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still-a-morosexual-help · 3 years ago

Note

I just finished lesson 29-13 where

(SPOILER)

Mammon and MC go to his room after Satan's tutoring session and that curse goes haywire and Mammon practically throws himself at MC.

And just,,, how he apologizes??? Even though he had no control over his body so he really couldn't help it??? And how he was so worried that we were scared of him??????????????

I wish there was an option to be like "of course you didn't scare me because I always feel safe when I'm with you" because he's the best boy and I love him so much!!!!!!!

Also, not me blushing like a schoolgirl when we "finish what he started" 😳😳😳 (and how he had MC take the lead so he doesn't do anything they don't want because he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable,,,)

Mammon is, and always will be, The Best Boy imo. He's the reason I'm grinding my cards up to get through the main story (I heard we get to act domestic in S3 and I'm *shaking* with anticipation because I REFUSE to look up spoilers)

So I made this post when I first played it:

And honestly Mammon goes through it in this lesson and he still puts MC before him? And there's still so many feelings I have about this I'm??? Okay gonna break 'em down

1.) Apologising

Something that's happened multiple times is that you can't apologise to Mammon because he doesn't know how to take it? Even if the reason he's pissed off or upset is genuinely legitimate he still either forgives the person or turns it around on to himself as if he did the wrong thing or gets upset by it:

a.) In the example above

b.) When MC apologies to him for keeping secrets from him during his 2020 birthday event (despite promising not to in S1)

c.) The manga with Beel

d.) He finally calls Lucifer out for all his BS in S2 but unlike with the other brothers' fights there's no apology/reconciliation. They just go back to normal (and granted this is how it works between myself and my brother but we have much less issues so I don't think it counts)

e.) Almost instantly forgives MC after they apologised to lying to him about Belphie, something even Levi calls him out on

And this hurts. I mean we know despite how much he tries to brush it off, all the name calling hurts him (and it's shown really clearly in S1 when the name calling was at its worst) and I'm pretty sure he must have internalised some of it. Do you think he thinks he doesn't deserve an apology? That whatever happened has to be his fault cause he's the 'screwup'.

2.) Consent

Mammon puts a lot of value on consent and it's such a jarring and refreshing contrast when compared to S1 and early devilgram Lucifer who (being Pride) feels like he's entitled to MC, whether or not they're happy with it.

And you wouldn't expect it yknow? Mammon's Greed.

You'd think he'd be unable to control his Greed for MC but no - like always he vaults over whatever expectations I placed for him after seeing how his brothers act. (Another example being how I expected him to get pissed off and attack MC in S1 because that's what the others did and he just never did??)

Hell Mammon worries more about consent than MC does. Eg: When MC kisses him in S1 and he's just like ???you???can't???just???suddenly???kiss???people???without???telling???them??? AND this is only the first time he said something similar to MC and their romantic advances and yeah sure half of it probably comes from how bashful he is but the rest really is because of how genuinely this man seems to value all parties being on the same page

And you know how Mammon constantly gets in the way between the others and MC in S1? A large part of that is cause of his Greed and possessiveness sure BUT there are also times when he doesn't get in between them and these are all times when he sees MC making the first move (MC kissing Lucifer, MC wanting to spend time with Lucfier in Devil's Coast, MC agreeing to dates with others - he grumbles during the last one but he doesn't intervene during the dates as opposed to the others who intervene during his dates). So yeah, the times when he cockblocks he's not just being greedy and possessive he's being protective too. It's the times when MC isn't given an option to protest or when the brothers are particularly forceful. Eg: in S1 before MC and Asmo were even properly friends but after Asmo throws himself at MC rather persistently (a part that made me really uncomfortable) and MC isn't able to push him off, Mammon gets between them and pulls Asmo away.

Could one of the reasons Mammon values consent so much be because of whatever happened between him and Maddi, that's hinted at in the Escorts Devilgram?

3.) Priorities

Mammon absolutely prioritises MC's comfort and safety above all else even his own:

1.) They're the first person he reaches out to when they're being attacked by Cerberus in S1

2.) He gets inbetween them and a pissed of demon Lucifer and talks back to him despite the fact that he's absolutely terrified of demon Lucifer in S1

3.) Totally disregards the whole drama going on with Belphie to clutch on to MC's body

4.) Tries to go against Diavolo's orders and follow MC to the past

5.) In the spirits event yells and chases away the ghosts if MC says they're scared despite how terrified he is if ghosts

6.) Protects MC when the explosions start going off during the Dames event despite the fact that their priority is the Queen

7.) Stops calling out Lucifer in S2 when Simeon says he's worrying MC

8.) [REDACTED cause of spoilers for you] in S2

And those are basically the three key components of what happens in this chapter and they all add up to make me hurt

He should not have apologised!!? Does he realise that!? It wasn't his fault, if anything MC's the one who fucked up the spell that badly. AND YES! Definitely wish there was an option for MC to say they're not scared of him!!? Cause like he's the only brother to not try to kill them or in Beel's case not lose control in front of them. Asmo didn't do either of those too but he did really graphically threaten MC (I think he threatened to rip out their heart?) And the way I remember MC isn't able to talk back to him. While MC's always snapping back at Mammon in S1 when he's a little shit to them. MC just never registered Mammon as a threat to themself and I love it. And it's a theme that carries on into different AUs as well? In the vampire devilgram MC's just 100% okay with him drinking their blood and Mammon's the one who keeps protesting. During the first paws event when Mammon feels his control slipping and tells MC to run away from him and they're like ???no????I???trust???you??? And then in whatever the fuck was happening in the 2021 Halloween event.

Do I have a hurt/comfort fic based on Mammon realising (gender-neutral, unnamed) MC doesn't know he's a demon demon and panicking cause he thinks he's gonna scare them and apologising for it? Yes. Am I gonna shamelessly self promote it? Also Yes.

A+ Pillow Talk

He was lying to them. It's what he has always been doing. And they deserved more. They deserved so much more. He owed them so much more. And for once this was a debt he wanted to repay.

a.ka.

That one post-coital breakdown we've all definitely had

Absolutely love how he let MC take the lead how he continues to do so in almost every romantic/sexual encounter they have! He always let's them call the shots, let's them decide what they want and he never asks for anything? He never asks to hold their hand or asks to kiss them. He comes up with an excuse to do so but they're always vague enough that MC can easily back out - though yes at least part of that is due to how shy he actually is with MC. Can't remember if you may have passed this part in S2 or not bit there's a more in-your-face option in S2 that shows just how much he let's MC decide things compared to what the others do with MC.

In an effort to distance myself from the whole thing (looking at the content of my blog I'm not sure if it's working) I consider MC as their own character with no link to me at all (at most I'm their conscious that screams 'what the FUCK are you doing' each time they do something incredibly stupid) so MC & Mammon sleeping together, for me, was less blushing and more screaming "FUCKING FINALLY YOU IDIOTS" and throwing my phone down🥲😂

If you can't already tell, if you get me talking about Mammon it's hard to make me stop.... he really is the best🥲 he deserves so much🥲 S3 is very domestic as in their relationship feels more established? Can't wait for you to play it!!

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unwrittenlibrary · 3 years ago

Text

golden (you’re so golden)

summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 3.5k

warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.

notes // 💞

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.

There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.

Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.

“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”

Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.

He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”

Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.

“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.

“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.

“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”

Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”

You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.

“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”

You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.

He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”

Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”

Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”

Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.

》

Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.

He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.

Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.

Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version

“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”

It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.

“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.

“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”

You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”

You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“

“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”

Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”

“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”

Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.

》

“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”

Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”

Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.

You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.

“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”

Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”

You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”

You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.

“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.

“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.

Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.

“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”

Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“

“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”

Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”

You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.

Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.

Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.

》

The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.

Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.

He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”

You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”

“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.

You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.

Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.

Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.

》

Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.

It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.

“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.

Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.

Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”

“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”

》

The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.

“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.

He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.

“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.

You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”

You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”

You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.

“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”

You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.

“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.

Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.

“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”

“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”

Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.

“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”

“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.

You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.

He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.

“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.

Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.

Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.

“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.

You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.

“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.

Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.

“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years ago

Note

can we get kiss prompt 20 with Fives? 😌💕💕💕

Oh anon! You have truly blessed me today. I would be delighted to do the kiss prompt with Fives!

20: Top of head kisses. Prompt taken from here.

You paced the floor of your quarters anxiously, glancing at the window. You wouldn't be able to see Fives returning from here, because your apartment was so high up of the Coruscant ground. The people swarming down below didn't seem to realize there was a lover above them, anxious for their other half to return from the war.

Fives couldn't contact you a lot on missions. The most he could so was cryptic words here and there, and short sentences to they would be unnoticed by any interceptions they could encounter. The one you had gotten simply said "Three cycles. Everything". You had read and reread that message over and over again, the words and their weight sinking in on you. In the cryptic and short language you had both constructed, that roughly translated to "I'll see you in three cycles, you are my everything."

You couldn't respond- it would be more suspicious for an ARC trooper to recieve messages than it would be for him to send a quick one. You didn't know if he was coming back or not today, because messages from him were so short. They had to be.

You were surprised that your fingers didn’t shake as you undressed. They didn’t shake as you turned the shower water to hot, almost boiling, and your hands didn’t tremble. They always did when you were worried for Fives, but the tense evenings had become so routine your body had adjusted.

You towled off and tugged on loose sleeping clothes, before walking slowly to your wardrobe. Quietly, with the music of the speeders outside, you picked up a pair of loose white pajama pants and laid them out on the counter in the refresher. It was a ritual you did when he came- you would put out clean clothes, make the bed, and set out food (actual food, not a protein brick) and fresh soap for him. This was his home, too, after all.

You sat down on the couch, reaching down and grabbing your holopad. You opened a few files, skimmed a few pages in one of the books you kept downloaded on there, but your mind was jarred back to reality every time you heard a bump, a noise, footsteps in the apartment hall, or a speeder fly too quickly by your window. Your patience withered and, anxiety biting at your ribs, you had reduced to pacing again.

---

You weren't aware how many hours or minuites had passed since you had given up on distraction. All you knew was the lights in the city had brightened against the darkening sky, lights polluting the stars you missed. Your attention caught on the scratching at your doorknob, someone trying to swipe their key in the lock beside it.

Your body reacted before your mind did. You vaulted over the couch and ran, unlocking and throwing open your door. "Fives," you croaked, arms enveloping him.

The clone chuckled, hugging you in return. Before he came over, he was sure to leave his armor at the base. An ARC trooper walking around would raise questions, especially if he was seen returning to one specific apartment. "Careful, Cyri'ka, my scent may scare you off."

You shook your head and buried it further in his chest. "I don't care." You mumbled, fingers scrunched up in his shirt.

He pulled you away by the shoulders, smiling down at you at he entered. Softly, he shut and locked the door. "Darling," he sighed, hugging you again, pressing his lips to your cheek.

You smiled and squeezed him. "I don't want to keep you from the shower."

"You can keep me from whatever you'd like." He grinned and lightly kissed your mouth. "I should go shower, though." He mumbled against your lips. His untamed scruff scratched at your face and he realized this, moving away and softly kissing your forehead. You nodded and tried to not melt as he pulled away and hurried to the refresher to clean up.

The shower took only a few minutes. He emerged, loose pants on and wiping the shaving lotion off his jaw. "Cyri'ka, you're so good to me." He tossed the towel on the counter and crawled onto the bed, tugging you to his chest. "I missed you.'

You exhaled, feeling his lips pepper your forehead and temples with quick kisses, treasuring each and every one. All his kisses said hello, I love you in such a brief way. He fascinated you, and you loved him. His lips paused on your brow, and he tugged you closer. "Let me hold you while you sleep. I'm here now."

Wordlessly, exhaustion speaking for you, you nodded and yawned, nestling to him, drifting off to the rhythmic pressure of his lips on your brow and forehead.

#fives x reader insert #clone wars reader insert #clone wars #fives x reader #clone wars fives #minty writes

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vodkassassin · 4 years ago

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world state: refresh, chapter 1

Summary: Something goes wrong with the plant body contingency plan, and Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua both end up perishing. However, it appears that the System isn’t finished with them, yet. And with their new promotions, this life they find themselves in seems more like a well-deserved vacation. / Back in their previous world, the people who knew them are still in mourning. And some of them are not willing to let them go.

—

“Dude! I thought the plan was to not die!”

“I —!”

“All that work for nothing! And you didn’t just fuck up, you had to drag me down with you? I thought we were bros, man. I thought we were cool!”

Shen Yuan shrinks back, watching him with wide eyes. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“Am I yelling?” Shang Qinghua crosses his arms and turns away. “I am just so sick of dying, bro! I thought we had a contingency, so I wasn’t worried, but now! What the fuck was that?”

“I couldn’t just,” Shen Yuan reaches up and pulls at his hair in aggravation. “I couldn’t just let that happen to Binghe!”

It’s kind of weird seeing him with such a slight build and shorter hair and big eyes a bright blue, when Shang Qinghua has long since become used to the broader shoulders and taller build and long, pin-straight hair of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Yuan’s got some curl to his hair. His eyelashes go on for days.

This must be how his bro looked like back in the real world. Or, their first world. After all this, there’s no way in hell that Shang Qinghua can call the world they’d just left fake or pretend.

He wishes he could.

Shang Qinghua makes a face and squints at his friend. Should he even call him that? After all, he… “You literally committed suicide. And you took me with you. Without asking! Bro, we’re both dead!”

“It’s not my fault that the plant bodies didn’t work!” Shen Yuan wails, and Shang Qinghua jerks back, stunned. Well, it seems that the cool and collected poker face of Shen Qingqiu had been left behind with the body itself. “You told me it was ready! And I didn’t ask you to stand so close to me when I detonated!”

“How was I suppose to know that’s what you were going to do?!” Shang Qinghua shrieks. He points an accusing finger at the other man. “We had a plan, you jerk! I kinda expected that we’d, oh I don’t know, go by it? Just a little bit? Play our parts? You changed the script on me without even giving me a cue!”

“Stop talking about it like it’s a stupid movie!” Shen Yuan says, and oh man his eyes are round and tearful. That’s not fair. “Binghe was going nuclear on us, Airplane! What was I suppose to do, let him destroy the world? Because you and I both know that’s what was about to happen!”

Shang Qinghua flinches back. He ducks his head and hunches his shoulder, looking away with a glare.

Shen Yuan sighs. He clears his throat, and says, “... I’m sorry I took you with me. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I tried to wait until you were out of range, but….”

Shang Qinghua sniffs.

“The only person capable of surviving a blast like that would be the protagonist.” He sullenly admits.

The both of them are silent at that. Shang Qinghua glares down at the vast expanse of blackness that surrounds them, leaving nothing to be seen but each other, somehow untouched by the dark. It almost seems like it might be a dream, but Shang Qinghua already knows what death feels like, and that had been it.

Can he even call himself Shang Qinghua anymore, if he’d left the body of that identity behind?

“I hope it was enough to fix Xin Mo’s influence on him,” Shen Yuan murmurs worriedly. “We’re not around anymore to mitigate the damage or direct the plot. What’s going to happen now? What if our absence means that the canon plot takes over again? Was it all for nothing?”

Shang Qinghua — Airplane drops his shoulders, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. He feels way too old for this. Why can’t death be the final rest it was suppose to be? Why does this keep happening?

“Where even are we?” He asks.

There’s a familiar ding that echoes endlessly in the void around them. Airplane shares a glance with Shen Yuan, both their expressions bearing the same look of dread and exasperation.

“Why?” Shen Yuan bemoans.

“We’re not done?” Shang Qinghua demands, feeling suddenly furious as a window, slightly too light against the inky blackness, pops up before them. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns away from the blinding brightness and covers his face, muttering furiously under his hitching breath. It’s not fair! What are they, slaves to the System? Airplane is so tired.

“What,” he hears Shen Yuan breathe out beside him.

There’s a tug on his sleeve — they’re both wearing the same robes they died in, resized to fit their new (or rather, their old) bodies but just as dirty — and he turns to glance at his friend, only to find Shen Yuan gaping at the System window in astonishment.

“Airplane,” his friend insists, eyes wide. “Airplane, read it.”

With a put upon sigh, Airplane turns back toward the window and squints at it.

Congratulations, Host 74 and Host 81! Due to your exemplary efforts to rewrite the plot of World-0690, both of you have been promoted!

“What,” Airplane gapes. “A promotion? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Keep reading,” Shen Yuan urges him, eyes still round in shock.

In compensation for your hard work and the troubles faced in World-0690, Hosts have been given the choice of their next assignments!

“I don’t want to,” Airplane whimpers. He turns away from the half-read window and throws himself at his friend.

Shen Yuan lets out a sound of surprise as he catches him, and a hand automatically goes up to pet at Airplane’s head as he buries his face into Shen Yuan’s neck.

“I — Airplane? What’s — ?”

“I don’t want to do it again,” he says, eyes stinging. Fuck, he’s crying. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to his friend. “I don’t want to. I’m done. I don’t want to anymore. Shen Yuan, I don’t want to!”

“Shit,” his friend mutters. The hand in his hair is comforting, stroking back and forth in a heavy pet.

Airplane sucks in a deep breath, which is a mistake, because it immediately bursts back out of him in a jarring sob.

He’s just so, so done. He doesn’t want to! He isn’t sure what he does want, just that he doesn’t want this! Please, please don’t make him! Not again! Airplane is done!

