swellwriting · 5 years ago

Text

tagged by @kabeswaters and @fortisfiliae love u both sm <3 <3

1. on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? it fluctuates but right now -1

2. describe yourself in a hashtag? #anxious

3. if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? JAKE MOTHERFUCKING GYLLENHAAL

4. if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? i dont know what that is hah

5. what’s one thing people don’t know about you? i guess some people don’t know i’m type one diabetic??

6. what’s your wake up ritual? uh phone, animal crossing, fruit loops, weed

7. what’s your go to bed ritual? I watch asmr videos cuz im usually high as fuck and they knock me out lol, or i watch tiktok or pillow talk with my bf nick.

8. what’s your favorite time of day? like 9 pm?

9. your go to for having a good laugh? my boyfriend always makes me laugh no matter how angry or upset i am so i’d talk to him uwu

10. dream country to visit? FRANCe specifically Paris oui oui with my french candian bullshit

11. what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? when they announced 5sos was touring with one direction and i had tickets, never screamed so loud in my LIFE

12. heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers duh

13. vintage or new? vintage babey

14. who do you want to write your obituary? ME from the great beyond, the only other person who knows me well enouhg is nick and i love him but he is very stupid.

15. style icon? uh harry styles, devon lee carlson, halsey, bella hadid, tyler the creator some normal people whos style i LOVE from insta are rebeccaramsdale , kehllie , kikalateefff , yourgirlneens , lilxmg !

16. what are three things you cannot live without? phone, insulin, art, music

17. what’s one ingredient you put in everything? probs vanilla or hotsauce, the only two flavours.

18. what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? my dead brother DJ, kurt cobain andddd ryan dunn from jackass what a weird mix.

19. what’s your biggest fear in life? loosing my senses, loosing control, the fear that i am not actually real and ... oh spiders.

20. window or aisle seat? window

21. what’s your current tv obsession? think its gonna be adventure time again

22. favorite app? instagram or discord so i can talk to my friends uwu

23. secret talent? i can speak french and giberish

24. most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? camping i guess?

25. how would you define yourself in three words? anxious, empathetic, creative

26. favorite piece of clothing you own? my vintage star wars shirt

27. a must have clothing item that everyone should have? blank tees, good quality blank tees!!! white black grey mhmhmh

28. a superpower you would want? i’d wanna be spidergirl

29. what’s inspiring you in life right now? nothing at all :(

30. best piece of advice you’ve received? my grade six teacher telling me that i was very empathetic as i was sitting at the back of the class crying because of the movie we were watching, she told me not everyone is empathetic like i am but its okay to be soft. but not to expect that from everyone else.

31. best advice you’d give your teenage self? teenage me was a mess but not messy enough that i’d change anything. i’d just say, things get better but im currently back in the state teenage me was in so...i’d be lying. maybe that wanting to kill yourself does not count as a personality trait - and start reading comics earlier cuz u really like them.

32. a book everyone should read? i read wack books, everyone on tumblr should read fangirl tho

33. what would you like to be remembered for? something i created

34. how do you define beauty? self expression and individuality

35. what do you love most about your body? wait people love their bodies? not everyone was severly damaged by online diet culture and thigh gap era tumblr? weird ok

36. best way to take a rest/decompress? weed or bath or a movie

37. favorite place to view art? there is an art gallery in saskatchewan that i love, i was suposed to go there this summer before corona took over :(((

38. if your life was a song, what would the title be? either something short like “mellow” or fob style like “im so anxiuos all the time and nothing ever feels real and i dont know what im doing but somehow im doing pretty good while feeling prety bad and laughing through my tears lol.” or i’d steal “teen idle” by marina and the diamonds.

39. if you could master one instrument, what would it be? guitar or piano because im lame at both.

40. if you had a tattoo, where would it be? i want two moths above my knees rn

41 dolphins or koalas? neither

42. what’s an animal that represents you? im more of a pokemon, i think id be jigglypuff

43. best gift you’ve ever received? whenever nick buys me clothes from stussy or maybe infinity on high on vinyl.

44. best gift you’ve given? i bought nick the entire sin city comic series in one giant book.

45. what’s your favorite board game? monopoly

46. what’s your favorite color? yellow

47. least favorite color? that weird pinky purple

48. diamond or pearls? pearls

49. drugstore makeup or designer? colour pop and fenty

50. pilates or yoga? yoga

51. coffee or tea? tea

52. what’s the weirdest word in the english language? pumpernickle is my fav one.

53. dark chocolate or milk chocolate? MILK

54. stairs or elevators? stairs

55. summer or winter? summer, canadian winters are brutal.

