#first meeting to happy ending and all of it flows so seamlessly

[sonnetsoncanvas]

Mess it up : pt 6 (Series Finale)

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT AHEAD, masturbation (M ), oral (F receiving), fingering, overstimulation, Dirty talk? Cum play if you squint, possessive bucky.

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: WE'RE AT THE END OF THIS SERIES!!! Oh my god I can't believe it. Thank you so, so much for all the love and appreciation you guys have shown to this <3. Thank you for bearing with my tardiness with the updating, I'm planning to be more punctual in the future. I'm also opening the asks shortly. Happy reading! (it's a long one),

Let it happen. Let it happen

Reader POV:

The conversation flowed seamlessly.

The food and the wine were sublime.

In front of you sat a man so beautiful, he surely would have been Aphrodite’s favourite.

And yet, you felt nothing. Not the flutter of a single butterfly, not the warm fuzz of budding attraction. Nothing. Nada.

Your brain did not compute, Pietro was a great guy. Good looking, kind, intellectual. On paper, he was a good, if not a perfect match for you.

And yet you could not feel that connection that your heart had been longing for. The notorious “spark” had been missing during the entire interaction.

You’re just out of practice, your brain reasoned, but your heart had a different opinion, in which you weren’t interested.

Suddenly, the hair at the back of your neck stood up, a warning of sorts. A warning your intuition gave you whenever he was around.

Surreptitiously you tried looking around, while slightly nodding your head to show your interest in whatever Pietro was talking about. A little more to your left…….

There he was. Dressed in leather, eyes dripping with dangerous enigma. Staring at you.

You held his heated gaze for what felt like sometime, your heart jumpstarting in your chest.

What is he doing here? And more importantly, why?             

You turned your head back towards Pietro, who hadn’t noticed you were distracted, and tried your best to focus on him.

You had promised yourself while leaving the house that you won’t let Bucky ruin this date for you, and you won’t.

But the date itself went downhill from there. Sitting in front of Pietro, you realised how self-centred and smug he was. What you had clearly misjudged as confidence during your brief meeting, was most obviously narcissism. Not only had he not asked you a single question about yourself, he had rudely butted in whenever you tried to talk, hogging all of the conversation and making it about him.

Frankly, you were irritated. In between the ceaseless yammering from Pietro and Bucky’s heated gaze burning a hole in the back of your head, you were exhausted. By the time dessert arrived, you were ready to go home.

But of course, Mr. Self-absorbed Maximoff wasn’t having it.

“What do you mean you’ll be going home now? The night has just started Y/N. Tell you what, come back to my place, we’ll have a couple of drinks and then we can start having some fun.”

Alright, so being polite isn’t working, time to be direct with him and get this over with.

“I don’t think so Pietro. You’re cool and all, but I honestly do not see anything happening between us, based on today. So, let’s just call it a day, okay?” you had already paid your half of the bill, so you grabbed your bag, ready to leave. But just looking at his face, his male ego had been bruised, and he was ready to give you a piece of his mind.

Great.  As if you already didn’t have enough of that all evening.

“Based on today? What are you talking about, we had a great date. Seriously what else do you expect on a first date?! What a waste of an evening! I was saddled with a boring, lacklustre date, a grandma really, and you don’t see me complaining….”

“Men” you thought. You were about to stand up and leave, ready to leave this man to spluttering to himself, when you felt an overbearing presence approach. You immediately knew who it was.

“Is that a way to talk to a lady?” Bucky asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“umm heyyy Bucky? How’s it going?” Pietro was surprised and probably intimidated by him, if you read his face correctly. If he had a bit of self-preservation, he would have left before Bucky would explode, but of course he had to keep talking about how long it’s been since he last saw him to divert his attention.

But the fuming 6ft boulder next to you was having none of that. “Apologise” he commanded, the danger in his voice palpable.

Pietro paled. “I’m sorry, What?”

“If you know what’s good for you, you will apologise to y/n for the way you talked to her, and leave before I kick your sorry ass.”

“How dare you threaten me….” Pietro was now stuttering, standing up to face Bucky, only to have his collar grabbed by the displeased man. The patrons of the bar were now very interested in this exchange, a few of whom had their phones out, recording the ordeal.

You were too tired for this shit, but also you couldn’t leave Bucky here, ready to break your date’s bones.

You tugged his arm to stop him from raining fire at Pietro through his eyes and look at you instead.

“I’m really tired and need a ride home. Drive me back. Please.”

His eyes immediately softened, his rage transforming into tenderness. You tried to ignore your heart going berserk and focus on the crisis at hand.