Shen Yuan speaks again, louder this time. “Airplane, listen. It’ll be different this time, okay? It’s giving us a choice!”

“I don’t want to,” Airplane cries.

“Um… How about I read us the, uh… the options. Okay?”

He sniffles. It’s not like there’s a decline button, he checked before he even started reading the damn window. This isn’t fair. This is so goddamn unfair.

Shakily, he nods his head against Shen Yuan chest. “... Okay.”

“Alright. So, um… option one is to be reborn with a system in a new world that requires a rewrite. It’ll be like how we ended up in PIDW, but we’ll have to read the plot beforehand so we know what we’re going into.”

“No,” Airplane jerks back, glaring up at his friend fiercely from beneath his damp lashes. “I will not be born again. I’m not growing up for another time. My childhoods in both worlds were shitty, I’m not letting myself be a child again, Shen Yuan!”

Shen Yuan gives him a weak smile. “Third time’s the charm?”

Airplane just continues to glare at him. The other man drops the smile and sighs.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a definite no to option one. I don’t wanna go through infancy or, hell, puberty again, either. So, option two…”

Airplane is quiet as his friend gazes up at the window and rereads their options. He refuses to turn around and look at it. He doesn’t want to see it. He’s so sick of the fucking System.

[Host….]

Fuck.

Shut up.

[This system apologizes—]

Shut up, shut up, shut up! Aren’t we done with you? Haven’t I finished what you wanted? Our mission is over, right? I don’t want to talk to you! Leave me alone!

[....]

“Okay, option two,” Shen Yuan says, eyes fixed on the window. Airplane lets his forehead drop to rest against his friend’s shoulder. “We can transmigrate into already written lives, fully grown bodies. Our task in that case would be to help stop the end of the world.”

“Fuck that,” Airplane and Shen Yuan both scoff at the same time.

Airplane draws back from his friend’s embrace to share a grin with him.

“I’m sick of responsibilities. How many options are there?”

Shen Yuan glances back up to scan the window. “There’s a few pages worth… Hey, System?”

There’s a ding. Airplane directs his gaze determinedly on his friend’s face and doesn’t look behind him.

“Can you filter the options?” Another ding. “Okay, filter out all options that require us to play a prewritten character or save a world.”

Ding! Airplane watches avidly as Shen Yuan’s expression smooths out into something pleased. The other man glances back down at him, and then blinks when he realizes that Airplane has been staring at him the entire time. He coughs, and pink flushes over his cheeks.

Airplane feels a smirk crawl onto his face. “Aw, bro. You know, you’re pretty cute like this. Is this how you looked like back — uh, in our first lives?”

Shen Yuan’s blush deepens. “I — uh… yeah, I think so? I don’t have a mirror, so I can’t be one-hundred percent sure…”

Then, the other man smirks back at him, a teasing light entering his bright eyes. “You’re not too shabby yourself, bro. Actually, you’re freaking adorable. If I knew this was what Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky looked like, I’d have never even tried taking your papapa scenes seriously.”

“You never took them seriously anyway,” Airplane scoffs, fighting off his own blush. He stares into the inky blackness of the void instead. “Besides, no one should have taken them seriously.”

“Eh? Why?”

The smirk crawls back over Airplane’s face, and he glances up at Shen Yuan from beneath his eyelashes. “I’m ace.”

Shen Yuan pauses. He stares down at him, speechless for a few long moments. Airplane lifts one hand to hide how his smirk has transformed into a grin. His shoulders shake with amusement.

Finally, Shen Yuan’s face breaks into incredulousness.

“You —? Are you serious?” The man wheezes. He reaches out and slaps a hand against Airplane’s shoulder, and then does it a few more times. “Are you fucking serious? A joke! The entire thing was a joke this whole time? Airplane, I’m gonna fucking kill you, oh my god!”

Despite his words, the slaps are gentle. Shen Yuan still has one arm wrapped around him in a hug.

Airplane bursts into laughter.

“I mean,” he giggles. “The story itself wasn’t a joke? But the reader count skyrocketed after the first smut scene, and the subscriptions mirrored that. I was just a starving college student, bro. I hadn’t eaten in three days, I needed some cash.”

Shen Yuan’s hits cease, and a serious expression overcomes his outrage.

“Was it really that bad?” He quietly asks.

Airplane bites his lip and looks away. “It’s been worse than that, but… Yeah. It’s what helped me make the decision to lead PIDW into the stallion novel genre. I kept the actual story to myself and just focused on writing what the subscribers demanded. It was a huge blow to my integrity as an author, and there were a lot of times that I hated myself for it, but I was too hungry to care most of the time.”

“Shit,” Shen Yuan presses a hand over his mouth. Airplane looks away entirely before he can see the pity that’s likely to be in his friend’s expression. “That’s shitty, man. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “After being born into it, though, there’s a lot of times I wish I’d just gone with my original draft. Starving would have been better than… a lot of what happened, back there as Shang Qinghua.”

Shen Yuan’s arm tightens around him. His hand finds its way back into Airplane’s hair.

“Hey,” he says, quietly. “What’s your name?”

Airplane snorts. “Shang Lei.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He buries his face into Shen Yuan’s chest and laughs. “No, that’s my name.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

He smacks Shen Yuan in the arm, grinning. “Yes, I’m serious.”

“You hack writer. You’re so original, I’m in awe.”

Airplane rolls his eyes and snuggles into his friend’s hug. “I’d offer to let you read the original PIDW, but I don’t have it with me, and I think it would hit differently now that we both uh, actually know most of the characters personally.”

Shen Yuan makes a face. “Man. I’d totally read it, too, if it wasn’t for that. And besides, the way you wrote Binghe... that’s not him. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. You raised him differently.”

There’s a quiet sound, like sniffling. “I … I don’t think I did such a good job,” Shen Yuan whispers, and his voice is thick.

Airplane closes his eyes.

“Anyway.” He says. “Our options?”

“... Right.” Shen Yuan coughs. He straightens up. His arm tightens around Airplane like one might clutch at a teddy bear. Airplane accepts it. “Um…. The filters have narrowed down the list quite a bit. How do you feel about being reborn as forest hermits in a farming simulation become reality?”

“Um. Pass. I’m not much for manual labor.”

Shen Yuan laughs. Airplane can feel the way his body trembles with it against him. He smiles and rests his head into the crook of his friend’s neck.

“Yeah, neither am I. Uh, there’s…. Demon Lords — nah, that’s R18. We know how that goes, and since you’re ace, no thanks. Um, there’s actually a lot of otome-type worlds. Weird. System, filter out those ones.”

Airplane yawns. He’s still feeling upset over all of this, but he’s come to a decision.

Whatever new world they end up in — and goddammit, it’ll be together — he’s not going to allow Shen Yuan convince him to let himself become attached to the characters this time. He’d done so well, in the first half of his life as Shang Qinghua, keeping himself distanced from his peers and enemies alike. Life went by quick and mostly painlessly, when you didn’t connect with anyone. The real pain came after Shen Yuan talked him into seeing the people of that world as actual people.

It was lonely before then, sure. He’s not sure the hurt that came after was worth it, though. Plus, this time he’ll have his bro at his side. That’s all he’ll need.

“Oh, hello.”

He pulls back from his friend’s comfy embrace to look up at him. “Find a good one?”

“I think so,” Shen Yuan tells him. He’s smiling up at the window, and he’s got one eyebrow raised. “This one is ‘Become Game Masters of an ARMMRPG.’”

“Eh?” Airplane frowns. “... Doesn’t it mean, uh, a VRMMORPG? Like in anime?”

“No. This one is Alternate Reality Massive Multiplayer Role Playing Game. Instead of being a virtual world, in this… story, I guess? In this story, the player characters are actually people capable of dimensional travel. Each ‘game’ is a different dimension, and the people can only die in their home dimension. From the description, it’s basically the same as the synopsis of your run of the mill VRMMORPG anime, except the virtual games are real worlds.”

“Sure, but if they’re real worlds, then what does being a Game Master mean?”

Shen Yuan grins down at him.

“Hey, Airplane,” he says. “How do you feel about being an actual god?”

—

Luo Binghe curls up on his throne like a child might sit in their mother’s lap, but there is no warmth to be found for him in this position. He clutches his knees to his chest and fights off another bout of these ceaseless tears. What’s a throne worth, what’s the seat of an emperor worth, what is all the power that he’s spent years accumulating worth, if Luo Binghe himself is actually useless regarding what truly matters?

He’s the king of an entire realm, territories a-plenty in the human one as well, but none of it matters anymore.

Nothing can matter, not now.

He launches himself off the throne, startling the line of servants that kneel on the gilded floor. He ignores their jolts and their gasps of surprise, turning on his heel to leave the room entirely. It’s only a few doors deep into the private wing behind his throne, a room in the center of his palace that is more secure than any place else in all the world.

He throws open the door, and catches it before it can slam shut. He closes it with barely a whisper.

It feels wrong, making too much noise in this room. Being too loud.

Shizun never liked it to be too noisy.

Luo Binghe’s eyes sting as he approaches the shrouded and still form that lies on the dias in the center of the room. He kneels before it, and then lowers himself further to press his forehead against the cold stone floor.

“Shizun,” he whimpers. “This lowly disciple is so sorry. This scum will repent for as long as it takes. Binghe will kneel for eternity if that is what it takes. But please, please. Come back.”

His voice cracks on the last word. It echoes quietly in the room, bouncing off the walls and reaching back to him until all the Luo Binghe is able to hear are the reverberations of his own useless please.

Just like every time before, the form he kowtows to is silent and unmoving. Cold. Dead.

Luo Binghe has made the worst mistakes, and there is no way to fix them.

[Read ch. 2]

#scum villain's self saving system #world state: refresh #cucumberplane #shen yuan #shang qinghua #vodkassassin fanfiction

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years ago

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Honor him. Younger Mercenary Oberyn Martell x f!reader fanfic. #Writer Wednesday 05/26/2021

Summary: You receive the worst news, Oberyn Martell died, your first lover and the first adventure you lived.

Once when you were younger you ran away from your house escaping an unhappy engagement and the promise of a dull life. But your family hired an elite force of mercenaries to find you not knowing that their leader is a Prince of Dorne.

Word count: 6,5k (ups sorry)

Warning: Blood, violence, Oberyn’s death is mentioned as canon in the book and show, Ophidiophobia(fear of snakes), unhappy arranged marriage, alcohol. +18 SMUT (it means no minors, pls) virgen f!reader, oral sex (f¡ receiving descriptive, male receiving mentioned) p in v sex (unprotected cos there’s no durex in Essos BUT USE PROTECTION IN REAL LIFE PEOPLE) grieving.

A/N: I'M SORRY I'M LATE this is for #Writer Wednesday, the challenge created by @autumnleaves1991-blog

I read the books a long time ago, yep, I’m one of those people that said “I’ll finish them when George publish them all” so I got ASOIAF wiki and run with it, so buckle up for some bad geography from Essos and inaccurate cultural stuff. I think this is the longest thing I’ve written and the smuttiest, so sorry if it’s cringy.

Honor him

“Apparently he won the combat but the wounds were too severe and he died”

You raise your eyes from the book. One of the young servants whispers to another collecting the dead leaves on the ground.

“What is it?”

They rise from the ground nervously expecting that you will scold them for gossiping

“We heard the news from the world. A bard was chanting them on the market, my lady” she approaches the fountain; you’re seated on the ceramic tile, feet inside the water, refreshing from the blazing sun in this part of Essos.

“And what did he say?”

“He said there was a trial in Kingslanding. For the death of king Joffrey, and it was his cousin...”

“His uncle, the imp” clarifies the other and the other girl rolls her eyes

“Yes, his uncle was on trial for his murder. And Prince Oberyn from Dorne was his champion”

“The imp asked for a trial by combat, you see, my lady” adds the other

“He battled the Mountain; he crushed the prince’s skull apparently”

“But! but! His blade had poison on it so the Mountain died too” says the other girl excitedly

“Oberyn died?” you mutter, your hands are limp and you don’t realize that you have drop your book until you hear the “blop” sound in the water and it splashed your tunic

Your mind travels to years past in an instant: A journey through the vast empty lands of this continent and how you loved for the first time.

The pages of your book are getting more and more transparent while the black trickles of ink disappear in the water. You wish to scream, to rip your clothes and your hair out of your scalp but you do nothing.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the girls look at each other when you don’t move or try to retrieve your book from the water.

You always thought the greatest pain he gave you was leaving you at your father’s door many years ago, but now he’s gone forever. You always thought, while looking from your window at night, that you will see him one day, coming back on his dark horse ready to steal you away again, but now that he’s dead that small hope, that tiny flame that you kept in your heart is gone.

Your childish hopes and dreams of reviving your first love are shattered. It’s true that your life has changed, you’re a grown woman now, wiser and experience but you still fantasize over him, seeing his face and his hands on your lovers.

“We should call physician” you heard them whisper, but so far away

“Where is he anyway?”

“At his clinic, you silly girl, run”

“You do not need to call him” you mutter “I’m fine. Excuse me”

Not caring for splashing water all over the house, you run to your chambers and collapse into your bed. Buried in the soft pillows, you cried, muffling your howls with them so nobody could hear. Late in the night the moon and stars shine bright casting bluish shadows in your room.

Your body is tired but restless and in the night shade a timid ray of white light illuminates that small scar in your forearm in the shape of a half-moon. And you kiss it, at least you will always have something of his carved in your skin.

Many years ago. Essos.

“You’re cheating, boy” the big man slams the table, the wooden pieces and the coins that all the players have laid at the center fall down. He points at you spitting from a mouth full of crooked black teeth “Show me your arms, boy, I know you’re lying”

“I’m just lucky, sir” you raise your blouse’s sleeves and your arms up innocently and somehow it makes him angrier

He insults you in whatever language he speaks and slams the table up, the players run and the loud tavern suddenly gets quite, waiting for the next movement. You’re an ant in front of that enormous giant, when he stands tall and walks menacingly towards you, you freeze, he doesn’t listen to you when you apologize, it doesn’t matter anyway, you just did to gain time and look for an exit but the room is too crowded.

“Here, boy, I’ve also many tricks under my sleeve” he has a dirty bag hanging from his belt and takes it and throws it at you. It lands at your feet and for a second you smirk not knowing what a bag could do to you, but then it moves and in a blur you see a green and yellow thing twisting until you feel it pressing and slithering over your body. The snake, a beautiful, shiny creature with vibrant colors faces you hissing and shows its fangs. Everything happens to fast. Out of instinct you protect your face with your arms and the animal understands this as a threat and it bites. The pain rings like a bell all over your body every nerve in your body aflame.

In a second, cold blood wets your face and you gasp when you see the snake’s head slide to the side separated from its body with a clean cut.

“I’m sorry for the demise of your little friend” A tall lean man stands beside the giant. You can’t see his face, since he’s covered with black turban and his body is in full armor. One of his arms still holds a curved sword that has snake blood on it; the other has a dagger pointed to your enemy’s neck.

“That viper was worth more than you or your little friend and you will pay for it”

“I doubt it. You know my little friend here” and he points his sword to you “it’s worth a lot and if I don’t tend to her wound rapidly she will die and that’s a shame. So, decide now, do you want to be a setback or do you want to keep living your stinky life longer?”

By brute force, the giant decides his fate and tries to disarm the man who in a swift movement cuts his throat and his blood and destiny joints that of his pet.

“You’ve been quite difficult to find, child” he opens the fabric covering his face. His eyes are dark, dark beard covers his defined jaw line and an amused smirk graces his handsome face. “Let me see that arm” he lowers his weapons, shamelessly cleaning his dagger on the back of the dead tall man and walks to you until your back is pressed against one of the tavern columns. Sheathing his sword, his hand takes yours and raises your arm, evaluating the wound and he hums deeply “Oh, sweet child”

“Am I going to die?” you cry

“Probably”

“If it’s my father who commands you to find me, I beg you to let me die; I do not wish to go back. Death is better than that dreadful place” you shake your head determined but terrified at the same time. He looks at you with his brow troubled

“Death is never better than anything” and he drags your arm to his face. His dark gaze fix on you while he sucks on the wound so hard that for a moment you think he’s drinking your life away. But then he lets you go and spits to the ground “Let’s hope that’s enough. You will come with me so I can give you the antidote”

“I told you, I have no desire to return to my home”

“It’s a pity, then, that I don’t care about that” he grins.

He gave you so many small jars to drink. Some tasted sweet some bitter and some other made you want to vomit and not drink or eat ever again. But you’re alive. A few hours passed, and then a day, then two, and you’re irrevocably getting back home.

You’ve learnt that your father, in an attempt to find you, has commissioned this elite group of mercenaries to retrieve you; and he’s the leader. It’s a small company but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. All of them seemed to have many different skills, weapons hidden at every corner of their body, they speak languages you don’t know and you ride your horse tied to it watching each one of them with a suspicious look. After two days riding with them you have decided that there’s no way you could escape now. There’s always one of them standing guard and just a small glare your way gets every thought of escaping out of your head. So, even if it’s dramatic, you decided that your best option is to die. A few days in the desert without water and food and your father will receive a corpse.

“Drink, little girl, you’re withering like a flower” the leader, the man that saved you, says handing you the waterskin

“No, thank you” you turn your head, seated under the shadow of a very thin and dry bush. The orange and violet light announces the immanent sunset where you have stopped for the day.