56. you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? ur asking someone who has very specific comfort foods so i already do this - cheese bagel toasted with cream cheese and then toasted again to melt cheddar cheese on top. with a diet coke thats very important.

57. a dessert you don’t like? cheesecake

58. a skill you’re working on mastering? im crazy so this is a lot but - writing , drawing and painting, polymer clay, sewing, resin art and pottery.

59. best thing to happen to you today? nothing

60. worst thing to happen to you today? the line at starbucks was too long and i had to get wendys instead, and a few other things i won’t mention.

61. best compliment you’ve ever received? whenever my mom says i remind her of my brother dj, when people say anything nice about my art or writing style. when people ask about my clothes. when my friend jess called me a “known softie” uwu

62. favorite smell? lavender

63. hugs or kisses? hugs

64. if you made a documentary, what would it be about? i’d talk about star wars for hours on end

65. last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? of mice and men made me ball my fucking eyes out

66. lipstick or lipgloss? chapstickk

67. sweet or savory? sweet

68. girl crush? Zendaya

69. how do you know you’re in love? idk ive just always been in love with nick (since i was 15) before i even really knew what love was, i guess if the other person feels like home, you know ur doing something right.

70. a song you can listen to on repeat? nine in the afternoon by p!atd or a match into water by peirce the veil, over my head by fleetwood mac

71. if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? harry styles that mysterious fucker

72. what are you most excited for/about this time in your life? currently not looking forward to anything becase my life is super uncertain right now ha.. maybe the release of the chaos walking movie whenever that decides to happen.

tagging: i assume yall have been tagged in this already but just incase @beskarjedi @woakiees @bluemadcnna @carolinesbookworld @theseuscmander and anyone else who wants to do this consider urself tagged.

#this said im depressed and i love my boyfriend #tag game #question game

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a-little-slice-of-fandom · 6 years ago

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The Queens on Holiday part 3/?

Before I start, this is just a casual reminder that I now have an insta account (@we_stan_six)! Go follow me if you like the sort of stuff I post here :)

Anyway, sorry this third installment took so long to get around to. Personal life caught up with me and I really don't want to half ass any of my headcanons. It just doesn't feel right, ya know? (Also I can’t do the read more thing on mobile IM SORRY OKAY?)

Parr shouts for help because that bag has all of her clothes, shoes, the medical kit and three signed books in it

Problem is, they’re in Italy and no one can understand the tiny woman with curly hair shouting madly in a language they don’t speak

Aragon isn’t helping as she’s just sort of flailing her arms about wildly and screaming in Spanish

Jane grabs what looks to be a security guard and tries desperately to explain the situation to them

Cleves goes full on superwoman and breaks into a sprint

Boleyn drops her bags and follows on her heels

Boleyn’s heelys finally come in handy as she zooms through the crowd

The two catch up with the man and wrench the bag from his hand

He just stands there, dumbfounded and confused

There’s a few whispers coming from onlookers in the airport

“Why is no one applauding our valiant act of heroism?” “I mean it wasn’t that-” “we risKED OUR LIVES” “Boleyn it’s not-“ “WHEN WILL JUSTICE BE SERVED”

The other four queens rush up to the scene

People are starting to call for security

Howard quickly smiles at the man and, to the other queens surprise, the two begin to converse in Italian

“You never said you spoke Italian” “no one ever asked” “Never mind that, why was he trying to steal my bag?”

The two continue to converse

All the colour drains from Howard’s face

Turns out, the man is partially blind and genuinely thought Parr’s bag was his. He started running because he saw the time and realised he was about to miss his connection flight

His wife comes up behind them, holding her own bag and an exact copy of Parr’s bag except this one has a different name tag on it

The other queens all start trying to profusely apologise in a variety of different languages. English, French, German, Italian, Spanish.

Parr accidentally slips into Korean once or twice in her flustered state

The couple just sort of back away from the queens and run to get their flight

The six of them all take a quick breath and let the adrenaline drain from them

“Uh, queens”

Aragon is pointing over their shoulders

An army of buff security guards are questioning a few witnesses to what just happened

All fingers are pointing to the queens

“What does that mean? “IT MEANS RUN”

So the queens leg it out of the airport and pile into the nearest taxi without warning

Howard is in the front so she can translate

There’s only three seats in the back, so the other five queens are all squished together in a mess of limbs

“Are we there yet” “for the sixth time-OW” “Oh come on Parr that couldn’t have hurt that much!” “Im delicate okay?” Who the hell is hurting my goddaughter?” “Guys I can’t feel my legs anymore” “are we there yet?” “NO”

Since the queens missed their original flight, they’re really behind schedule

They can either miss their tour of the Vatican and go to the hotel to drop their bags off, or they can do the tour and miss the hotel’s dinner

Aragon is DETERMINED to see the Sistine chapel

Cleves and Boleyn also seem pretty interested in doing a tour of the Vatican

Cleves explains quietly to Aragon that yes, she might have been raised a Lutheran but she converted to Catholicism at Mary’s request. The least she could do was tour the place that Aragon’s daughter loved so much

Aragon is incredibly touched

Boleyn just wants to try and find the angel that’s giving the medieval version of the finger thats painted on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel

The queens decide to spilt up.