“Whatever you need, doll”

That endearment had you frozen. It was his nickname for you from years ago, used in secrecy, whispered in dark for your ears only.

The way he said it after so long, unbidden, in front of an audience, had rendered you speechless. You were too stunned to react even as he led you out of the bar by hand, cocooning you away from prying eyes.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky was angry. No, he was furious. Offended.

Not at you. never at you. but at himself. At the shitty situation he was in.

And most of all at Pietro Fucking Maximoff. How dare that son of a bitch talk to you like that. He hated that he left that turd unharmed, his hands still itching to punch that fucker’s smug face. If only it hadn’t been for you.

He looked over at you, lost in your own thoughts in the passenger seat, understandably upset, but also pensive. What would he not give to know what you were thinking.

Did you like Pietro? Were you hoping to get asked out to another date, and he ruined it?

He didn’t dare voice his questions though. As soon as the car stopped you jumped out, slamming the door behind you. normally, Bucky won’t let this slide, but right now the well being of his beloved car was the last thing on his mind as he ran behind you, tossing the keys to the doorman.

He entered the elevator right behind you, but kept his silence as he didn’t want his neighbours in there have a show. As soon as you both entered the apartment, you hurried towards your room, a frantic Bucky in tow.

“Y/N LISTEN TO ME! LET’S TALK ABOUT IT.” He wedged his foot between the door and the frame as you tried to shut it on him. “Y/N HEAR ME OUT FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

Thank goodness Steve and Natasha were sleeping at her place tonight, or that would be another headache to deal with.

He heard you take a deep, calming breath and slowly the door opened.

“Yes, James, what would you like to talk about?” you asked, your eyes burning with rage, “How you crashed the first date I’ve had in years? Or how you viciously threatened a friend of mine, and yours, publicly, with bodily harm?”

You took a step forward, reducing the distance between you even further “Or maybe you can shed some light on why the hell were you there in the first place?”

Bucky remained quiet, a thousand things swirling in his mind, but none of them came to his lips.

He was genuinely scared of this version of you, the menacing lawyer you who’d rip her opposition to shreds. And to be honest, a little turned on. Very turned on in fact.

Trust his brain to malfunction when it comes to you.

“You wanted me to hear you out, I’m listening James.”

Your eyes bore into his, and he could feel his heart trying to escape his chest.

“I was in that Bar to see you, doll.”

Bucky could’ve easily lied, told you that he was there to see someone, that Sam brought him there. But he was done. Done with lying to you, to the world, hiding the love he had for you deep in his heart as if it were a filthy secret when it was the purest thing he ever felt.

From now on, this very moment, he’s shedding that cloak, baring his soul to you.

You looked surprised at his statement but recovered quickly, “Why?”

“Because I didn’t trust that fucker with you. he doesn’t deserve you.”

“And it matters to you, why?”

“Everything you do matters to me. Every breath you take, that air matters to me. Every time you open your eyes, that light matters to me. Each time you speak, that sound matters to me. You matter to me. You’re the only person that has ever mattered to me. Only you doll.” His voice wavered with emotion, but he stood straight, staring right back into your now teary eyes.

He knew you were scared, he could see it in your eyes, but Bucky wasn’t going anywhere. He would endure

You shook your head multiple times before you could speak, “No. no no no no no no, you can’t do this to me again, no. I’m not falling for that again, no. I can’t trust you, there no way to know … no”

You crumbled into him, clutching your heart. He held on to you tightly, even when you started pounding weakly onto his chest. He was never letting you go.

“Let me show you, my love. Let me show you how much I’ve ached for you all these years” he moved back so he could see into your eyes, “Let me show you that you can trust me.”

It started with a small brush of your lips against his. Bucky did not know who did it, he didn’t care. All he cared for was the animalistic desire welling up inside him, his heart and mind screaming with relief. What began as a tender, comforting kiss turned into a fierce war of dominance. You were nothing if not competitive, kissing Bucky back as if he’s your last chance at survival.

He tugged your lower lip; you pulled his hair. You pushed your tongue in his mouth; he tangled it with his.

It was an equal transaction of desperation and longing, and Bucky’s heart rejoiced. You were fighting, not resisting, which meant that you were burnt by the same fire that had consumed him for the past four years.

Your hands wandered down from his hair to his neck to finding the muscles on his back until they reached their destination, the hem of his t-shirt. You impatiently tugged on it, pulling it up his waist. Bucky got the hint, and without thinking, broke the kiss off to get rid of it. And froze.