“You’ve been refusing water all day. You have to drink” he says and pushes the waterskin to your face once more.

“No, thank you” you repeat and he sighs. Thinking you’ve won as he throws the waterskin by his side, you smile subtly until he’s close, crouched down, knees over the sand, looking at you.

“Maybe being a spoiled little flower works for your father, but not to me. Drink or I will make you” He takes your chin and raises it to meet his eyes

“I’m not thirsty” you say, your lips are already dry and they hurt, your tongue is thick inside your mouth and your body screams for just one drop.

“Don’t challenge me, child” he lowers his voice and you gulp

“I’m not a child” you protest, he keeps calling you that and honestly you don’t think he’s much older that you

“Then why do you behave like one? Drink, for the last time” His mouth is a fine line now and his grip on your chin is a little bit firmer

When you don’t answer he opens the waterskin and tucking on your lower lip he pours a small trickle of water in your mouth. The liquid taste sweet, your body works on it own and you open your mouth to drink more with desperation.

“So you weren’t thirsty...stubborn girl” he smirks and you want to slap his smug and beautiful face

He stops pouring water and laughs when you rise up drinking the last drops before he puts the cap on it.

“Look at you, not a withering flower anymore” the mercenary brushes his knuckles over you cheek and you feel them burn “What else do you want?” his thumb caress your chin gathering the small drops of water on your skin and spreads it over your lower lip.

You feel your bones burning, a tension in your lower belly that you haven’t feel many times and that makes you ask for something you don’t even know, so you just answer a timid yes and let him guide you to the fire and the rest of the company.

One of the mercenary is skinning some rabbits, methodically pulling the skin off with blood hands and a deathly gaze fix on you “So she decided to join us” she says

“Oberyn can be really persuasive” another, a big bald man with a beard tinted in blue, adds

So his name is Oberyn, where have you heard that name before?

“Remember that her father is paying for the whole of her, untouched he said” a lean blonde woman, with her face full of black and blue tattoos, is lounged over the bags sharpening her knives

“Well, I hope he doesn’t see her arm, that viper left her with a beautiful scar” Oberyn sits down and helps the mercenary skinning the animals and impales them and puts them to roast on the fire

“I’m not talking about that kind of viper...” she says and the company laughs

“I’m right here” they stop laughing looking at you as if you have done something they deem impossible

“So she speaks” the bearded man says

“She does but it may take some convincing” Oberyn smiles at you over the flames that illuminate his striking and sharp features “If you wish to eat, sweet flower, why don’t tell us how did you escape? We love a good story while we camp”

“Your father was convinced some ragged boy had stole you from your palace” adds the blonde woman

You smile, feeling some kind of pride for your plan, that, looking at it from perspective, did not grant you what you wanted but at least you had a good run. You tell them about how you disguised as a ragged boy lurking a few nights prior your escape so that the servants suspected about somebody being guilty of your disappearing. And how you ran away the night of your betrothal and made it look as if somebody had kidnapped you.

“I ran out of money in Lys so I had to beg, or steal, or gamble for a few coins. And then you found me” you finish your tale, sucking on your fingers, the meat is the best you ever tasted but yet again it must be the hunger from this days refusing to eat or drink.

“I’m almost tempted to let you go, young one, you seem a very resourceful girl” the beard man that you now know as Uhlan smiles at you proudly

“Think about the money” the blonde woman, Rikan, chew on a bone and toss it to the fire

“I’m always thinking about it, why do you think I’m a sellsword?” he jests

“Because you were a street rat with a broad back as broad as your stupidity and it’s the only thing you can do” Rikan spits and Uhlan laughs, a deep and low chuckle that resonates as a thunder.

“She’s a little princess, she couldn’t have survived much longer” the other woman, Shifa adds, the rest of the company has changed the way they look at you, but her. She still squints at you

“There’re princes that have survived worse” Uhlan counters and suddenly there’s a heavy and uncomfortable silence over them. You look at all of them trying to understand and you see Oberyn looking at his feet until he claps his hands together “Let’s get some sleep, we have a long way ahead”

It’s surprising what food, water and company can achieve. You’re smiling more, you almost forget that you will be delivered to your father and future husband within days, Uhlan tells you about his many adventures, how he almost die in Yiti, how he rode once with a Khalassar and that he had seen the great shadow in the East. Rikan has gifted you a knife “a girl needs to defend herself” she said and proceed to show you how to kill a man in many different ways “If you want to kill your husband though, you must ask Oberyn, he’s the one that knows about poisons and how to kill somebody without raising suspicions”

“How does he know that?” you ask, leaning to the right so you get close to her horse, Oberyn rides beside Shifa before you; both of them speaking in a language you don’t understand

“He has studied many things; he’s been all over the world. He was almost a Maester once, but preferred to travel, fight and fuck the world before he gets back to his duties”

“Duties?”

“He’s a prince” she whispers a mischievous smile on her lips “he doesn’t want to talk about it, because it makes people treat him differently or underestimate him. So don’t tell him it was me, blame the big rat”

“Did somebody call me?” Uhlan screams at the back

“You do have a sharp ear when you want, my friend”

You arrive to Myr at dusk. The city is still vibrating, the merchants offering everything you could imagine and the streets smell like thousands spices. And you absorb it all with wide eyes and open mouth.

“It’s a beautiful world, my sweet flower, and you wanted to end your life” Oberyn raises his voice over the people chatting and selling stuff

“If only it could always be like this” you answer, your smile dies in your mouth remembering this is a passing thing. The adventure will be over soon.

“Life gives us many opportunities to dwell in its pleasures; you have only to acquire a keen eye to recognize the perfect moment to seize it”

“Are you implying that I will have another chance to escape?” you scoff

“Maybe...if that is what you want or maybe to enjoy your life as a married woman, who knows”

You sigh deeply trying to ignore the thoughts about your future husband, that drunken bastard, boring and dull that your father chose.

“Or you could run away and avoid your responsibilities; you can create your own destiny, my sweet flower”

“And that’s what you are doing? Avoiding your duties?” you stop in your tracks and he watches you for a moment, chewing on his lower lip

“Maybe” he answers finally

“I’m tired of being treated as if I was overreacting being a spoiled child while you are here doing exactly what I did, ran away, from the duties of a noble life. I’m not overreacting; all I want is to decide if I want to live my life bearing children for my fool husband and maybe die giving birth or out of boredom and disappointment or try my luck in the wild world. Isn’t that what you are doing? Travel, fight and fuck the world? What’s the difference between me and you?” The people surround you, the company has already enter the tavern in front of you knowing they shouldn’t meddle

“Travel, fight and fuck the world seem a pretty good title for a book. Maybe when I’m old I will write my adventures under that title” he laughs

“I’m glad I amuse you” you spat with your arms crossed

“I apologize if I made you feel that I was underestimating you. Do not confuse my laughter with mockery, I know how you feel and I understand.” He comes close to you, each hand on your arms, pressing them lightly “Believe me, I wouldn’t have accepted this job if your father didn’t pay so well. I have to get back home and I want to leave my company with enough resources so they can continue on their own” he explains, he bends his neck so you are so close you can smell his scent, leather, horse and the dessert. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy ourselves while it lasts” Oberyn smiles and passes his arm over your shoulders “Have you tasted the wine from Myr?” you shake your head “It’s the sweetest”

The wine is starting to play with your mind, your smile falls languidly over the corner of your lips and you don’t know why you’re laughing but whatever song Uhlan is singing is the funniest thing you’ve heard. Rikan laughs by your side, her laugh is actually sweet and high making her look less menacing. Shifa is the only one that doesn’t look amused at all and he drinks from her goblet eyeing the tavern, especially you, with hatred.

“C’mon, Shifa, we know you can smile” Uhlan grabs her in a bear hug but she squeezes herself out of it

“Let me alone, you brute”

“You haven’t talked much since we retrieve the little girl over here, tell us what’s going on in that little twisted mind of yours?” the man jokes and the other mercenary glares at him

“I’m going to my chamber” She drinks the rest of her drink and strides to the rooms, pushing the drunken people in her way

“Leave her, Uhlan! She’s just jealous that her prince is not directing his attentions only to her lately” Rikan says winking at you

Oberyn has been absent having a conversation in another table until he comes back with a serious expression

“I’m partially offended that you think our company it’s not worth your time” Uhlan says sliding to give him enough space to seat by his side

“Huh, so I guess Shifa is not the only one jealous” Rikan drinks looking at him over her goblet

“Shut up!”

“Where is she?” Oberyn asks

“She went to her chamber” Uhlan serves him wine “So what was about those ugly bastards that got your attention; I thought you had a very refined taste”

“Those are Westerosi men; I wanted to get news of the world. Some of us still appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, my friend” Oberyn taps on his big shoulder

“I appreciate the pursuit of a good fuck better, my friend. Let’s see if those Westerosi want to share some news with me, Rikan are you coming? I’m always lucky with you around”

“I don’t like Westerosi” she snarls

“I don’t care, I just need you to be there so they take a good look at your ugly face and they get convinced that fucking with me is the good option of the two of us” he jokes with one of those thunder like chuckles

Rikan laughs and she follows him, waddling towards the men’s table.

“I should go to my room” you say, rising too fast and the whole room twists and turns

“You liked the wine, I see” he observes you grab the wooden table for your dear life until you find your balance

“Too sweet, I haven’t noticed it until it was too late”

“Let me guide you then”

Oberyn grabs you by your waist and helps you climb the stairs to the second floor. People gather around the aisle, laughter and moans fill the air and the heat of Oberyn skin over yours and the boldness giving by the alcohol make you pressed your body against his a little tighter than its necessary.

“This is you” he says opening the door for you

“Is it true what you said about creating our own destiny?” you collapse on his firm chest, your hands brushing over his neck

“Yes, sweet flower”

“Sweet flower” you mimic his accent “Say it one more time” your glossy lips, sticky with wine, leave a kiss on the tan uncover skin of his chest. His laugh makes you raise your head

“You need to sleep, child”

“No, no!” you slap his hand away when he tries to push you inside the room “Don’t call me that, I’m not a child. I’m a woman” you try to fix your posture to seem taller but you body stumbles to one side almost falling down

“What you are is a very inebriated girl. Good night, my sweet flower” he says closing the door

“Are you going to Shifa’s room?” the words escape your lips before you can think and he lingers on the door with an eyebrow raised

“Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t want you to go to her” again the words are out before you process them

“And what do you want me to do?” Oberyn closes the door behind him. And you breathe deeply a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Stay with me” you mutter

“Believe me I would, but you don’t know what you are asking. It is the wine speaking”

“No it’s not” you pout again falling into his arms, hearing how you sound like a spoiled little girl, you cough “It’s not” you repeat

“Right, let me take you to bed then”

You gasp looking at him with wide eyes. Oberyn hugs your body and walks towards the simple bed at the corner until you both fall down on the soft mattress

“Oberyn” you whisper “I have to tell you something before we...”

“Tell me, sweet flower” He lays beside you, posing his head over his fist

“I’m...I’ve never...” you stutter

“No need to worry” with his free hand he starts to brush his index finger from your brow to the tip of your nose so slowly and softly that you feel your eyes closing down

“Are you trying to make me sleep as if I was a puppy?” you slur

“Shh” he continues until the room goes dark and you cannot open your eyes for much that you try

“Sweet dreams, sweet flower” you hear before you blank out.

The sun pierces your eyes as if its rays were daggers. The company laughs at your expense, but yet again, Shifa hisses and insults you in some language but it’s evident that she said something nasty because Oberyn glares at her.

“No more Myr wine for you, little girl” Uhlan laughs helping you get on your horse

“Never” you murmur

The pain in the back of your head and the unstoppable thirst you have makes you moody, and it doesn’t help that you know you’re one day away from your home. But everything is worse with the hard sting of jealousy. It’s not that Oberyn does much, but he rides along side her, speaking in that stupid language you don’t understand, and she makes him laugh, he watches with attention whatever she points at during the way. He looks at her, talks to her. All you want is to rush your stupid horse and take her place.

It gets worse when Shifa sees you observing them; knowing damn well what you feel, she becomes softer, leaving touches on his skin, whispers things on his ear. And you can see the intimacy, the camaraderie that they share and that you will never have. And she’s a woman not a little girl, fierce, independent, and strong; and you cannot stop comparing yourself to her.

You arrive to a small town in between the domains of the two free cities, just hours away from the gates of Pentos.

“We will spent the night here, we need to be presentable for tomorrow”

The town has a small and humble bath house. The simple exterior made of red brick doesn’t show the beauty it has in its interior. The garden inside is made of brick and ceramic creating beautiful arches that frame the pool in the middle; green vines crept over the walls and the tender murmur of water is the only sound you can hear.

“We have rooms to accommodate you for the night once you’re done with your baths” the lady, owner of the house, announces and snaps her fingers towards the servants so they get everything ready.

“Thank you” Oberyn says bowing his head “Wash away the dust of our journey, my friends. Specially you, Uhlan” he jokes, slapping the big man’s belly

“You’re as stinky as me, my prince, but the Gods didn’t give me a beautiful face”

The company strips shamelessly, you think that they’re so comfortable around each other that they don’t think twice before submerge their naked bodies in the fresh water.

You stay by the side, taking off your shoes and rolling your sleeves so you can wash your feet and face. You avert your eyes when you see that Oberyn’s armor is on the floor. Your eyes fixed on the water and the blue tiles at the bottom, but you cannot stop from raising your eyes just a little.

His magnificent, strong, and tight body, his beautiful golden skin is marked in scars in some parts, you see the muscles on his legs tensing and relaxing as he gets in the pool. Your eyes travel through the room to avoid seeing him in his full grace.

“C’mon child, you don’t want to be stinky when you meet your father” Rikan splash water at you

“I-I”

“Let her be, she’s scare of my big cock” Uhlan laughs

“That thing that you can barely get up? C’mon, child, it is harmless” The blonde mercenary swims towards you and grabs your hand to pull you in

“Rikan, leave her, let’s finish and we will leave her some privacy” Oberyn says under the small waterfall brushing his skin with a small piece of soap

“Your husband’s eyes will be the only ones that will see you naked” Shifa says and she swims towards Oberyn. Her body is toned and muscular. She joints him under the water stream and when she tries to touch him, he moves away.

You don’t want to smile, but you do, until you remember that he refused you the other night and tonight is the last night you’ll spend with them. Shifa will have him for whatever time she wants.

Eventually they leave the pool, putting on some fresh clothes and rubbing some scent oils on their skins and they look different, less mercenary and more like elite warriors with a thousand adventures to tell. You will miss them; they are the only friends you have ever had.

“Thank you” you say stopping their banter over who’s going to take which room, they look at you confused “Thank you for rescuing me” you say with a trembling voice

“It’s nothing, child” Uhlan says and you see his big eyes shine

“We will give you some privacy” Rikan nods

When they are away you take off those stinky clothes you’ve been wearing since you escape. You moan feeling the water soften your muscle and you enjoy the strong cascade of water hitting your back until your bones feel like liquid inside your skin.

“I never expected you to thank us for getting you to your father” his voice gets you out of the trance, and you don’t open your eyes when you hear the soft sound of clothes hitting the ground and the splash of water when he gets inside the pool again.

“I didn’t thank you for that, but for rescuing me” you answer still your eyes closed under the waterfall “And saving my life” you pass your hand over the now healed wound, a moon shape scar where he suck the venom out of you.

Oberyn fingers grab your wrist, raising your arm towards his lips and planting kisses alongside your veins until he arrives to the thicker skin of the scar, sucking again on it.

“Do you still believe that it was better to let you die from the snake’s bite than to be back home?” he whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you over your pulse

“I still can run away” you open one eye. Oberyn looks amused at you

“Will you?” he asks saving the distance between you

“I don’t know. Will you come get me if I do?” You approach him, intertwining your hands on his neck

“The world is big and beautiful; it will be a shame that a sweet flower like you rots in a place like this all her life” he turns his head and leaves a kiss on each of your arms

“So that’s a no” you laugh but the pain in your heart is real

“I have to leave Essos soon, I guess the time for adventures is up” he exhales deeply

“Just the last one then” you’re surprised of your boldness when you rise on your tiptoes to kiss his lips

It is soft at first. Just tasting him, tempting him to show you more, and he does. Oberyn opens his mouth and sucks on your lower lip and when your mouth is open he savors you with his tongue. He holds your face on his large palms guiding you softly until the kiss deepens and your hands leave his neck roaming through his back and he reciprocates. His hand caresses every inch from your neck to your arms. You moan in protest when he breaks the kiss but then his kisses move to your neck nibbling your skin. He pampers every part of you with his attention, soft kisses and bites over the top of you breast.You cry out laughing when he grabs you and rise by the waist so he can access your tits. You circle his waist with your legs and you hold yourself on his shoulders.

Any good sense in you, any coherent thought gets lost one his mouth sucks on your nipples and you kiss his head trying to control your panting. The sounds that come out of you seem so far away, his low grunts and moans over your breast melt you and you feel the heat gathering between your legs.

“My sweet flower, you have the sweetest tits” he moans and he lowers you so he can kiss you one more time. You run your fingers over his dark hair, his impossibly close to you but you need more. You need him like those drops of water he poured in you the first time. The hunger, the jealousy and desire you felt these past days have reached its peak and you think your heart will collapse. You repeat his name on his lips like a plea.