Aragon, Boleyn and Cleves will do the tour, while Seymour, Howard and Parr head on with the bags and check into the hotel

Just as Seymour hops out of the cab, she gives the trio a long list of instructions on what to do and what definitely not to do

The not to do list is directed solely at Boleyn

Only Aragon actually listens

Seymour turns to Parr and Howard

“Was I right? In letting them go by themselves, I mean?” “Absolutely, mum” “No they’re definitely going to d-I mean yeah”

So they check into the hotel without much of a fuss

Seymour still can’t believe that Howard speaks Italian and never mentioned anything about it

Howard is more surprised that Parr didn’t join the others at the Vatican

Turns out she just wanted to make sure she got the better room at the hotel

So Seymour, Parr and Howard all reward themselves for actually getting to italy by taking the bigger room with the queen sized beds, balcony and mini-fridge

Seymour insists that they only took this room so Boleyn wouldn’t cost them a small fortune by raiding the mini-fridge and definitely not because this room as a jacuzzi bath

“Should we really let Aragon and Boleyn share a room for a week?” “That can be Cleves problem”

So the they go to dinner

Seymour and Parr share a bottle of wine

Parr gets emotional when tipsy

*Hiccup* “you guys...you guys know how much the show means to me right? And you queens are so *hiccup* amazing and I’m so glad the producers raised us from the dead”

Howard eats so much Italian gelato she can’t even look at it for the rest of the week

Seymour’s phone begins ringing just as the bill for dinner arrives

It’s a number she doesn’t recognise.

She answers anyway, and to her surprise, it’s Aragon

“Jane! Thank goodness, now you need to listen to me really carefully it’s incredibly-GET OFF ME ANNA-

Jane can hear some faint shuffling as Cleves takes the phone

“Hey, Seymour. How are things? Good? That’s great. Now the thing is we’re sort of in a bit of trouble right now and-”

Cleves shouts a string of curses so colourful they could put even the pride flag to shame as the phone is snatched from her hand

Now it’s Boleyn

“JANE FOR GOD’S SAKE GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP US THEY’RE GONNA KILL ME!”

Howard and Parr can both hear the other queens bickering with one another over the phone

People are giving them strange looks

“Mum, turn speakerphone off” “it is off!”

Jane sighs and returns to the phone call

“Queens, calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re squabbling like children. Now what’s wrong?”

Jane can barely believe their response

“WE’VE BEEN ARRESTED!”

BONUS

Meanwhile, back in London, the Ladies in Waiting and the three alternates are having a quiet week to themselves all things considered.

Howard’s service dog may have terrorised a family picnic or two when Joan took it for a walk but other than that things have gone well

Maggie suggests they all have night in together

Before Maggie can even finish her suggestion the alternates are ordering pizza

While Maria runs out to pick up their order, the others decide to play a game of monopoly

Within about thirty seconds Bessie and Joan and are no longer on speaking terms and one of the alternates has already been in jail six times

“Huh,” another one of the alternates murmurs, concentrating intensely on the news broadcast and trying to block out the brewing row “apparently some idiot just set the Sistine Chapel on fire...”

#six the musical #six #anne boleyn #sixthemusical #katherine howard #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #anne of cleves #anna of cleves #sixthemusical headcanons #six headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #six headcanon

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missjackil · 5 years ago

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My 15x06 Opinion

Golden Time

This was a really good episode despite my disapproval of the end. I can be objective :)

We have a very fun start with Dean moping adorably around in his hotdog PJs binging on cereal and Scooby-doo. And be still my beating heart, Sam going for a run! There’s nothing unsexy about sweaty, messy-haired, athletic Sam in sweats!! But oh wait... ghost Eileen appears. She’s stuck as a ghost, having escaped Hell when the gates opened. Strangely enough, the Winchesters are stuck on the word of a demon that people cant enter Heaven if they have ever been to Hell. I gotta say, I'm kinda disappointed that the boys just take his word for it, is that just me?