He was half naked, his chest bare, his magnificent abs on display. But that wasn’t what concerned him. It was the way you were looking at the scars on his left shoulder, the stump where his metal arm was joined to his shoulder socket. Bucky had never cared what anybody thought of it, but seeing you look at it terrified him. What if you were horrified by it; disgusted? What if you thought of him as some charity, as a chore?

Bucky knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but if heard you say it out loud, it would kill him.

You lifted your hand to shoulders, your fingers lightly tracing the ragged lines, that were still red, even after years of medication. Tears rimmed his eyes when you bent down to kiss them, your tongue repeating your finger’s actions. When you raised your head to look at him, full of tenderness and love, all the negative thoughts in Bucky’s head vanished, replaced by reverence for his doll

“Y/N” he whispered.

“Don’t hide yourself Bucky, not from me.” He was too emotional to register that it was your first time calling him Bucky in so many days, but the sound of his name from your mouth aroused a primal, protective, almost violent emotion.

There is no way he is letting you go now. It isn’t physically possible for him.

He grabs you like a frenzied caveman, throwing you onto the bed with surprising gentleness and buries his head in your neck, sucking, biting and licking, ensuring that your neck is marked with his devotion for you. his hand, in the meantime, travelled down to your chest, caressing your breasts. His tongue laved on one nipple, while his metal fingers lightly pinched the other. The opposing hot and cold sensations made you dizzy, a wanton moan slipping out.

“BUCKY” you whined, wriggling your body as he worshipped your breasts.

“Calm down, sugar. You don’t want me tying you down to the bed, now do you?” he said in this sweet, maddeningly low voice that he knew drove you to the brink, and slowly made his way down your body, leaving a trail of kisses. His lush lips were swollen already, but he didn’t care. For years he had starved for your taste, and now that he’s getting a bite, he’s gonna devour you all.

With this new determination he slinks down to your thighs, kissing the scattering of hair on your mound before sinking into that sweet perfection between your legs. He took a deep breath, inhaling your arousal, your whines growing more insistent, begging and pleading him to do something, anything about the burning craving in your belly.

“You’re fucking soaked for me doll.” He said, gliding his fingers through your slit, collecting your dripping arousal . He couldn’t resist putting his fingers into his mouth, tasting that sweet tangy essence of your desire. He moaned, loud , as if it was the most delicious this his tongue had ever tasted.

You looked on, your eyes dazed by this shameless side of the well mannered Bucky Barnes. It had been so fucking long since you’d seen him this uninhibited, you sometimes wondered whether it was your brain making up how filthy he used to be.

But right here, right now, was the truth. James Buchanan Barnes was the filthiest, nastiest lover ever, and he was about to ruin you, again.

He slowly licked your slit, relishing in the feel of it. And then, after a calm second, pounced on your pussy like a mad man.

He kissed and sucked your clit, his flesh hand busy with your pussy while his metal one curled around your thigh, spreading it wide and keeping you still. His index finger slowly inching in your tight entrance. His brain short circuited at the feel of you around his finger, his cock throbbing painfully at the thought of being in you.

“Look at you doll, so tight, so wet. I’d have to stretch you out now, don’t I?” He added another finger, scissoring them inside you, earning a particularly loud moan from you. Bucky was sure by this time he had rendered you to your cockdrunk state. It was a thing you did, retreating to your subspace as he drew out pleasure from your body.

The thought that you still trusted him him enough to leave your guard down like this drove him crazy. “You want more baby?” he implored, digging his metal fingers in your skin so that you’d become lucid enough to answer him, but you were too far gone, lost in the sensations of him.

Just then an idea hit him, he extracted wet warm fingers from your pussy, eliciting a cute whine from you, and switched hands, pushing his metal fingers past your entrance.

The unfamiliar feel and cold temperature of the metal jerked you out of your haze, a surprised welp coming out of your mouth as he smirked, bending down to give you a messy kiss. He kept bombarding your mouth, nose and cheeks with sweet open-mouthed kisses, just as he increased the pace of his fingers pumping into you faster and harder, curving them to brush your G-spot in a way he had learned to years ago. His thumb rubbing cool slow circles on your clit.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky was rutting on your thigh, his still clothed cock dripping with pre-cum, finding sweet relief while hem focused on your shivering, writhing body. He knew by the intensity of your moans and the clenching of your pussy that you were close, you just needed something extra to tip you over the edge. And boy, did Bucky know how to do that.