Oberyn carries you to the side of the pool, and you feel your cheeks burning, your body in goose flesh feeling exposed and at his mercy now that the water is not covering you. He takes his time admiring you, his brow eyes eating every pore of your skin. Kissing your legs he parts them grabbing you by the hips he positions you just at the edge of the pool. He palms your breasts one more time, gracing each nipple with a small pinch that makes you moan loudly. You get flustered, gaining a bit of your conscience back

“No need to be shy, my love, let go. I wish to hear every sweet moan, drink every drop of this sweet cunt” he plants a kiss on your navel, before lowering his face. His first lick between your lips makes you marvel of the unknown sensation. His eyes are fixed on you while he licks faster and sucks between your small lips, when you tense, every single fiber of your body burning, he changes his rhythm, lapping languidly all your sex and back again, fast and slow, and never too much. Until you’re gasping for air and pushing him away

“Please, it’s too much”

“Let me show you, trust me” his wet mouth bites you inner thigh before he starts again. This time you reach the point of no return faster. A wide abyss before you where you skin burns and you heart beat faster until you fall, crying his name. And he holds you, planting kisses all over you body, every part he can reach. The gasps lead to laughter

“What happe...how?” you ask

“I have many things to show you my sweet flower” he smiles

Oberyn lets you in his room. The warm night breeze moves the white curtains and the moonshine casts its rays so you can see him get on top of you with the warmest of smiles.

“Do you still want this, my flower?” he asks

You grab him by the neck and let your lips answer for you. Lowering your touch you push his back so he presses his body against you even tighter.

“Please, please” you beg on his ear

He reaches between your bodies and brushes the tip of his cock on your lips coating it in your arousal, before pushing gently. You gasp at the intrusion; it’s not pain what you feel but definitively a bit uncomfortable at first

“Let me in, my sweet, relax for me” Oberyn bends his neck to kiss and bite your tits. The pleasure turns your body into a withering mess until you’re full of him.

He moves lazily at first letting you grow used to his length and width while he observes your face

“Is it alright my love?”

“I need more” you murmur

“More?” He rises, pressing the weight of his body on his knees and opens you wider grabbing the soft skin on your hips “Like this?” he thrusts deep and fast with each word and you nod biting your lip. His pace is unforgiving, and you cannot think, all you can feel is him, and his sweet words and praises combined with the slaps of wet skin and the creaks of this old bed. Your fingers scratch softly on his chest trying to hold into something when you feel that abyss again, but this time you let it go and it hits you harder. Oberyn collapses over you letting your cunt squeeze him even tighter, slowly dragging himself in and out until he sense his release coming and he pushes harder once, twice until he spills his warm seed.

You kiss his brow, wet from exhaustion and the pool, in a way the cage he’s forming with his body pressed against the mattress is the freest you have ever felt.

The dawn wakes you up, many years later, a harrowing pain in your chest remembering how he kissed you a thousand times, how you slept caged in his arms for a few hours and then woke up with his face between your thighs

“Does it hurt?” he asked and you flinched, feeling the swollen and sensitive skin “I will kiss it better” he said. And you made love again, he moved you in the bed showing how to touch your body and how to touch him, how to pleasure him with your mouth as he did to you. Until the sun invaded the room and crashed your safe space between the shadows. You could no longer hide from your destiny, it was time to go.

He left you, a small and decent kiss on your hand and bid you farewell wishing you a happy life.

You remember running, not paying attention to your father’s complaints and your mother’s cries while you soon-to-be husband drank wine unbothered by the whole thing. You ran to the balcony watching his dark horse taking him out of the city.

He never looked back, and with his parting figure you promised you will live your life happy even if you have to run for it. That you will live adventures on your own until life gives you the last drop of its joy and pleasure. In a way you promised to honor him without knowing one day it will come true.

So you woke up, older, wiser, in your own house, after many adventures lived, and after a sleepless night mourning him, you grab paper and ink and write:

“Travel, fight and fuck the world: the Adventures of an Unusual Lady”

#writer wednesday #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #ASOIAF Fanfic

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supersonic-womanofyou · 4 years ago

Photo

My first attempt at an interview fic! Read this on Ao3, or under the cut.

Spotlight on Eric Bittle

Interview by Elizabeth Chu

Photographs by Jack Zimmermann

The internet personality, author, and baker talks about his childhood, his relationship with Providence Falconers captain Jack Zimmermann, being a LGBTQ role model, why he struggled with his overnight success, and his upcoming cookbook.

I meet Eric Bittle in person for the first time on a Saturday afternoon, in a trendy coffee shop in downtown Providence. Even though I’ve heard of it in passing, I’ve never been inside. Eric obviously has, since when I approach the table where he’s chosen to sit, Eric is already chatting familiarly with one of the waitresses.

But after a couple minutes talking to Eric, I mentally revisit that assumption. Eric Bittle has a way of putting people at ease, of making even the most distant strangers feel like long-lost friends-- through his warm personality, but also through his seemingly-never ending supply of homemade baked goods. By the time I sit down across from him, I’m already in possession of a whole pie and two jars of jam.

Most of the celebrities I’ve met have on screen personalities that are vastly different in person, but the Eric Bittle I meet that Saturday could have been pulled directly out of his Netflix series or one of the episodes from his vastly popular vlog. He’s perennially bright and cheery, with a Southern drawl that’s been blunted by years in New England, but is still very present. When I mention it, Eric laughs. “I used to hate my accent, but I think it’s become as part of my brand as pies are. I’d probably lose all of my followers if I started talking like a Yankee,” he jokes.

The source of Bittle’s accent is his hometown-- Madison, Georgia, a town of barely four thousand people. When I ask what drove him to move up north, he gestures to himself as a whole. “Not too many opportunities for a baking, skating, Beyonce-loving gay boy in Morgan County.” He turns more serious, though, when he continues: “I was bullied a lot as a child. When I think back to my childhood, to living in Georgia-- for people who looked or acted different, it could be suffocating. I remember feeling like my future was just so starkly outlined for me-- going to a state school, settling down with a nice girl, spending the rest of my life just pretending. It sounds like overdramatic teenage angst now, I know, but I always knew if I wanted to live honestly, I needed to get out.”

And so Eric applied-- and was accepted to--Samwell University in Massachusetts, which touts itself as one of the most LGBTQ friendly schools in America, under the motto “one in four, maybe more.” According to Eric, it’s where he began to come to terms with himself and his identity, where he finally said the words “I’m gay” out loud, where he continued to bake and vlog and began to think seriously about a career in both, and where, perhaps most famously, he met his now-husband, Providence Falconers captain Jack Zimmermann.

“We both played on the hockey team, but we weren’t exactly friends at first,” Bittle says about his relationship with Zimmermann.

So, of course, I have to ask him-- what is it like, being a baker married to a hockey player? Eric and his husband seem like almost comical counterpoints in every aspect of their careers and personalities. Eric makes his living through baking and cooking, Jack plays in the notoriously-macho NHL. Eric has built a brand and a food empire off of cheeriness and Southern hospitality, Jack has a reputation of being a “hockey robot,” with his cold, generally disagreeable demeanor during interviews.

“Well, with it all laid out like that, it really does sound like we’re night and day,” Eric laughs. “But honestly? We just work. We both love skating-- that’s what we bonded over in college, actually. We also both technically majored in history, even though we have very different specialities and did so for pretty different reasons. But even our differences are compatible. Like, I love talking, he doesn’t, so we’re never talking over each other or silent. Also, pro hockey players have to eat an insane number of calories, so Jack’s always there to eat my cooking, and that’s really all I can ask for.”

Eric and Jack, who played on a line together briefly at Samwell, took the sports world by storm seven years ago when they kissed on the ice after the Falconers won the Stanley Cup, making Jack the first openly LGBTQ player in the NHL. The pair broke yet another barrier for LGBTQ people in hockey soon after, when Eric became the first openly gay NCAA Division I hockey captain.

When I ask Eric if he ever thought about following in his partner’s footsteps and pursuing a career in professional hockey, he just laughs. “Oh, definitely not. I love being on the ice, but I don’t think I would have made it very far in the NHL or AHL.”

His fame may have started out in the (relatively niche) world of professional hockey, but since graduating from Samwell, Eric has found incredible success beyond the legacy of that historic kiss. His first book, published five years ago, spent several weeks on the New York Times Food and Diet bestseller list, and was applauded as a fresh, vibrant take on Southern cuisine and desserts. Check, Please reads as seventy percent cookbook, thirty percent memoir, with every page infused with Bittle’s indomitable, ubiquitous personality. His vlog, which he started in high school and has updated continuously ever since, has millions of subscribers, who tune in every week to hear Bittle talk about everything from pies and cookies to relationships and family. Finally, and perhaps most famously, Bittle hosted his own Netflix series last year, applauded as a combination of Marie Kondo and Queer Eye, in which he taught baking with his usual brand of positivity and universal appeal, interspersed with feel-good moments and life lessons.

It strikes me that while Bittle’s career may have been jump-started by his relationship with Jack Zimmermann, he’s certainly managed to make a name for himself in the years since. To the hockey world, he may still be an afterthought to Jack Zimmermann, but to the baking world (and a good portion of Netflix’s viewership), the name Jack Zimmermann is an afterthought to that of Eric Bittle.

“Jack definitely gets a kick out of it when we’re in public together and I get recognized, and he doesn’t,” Eric says. “It’s kind of crazy, actually-- I definitely couldn’t have imagined all this ten years ago, back in college or in high school.”

And what did Eric imagine himself doing? “To be honest, I don’t think I had any idea. When I decided to go to Samwell, I didn’t even have a major in mind or anything. I just wanted to get out of Georgia. And at Samwell-- I mean, I majored in American History, of all things. Talk about a useless degree! I literally just chose the major that let me take the most baking or baking-adjacent classes.” He pauses, and laughs. “It drives Jack crazy, actually-- I never have a plan for anything, really, big or small. I’m the kind of person who just crosses my fingers and hope it all shakes out for the best.”

His husband’s opinion aside, this tactic seems to have worked out pretty well for Eric. His next, eagerly anticipated cookbook, which follows much in the vein of his Netflix show, is due to come out in two months this August. “It’s going to be focused on easy, cheap cooking and baking that’s still healthy and fulfilling. I think there’s a mindset that to make tasty, healthy food you need to have expensive ingredients and tools, or a lot of time on your hands, or have a lot of experience. But like-- I made food for an entire hockey team in a frat house on a college student’s allowance for four years, so I know something about cooking healthy on a budget,” he jokes. “I really just want to make good, healthy food accessible for everyone.”

Well, he’s managed to do that, and more. Eric Bittle’s career so far has certainly been a whirlwind. He’s gone from publishing his first cookbook to hosting his own show in what’s only been a matter of years.

“I do have to pinch myself sometimes, “ Eric says about his dizzyingly quick ascent to fame. “Like, Carrie Underwood tagged me in a tweet about hockey husbands the other day. Carrie Underwood!” The disbelief is clear in his voice. “I mean, Jack’s always been the bigger fan of country music, but the Georgia boy in me had to lie down for a moment when I saw the notification. So I think-- I still can’t really believe all of it, you know? It feels like yesterday I was still about to graduate college, with barely any plan and procrastinating on my thesis. And I guess sometimes-- sometimes I do feel a bit guilty, you know? Like-- there’s so many people fighting for this, fighting for what I’ve got-- getting books published, getting a show, everything else. I definitely had a leg up in name recognition because of Jack and hockey, and even when Jack and weren’t married yet, I never had to worry about having a roof over my head if the vlog wasn’t bringing in enough money or the cookbook wasn’t selling well enough.” He pauses, pensive, and it’s not the first time in this conversation that I mentally reassess my first assumptions about Eric Bittle. Behind the nationally famous smile and welcoming accent is a thoughtful young man still grappling with becoming a public figure and a role model, with a sprinkling of imposter syndrome, who doesn’t understand exactly what millions of people across the country see in him.

But perhaps that as well is an unfair assessment. It’s clear that Eric has a refreshing genuiness that few public figures possess, and that this is part of what has managed to speak to so many people from all backgrounds. That on some level, his modesty about his own fame is part of what constitutes his appeal.

When I mention this, Eric flushes a bright shade of pink. “Oh, aren’t you a flatterer. Well, I suppose so.”

So after this cookbook, what’s next? Is fatherhood on the horizon?

“I did mention that I never have a plan, didn’t I?” he quips. But he does confide that he and Jack have been talking about having a family. “We’ve always wanted kids, but there’s always been something going on. Jack’s job and being on roadies all the time, me trying to get my career started. We don’t want our kids to be raised by babysitters and nannies, you know? We want to be there for them, so while it’s definitely something we’re considering, we’re trying to balance timing. But it has been a couple years, so.” He blushes. “We’re revisiting the idea.”

“But other than that-- I have been approached about the possibility of some other projects and shows in the future, but I probably can’t talk about those,” he says. “And though it’s always been a dream of mine to own a bakery, that would be a pretty huge commitment. So I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m not really sure exactly what comes next.” Nevertheless, he grins, as if to say, and isn’t that exciting ?

Fatherhood or his own bakery-- I’m sure that no matter what comes next for Eric Bittle, he’ll forge ahead with his characteristic positivity and Southern grace, with plenty of baked goods along the way. *

#omgcp #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #interview #multimedia fic #art #magazine #fic #omgcp fic #zimbits #pov outsider #omgcheckplease

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grantcontrol · 4 years ago

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Infestation ◈ solo

Timing: Sunday Afternoon (April 18, 2021) Location: Grant Residence Summary: Anton’s reading gets interrupted by unexpected guests. Shame he’s out of snacks. Content: Insect mention, loneliness/sad boy hours, adult language

“Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.” — Arthur C. Clarke

Another lazy Sunday afternoon comes to pass, but White Crest’s resident exterminator can’t complain. In his spacious living room, as the flames of his late grandfather’s hearth keep him warm, Anton Grant finds himself deep in thought while reading the old man’s copy of Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Truth be told, Anton was never a reading man, a bookworm, but his newfound peace and bliss in the sleepy albeit creepy town his late grandfather loved to call home, a place that perhaps inevitably became his grave, the grandson and new owner of Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions found time to pursue new hobbies. Also, his Internet connection was down.

He had just turned another page without even needing to rush himself to the book’s end when he heard something skittering somewhere in the residence. Anton closed the book, squinting at the direction of the noise. As far as he knew, he was all alone. “Girl? Is that you? You better not be stealing my sandwiches again. What are you doing here? You have school tomorrow, don’t you?”

The girl in question was his late grandfather’s most prized employee, the office’s receptionist who spent more of her time browsing Tiktok and YouTube than actually doing her job. Unfortunately for Anton, or perhaps fortunately for his lack of business acumen, she came with the inheritance.

Rising from the couch while wearing only his olive green robes, Anton made his way down the hall, scowling as he squinted at every nook and cranny he could pass. Reaching the end and finding nothing amiss, he heaved a sigh, placed both hands on his hips, and looked around one last time. “Huh. False alarm then.” With a shrug, the last remaining Grant in White Crest turned around, pivoted on his heels, hoping to get back to his peaceful reading. Unfortunately for him, what he got instead was the bulk of one of his late grandfather’s antique giant vases, almost sending it toppling to the ground, crashing into a million tiny pieces, if only his reflexes weren’t at least faster than gravity could force its annihilation.

“Holy fuck...” He heaved a sigh of relief as he carefully positioned it again on top of its tiny pedestal, looking behind him at another empty pedestal. “Wait, was this always here?” A second or two passed before he let the notion be. “Eh, probably moved it a few days ago.”

With another shrug, Anton made his way to the kitchen. A glass of milk, he thought, might just be what the doctor ordered. Shaking his head, he gripped tightly the handlebar on the refrigerator, opening it slowly and savoring the cold breeze that wafted from inside. It didn’t take him long to find the carton of milk, and soon, he was pouring himself a glass. As soon as his milk touched his lips, however, his nose was assaulted by a foul smell, and his body immediately spat out the rotten refreshment. Coughing, Anton grimaced, wiped his mouth dry of the unsavory liquid, and poured the rest of the glass down the drain. “What the hell? How could it spoil so soon? I just bought it this morning…”

That’s when it dawned on him. The unexpected collision with the massive vase, the surprising spoilage of today’s milk… “Chrysalia has a boggart infestation!”

Almost immediately, Anton ran all the way to the basement, almost slipping once or twice down the stairs, to get one of his iron-bladed knives. The basement, although under personal renovation with help from some other hunters to house his late grandfather’s formicaleon partner, was still filled with an array of pest hunter equipment, including but not limited to the usual pest control tools and much weirder things like flamethrowers and iron-bladed weapons. There were too many of the iron-bladed knives to carry, so he mostly just took four. His speed was evenly matched by his instincts, his training and experience combined to handle the weapons without nicking himself. Running back up to the kitchen, he flipped open all the drawers he could, as well as the refrigerator itself, but to no avail. It seemed he was out of his most important weapon yet, a jar of peanut butter. “Fuck.”