Meanwhile, we have Cass on his own. On a mission to find a missing kid. I have to give it to Cass, he was pretty interesting this week, and I loved his look of complete done-ness when Dean was barking at him on the phone. I also gotta love Dean for his “Don’t you dare ignore my brother” attitude!

In other news, another local witch tried to get into Rowena’s stash and got dead in the process. Sam is going to Rowena’s apartment to find a spell and a crystal to put Eileen in to keep her fro going back to Hell or going insane as a ghost. When he gets there, he finds the body, the apt in disarray and nothing of good witchy value in the immediate area. Eileen finds a secret room where all Rowena’s goodies are and Sam goes in. This was a nice moment Sam had of remembering her. Might I say, he took her death much harder than he’s taken others deaths aside from Dad’s and Dean’s many. I dont even think he looked this shaken by his Mom’s death, but much has to do with him killing her Im sure.

Upon leaving, Sa buckles in pain, spitting blood, of course he has been hexed. Now I think it’s so cute that even though he knows very little sign language, he knows how to sign “My brother” to tell Eileen to go get him. Sam, of course, is thusly abducted.

After Sam’s obligatory “tied up and mildly tortured” scene, he takes a young witch with him to get a resurrection spell from Row’s apt. The witch states her now-dead sister made her life hell. Sam trie to relate by saying Dean put Super Glue in his toothpaste when he was 10, which was instantly trumped by real horrors the young witch endured. Thats right Sam, Dean isnt such a bad brother...but you know that ;)

Sam tries to convince the girl to run start a new life, be happy, and she accuses him of lying and a big fight scene starts. Dean arrives in time to save Sam, Eileen saves Dean, then Sam saves Eileen. TADAAAH!!

Now we have the scene that screams “Sam and Eileen are gonna bang!” to me. They couldnt leave Eileen as their host friend that is the inspiration they need to try to fix Heaven or make a new one or whatever, no, lets bring her back to life because I guess we need to get Sam laid before whatever fate befalls him at the end of the series, go out with a BANG as they say 😣

We have a spell to bring Eileen back, because obviously, bringing people back to life has always worked out so well for the Winchesters, they should definitely do it again!!! And this spell requires Sam to draw a nice deep soaking bath, in a modern tub that the boys must have installed themselves because it doesnt fit the MOL time period motif they've always had, sprinkle in some herbs (probably rose petals too why tf not) speak some extra sexy Latin, and have Sam modestly turn around because he’s a gentleman, and found the only resurrection spell to date that brings ‘em back naked. Candlelight, soft music, Sam’s ample bosom heaving breathlessly in anticipation for the spell to work. Of course it does, theres a twinkle in Sam’s eyes as he hears the water splash... “Sam?” He hears and takes as the OK to turn around. It worked!! His 4 yr crush-when-convenient is back to life because again, this has always worked out so good.

She holds out her hand for Sam to take it... this is so y’all know she initiated the sex they have/had later that we’ll either get to see the cuddle in bed, or get a verbal acknowledgment of. I may literally puke if we actually get a sex scene. Sorry, it was fine back when the bros barely liked each other, but theyve been more or less married for years now and it just seems wrong. Oh dont worry, if Sam gets laid, Dean will too. Though Sam did put Eileen to bed without sex because she needs sleep, we need to know this because it wont seem as creepy if we know he at least let some time pass and didnt take advantage of possible vulnerability.

I hope I can come back next episode or so and be very glad I was wrong, because I know a lot of you dont think they’ll bang, but I say theres no reason whatsoever for a scene like that other than to prep us for romance and not leave any of you saying “Wait! Where did that come from?? They only think of each other as friends!”

I hope its short lived, not that I want Eileen to die... again... but lets just have her go off hunting on her own because if she is Sam’s end game (which I dont think she is) I will unwatch the entire series and never let it on my screen again 😑

Honorable mention to Cass, congrats on solving your first case by yourself and I actually really dug you losing your shit on the Djinn!!

So aside from my personal disapproval, on a scale of Bloodlines to Lebanon Ill say this was another very good one. Ill give it a 7, deducting a full point for giving me agita.

#15x06 spoilers #golden time spoilers #my opinion #anti saleen

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gotatext · 5 years ago

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TASK OO1 / OOC SURVEY.

[kermit voice] hallo.... its me

YOUR ALIAS & NICKNAMES — nora

AGE — 23

TIMEZONE — gmt

PREFERRED PRONOUNS — she/her

MBTI — enfp-infp border cos im an introvert who Masquerades as an extrovert :)

HP HOUSE — i spent 10 yrs of my life thinkin i was gryffindor.... to find out.... huffle....puff......