He knelt back to your pussy, lightly taking your clit between his teeth while his tongue swirled on it. It was enough to push you over the edge, and you screamed out as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Bucky didn’t let go though, doing it over and over again even as your pussy was convulsing around his fingers, until you came again with a frightening intensity.

Reader’s POV

You’d almost passed out, unaware of your surroundings, unaware that Bucky was jerking himself off as you lay there, the sight of you bare and blissfully satisfied more than enough for him to chase his own release. You’d closed your eyes, ready for a much-needed sleep, when you dimly registered his loud moan and a warm spurt on your abdomen. You drifted to your dreams with him whispering in your ears, of how much he loves you, of how he’ll never let you go, of how he’ll bring the world to your feet, if you let him.

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes fluttered open to harsh sunlight seeping from the window. You tried to keep them closed, to stay in that heavenly state for a little bit more before the reality comes crashing in. but when you finally couldn’t, your heart started palpitating with realization.

You were naked, nestled comfortably in Bucky’s arm, who naked as well, gloriously so. Last night came rushing back to you, of how he make you cum so many times on his face and fingers, how he came so filthily on you then. How he woke you up in the middle of the night just to kiss you again, make promises with his tongue and fingers.

Fuck ! you were screwed. The only way your brain could function normally right now was if you put some distance between the two of you.

You tried to pry yourself from his arm, hot and heavy over your waist, his warm breath coming down the back of your neck. This is the thing that you have craved the most all these years, the peaceful home in his arms, the comfort of knowing that there’s a place in this world where you can be soft and fragile.

But can you, really?

Wasn’t all the pain and heartache you’ve suffered because you were weak, vulnerable, breakable, for him?

There no fucking way you’ll allow that to happen, not when the life you have sleeplessly worked towards is finally within your reach, you will not squander it over this man, not again, not when he didn’t care about the first time around.

With some difficulty you’re able to get out of his hold, only for him to whine adorably in his sleep. Quickly you pull down his discarded black T-shirt over your head. Since the both of you were in your room, you had to be super quiet about getting your bag, which had a few of your necessities, most importantly your laptop. You crept in the washroom and the adjoining closet, collected your toiletries and clothes as quietly as you could and stuffed them in there. You’d care about orderliness later.

But right when you thought you could tiptoe you way out of this mess, He is awake, sitting against the headrest, the pout on his sleep mussed face betraying his displeasure.

“You sneaking out on me Doll?” His husky morning voice melting your inside, before you tamp it down.

“I have to….leave. Something came up” You lie through your teeth, too flustered to even make it convincing enough.

“I wonder what exactly could be so urgent that required you to leave the bed without a word, and pack your bag, all in a span of five minutes?” His eyebrow arched, guilt streaming your mind. You’d definitely be hurt if it was him doing the same, but how could you stay? In the same room, the same bed with the same man who’d once ruined you. Sure, the past few days were beautiful, your heart alive with hope.

But the fear of him crushing it was too overwhelming. Overwhelming enough for you to let your mask out stoicism slip, baring your terrified self to him.

“I can’t do this Bucky” you said quietly, your voice breaking as you were at the edge of tears.

Within a second, he was there, holding you as you broke down, finally letting your years of supressed angst and heartbreak pour out in front of your culprit. It was cathartic, painful, relieving and sickening.

He held you through it, as you cried, as you hit him on his chest multiple times. When the sobs stops quaking your body, you finally turned to see his tears, his eyes and nose reddened, his face scrunched in pain.

“Let me make it better, Baby.” He pleaded. “Give me one chance and I will make it better my sweet girl. Let it happen.”

Your wounded heart whimpered, deep down knowing that his was the only salve that will soothe it. the words “Yes, I will” were sitting on the tip of your tongue, but years of hurt and insecurity made you sceptical. What happens when you give in to him? What happens when his discards you again? when your relationship has lost its novelty?

“Loving you was difficult Bucky. The secrets we kept, the lies we told, it was super challenging. But learning to unlove you? that has to be the toughest damn thing I’ve ever had to do. I have been trying to do just that for the past four years. And I’ve still not succeeded. Don’t make it more difficult. Please Bucky.” A few more sobs whacked you as you tried to get away from, death grip on your bag as you slowly turned towards the door.

“We can forget that this ever happened. I’ll go to San Francisco; I’ll handle Steve too. You can go on with your life and I will go with mine.” You repeated the same words he had told you all those years ago. You cursed your voice for quivering, as you prepared yourself to leave him, once again.