Laughter drowned the hallowed halls of the Grant Residence next, as if on cue, as if they had waited for him to come to the realization that he was more than fucked. It was a taunt, he knew it deep within his heart. The boggarts knew they had outnumbered him, and worse, he was not as well-equipped as he had thought he was. Ironic, considering his late grandfather’s dwelling was supposed to be a pest hunter bastion, a fortress housing the means to cull their bloodline chosen’s prey. More laughter to his right, and Anton quickly took the bait, squinting in the direction and not a moment sooner running towards it, slashing at the air with a knife in each hand to obviously no avail. “Damn you, you annoying bastards! This is my grandfather’s house! This is my house! You will not desecrate the Grant abode!”

“What the hell is up with this town?!” He screamed as he continued to slash at nothing but the space around him, running towards the right where the laughter came from and then towards the left where the laughter soon reappeared. If anyone was watching this, they’d think he had gone off the deep end, and they would have reason to be right. Yet Anton was not interested in what other people thought about him, thankfully no one was at least watching, but he was focused on his fury at the invasion, rather the interruption of his peace, no matter how truly boring it was. “Why does it have so many fucked up bullshit?!”

It took him hours, more than three, before he slowly found himself losing the energy to continue the one-sided battle. A part of him knew he was wasting time. He could just get some peanut butter in the morning, after all. In the end, however, he conceded, realizing at least that he had a semblance of action from the otherwise dull day. “You win this round, you bastards!” He screamed, though there was a grin upon his lips. With a sigh, he shook his head, dragged his feet to his both, and just plopped himself on that bed.

At the end of the day, the property, Chrysalia, was huge. It was too big for him, for just him, and it was most definitely big enough to accommodate his new tenants, no matter how annoying they were. Days were often lonely, if not for the Girl’s unscheduled appearance every now and then. They could stay. At least for now.

[END]

#wickedswriting #. ˋ ◈ ᵃⁿᵗᵒⁿ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵗ ››› solo ˋ .#. ˋ ◈ ᵃⁿᵗᵒⁿ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵗ ››› infestation ˋ .#(oh the irony)#(house guests/pests)

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mult1tude · 4 years ago

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TWO STARS ✰ AN ETHAN NESTOR STORY — CHAPTER 1

story synopsis: adele belanger, an upcoming star begins to fall in love with a man named ethan nestor after doing a press junket to promote her upcoming series that’s going to push her fame further than she expected. will problems arise?

word count: 3k triggers: none

adele belanger - the name spoke few and far on the dazzling and glamorous world of hollywood. celebrated for her roles in roles in indie films produced and created in canada, where she was born and raised, she is soon due a big break as she was in the process of getting ready for the rest of the world to know she was starring in netflix’s latest series.

saying the heat resonating from beneath her laptop was hot was an understatement, she didn’t dare to budge or move it in the slightest as she restlessly refreshed the youtube page waiting for the trailer to pop up, almost wearing out the button on her keyboard. the sable black strands at the nape of her neck that had evaded her grasp as she hurriedly tied a ponytail began to itch at her skin but she didn’t have time to fix it, not until the trailer was posted.

after what felt like a lifetime, her eyes were quick to notice a new thumbnail appear on the page and she reactively clicked it, pressing the mousepad button-down slightly too hard out of excitement. the entire video played, a beaming smile was plastered across her face, her dimples displayed prominently as she approached the end of the video. the young actress felt like a firework in a glass jar, so much excitement contained inside of her as she brushed the laptop from her lap, jolted from her rumpled bed and clenched her fists as she excitedly hopped around her tiny apartment and squealed. adele rushed to the dust speckled mirror that was hung near her front door that had a few dozen, in a hyperbolic sense, of her unused coats after moving from canada. she deeply exhaled as she examined her face, noticing her own excitement couldn’t even contain itself as a smile sidled upon her lips as she delicately let out a few words. “i’m going to be famous.”

her emotions shot off again like fireworks, her chest fluttering and her palms tingling and red from the nails she didn’t realise she had dug so deep into her own skin. but it didn’t matter, adele was finally making the biggest leap possible into her career - it was everything she ever wanted.

“ok, i need some water.” she softly spoke to herself, taking another deep breath as she headed towards her apartment’s small open-planned kitchen. her shaky hands picked up a bottle of water from the fridge; she vowed that she would never drink l.a’s tap water after hearing an endless conglomeration of negative things from acquaintances and friends after moving only 6 months ago.

swigging it back and almost completing most of the bottle, she slapped it onto the counter whilst letting out a satisfied gasp for air. a few drops making wet patches on her eggshell coloured sweatshirt that may or may not have a few foundation marks around the neckline. a sudden change of thought, she remembered she needed to send the link to all of her friends and family if they already hadn’t seen it. adele slid the phone from her sweatpants noticing she was already getting congratulatory messages from some of her friends and even people that she hadn’t spoken to in a while. moreso, a lot of the messages from her friends were them completely fangirling over the fact that she had in fact worked with henry cavill.

adele replied to and messaged everyone she needed to before opening twitter and the rest of her social media to find that they were starting to blow up, multiple people talking about how cool the show looked and how excited they were. a lot of them were generic but few mentioned how intricate and interesting adele’s sidekick companion character seemed which made her stomach twirl once more and she felt like she had her ego stroked enough it would last the rest of the week. she put aside her phone and began to practice her bedtime routine before throwing herself back onto her bed where she only was an hour ago. her head smacking her pillow must have activated a switch because adele immediately felt her eyes involuntarily shutter closed and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

✰

today was the first day of recording stuff for the press. needless to say, adele was super excited. from what the actress was able to gather from her manager jenna, since henry cavill was known to be such a huge gamer online, buzzfeed had organised the cast to play the game version of the new netflix series with a few special guests. it was undeniably going to be a great day and a great way to start the press junket as it progressively and eventually got more tiring and mind-numbing. plus, she had gamed a bit before so it would be funny if she were able to show up a few of her cast members, especially henry.

at 8am sharp, the assigned makeup and hairstylist, and wardrobe stylist arrived at her apartment. she was so giddy with excitement that she wanted to run around and shout and tell everyone but she had to sit silently for the meantime as the makeup artist worked on her face. edging elation bubbled through her every vein as they talked about varying outfits to wear, expensive designer brands she was allowed to borrow. she felt like a proper celebrity.

finally, the crew decided on a casual look for today. her slate black, silken hair was bundled in a half-up loose french plait whilst the rest of it waved down just below her shoulders, the front strands falling in front of her face. light and delicate makeup that made her eyes shine and sparkle like a glossy nephrite stone; the minimal makeup also allowed her ubiquitous, chocolate freckles to proudly be displayed on her face. polished, golden dangle geometric earrings to frame her heart-shaped face and overall elevate the look from simple to elegant. an ivory laced-back milkmaid top with puffed long sleeves, high-waisted, sun-bleached skinny jeans with a few sparse rips and shreds, tattered white thread entwined between the tears and loosely hanging like vines. to finish off the look was some pearly white stilettos and few rings as well as a similarly styled necklace to match the earrings.

“i feel, amazing.” adele faltered in disbelief as she longingly stared at herself in the mirror, turning to the crew exhibiting an approving smile. “thank you.” she softly spoke before squeaking with excitement as she danced on the spot causing her team to giggle in response. “time to get going!” she excitedly commanded herself as she made a poor attempt at trying to control her out of rhythm breathing. the exhilaration and eagerness began to convolute into a ball of anxiousness and fret. it was something new and different which was scary but she didn’t want it to hold her back. another deep breath and she made her way to the contemporary, modern lobby of her apartment block where she spotted the black suv through the towering glass front doors in which her chauffeur was waiting for her.

“per jenna’s request,” the chauffeur nodded towards the coffee in the cupholder. adele wrapped her hand around the starbucks cup — still hot. “vanilla oat milk latte?” she asked as she brought the almost searing coffee to her lips, the steam floating upwards and brushing past her skin. the chauffeur nodded as he put the vehicle into gear and started to head towards the destination. effortlessly, the sweet drink passed her lips as she took a few sips before she threw her head back in a satisfied manor. surely the coffee would help with the nerves and just overall elevate her mood. she scoured her social media for a short while, taking breaks to finish the rest of her drink before they arrived. it’s l.a, so it was always bound to take a while even if it just was a few blocks over.

discreetly, the car pulled into the back entrance where she was able to enter without getting noticed and was directed to a very bright and lively reception where the young actress signed in. her heels clicking against the laminated wooden flooring as she followed the operations manager who was indistinctively talking through the black earpiece attached to her ear and was clutching a clipboard to her stomach. a few corridors later they had arrived, the manager twisted the handle to the door and entered, allowing adele to trail behind her.

almost blinding, the room was filled with numerous studio lights. littering the floor almost completely, cables and all different sorts of leads and plugs lay disorganised on the floor. a huge monitor was placed in front of the white screen which was the focus of all the beaming lights. “hey adele!” vocalised the director as he approached her, also bearing a black earpiece. “so the premise of today’s shoot is quite simple. you’re going to be playing the game with our two guests over here,” he briefly motioned towards two gentlemen sat in the corner of the room chatting and chuckling between themselves clearly in a world of their own, “and we’ve paired you with henry because we only have two controllers and we want to get everyone to be involved so the others are being shot later. does that sound good?” he queried, concluded his speech.

“of course.” she eagerly spoke with a grin. “great,” the director spoke as he adjusted his wire-frame glasses, “let me introduce you to the guests. they’re going to be guiding you along with the game,” he spoke, leading adele over towards the boisterous men who were still conversing right up until adele and the director were stood only a few metres away.

“mark?” adele apprehensively suspected as she reached her hand out to his, inviting the suave gentleman to shake hands. “yes!” he answered in a shocked yet pleased tone as he stood to be polite and accepted the handshake with a beaming grin. “i think i watched a bit of your stuff a while back,” adele admitted before briefly catching eyes with the other guy who was staring up at her with gleaming eyes and a dopey yet adorable smile. “i’m honoured,” mark softly spoke before looking down at the other guy who was now standing to follow suit. “this is my friend ethan,” mark continued, placing a firm grip on his pal's shoulder.

“hi, nice to meet you.” ethan spoke in a much more gentle manner than mark did as he reached his hand out to replicate the greeting. “nice to meet you too,” she replied, reciprocating the greeting. “have you watched my stuff too?” ethan asked with a bashful smile as he ruffled his hair with his painted black fingernails. adele hesitantly shook her head not wanting to hurt his feelings, “no, but if it’s anything like mark’s stuff i’m certain it’s great.” she stated looking back at mark who had an affirming smirk on his face as he looked down at his younger friend who’s face had started to flush pink.

“henry is meant to be here right now, but he isn’t,” the director addressed somewhat annoyingly, “i’ll go and have a word to see where he is you can just stay here and talk to each other.” the director stated before hurriedly making his way to the door which adele entered through. she sat down in one of the spare seats that sat opposite the boys as they sat down once more.

“can i just say i watched the trailer this morning and i can’t wait to watch it.” he admitted as he began to pull at the strings of his coal-black hoodie. “thank you, it really means a lot,” adele’s cheeks blushed as she began to fiddle with the rings on her fingers yet still keeping her eyes on the boys. “seriously. we’re not just saying this it looks fantastic,” mark chirped in enthusiastically as he leaned forward in the seat, “i’m never usually this excited about a new series. so congrats!” he admitted with a deep chuckle, looking towards ethan who was nodding in agreement.

the conversation was silenced when a huge figure walked through the door followed by the director and operations manager. the director hastily wagged his fingers at adele and the boys who obediently made their way over. “adele!” henry happily bellowed in his charming english accent as he pulled her into a gentle hug, remembering he probably was over two times her size. “long time no see,” she affirmed as she hugged him back before breaking their embrace. her eyes involuntarily wandered over to ethan as the director began briefing henry. ethan quickly darted his eyes to the director as if he just hadn’t been gazing at her causing adele to grin to herself as she put her concentration back to the director.

“great, so follow me and i’ll seat you.” the director asserted as he walked towards the chairs in front of the white screen, two at the front and two at the back yet not parallel to each other. the front seats were more centred whilst the back two were offset so nobody would be getting in the way of each other when seated.

“adele if you sit in the front left seat, henry in the right.” he requested as he took a step behind the camera and watched the monitor to see if it was what he had envisioned. adele and henry sat which the director reacted with a thumbs up. “okay, ethan if you sit on the left and mark on the right please.” the director concluded as he continued to watch the monitor. the boys did as they were told before mark immediately remarked. “gosh it’s bright behind here,” he joked shielding his eyes as he laughed, eliciting a few giggles from everyone as the director adjusted some of the studio light placement with a few apprentices.

after everything was adjusted to the directors liking, they were ready to roll. the director placed his 3 fingers up as he counted down whilst mouthing the numbers. the thumb was up, which meant everyone introduced themselves and surprisingly it didn’t need multiple takes. “today, adele and i are going to be playing the symbols of shadows game which is very similar to the new series on netflix september 4th.” henry beamed, clutching the xbox controller in his hand as he looked over towards adele. “and i’m going to win. i’m going to beat henry.”

henry scoffed, dismissing adele’s statement as mark and ethan giggled behind them. “we’re also going to try to help, but it looks like they’re gaming experts,” mark spoke, wavering his tone with the last two words as he jokingly mocked adele and henry. “well, there’s only one way to find out.” ethan spoke energetically in a slightly goofier voice than what he was speaking in before. ethan looked at mark before they both turned towards the camera with a raised eyebrow. “okay great. we’ll cut there. let’s load the game up.” the director approved, leaning back in his chair, fixing his corduroy jacket as one of the apprentices loaded the game up and set up the first level. “we just want you to complete the first level so don’t try and rush.” the apprentice handed back the controller to adele as he quickly rushed out of view.

the camera began to roll again and the pair began to get a grasp of the controls and the setting of the game as they intentionally tried to set each other up in the game: pushing one another of the map, friendly fire, stealing points and collectables, and deliberately annoying each other which resulted in many laughs around the room. matter-of-factly, ethan and mark didn’t really do anything to help, however, they did make for a great commentary and supplied multiple belly-aching jokes.

the screen faded to black as they’d finished the first level; mark and ethan clapped and congratulated the pair in between giggles as adele and henry carried on the bit and refused to display any means of sportsmanship. “guys, i don’t know about you but i definitely won.” henry retaliated as adele shook her head and rolled her eyes. mark and ethan were laughing so hard it was almost silent. “this was a team game,” mark giggled as the pitch in his voice heightened. “let us know in the comments who you think won. because it was moi.” adele stated confidently, trying to hide the smile that wanted to appear on her lips so badly. the pair promoted their netflix series as they wrapped up filming. “okay, great. that’s everything. thanks, guys.” the director spoke as he picked up his macbook from the desk and began typing away. “if you just wait here until someone comes and collects you,” the director struggled to speak as he was too busy multitasking. he pressed the side of his earpiece and spoke to himself as he called for the cast to be escorted.

“you’re really good, i was impressed.” ethan spoke to adele softly, as everyone got out of their seats. “you really like to flatter me don’t you.” she joked which caused ethan to halter in his thoughts for a moment. “it’s not a bad thing,” she reassured him, “it’s really nice to hear. especially coming from you.” delicately spoke, eyes quickly moving over to see if anyone was listening but mark and henry were engulfed in their own conversation. ethan’s cheeks flushed pink again as he displayed a meek grin.

he was about to respond when the door re-opened and the manager stepped through, immediately grabbing everyone else’s attention. ethan bit at his lip as anguish washed over his face as he realised the conversation was over. adele was disinclined for a moment, lingering for a few more seconds as the butterflies in her stomach began to fade. “it was nice talking to you. talk soon?” she asked which brightened up ethan’s face as he nodded, “of course. see you soon.” he timorously spoke with a contemptuous smile as he waved goodbye, for now.

#crankgameplays #ethan nestor #crankgameplays fanfic #crankgameplays fic #ethan nestor fanfic #ethan nestor fic #unnus annus #crankgameplays x reader #ethan nestor x reader #crankgameplays imagine #ethan nestor imagine

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Eight - I’m So Fixated

The boys never bothered to tell her about how moody Matty had been while she was away, because as soon as she had returned, he was back to his normal self anyway. It literally took the space of the taxi ride from the airport back to the venue before he started feeling the relief of her presence washing over him. He was back on his game for the show that they had that night, and everyone was able to see it from those on stage to those in the crowd. That usual magnetism of his had returned. Due to the typical chaos of the show and then having to get everyone back into the bus and on the road to the next one, Y/N/N and Matty didn’t really get to properly hang out with one another until they were finally at the next venue. Whenever the others in their group were around, everyone just wanted to find out if everything had been okay when she got back home. So, Matty figured that he could wait. He still had plenty of time across their remaining two weeks of the tour, and maybe it was best to give her some space after a long-haul flight and dealing with a house break-in. However, he was happy to discover that once they had the chance, she was as eager to spend time with him as he was her. The next day saw the two of them hanging around the stage waiting for the other guys to arrive for soundcheck.

“Teach me the Tootime dance.” She said to Matty from her spot sitting on top of the barrier.

“What?” He asked with a frown, looking up from tuning his guitar.

“You know, that dance that you do in Tootime with Taitlyn and Kaylee near the end of the song.” She elaborated.

“What?” He asked again, this time laughter seeping into his incredulous tone. “Why would you want to learn that? That thing is only four steps.” He pointed out.

“And?”

He paused, thinking a moment before replying, “Why don’t I teach you the It’s Not Living stuff instead?” He offered.

“That’s just running on the spot.” She argued.

“No, it’s not. There’s more to it than that.” He said, trying to defend himself.