ARE YOU A STUDENT? WHAT DO YOU STUDY? — i fuckin wish! being a student was dope af i got stressed about essays like once a month and apart from that i was just chillin, surrounded by really intelligent people every day n livin it up on the party scene. adult life fucking sucks no one wants to have fun cos we all work fuckin tonnes of hours so we can afford to eat and get paid peanuts xx

ARE YOU ENJOYING IT? — im really afraid of bein one of those jock types who peaked in high school but i deff peaked in uni like 100% i was way more interesting 2 years ago

LINKS TO OTHER ACCOUNTS & SOCIAL MEDIA — im not showin u my instagram bc im a fuckin embarassment but this is pinterest , this is my personal blog, this is my writing / 1x1 blog i never use any more n this is my trash talking twitter where i mostly just cry about timothee chalamet and bash the tories.

DISCORD USER — kristine’s forehead vein#8664

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE FICTION GENRE? — i dont read fanfiction much but when i do u can be sure it’s slow burn angsty enemies to lovers mutual pining heart attack every time one of them accidentally brushes the other’s hand

TOP FIVE FAVOURITE FILMS — suspiria (2018 luca guadagnino version rogue i kno but i prefer the remake), the lobster, before sunrise, baz luhrmann romeo + juliet, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, thoroughbreds (REC!! so underwatched pls watch it. compelling female characters), hunt for the wilderpeople (also so underwatched), swiss army man, call me by your name, atonement, moonrise kingdom, trainspotting, the florida project. i rlly like films ok

A BOOK YOU FEEL “CHANGED” YOU? — the song of achilles by madeline miller n also fen by daisy johnson

A MOVIE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? — booksmart cos its fuckin dope

WHAT IS YOUR SIGN? — libra

ARE YOU INTO ASTROLOGY? — i like to pretend im super invested in it mostly to anger my friends but tbh.... i just use it as a rough guide for character creation.... its fun but i dnt .... fully invest in what it has to say..... altho i am the most unbalanced n indecisive bitch on earth so i guess they got that right !! i just live to please baybeyy!

WHAT PLATFORMS HAVE YOU ROLEPLAYED ON? — tumblr for about 8 year (omg) n before tht facebook..... i was very embarassingly in a twilight rp..... i wrote jane..... i also rped as a scene kid oc n when i was like 12 i was on some weird forum harry potter roleplay where i basically played a self insert with georgie henley as the fc......

WHAT OTHER HOBBIES DO YOU HAVE? — i used to have so many hobbies but now i jst lie in my bed staring at the ceiling. but before i was workin like a dog i loved reading, writing, acting in theatre productions..... going out on the town getting bevved..... big druggy EDM nights in warehouses tht probably weren’t liscenced for tht many ppl..... gigs... costume-design and making, spoken word poetry, acrylic painting n rollerskating but my sister broke my skates abt two years ago in vengeance and i’ll never forgive her that fuckin bitch

HAVE ANY PETS? IF SO, TALK ABOUT THEM! — no my landlord is a fascist

IS THERE A TV SHOW YOU RECOMMEND A LOT? — i’ll never stop reccing euphoria!! also i was pleasantly surprised by looking for alaska!! but i also rlly like bob’s burgers, parks and rec, good omens.... black mirror, n sharp objects. lovesick on bbciplayer (n netflix i think) is also rlly fun

ANY SHOWS YOU LIKE SOME MIGHT BE SURPRISED TO HEAR THAT YOU DO? — maybe love island, idk if i talk abt that much bc i am ashamed but i am so obsessed with it. i even got the love island game n got so invested in my fictional relationship w bobby tht i had to delete it

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? WOULD YOU RECOMMEND IT? — god god... i haven’t finished a book in ages.... i recently started reading milkman by anna burns, the bees by laline paull and everything under by daisy johnson.... bt the last book i read cover to cover was probs circe. defs read it. feminist and witchy

CURRENTLY READING? — i jst said this but the bees, everything under and less so milkman cos im finding milkman a bit tough

LAST FILM? REC IT? — i watched ladyworld the lord of the flies all-female remake n even maya hawke could not save it.... dnt get me wrong from an art film point of view i loved it but it felt a bit underdeveloped n a level media studies for me..... apart from tht?? the runaways (yorkshire film not released yet at a preview screening) and threads (also a yorkshire film from the 80s about nuclear apocalypse)

THREE MOVIES YOU NEED TO WATCH — portrait of a lady on fire, i work at an independent cinema n we recently had a preview screening and everyone said it was SICK, uhhhh short term 12, n the new eliza scanlen movie babyteeth