“I don’t wanna run on the spot while holding a guitar. That sounds like hard work.” She frowned, glancing at the guitar hanging from his shoulders.

“You’re the one who keeps complaining that working for Rome isn’t enough work.” He shot back. She just stuck her tongue out at him in response. “Fine, I’ll teach you the Tootime dance. C’mere.” He said, motioning for her to join him up on the stage.

“Hann,” Ross called out from where he was standing near the lighting booth at the back of the venue, catching the guitarists attention who had been busily trying to set up the light timings for the newest addition to their setlist. He gestured for him to come over to where he was standing before directing his attention down to the two of them dorking around on the stage. “What’s the bet: how long before Matt notices that he is the one that’s into her?” He asked. Adam hummed thoughtfully, trying to come up with an accurate guess at how much longer their friend would remain clueless. “I bet you a tenner that he’ll work it out before the end of this tour.” He added.

The guitarist laughed loudly. “Really?? I think it’ll be at least another month.” He countered.

“Wanna put your money where your mouth is?” He offered again, holding his hand out for Adam to agree to the terms.

The two of them felt a hand clap down on each of their shoulders before they could seal the deal, looking over to see George standing behind them. “You’re both wrong.” He said, shaking his head. “He’s not gonna work it out until someone tells him.” He continued.

“You really have that little faith in him?” Ross asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I bet you both a fifty.” George challenged, holding his hand out. The two of them shared a look, before nodding and shaking George’s hand. It seemed pretty unlikely that someone as smart as Matty would be dense enough not to see it. “You guys saw him last week when she was gone; you both know how one track minded he can get. He’s way too caught up in his own shit to notice.” The drummer explained with a self-satisfied grin that he’s just made an easy hundred.

Matty’s three bandmates decided to give him his space throughout the day after seeing how much he was relishing in finally having her company back. And it proved to be a beneficial decision, as his good mood was contagious to anyone in close proximity to him. When everyone on The 1975 crew was in a good mood, the entire process of the show was seamless. Setup and pack-down occurred in record time without Matty moping around the stage, and they were on the way to the next stop on the tour well before schedule. After winding down from their show, George was promptly reminded by a group text from Jamie that their latest single from Notes was dropping that night at midnight. Which he realised was only about fifteen minutes away. He rallied his friends around the small dining room on the bus to wait for the time to tick by. The anxiety in the air was palpable as the moment got closer and closer. Matty drummed his fingers on the table, staring out of the window at the passing road. First impressions were important to him with things like this - something that he had put so much effort and care into. As much as this was technically their third release off of Notes, it was still the first impression of this particular song that he was about to hear. This track also felt quite personal. To be fair, all of his tracks were - his lyrics were always directly referencing his life and desires. But this one dealt with a lot of his insecurities about, well, being insecure. Being sincere in life was hard, but doing it in song was much easier for him. Dealing with people hearing it in song? That was terrifying. What were people going to think? Were they going to respond positively? Were-

The singer let out a deep sigh, trying to push the nerves to the back of his mind. “Are you guys ready for the reactions?” Matty asked as he tapped away at his phone. Y/N/N looked around the bus in mild confusion as she stepped into the kitchen, feeling like she was intruding on a band meeting or something.

“They’ll be good, I’m sure. We all agreed that it was a tune.” Ross said with a firm nod, Adam making a few noises of agreement from the other side of the table. The mood in the room was very tense, but trying to piece together what was happening from the limited information that they were offering was proving difficult.

George pretty quickly sensed her curiosity, “We’re releasing a new song tonight off of Notes.” He explained.

“Which one?” She asked.

“It’s the song that you heard me working on the other week.” Matty answered, turning his phone to show her the post he was about to publish. Ah. That made sense.

“Oh, I quite liked that one.” She nodded, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. “It’ll definitely be a positive response.”

As much as he felt like he didn’t need the validation - that he had enough faith in the band’s skill by this point in time - he couldn’t deny that hearing her reassurance put him a step closer to being calm nonetheless. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she leant against the wall next to him, glancing over his shoulder as he shared the song to The 1975’s social media accounts. The comments started rolling in as soon as the post was up – every time they refreshed the page there were another set to go through. The band ended up using each of their own phones to keep up with the torrent of reactions, making mention of the notable ones as they saw them. Overall, it was a positive response for the majority. There were the odd comments about how different the track was, that it was so unlike their other songs and jarring as a result, but that was to be expected. Matty didn’t want to be releasing things this far into his career that sounded like what he’d done in the past. If you weren’t making progress and experimenting with new things, you were just stagnating. What was the point in that? And if they didn’t like this, then they definitely weren’t going to like the album. They were delighted to see a few texts roll in from friends and family remarking on their thoughts of the track. Those were the opinions that they valued most. The five of them crowded around the table continued chatting about the reviews that were still rolling in as they felt the bus roll to a stop. It was the middle of the night; they hadn’t expected to be stopping at this hour. Upon a quick glance out the window, Adam could see petrol bowsers. The bus driver shouted over his shoulder something about refuelling that made the pieces click into place.

“Well, since we’re stopping, I’ll be back in a minute.” Matty said as he pulled a cigarette out of its packet and stood up. As much as he was normally fine with smoking on the bus, he liked to take the opportunity to do so outside when it was presented; even if just for the sake of those around him who didn’t smoke trapped in that space with him. Also, after how high strung he had been about dropping the new track, he really needed the relief. He was about halfway to the door when he heard someone speak up behind him.

“I might step out too.” Y/N/N added, pushing herself away from the wall.

“You don’t smoke.” He pointed out with a curious eyebrow raised.

“I’m allowed to get some fresh air.” She shot back as she breezed past him and outside of the bus.

“You could just open a window, you know.” He shrugged in response, but followed after her regardless; not wanting to decline good company.

The night air had quite a bit of bite to it as the two of them stepped outside. She wrapped her arms around herself to deal with the sudden drop in temperature as she watched him lean against the side of the bus next to her and light up his cigarette. Taking a deep drag, he looked around the petrol station. It was always strange seeing what should be a busy establishment at any normal hour deserted at a time like this. The feeling reminded him of stepping into an alternate reality. Things seemed to exist differently in the early hours of the morning. Before he had the chance to make an offhand comment about this, he noticed that her gaze was fixed on the smoke he had just exhaled above them. He hadn’t realised before that she seemed to watch him every time he was smoking. Thinking back on it, despite that she herself didn’t smoke, she never made a point to leave the room when he did like most people had in his experience. Previously he’d been too focused on the fact that she constantly declined his offers to smoke weed with him to really notice. But he was suddenly very aware of the way that she watched his hands as he held the cigarette. She could be standing out here on her phone, or taking in their surroundings, watching the stars, something. But instead, she absentmindedly held her gaze on him as he released the smoke from his lungs. Interesting. He didn’t have the time to think of an eloquent way to bring that up before the driver was making his way back into the bus and ushering them inside to set off on the road again. That information would have to be tucked away for future reference.

After an evening of being trapped in the bus with the two of them attached at the hip and swapping knowing looks all night, Adam was starting to lose his mind. It wasn’t unusual behaviour for them, but it only seemed to have gotten worse since she got back. Something had to happen either way in this situation. Whether they finally shacked up or she finally properly shut him down or god forbid Matty did turn around and fuck it all up, something had to be done. If he had to endure much more of this, he was going to go insane. He knew that ideally for the sake of his friends, he wanted things to end well, but the little voice in the back of his brain reminded him that Matty liked to go through… phases, with things. He would become obsessed with something and then drop it for the next greatest thing a few weeks later. To her credit, it had been a good few months now and he still seemed hell bent on her. But he didn’t really want to see Matty win this bet and then lose all interest once his goal was achieved. By his own confession, it was just a bet. Nothing more. And he seemed to be getting closer to that by the day. Adam had noticed the way that she watched him more than usual, how she seemed to turn him down less and less. It was inevitable at this point. George had mentioned that he’d had the odd chat with the both of them before, but Adam felt like he had to make things abundantly clear. He’d known Matty for long enough now to know that he had a bad habit of messing up good things. Despite that he was a very blunt person who was typically very clear with his intent, things often looked different through rose coloured glasses.

So, when they’d reached the next venue, he’d suggested that himself and Y/N/N go for a walk to grab a coffee and have a chat before their day begun. Thankfully, neither her nor Matty seemed to bring up any issues with this when he offered it. Which saved him having from having to awkwardly explain his motivations in front of who he wanted to talk about. As she stepped out of the bus door onto the pavement, Adam took a quick glance behind her.

“Where’s Matt?” He asked with a frown, having expected her shadow to at least attempt to follow her out here.

“He’s been holed up in the back lounge trying to sort out some song for the last while.” She answered as they started walking.

Adam nodded in understanding. “Sounds like him to fixate on that…” He thought for a moment, before taking the easy segue that was offered to him. “That boy is typically fleetingly obsessive with things. He’ll turn up one day with a video camera and projector, ‘Look, I’m making a film.’ Yeah, all right, mate.” He scoffed with a laugh. “Two weeks later, he’s lost the charger and he’s forgotten about what he wanted to record.” He added, the both of them laughing at how typical that was of the mile a minute mind that was Matthew Healy. “That’s what makes him great when he focuses though, he is endlessly passionate.” He explained, trying to loop back around to his original point.

“But that’s, uh… actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Adam added sheepishly.

“Oh?”

“Because currently what he’s stuck on, is you.” He admitted.

“Oh.”

“He’s very hung up on this bet thing, and I just wanted to make sure that you’re not thinking that it’s…” He waved his hands dismissively as he tried to find the right words, “something else.” He was struggling to find a way to make this sound nice. But at the end of the day, this conversation wasn’t nice. He was throwing his friend under the bus and potentially hurting another.

“No, I know.” She said with a nod. “I know that it’s just a weird thing he has going with himself. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t know what he wants.” Her greater sense of reasoning knew that what she had said was true, but saying it out loud made it hit differently. Hearing the words come from her own mouth after spending the last five weeks on tour with Matty stung a little bit more than she’d care to admit. The issue was, she was already in too deep. The damage was done and a naïve part of her still held out hope that maybe he was going to change his mind. That wasn’t going to change unless her feelings for him magically dissipated. But him not being clear on what he wanted was the entire reason that she hadn’t admitted anything – she had to remember that.

Adam sensed the sudden dampened atmosphere between them, trying his best to change the topic and lighten the mood now that he had said his piece. But she’d already dragged herself back to reality and been slapped in the face with the harsh reminder that she was probably going to get burned by the Matty sized hole she’d dug herself as soon as the tour ended. She couldn’t really change any of it now. The best she could do was just try and not let herself get too much more invested, and the stubborn part of her definitely didn’t want to let him win that dumb bet. So, it was business as usual. Keep lying about it and hope for the best. She opted to skip soundcheck that day, instead deciding to hang out on the bus and get some space to herself. The only issue was that it proved difficult to relax in such a small area when it was littered with everyone’s stuff. Her eventual boredom inspired her to want to clean up this mess, which wasn’t exactly an easy feat for how their gang left it sometimes. But it needed to be done and it kept her mind occupied.

However, her attempt at some alone time ended almost as soon as it felt like it had begun. George had been the first to get back to the bus after soundcheck, only an hour after having left. He threw a quick ‘hello’ and ‘thanks for tidying up’ over his shoulder as he made his way through to the back lounge. Experience had taught her that his best friend probably wouldn’t be far behind, and she was right – because her absence hadn’t gone unnoticed by Matty. Once he’d realised that she wasn’t around, and his band nor Rome had any idea where she was, he went looking for her at the soonest opportunity. The bus door opened again, and she was unsurprised to hear steady footsteps approaching her as she stood at their small kitchen sink, attempting to scrub the grime build up off of a plate that had been sitting on the counter for a few days now. She knew full well who it was before he said anything, but she didn’t anticipate his next moves. His hand came to rest on the small of her back as his head all but rested on her shoulder. Matty watched in amusement as her movements tensed and she abruptly stopped washing the dishes that she was in the middle of.

“I didn’t see you at soundcheck,” He said in a low voice, intentionally letting his breath fan across the side of her neck, “just thought I’d check in.” The gears in her mind simply stopped turning as her heartbeat hammered in her ears. It seemed like the gears might have just fallen straight out of place and were now tumbling steadily down to the pit of nerves that had formed in her stomach. The feeling of him being so close sent a shiver down her spine as her skin prickled under his breath. For how close his breath felt, his lips must’ve been within a few centimetres of the side of her neck. This was a targeted attack. She didn’t know how he knew, but it was abundantly clear that he knew exactly what he was doing. The self-satisfied smile was evident in his tone and gave away his intentions. This was a whole different game to what they had been playing thus far. Matty in the past had been all bark and no bite, which was easy enough to shrug off. It was one thing for him to look attractive, or to throw a flirty remark out there, but this? This would prove majorly difficult to not cave in to if he started hitting buttons as sensitive as this.

Her knuckles were turning white from how hard she was gripping the counter in front of her to force herself not to react to him. She let out a jagged sigh when he finally moved back a bit and she could regain control of her thoughts. “How do you even know about that?” She asked, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

“Know about what?” He asked innocently.

She turned around to face him and he couldn’t help but grin at the bright red painting her cheeks. “You fucking know what.” She glared.

“If you’d just admit that you were into it-”

“Being into it doesn’t mean I’m into you.” She interrupted.

“The two do correlate.” He reasoned, still far too happy with himself that he worked this out.

“Correlation does not equal causation.” She shot back, falling back onto her university teachings to try and get him to shut up.

He leaned in slightly, holding her gaze. “Even in your case?” He asked lowly. She didn’t reply, instead choosing to brush past him and head towards the back lounge. Matty let out a quiet laugh of satisfaction, figuring that he should get himself off of the bus before something was thrown at him.

“Matthew!” George’s voice shouted from the back of the bus, catching his attention before he shut the door behind him. “Give the girl a fuckin’ break, would ya?”

Y/N/N had stormed her way into the back lounge, and upon seeing how flustered she was George felt obligated to ask what was wrong. But he should’ve known that it would be Matty’s doing. It was naïve to think that he might let up on this stupid bet of his. George was pretty surprised that she hadn’t already left. She was clearly frustrated at how annoying he was being, though apparently not mad enough to actually leave. But he was also fairly sure he knew exactly why she hadn’t left yet. “You are into him, yeah?” The drummer eventually asked without looking away from the game that he was playing. She looked up at him from the other side of the couch, trying to form an answer but her brain still reeling slightly.

“No.” She lied instinctually. “Yes.” She corrected, before suddenly doubting that answer as well. “Maybe, kind of. How do you know?” She asked as she frowned across at him.

George just stared at her sarcastically. “You flew all the way out here just to hang out with him for a few weeks.” He pointed out.

“And the rest of you!” She said, trying to defend herself at least a bit. But she was pretty confident that he was right.

“I’m not daft,” He laughed loudly, “and neither’s he. Why won’t you tell him?” He asked, turning his attention back to the game.

“His ego is big enough as it is.” She answered. “And…” She was reminded of her conversation earlier with Adam, “if I tell him then I need to deal with the aftermath of that. He’s already said he doesn’t know what he wants, so why would I put myself out there with nothing in return?” She admitted quietly.

“Fair enough.” He nodded. There was a pause in the conversation before George decided to state the obvious, just in case it wasn’t already common knowledge: “He already knows that you are.”

“Then why is he pushing so hard to hear it?” She huffed in annoyance.

“He wants you to say it for the same reason you won’t tell him; ‘cause he’s an arrogant wanker.”

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

#Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

25 notes · View notes

ddaenghoney · 5 years ago

Text

chapter fourteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5053

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“The cover art is really simple.” Your eyes scan over the imagery of a black background with three muted color swatches arranged in rectangles meant to represent the ambiance of each track respectfully. Squeezing your hands that settled long ago on Yoongi’s right shoulder and upper arm, you bite your lip watching him type in an equally succinct description.

“Want to wait until we can design something?” He shifts his head with a shake so that his bangs cease obscuring his view as he glances up at you. A tiny shake of your head is your reply along with silence, appearing contemplative. “We can if you want.”

“If I don’t let you do it now, I think I’ll be putting it off forever.” You admit sheepishly. Your nervous eyes look towards Yoongi’s warm stare and a little smile breaks onto your face to try and hide the spilling nerves. “Really, Yoon, I like how it looks I’m not worried about the art to be honest with you.”

He nods gently, then pushes his chair a couple inches aside causing your hand on his arm to fall away while the other remains with a firm squeeze that Yoongi pays no mind to. “You want to be the one to click publish?”

“Me?” You startle, looking back towards the screen. The little red button in the corner reading ‘submit’ appears utterly normal and unassuming, yet the implications of what it will do are vastly opposite. You never thought about how jarring just releasing tracks could feel; while there is excited anticipation brewing in your chest, you can’t stop the conflicting nerves of wonder about the reception to find their way into each heartbeat as well. “I’m probably acting dramatic, aren’t I?”

“Not really.” Yoongi repels your self-consciousness, reaching his hand to cover over the top of yours on his shoulder, “It’s scary putting something you worked so hard on out there; I get it, sweetie.”

You nod, lips tightening from his voice’s comfort, and the pieces of worry that evaporate just because of his hand finding yours. Taking away the smallness of being alone, Yoongi assures you that he’s as much a part of this as you are. The name of his account, and your own next to the abbreviated producer title of the first track and written in the credential section of all three repeat the conjoinment of both of your responsibility for anything that can come from release.

With an exhale, you reach for the mouse, hovering the cursor over that red button that felt as much of a warning as it did a start. When you consider your beginnings of production five years earlier, you can almost believe this little action is entirely overdue. If you hadn’t given up so much of your voice for the job, maybe this would be a common occurrence by now, but then maybe as well you wouldn’t have the luxury of reaching this place alongside Yoongi.

Your index finger presses onto the mouse, allowing the millisecond clicking sound to practically blast through the room.

The screen takes barely anytime to refresh and reappear with a speeding loading meter. You watch it climb like the acceleration of your heartbeat, not for a moment taking consideration of the cancel button that lingers in the bottom corner. Yoongi’s hand grows tighter over top of yours, silently watching as well. Another page refreshes, announcing success and highlighting a link to share with anyone, as a short description tells that the public can now access on the music streaming service.

“Oh my god,” You dribble out exclamatory ramblings, then turn to look at Yoongi who looks up at you after a second longer of reading the information on the screen. Despite the shock excluding your expression, Yoongi smiles up at you, grinning teeth peeking through as you remain motionless.

“Congratulations, angel.” He says, rubbing your hand while allowing the moment to catch up with you. It does so in a slow eruption of a smile on your face, one that leaves you a little bouncy in enthusiasm,

“Yoongi,” You pull your hand away covering your mouth with both of them though it doesn’t hide the evident happiness taking over your expression. Yoongi’s empathetic glow of thrill for you remains as he stands from his seat, mixing a laugh into a gasp when you hop against him into a full hug. Nearly tripping backwards, his arms cross around you as his foot plants firmly to keep himself upright. “Thank you so much, Yoon. Really, really thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, angel, but you’re welcome.” He mumbles quickly, not wanting to take any of the moment’s attention from you. Instead his ands rub your back soothingly, elated from how happy you cling onto him with your face buried into the crook of his neck. “You want to go do something to celebrate?”

“Yes,” You nod, as you look upwards at him, ignoring the close proximity of your faces while you pay more attention to your toes remaining balance on the ground. “Please. Let’s get out of here-- we’ll probably get hunted down if we hang around.”

Within a few short minutes, the two of you stroll quickly down the hall, arriving at the elevator as you situate your bag’s strap over your shoulder. Yoongi adjusts a mask along his chin, keeping it off his mouth and nose until exiting the building. Your mind trails over a million ideas of comments that will find their way onto the internet in response, creating a reason for you to avoid looking at any social media for as long as possible.

You send a text to a groupchat with Namjoon and Seokjin instead, vague about details, but factually accurate with the most important news about Yoongi and you dropping the three tracks into the world without any warning. Expecting a reply from either as soon as one reads the shocking text, you keep your phone in your grasp, but bite your lip at the troublesome nag that Yerin could just as easily try and get in contact with you any moment as well.

“You okay?” Yoongi ducks his head, eyes studying any emotion on your face, as you sigh to ward thoughts away. Dropping your phone into the confines of your bag to leave the world at bay, you nod at him. “Without thinking about the bad things, the music itself is really good, angel. Try to just focus on that. Everyone is bound to like your work.” He continues to alleviate, stretching an arm in your direction which your hand happily takes to grab hold of his waiting appendage again. Entwining the fingers, he gives you a protective squeeze, listening to the elevator stop and announce the ground level, “Let’s just celebrate tonight. This is a happy occasion.”

“You’re right, yeah. I was just trying to let Joon and Jin know about it, but then I started thinking about everything too much.” You explain as you both step from the elevator into the staff lobby, where Yoongi can receive his car from the valet service. “What do you think we should go eat?”

Yoongi hums in thought, contemplating locations as he waves to one of the employees who knows him by face and starts off down to the garage level immediately. “I guess something to go with drinks. Barbeque usually says celebration, right?” He turns to you, as you lean against the counter fiddling with his fingers between both of your hands.

“You just love meat.” You smile up at him, straying one of your hands to pat against his chest as he pouts his lips above his mask and shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“Well, maybe-- but it is celebratory food, isn’t it?”

“Hmm...” You giggle as he gently jiggles your linked hands to further enhance a sales pitch,

“Why don’t you invite Namjoon and Jin? I bet they’d want to come.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to push the desire for barbeque, though you’re inclined to agree because of the warm weather of summer evenings making the meal idea enticing. Ready to give in to stop Yoongi’s growing pout that seems more begging now than casually pitching the meal, your words never come out as the elevator’s sound again registers in your sense and you watch Jimin exit out.

The sparse amount of people in the lobby cause him to notice you and Yoongi in little time. Where you anticipated a small nod and walk away, you find his eyes linger instead, full of invisibly flurry despite the solemn expression encompassing his body language. You don’t turn away, instincts causing prickles of wonder in your chest, that grow into worry when you catch him smother a frown away.

Your suddenly tight squeeze on Yoongi’s hands, prompt him to turn his head back to check what you see. Watching Jimin step towards the little group of you two, Yoongi lifts himself from leaning on the counter, shifting so that he can face the casually dressed brunette.

“Hey,” Jimin greets the words towards you, and gives a nod of his head to Yoongi amicably. The tone of his voice is polite, but not like usual. Your eyebrows furrow in response to the fact, but you can’t dwell as Jimin goes on, “Hopefully you’re okay after what that guy said earlier?”

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, having practically forgotten about the producer for the past couple of hours. “He’s always been rude, so I don’t really care.” You explain, catching Yoongi’s pensive expression in the corner of your eye. Likely gauging the situation of your comfort. “Thanks again for saying something, Jimin.”

“It wasn’t really anything,” He shrugs off your words, glancing towards the exit doors as a driver parks a car in the small archway. “Definitely not something that deserves thanks.”

The absentmindedness of his eyes are a familiar sight, not a common occurrence, but you’ve seen it before. Appearing cluttered amidst thoughts, Jimin acts abnormal, but not in the way as a reaction to the strained memories between you too. Something other than that bothers him, you realize and can’t stop the quiet questioning, “Are you okay?”

Yoongi glances towards you as you ask, finding a genuine focus for the man in front of you in your eyes. When he looks towards Jimin whose appearance seems hesitant at your line of questioning, Yoongi for a moment wonders if there’s still entanglement between you both. You haven’t brought up Jimin in weeks now, but certainly the thought of him crosses your mind, Yoongi realizes this, but watching forms a knot in his throat. Small, yet distinctly there as he stands separate from you both, despite his hands holding yours.

The moment of understanding startles him internally and his hand breaks from your own, as he comes back into reality hearing the employee from before calling his name. He turns back towards the counter, to retrieve his keys, listening on as the thread in his throat continues crossing in and out of itself, building up and for what reason.

“Yeah,” Wearily spoken, Jimin watches your short glance at Yoongi as his hand released yours. When your eyes quickly come back to his own, Jimin just shrugs a shoulder, forcing a half-hearted smile, “Long day… That’s all.”

Undeniably, there exists the beginnings of a line, that you have no reason to speak beyond what Jimin explains to you without substance of whatever is obviously wrong. Given all of the distance grown, and separation that has caused the awkwardness of strangers with history to fester between you both, you have no reason to go beyond the casual conversation, but you can’t erase his expression. You’re certain those around you would assume his response to be literal, but there’s more underneath it, you can see it.

You could see there was more beneath his response of surprise when you kissed him for the first time years ago, and you can just as easily decipher that there is something Jimin didn’t disclose that makes his person appear so recluse and uncertain. Worry doesn’t contain itself in your mind, instead flooding out from your heart practically shoving it, “Do you want to talk?”

It doesn’t feel wrong to ask him, but watching Jimin’s eyebrows twitch a bit wider you know the question is unexpected. Your lips tighten, trying to ignore the idea that you’ve made a mistake in offering. You turn towards Yoongi to alleviate the tension in your throat, to make the question lighter as you go on, “Right, we have time until the evening; I can talk to him and meet you afterwards?”

The second the sentence concludes you feel as though you’ve done even more wrong. Yoongi’s glance towards Jimin isn’t casual, closer to an examination, then he returns his eyes to you. It’s a small moment, but how Yoongi looks at you isn’t warm, but perhaps hurt. Disappointed in your decision, you think. Then it’s squashed away as he nods his head,

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Blinking in confusion of his reaction, you stay stunned silent and only watch as Yoongi nods his head towards Jimin and walks around the two of you towards his car outside. Frowning now, you consider if you’ve said anything for him to get so visibly upset about. Even if he’s disappointed that you want to lend Jimin an ear, Yoongi’s completely altered mannerisms seem off.

“Y/N,” You look towards Jimin as he calls out to you and smiles gently, tiredly as he continues, “You don’t have to let me rant to you. I’m sure you don’t really want to.”

“I do though.” You reiterate, mentally frustrated by why Yoongi walked away. “You seem sad about something,” Explaining your perspective, your hands squeeze together, trying to settle in belief that what you’ve done isn’t wrong-- you don’t have to act like Jimin was the worst memory of your life, despite the changes since you’ve spoken to him, he was still important to you. He’s still human and capable of feeling sad, needing someone to listen; if you’re the one worried why wouldn’t you let him. You still care about his well being, it’s that simple, “Is it wrong of me to talk to you?”

“Well, no,” He says simply, biting his lip, and you wonder if his hesitation is due to Yoongi’s reaction as well or because of the strain between you two. “Then let’s go so you won’t be too late to meet him later on.”

---

“I’m actually kind of surprised you picked a cafe.” You admit quietly, looking down at your pretty, light lavender tea drink. Lifting your eyes up to Jimin you find him adjusting a stray lock under the confines of his cap where the rest of his hair has been hidden away. As though that is the bulk of his identity, and not the designer graphic shirt and expensive Doc Martins wouldn’t bring any attention, he sits back into his chair,

“Well, it’s not busy right now,” He says, which is fair considering only another single person typing away on their laptop sits on the opposite side of the establishment. “Besides if anyone says anything it’s easier to deny anything wrong with your fake relationship.”

“Yeah,” You murmur, forgetting about that public aspect between you and Yoongi often times lately. “I guess that’s true.” You stir your drink with the straw, less interested in drinking it. “So what happened that made you look so sad?” “Ah,” Jimin rubs his jaw, remembering the conversation with Yerin. He looks at your person, finding little details that have changed and others that haven’t, but most notably acknowledges your leave and its freeing effect on your expression. It almost feels not fair to complain to you when you’re taking everything SoundWave and himself to an extent have held away from you.

He’s caught in your gaze when you finally turn towards him expectant of an answer, but he really doesn’t feel like he should tell you. Why did he agree to speak with you in the first place. The largest part of Jimin’s heart simply wanted to see you again, but what is there to say. You shouldn’t have to listen to his tales of stagnation any longer. He doesn’t want to dwell on that, so his lips keep the meeting a secret as he changes the direction,

“I’m really sorry that I never told you how I felt about your contract earlier.” Knowing this isn’t what you expected him to say, Jimin isn’t surprised as he watches your eyes drift into shock and your mouth to part slightly. “I know I should’ve.” He smiles bitterly, glancing towards the drinks on the small table. “I love you. I didn’t want to ruin us, but that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Is,” Your slowly spoken speech causes you to ball your hands onto your lap, “Is that why you looked upset?” Regret continuing to jumble his days, like how you would recall the months of silence when you kept the questions you had to yourself.

“Maybe in some ways,” He ponders, still avoiding eye contact as he instead taps his index finger once on the laminated wood. “Yerin’s always told me that I can’t do for myself what you do for everyone in the company.” You narrow your eyes, about to cut in and ask what he means but Jimin goes on. “When I was going to debut they had it set that I wouldn’t produce any of the music, but I thought that would be short-term while I learned how in the meantime.” You watch his lips contort into a dissatisfied frown, “But when it stayed like that and I asked to try making my own music she’d always say that route is worthless for the company.”

“You tried to make your own music?” The statement falls out of your lips like a question in disbelief. Always believing he had no interest from the fact he never showed you even a line of his work.

“Of course,” He chuckles, rubbing his face as the memories wash over hours of work to create samples that were passed on each and every time. “I want to be a performer and make as much of my own stuff that I can, but,” The two of you know what he means when he stops speaking. There was never an opportunity for Jimin to even try. “According to Yerin, if you and other producers didn’t make everything themselves, I’d be out of a job as an idol.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin turns towards your risen voice, finding your forehead creased in frustration, lips frowning like you hadn’t been trusted. He swallows air, not sure if you’d find his reasoning acceptable, because even Jimin thinks it’s just a testament to how cowardly he acted.

“I never mentioned the song rejections because I was embarrassed,” He pauses noticing your expression become more hurt, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re a genius at making songs, and I thought I was so bad at it that I couldn’t even be successful on my own without the company making everything that I am.” Jimin watches you continue to bite your lip, perhaps holding back words until he’s finished.

“But by the time you started talking about wanting to receive credit for your songs, I got scared that everything would fall apart for my own career.” He groans, rubbing his face with both hands as he shakes his head, “I know it was fucking greedy-- I really do know that, when I think about it now I get so upset. You’re getting what you deserve now though; you’ll be able to do what you want as a songwriter and producer and I’m glad. It took me losing you to get over being selfish and that’s always going to be something I have to live with, but if anything good came out of this I’m glad it’s you moving on. I’m happy for you,” When he smiles, Jimin wonders why you no longer look willing to speak. “Even if I’m not in your life anymore, I’ll still support whatever you do. I promise that.”

---

Namjoon, 6:14pm: You and Yoongi did WHAT?

Seokjin, 6:16pm: Tell me why the first song of the three is so good. How did you both make it so good?

Namjoon, 6:26pm: Y/N respond, you can’t just send a vague fucking text like that and not say anything else, where are you at and what is going on?

You stare at the four hour old text messages from just moments after your initial message in the groupchat. The words bump around as the taxi goes over rough asphalt rounding a corner, but you don’t think of a reply. Too focused on the conversation between you and Jimin that concluded just as the sun was halfway away for the night. You put your phone away in your bag, feeling the car drift to a stop as the reasons for Jimin’s silence repeat in your mind over and over.

So absentmindedly you saunter into the apartment complex, filing into the elevator and clicking the floor number while you try and think of why he would have never told you about his own problems with Yerin. No matter how the sentences repeat, it sounds like he was manipulated into submission as well as you were, yet to the extent of being your enemy in a way. Though you doubted he was actively conscious of the fact for so long, and even so Jimin’s already apologized to you. He’s settled the confusion, so why are you dwelling?

It takes a moment to realize where you are, and with a shake of your head you press your finger into the doorbell, then use the same hand to rub your temples. There’s a piece you can’t connect within yourself, that makes the conversation had so unnatural from how you would assume you’d react. You just sigh, trying to settle down your head before startling at the front door opening.

Yoongi reveals behind the door, simply looking at you for a moment. He steps back to open it wider, “You look like you’re drained.”

“Thanks.” You huff, stepping into his apartment,while frowning at the idea that everyone who has seen you probably thought the same way. You dismiss the thoughts, turning back towards Yoongi, but having to shimmy around once more as he walks off towards his couch. “Yoon-” You start a question out of confusion, but pause as you recall his dismissive exit earlier from the company.

Slowly you step towards the couch after him, watching as he slumps into the corner. You stop short of his lounging legs, head tilting as you watch him rub his face and stifle a groan, “Does your head hurt?” “No,” He laughs at your observation, in a way non judgemental, but genuinely humored by its simplicity. Then Yoongi lets his arms fall to either side of him, while he looks up toward the ceiling, “No. I acted dumb earlier. I’m sorry about it.”

“Well, I messed up our plans for dinner to talk to Jimin. I get why you would be disappointed in me. I’m sure it seemed really weird for me to do.”

“I wasn’t disappointed.” Yoongi speaks flatly, hand toying with the hair most atop his head while continuing to look up towards the ceiling. “When I was talking to Hoseok about it he said I acted like I was jealous.”

You giggle a little, thinking of the implication of the emotion and finding it a bit out of place for Yoongi’s character. From what you’ve learned about him he seems entirely trusting, though not always calm, still understanding enough to know there wasn’t a need when Jimin and you have only a completely collapsed relationship between you both.

Then you wonder about the idea of why you find the need for Yoongi to be jealous to be silly. Why would he find himself jealous about Jimin, and why do you automatically think it’s baseless.

“Did the talk go well?”

“What?” You blurt, looking up from the floor to Yoongi. His head straightens properly to look at you, finding your question strange. His lips frown towards you and then you realize what you’ve said and shake your head, “Oh, yeah.” You shrug, as Yoongi sits up, feet lying flat on the floor.

“What happened?” He asks with narrowing eyes, voice softly concerned that something went wrong because of your scattered disposition. “Did he say something, angel?”

Before his questions register you consider his nickname for you, wondering when he began using it but finding no point of time in particular. “He apologized to me.”

Yoongi notices his heart beat louder than usual, but does his best to ignore the unneeded anxiousness. “For what?”

“He was telling me that he should’ve never been selfish about wanting me to keep being uncredited. Yerin made him think he can’t succeed without all of the construction behind the scenes,” You bite your lip, thinking about the amount of worry he most likely had along with its confliction because you’re sure he truly didn’t want to hurt you through any of the internal issues. “He said he regrets losing him and I because of his fear.”