WHAT MOVIE DO YOU THINK YOU’VE SEEN THE MOST TIMES? — madagascar because when i was 12 my parents bought me a little television with a dvd player in it for my birthday and madagascar was the only dvd i owned for like..... the first two years of havin the absolute luxury of a tv in my room so i just used to watch it all the time n i now basically know the script inside out

WHAT ALWAYS PUTS YOU IN A GOOD MOOD? — nothing, life is pointless n i hate fun, let me rot in peace

WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE MUSICIAN / BAND? LIST IF THERE ARE MORE THAN ONE. — ughhh god probably lcd soundsystem. gorillaz, the streets, tame impala, talking heads, soft hair, i also love lizz tho n also angry twangy guitar girl bands like girlpool, courtney barnett, best coast, cherry glazerr,

WILD NIGHT OUT OR QUIET NIGHT IN? — quiet night in my party days are over i cant even be bothered to go to the shops if its past 4.30pm and dark these days

ANY PHOBIAS? — clowns n rats

DO YOU LIKE BUGS? — absolutely not

BIRDS? — yes but not if they fly in my face

ARE YOU A CAT OR DOG PERSON? BOTH? — i love both i want one

BIGGEST PET PEEVE? — tory middle aged boomers who treat me like actual shit on their shoe because i work in the service industry like thats my choice and their poor economic decisions didnt mean i have to do a shitty job to afford to live bcos of austerity n cuts to arts funding meaning i cant get a job writing unless i self-fund :)))

FAVOURITE THING ABOUT THE RPC? — that everyone ive met through rp is a fuckin LAFF

TOP TEN FAVE FCS TO USE? — god .... diana silvers, timothee chalamet, margaret qualley, kristine froseth, froy gutierrez, zendaya, elle fanning, astrid berges frisbey, hunter schafer, leonardo dicaprio

FIVE YOU LIKE WRITING AGAINST? — herman tomeraas, hunter schafer, saoirse ronan, timothee chalamet, froy gutierrez

FAVOURITE TYPE OF FOOD? — linda mccartney 1/2pounder mozzarella veggie burgers, sweet potato wedges, tomato soup, mozzarella sticks, brownies

WORST FOOD? — green things like broccoli n sprouts gross. baked beans cos as a kid ppl used to do baked bean baths for comic relief / red nosed day a lot n i thought when they were finished in the baked bean bath they just put all the cold beans back in the tin. actually anything small that moves around on your plate. peas. spaghetti. sweetcorn. i dont like small things i cant control.

DO YOU PLAY VIDEOGAMES? IF SO, WHAT ONES AND ON WHAT PLATFORM DO YOU PREFER? — last year my housemate had an xbox n i went through a phase of obsessively playin fable 3 it was amazing. i had like 5 husbands and 3 wives and loads of kids but they all ended up leavin me cos i spent so much time out doing quests neglecting them

ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE TAG? — this

LASTLY, HOW DID YOU FIND US? — im one of those bitches who was in this grp all the way back when it was swipe... so quirky and original!! i knew the band before u! anyway im goin now this has been sufficiently embarassing..... i am lame

#huntingtonooc #huntingtontask #huntingtontask001

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 6 years ago

Link

David Sims: “ As a fan of the TV show, I felt battered into submission. This season has been the same story over and over again: a lot of tin-eared writing trying to justify some of the most drastic story developments imaginable, as quickly as possible....[T]ime and time again in recent years, Benioff and Weiss have opted for grand cinematic gestures over granular world building, and Drogon burning the Throne to sludge was their last big mic drop.

Spencer Kornhaber: The penultimate episode of Game of Thrones gave us one of the most dramatic reversals in TV history, with the once-good queen going genocidal. The finale gave us yet another historic reversal, in that this drama turned into a sitcom. Not a slick HBO sitcom either, but a cheapo network affair, or maybe even a webisode of outtakes from one. Tonally odd, logically strained, and emotionally thin, “The Iron Throne” felt like the first draft of a finale.

When Dany torched King’s Landing last week, viewers were incensed, but I’d argue it was less because the onetime hero went bad than because it wasn’t clearwhy she did. Long-simmering madness? Sudden emotional break? Tough-minded strategy? A desire to implement an innovative new city grid? The answer to this would seem to help answer some of the show’s most fundamental inquiries about might and right, little people and greater goods, noble nature and cruel nurture. Thrones has been shaky quality-wise for some time now, but surely the show would be competent enough to hinge the finale around the mystery of Dany’s decision.

Nope. The first parts of the episode loaded up on ponderous scenes of the characters whose horror at the razing of King’s Landing had been made plenty clear during the course of the razing. Tyrion speculated a bit to Jon about what had happened—Dany truly believed she was out to save the world and could thus justify any means on the way to messianic ends—but it was, truly, just speculation. When Jon and Dany met up, he raged at her, and she gave some tyrannical talk knowing what “the good world” would need (shades of “I alone can fix it,” no?). But whether her total firebombing was premeditated, tactical, or a tantrum remained unclear. Whether she was always this deranged or just now became so determines what story Thrones was telling all along, and Benioff and Weiss have left it to be argued about in Facebook threads.

The Dany speechifying that we did get in this episode was, notably, not in the common tongue. Though conducted in Dothraki and Valaryian and not German, her victory rally was clearly meant to evoke Hitler in Triumph of the Will. It also visually recalled the white-cloaked Saruman rallying the orc armies in The Two Towers, another queasy echo. People talk about George R. R. Martin “subverting” Tolkien, but on the diciest element of Lord of the Rings—the capacity for it to be seen as a racist allegory, with Sauron’s horde of exotic brutes bearing down on an idyllic kingdom—this episode simply took the subtext and made it text. With the Northmen sitting out the march, the Dothraki and Unsullied were cast as bloodthirsty others eager to massacre a continent. Given all the baggage around Dany’s white-savior narrative from the start, going so heavy on the hooting and barking was a telling sign of the clumsiness to come.

Jon’s kiss-and-kill with Dany led to the one moment of sharp emotion—terror—I felt over the course of this bizarrely inert episode. That emotion came not from the assassination itself but rather from the suspense about what Drogon would do about it. For the dragon to roast the slayer of his mother would have been a fittingly awful but logical turn. Instead, Drogon turned his geyser toward the Iron Throne. Whether Aegon’s thousand swords were just a coincidental casualty of a dragon’s mourning or, rather, the chosen target of a beast with a higher purpose—R’hllor take the wheel?—is another key thing fans will be left to argue about.

Then came the epilogue, a parade of oofs. David, you say you were satisfied by where this finale moved all its game pieces, and if I step back … well, no, I’m not satisfied with Arya showing a sudden new interest in seafaring, but maybe I can be argued into it. What I can’t budge on is the parody-worthy crumminess of the execution. Take the council that decides the fate of Westeros. It appears that various lords gathered to force a confrontation with the Unsullied about the prisoners Tyrion and Jon Snow and the status of King’s Landing. But then one of those prisoners suggests they pick a ruler for the realm. They then … do just that. Right there and then. Huh?

It really undoes much of what we’ve learned about Westeros as a land of ruthlessly competing interests to see a group of far-flung factions unanimously agree to give the crown to the literal opposite of a “people person.” Yes, the council is dominated by protagonist types whom we know to be good-hearted and tired of war. But surely someone—hello, new prince of Dorne! What’s up, noted screamer Robin Arryn?—would make more of a case for another candidate than poor Edmure Tully did. Rather than hashing out the intrigue of it all as Thrones once would have done, we got Sam bringing up the concept of democracy and getting laughed down. The joke relied on the worst kind of anachronistic humor—breaking the fourth wall that had been so carefully mortared up over all these years—and much of the rest of the episode would coast on similarly wack moments.

It’s “nice” to see beloved characters ride off into various sunsets, but I balk at the notion that these endings even count as fan service. What true fan of Thronesthinks this show existed to deliver wish fulfillment? I’m not saying I wanted everyone to get gobbled up by a rogue zombie flank in the show’s final moments. Yet rather than honoring the complication and tough rules that made Thrones’ world so strangely lovable, Benioff and Weiss waved a wand and zapped away tension and consequence. You see this, for example, in the baffling arc of Bronn over the course of Season 8. What was the point of having him nearly kill Jaime and Tyrion if he was going to just be yada-yadaed onto the small council at the end?

One thing I can’t complain about: the hint that clean water will soon be coming to Westeros. Hopefully, someone will use it to give Ghost a bath. As the doggy and his dad rode north of the Wall with a band of men, women, and children, the message seemed to be that where death once ruled, life could begin. Winter Is Leaving. It’d seem like a hopeful takeaway for our own world, except that it’s not clear, even now, exactly how and why the realm of Thrones arrived at this happy outcome.

Lenika Cruz: Do I have answers? Who do you think I am—Bran the Broken? Before I get into this episode, I need to acknowledge how unfortunate it is that Tyrion decided to give the new ruler of the Six Kingdoms a name as horrifyingly ableist as Bran the Broken. You could, of course, argue that the moniker was intended as a reclamation of a slur or as a poignant callback to Season 1’s “Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things,” when Tyrion and Bran first bonded. But given the “parade of oofs” this finale provided—including the troubling optics of Dany’s big speech—it’s hard to make excuses for the show.