“Then what’s stopping you both from getting back together again?” Yoongi speaks without filter, but wants to retract every word instantly. The knot in his throat returns, and he wants to stop from hearing whatever you could say. He recalls the concern laced in your eyes upon seeing Jimin earlier and thinks that he doesn’t want the idea of returning to be considered.

But as you look up at him with widening eyes, Yoongi realizes he doesn’t want to get hurt by potentiality. His voice takes over again, “If he had told you then, you’d still be together with him, wouldn’t you?”

“But he didn’t tell me then!” You retort instantly, volume picking up from the insinuation of his words to push you back towards Jimin.

Yoongi stays quiet, watching you with a forming frown as you appear to grow frustrated. He should leave it at this, he should’ve divulge further, but it bothers him still-- that nagging memory of you being unaware that he took his hand from yours earlier, and all of the other instances he’s watched you be heartbroken because of Jimin-- because, “You still love him though.”

Your shoulders visibly lose tension, Yoongi swallows hard at the sight of it. Inhaling a deep breath, you consider his assumption. Consider that you haven’t brought up Jimin in so long only to go out of your way to privately speak with him right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. Consider that you never thought about the direction of your feelings for Jimin after more than a month.

When the memories play over in your head once more, you can say that they still fill you with a bittersweet joy. Thinking of all of the times you spent with Jimin while the two of you were so new to the idol industry, it’s natural to be fond.You were friends with Jimin long before there became the physical relationship, and you’ve cared for him in growing ways ever since you met him.

Jimin isn’t a bad person. And from where you left off with him today, you’re positive towards the idea that he’s changed from the fear in his yelling months earlier at the party. You still believe he’s capable of more than that and seeing whatever comes for him is a warm thought. You still care about him. There has never been a question of your changing care towards Jimin when he played such a large role in your life for so many years, you want what would be best for him.

But as you look on at Yoongi, you can’t find the perspective that he seems to believe about you. The thought never occurred to you, and certainly you can’t pinpoint a day of change, but when you try and consider fixing what has broken between you and Jimin you’re unable to process a way. And when you find Yoongi’s eyes staring straight into yours, you find that you haven’t thought about Jimin through a rose colored lense in awhile.

“No, I don’t.��

Yoongi stays silent, replaying your response in his head quite a few times. His eyebrows narrow, muted disbelief surfacing on his face as he stands from the couch. Your eyes follow his, Yoongi catches the fact as well as your lips tightening into a line, maybe out of surprise for your own words. But before he’s able to think further your head shakes,

“I haven’t for weeks now.” You take a breath, shocking yourself by how you’re able to go on about this despite realizing it only as the words escape, “I did, but I really don’t anymore.” Your hair shakes as you twist your head back and forth, wondering if there was ever a precise moment where your feelings no longer extended towards Jimin.

“I never even thought about the idea that I had stopped,” You laugh at the nonsense of the fact, watching Yoongi’s feet pad forward, eyes evidently concerned to some extent about your ramblings. “It’s so weird-- you’d think I would’ve figured it out sooner, right?” You ignore Yoongi shaking his head to your words. “I don’t know when I stopped, or,”

You let him take your hand into his for comfort, not-believing it would remain for long. But you selfishlessly let the touch linger onwards. Undoubtedly the shock of your conclusions will make Yoongi pull away. There’s time to stop, you think that there’s no reason to shovel out so many of your emotional words at once. It’s impulsive, without calculation for any of the words you’ve said, but you think about the meaning of your last ones. Knowing there should be more tact and grace, or build up that isn’t after the rantings of your ending feelings in your past relationship, but through all of this, the words themselves no longer wish to be kept hidden in the background of your mind, so they flutter out in an exasperated whisper,

“Or when I started having feelings for you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi@xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles @betysotelo18

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themanicnami · 5 years ago

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Vira’s Toxic Kiss Curse (Neopets Inspired)

“Ever since, Vira has wandered those same fields, kissing the flowers, but making them poisonous to the touch.” -Neopets Gallery of Evil

A curse to cast upon another who cheated on you or performed a form of adultery or betrayal. This curse is to cause them romantic and physical-relationship distress for their future. This curse can be maintained to be a long lasting curse or it can be treated as a short term curse - it is up to the caster.

You Will Need:

🥀 Black Lipstick

🥀 Poppet of Target (safe to burn material)

🥀 Black Thread

🥀 Burn Safe Bowl

🥀 Black Candle

Set Up:

Ensure you have a clean and cleansed area before working. This spell is preferable to do at night but if it isn’t able to be done at night, a dark room will do. Light your candle before you work and make sure your poppet is made. It should be of a material that can be safely burned such as paper or cloth. Make sure the area you are working in is a burn safe area and not too near any fire alarms, you don’t want to accidentally set them off. Outdoors may be better for you. Make sure your burn safe bowl or container is ready, you will want to drop your poppet into it while it burns without risk of it flaring or melting. Make sure any loose clothing is rolled or secured and all long hair is pulled back.

For the poppet other than making sure it is made out of proper material feel free to add any taglocks to it or images of the target to add to it such as a photo of the targets face. If you are adding hair to the taglock from the target, keep in mind that hair burns very fast and has a terrible smell - do not burn hair indoors. Write the target’s name on the back of the poppet before the spell.

The Curse:

🥀 Take your lipstick and apply it, use a mirror if needed or desired. Make sure an ample amount is on.

🥀 Take your poppet and say: “You have betrayed my trust, betrayed my love and now - You will never betray another. I remove that from you”

🥀 While your poppet is in hand wrap it up with the black thread. “I bind your body, I bind your heart”

🥀 Tie a knot tightly to keep the thread tight around the poppet during the rest of the spell

🥀 “I take your love, I take your beauty and I poison it - I poison you” Kiss the poppet and be sure to leave a very clear black kiss mark onto it. While kissing it put all of the energy, hurt, pain and heartbreak they have caused you into your lips and into that poppet. Seal it in there tightly.

🥀 “And I let that poison settle, I let it burn” use your candle and carefully set the poppet alight by holding it over the candle and drop it carefully into the bowl. Don’t throw it or toss it at a risk of burning yourself.

🥀 Let the poppet burn itself out. Anything left of it once cooled feel free to throw away into the trash, like tossing out that toxic relationship.

🥀 Cleanse yourself and your space to get rid of any lingering negative energy you may not wish to have around you. Once done, take a good long rest, curses are exhausting.

Upkeep and Breaking Curse:

To keep the spell going for a longer time - keep the remains of the poppet and store it into a jar with items you feel associated with curses such as nails, tacks, black pepper, cayenne pepper and ash. Shake it when you wish to ‘refresh the curse’ while repeating the spoken word of the spell above.

If at any time you need to break the curse or end it faster you may take a black threat and cut it with scissors chanting the target’s name three times and “I set you free” after each time of saying their name.

**spell is from my personal grimoire. Like what I post? Want to support me or buy me a delicious coffee? Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi Page!

#witchcraft #spells #curses #baneful magic #pop culture magic #pop culture spells #pop culture witchcraft #neopets inspired #cheating curse #anti-love spells #romance curse #heartbreak curse #Willow's Grimoire

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darkdisrepair · 5 years ago

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blankets to keep out the cold

just a little short thing for you guys, as another part of the tiny Kat au

Out of the five women, Kitty spoke to Anne the most. Jane couldn't deny that she was a little jealous when she saw the two dark heads pressed together, giggling while they colored.

Even Cleves had her own special thing with Kitty- and Jane had thought that she would have come across as the most intimidating, with her passionate voice and furrowed eyebrows.

So why didn't Kitty ever come to Jane for anything? Was she just that bad at taking care of children? Hell, Kitry even gravitated toward Parr, the most inexperienced at childcare.

And Jane had been the one who had prepared for Kitty's arrival the most, reading up on how to care for children with abusive pasts, buying adorable outfits, planning meals...

It just wasn't fair.

And it wasn't easy, adjusting to having a kid in the house. Now, there always had to be someone at home to take care of Kitty. Now, almost every night one of the girls had to make sure that Kitty could come out of whatever nightmare she suffered from this time.

Jane was exhausted, and frustrated.

She was even more frustrated when she woke up on Wednesday morning unable to breathe through her nose, on top of a blinding headache.

"You look terrible," Anne commented when Jane came downstairs.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate such an astute observation," Jane snapped, sliding into her chair beside the brunette.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go into the office today,” Aragon commented, while taking a sip of her tea. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to take a day off.”

“I’m fine.”

But Jane really wasn’t fine. In reality, she like she was walking through thick sludge, barely able to move. She couldn’t even managed to eat all of the toast that Parr placed in front of her.

When she got up to get dressed, Parr stopped her with a firm head. “You’re staying home. You look awful. Do you really want to look like an idiot in front of your entire staff? You’re bound to make mistakes when you’re this ill.”

“I can go in,” Jane protested, but her words fell on deaf ears.

It felt strange to be at the house without the others. Anne had a show, Aragon had class, Cleves had gone into the studio to work on some art, and Parr was called into the office to make some edits to her most recent article.

Jane tried to get some work done. She really did. She spent most of the morning at the counter with her business notes spread around her, trying to create the agenda for the next meeting, but couldn’t bring herself to focus.

Eventually, her headache became so unbearable that she gave up on the work and headed over to the couch, sinking into the soft pillows with a moan of relief, closing her eyes as she did so.

Just a few minutes, she told herself.

She woke up with a jolt some time later, her forehead clammy, shivering. Who had turned the heat down? Did Kitty leave the front door open?

Kitty.

Jane sat up, the sudden motion jarring her head. Where was she? How could she have been so stupid, falling asleep when there was no one else to look after Kitty? Was Parr back?

“Kitty?!” she called frantically, ignoring the pain that bounced around in her skull at the sound of her own voice.

The sound of footsteps, and then Kitty appeared, wide-eyed, holding a coloring page loosely in one hand.

“Why is it so cold in here, darling? Did you turn on the air conditioning by accident?”

Kitty’s brow furrowed, and she glanced toward the thermostat, shaking her head anxiously.

“Did Cathy leave the door open?”

Again, the little girl shook her head.

“Are you alright?” Jane asked again, rubbing her forehead as she did so. “Is everything in order?”

Kitty nodded.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart, it’s just so cold. I thought something must have happened,” Jane said, relaxing back into the cushions again. “Go back to your coloring.”

She could already feel herself starting to drift off again, and tried to resist the pull, but couldn’t stop herself from slipping back into unconsciousness...

The next time she woke up, she felt... warm. Comfortable, even- the headache had lessened, and she felt more refreshed than she had in the morning. There was a pink blanket here that hadn’t been there before. Jane stretched, nearly knocking over a lukewarm mug of tea in the process.

She looked around the room more closely, to see Kitty curled up in Parr’s favorite armchair, sound asleep, and smiled to herself.

Maybe she was getting through to her. Just not in the way she thought she would.

#six the musical fanfic #tiny tiny kat au #katherine howard #jane seymour #six the musical

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damemaladroite · 4 years ago

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Almost done with firefight...

So I’ve almost finished firefight by Brandon Sanderson, the second book in the Reckoners series. I feel pretty lukewarm about this book– despite trying to break this book into parts, I still didn’t feel super compelled to read this one. Granted my life has been a bit hectic and I haven’t had a lot of time to spend on reading but I genuinely feel like if this had been as action packed as Steelheart was, I wouldn’t be bothered by this. Steelheart was the sort of book you didn’t want to put down, whereas this one I almost couldn’t be bothered to pick it up.

I will say, that in the last third when Megan rejoins the plot, the book starts to pick up. Megan and David have a really great dynamic that feels pretty atypical of YA. David’s a perfectly written dork, and while Sanderson gives him his cool moments, it never feels like he’s trying too hard because you have so many moments where you just have to laugh at him (my favorite being his insistence that he is not a nerd) Megan balances him really well, she grounds him but at the same time she needs his sort of infectious enthusiasm in her more jaded world. I like their relationship and it’s pretty refreshing at the end of the day compared to a lot of other romances I’ve seen.

We’re kind of entering the endgame here, so spoilers ahead (I’ve only gotten to part 4 so far) * SPOILERS AHEAD *

Even though I’ve missed Cody and Abraham a lot this book, I’m glad that they’re not apart of this plot to undermine David. The whole thing feels messed up on a lot of levels.

Part of me wants to say it’s the powers that are warping the Prof (Honestly, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up being the big bad of book 3) but I feel like it’s something else. David’s belief that Epics can change and be good is something that Prof obviously used to really believe in, and he views it as a dangerous route to go down, so he travels as far from it as he can. David’s insistence on studying the weaknesses and that Megan is innocent strike to close to that, and I feel like this is where a lot of the issue comes from.

Then there is Megan, who Prof distrust’s a lot, even though as David points out, Prof still doesn’t have the whole story. Megan’s not someone who has a history of violence like other epics, though Prof definitely strikes me as the sort of person that once you break the trust, it’s pretty hard to regain. And yet it feels too much like he wants a reason to distrust her, and isn’t really giving her a fair shake. Arguably David is doing the same thing, he is too trusting, but Megan’s actions are questionable enough for me to at least consider what she is saying (Read: I think that while Megan is still questionable, Prof & co too easily write her off) On the subject of Sam, I find it strange that David hasn’t really asked her about it– and she hasn’t really denied that she did it. It’s definitely strange, but I feel like there is probably more to it than we know.

While I feel like the sort of endgame-setup-plot twist for this book is good, it’s also strangely frustrating. It took over 300 pages for the book to really get interesting (first fight scene notwithstanding) and around 25 pages after that for the David-is-a-traitor plot to kick in. They are both good concepts, but I don’t know if they are set up or executed the best. In fact, while David and Prof have a pretty good scene, every other character gets the short end of the staff here and distrust David way too quickly. Not that it isn’t believable, since they don’t know him too well– but it still feels shallow.

Like Val (who should be smart) thinks that Regalia somehow set up David, who has very clearly never left Newcago in his life, and literally had a corroborating story about steelheart from his childhood, to infiltrate the reckoners. It’s a huge leap in logic, and maybe she doesn’t know everything about David or she’s too emotional, but it still feels pretty jarring. Exel and Missy also are mad at him but it doesn’t really feel that bad because honestly i’m not that invested in either of them and Sanderson doesn’t spend time on actually delineating how they feel. At least at this point, it feels like a good concept that is rather poorly executed.

And then the prof (and Tia I guess) have the gall to be disappointed in David, even though their whole plan was pretty much setting David up for failure. Maybe this was a test, but it honestly seemed like David failing was something that they expected to happen. After everything they went through in the first book and in the year since then, it just makes me kind of angry. Like, if I were David, I would be pretty angry about everything. While David was not very subtle about still seeing Megan, he’s a teenager and Megan was a former member of their group, I don’t know– I understand why they are mad at him, but at the same time everything he did with Megan was in an attempt to undermine Regalia. Like it’s not as if he was helping supply Regalia weapons (If that was what happened it would have made these events more believable) They intentionally keep David in the dark about what actually happened with Sam, try to give him a chance to confess while making it pretty clear that no matter what Megan is still taboo, and David acts like a confused teenager keeping a secret because he’s dumb and doesn’t always make the right call? It’s not like they are unjustified, but they still used David and it makes their ostracisation of him just come off very poorly.

I suppose the last thing I want to talk about is Regalia and the actual Endgame here. I think the biggest thing for me right now, is despite everything, Regalia is still a huge enigma, and even though Tia and Prof knew her personally I feel like none of them are even close to cracking the puzzle that is her. Watch me be wrong, but I feel like David’s right and that all of the puzzle pieces haven’t really come together, which is why the fact that they are gearing up for the final phase against Regalia feels so… out of place. Compared to the previous book where they had already had a few significant hits on Steelheart, they have almost nothing on Regalia aside from a few of David’s efforts. The certainty that the reckoners operate with that they understand the situation feels a bit out of place, especially compared to Steelheart where the plan was very clearly delineated, and they had already gained a lot of information, while Babilar still feels off in a lot of ways. Everything they have learned at this point feels like it has brought more questions and very few answers.

Also, kind of random, but using the assumption that Regalia thinks David is compromised could kind of work. They could use that as part of a trap I think, but they trust him so little that they don’t even consider that– which I think is where a lot of my issue’s come from– despite being in the Reckoner’s for over a year, the fact that they disregard all of that over a genuinely trippy situation, I don’t know it just makes me mad at a lot of the characters. Like I get that Val is emotional because Sam died, but does it really seem that plausible that Regalia planted an unknown guy who didn’t even know how to swim, with a corroborating story of Steelheart into the reckoners? I mean, who knows if she knows the whole story, but it’s still a ridiculous accusation. I could go on, but I’m mad that the characters distrust David so easily, like if anything it almost feels forced. We also don’t really get anything from say Tia, maybe we will later but while i love the concept of David being thrown under the bus, I feel like the buildup to it could have been better, and if the execution of it could really have been improved. Anyways, I’m probably going to read part 4 tomorrow and we will see if any of my issues dissipate- I’ve heard this book has a good ending so we’ll see. If I’m going to make any predictions, right now I will say–

1. Sam was messing around with something he shouldn’t have and that’s why Megan went after him 2. Regalia is doing this elaborate plot to not only draw Prof out but to force him to use his powers and to succumb to their influence

À bientôt!

#firefight #thereckoners #sanderson #brandonsanderson #yalit #ya #books #malreviews #steelheart

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