Now that we’ve gotten our “the real Game of Thrones/Iron Throne/Song of Ice and Fire was the friends we made along the way” jokes out of our system, where to begin? I basically agree with Spencer’s scorched-earth take on “The Iron Throne.” I was already expecting the finale to be a disappointment, but I didn’t foresee the tonal and narrative whiplash that I experienced here. At one point during the small-council meeting, my mind stopped processing the dialogue because I was in such disbelief about the several enormous things that had happened within the span of 15 minutes: Jon stabs Dany. Instead of roasting Jon, Drogon symbolically melts the Iron Throne and carries the limp body of his mother off in his talons. A conclave of lords and ladies of Westeros is convened, and Tyrion is brought before them in chains, and they know Dany was murdered, and Tyrion argues for an entirely new system of government while being held prisoner by the Master of War of the person he just conspired to assassinate. Excuse me? (The way that Grey Worm huffed, “Make your choice, then,” at those assembled reminded me of an impatient father waiting for his children to pick which ice-cream flavor they want.)

David, Spencer—of the three of us, I’ve been the most stubborn about thinking this final season is bad and holding that badness against the show. I don’t fault viewers who’ve become inured to the shoddy writing and plotting, and who’ve been grading each episode on a curve as a result. But I personally haven’t been able to get into a mind-set where I can watch an episode and enjoy it for everything except stuff like pacing issues, rushed character development, tonal dissonance, the lack of attention to detail, unexplained reversals, and weak dialogue. All of those problems absolutely make the show less enjoyable for me, and I haven’t learned to compartmentalize them—even though I know how hard it must have been for Benioff and Weiss to piece together an airtight final act solely from Martin’s book notes.

...Much like with last week’s episode, I can actually see myself being on board with many of the plot points in the finale—if only they had been built up to properly and given the right sort of connective tissue. For all the episode’s earnest exhortations about the power of stories, “The Iron Throne” itself didn’t do much to model that value.

For example, I can’t be the only one who was let down, and at a loss for a larger takeaway, after seeing a high-stakes contest between two ambitious female rulers devolve after both became unhinged and got themselves killed. After all the intense discussion about gender politics that Thrones has spurred, and after seeing characters such as Sansa, Brienne, Cersei, Daenerys, and Yara reshape the patriarchal structures of Westeros, we’ve ended up with a male ruler (who once said, “I will never be lord of anything”) installed on the charismatic recommendation of another man and served by a small council composed almost entirely of … men.

Perhaps there’s no deeper meaning to any of this. Or perhaps this state of affairs is a commentary on the frustrating realities of incrementalism. I am, of course, beyond pleased that Sansa Stark has at least become the Queen in the North—a title that she, frankly, deserved from the beginning. But I haven’t forgotten that this show only recently had her articulate the silver lining of being raped and tortured. Nor am I waving away the fact that Brienne spent some of her last moments on-screen writing a fond tribute to a man who betrayed her and all but undid his entire character arc in one swoop. My sense is that the show’s writers didn’t think about Thrones resetting to the rule of men much at all, and that they were instead relishing having a gaggle of former misfits sitting on the small council. See? the show seemed to cry. Change!

At times, Thrones gestured more clearly to the ways in which the story was going a more circular route; this was especially true of the Starks. Jon headed up to Castle Black and became a kind of successor to Mance Rayder—someone leading not because of his last name or bloodline but because of the loyalty he’s earned. Arya’s seafaring didn’t feel out of character to me—it fit with her sense of adventure and reminded me of her voyage across the Narrow Sea to Braavos all those years ago. Sansa became Queen in the North in a scene that recalled the debut of “Dark Sansa” in the Vale, but that felt like a true acknowledgment of how much her character has transformed. I’ll admit, the crosscutting of the scenes showing the Starks finding their own, separate ways forward was beautifully done. It made me wish the episode as a whole had been more cohesive, less rushed, and more emotionally resonant.

Spencer, I think you smartly diagnosed so many of the big-picture problems with the finale—the sitcommy feel, the yada-yadaing of major points, the many attempts at fan service. So rather than elaborate even more, I’ll end this review by saying something sort of obvious: Viewers are perfectly entitled to feel about the ending of Game of Thrones however they want to. After eight seasons, they have earned the right to be as wrathful or blissed-out on this finale as they want; it’s been a long and stressful ride for us all. I’m genuinely happy that there are folks who don’t feel as though the hours and hours they’ve devoted to this show have been wasted. I know there are many others who wish they could say the same thing.”

#game of thrones #spoilers #such rotten storytelling

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