Bucky stood up straight, rubbing the tears from his face. His voice had recovered its timbre as he spoke, “You wanna go Doll? Fine. Go. You can go to San Francisco, to London, Fuck it baby, you can go to the fucking arctic. Go wherever, but there ain’t no way I’m forgetting this. Us. And I sure as hell won’t let you forget. Because I’ll follow you, all ‘round the Earth if that’s what it takes to earn you again.” He took a step towards you, his eyes burning with passion and determination. “I’ll leave all of this, everything, I’ll leave my name if I have to, but I’m not backing off, not when I know that you crave this as much as I do.”

“If you don’t have the courage to take the leap, that’s okay baby. Cause I will dive in, just for you.”

“Why?” Its all you could muster up.

“Because a life without you my love, is not a life worth living.”

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@superduckmilkshake @hisredheadedgoddess28 @nothingbettertosay81 @meheki

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #steve and bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky fluff #fanfic #avengers fandom

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash pairing

Summary: Jake is a busy man running the kitchen at the restaurant he, his younger brother Sam, and his brother’s best friend Danny all work at. He doesn’t have the time to meet new people let alone date, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let his needs go unmet.

Warnings and tags: you should know me by now only 18+!!!, sexual content, M/M sex, slash of course (future SamXDanny so if that will freak you out in later chapters maybe just skip this all together), unrequited love, angst, drinking, third person POV Jake and Danny, restaurant AU, I probably missed something so if I did let me know

The title is taken from a Sleep Token song so if you’re interested you can give it a listen while you read

Word count: 6.4k

“Someone please for the love of fucksake get me a dry towel!” Jake yelled after nearly burning his hand from picking up the heated handle of a pan some dumbass had positioned towards a burner instead of away. Everyone knew you weren’t supposed to move hot pans with wet towels. He didn’t expect the towel on the counter next to it to be saturated in whatever liquid it had been used to clean up then carelessly discarded right next to the stove.

Fucking amateurs, he worked with a bunch of fucking amateurs.

Jake was the sous-chef now, having just recently risen in the ranks of the kitchen after proving himself a worthy prospect the fateful weekend the previous sous walked out and abandoned them in the middle of a rush.

The majority of the staff were frozen in place, unsure of how to regroup and delegate without a leader telling them what to do. Not that the previous was ever very organized and leaderly to begin with.

He hadn’t been trying or expecting to earn a promotion. More like after working so many years in the kitchen of his family’s restaurant back at home had just made him naturally good at understanding what to do to make the line flow seamlessly and efficiently.

So he took control for the night, then the next night, and before he could say otherwise the kitchen manager was announcing him as the new sous by the end of the weekend.

Some of his coworkers were not happy about the news since Jake was young and hadn't been there as long as a few others who would have been in the running had they taken any initiative when it really mattered. Jake didn’t care though, sous-chef or not he was all or nothing in the kitchen. A real force to be reckoned with, and despite the couple that doubted him he had just as many if not turned more into his corner after showing his chops and getting things back in order. Maybe even better than before if he did say so himself.

It was just past midnight, 1am creeping up quickly when Jake was finally finishing up cleaning after the dinner rush. He was always the first to arrive at the kitchen, managing the prep for the night's menu and making sure all his kitchen staff showed up to work on time and sober. Well at least sober enough to not lose any appendages while wielding a knife.

He was also always the last to leave, taking a moment to himself to eat something while he waited for the restaurant manager to close since someone had to witness the cash being deposited into the safe.

“The fuck are you still doing here?” Jake’s bones nearly jumped out of his body at the sight of a tall and lanky figure stepping out of the shadows after he locked up the back door.

“Waiting for you” Sam replied with an amused laugh at the sight of startling his older brother.

Jake pressed past him, gripping the strap of his bag that held his notebook and his food-stained dirty jacket to be tossed in the wash when he got home. “Why?” He called backwards when Sam kept following him.

“I told Josh I’d help him set up for the party tomorrow night. Savanna ordered a few extra bottles at distributor price and they got delivered today so I’m going to drop them off at your place”.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me Sam. She can get in trouble for that!” He scolded him. He wasn’t necessarily mad at Sam, because that sounded exactly like something he would do without thinking about the repercussions, but Savanna, he expected her to know better and not let Sam’s bad influence rub off on her so easily.

“Don’t worry” Sam sighed, annoyed already by Jake's tone. “I paid her for them, it’s not like they’re losing any money”.

“Yeah, only the taxes they have to pay on those extra bottles” he quipped back actually pissing Sam off because well he didn’t think about that and he didn’t like being proven wrong.

“Yeah, whatever, it was a one time deal. Won’t happen again, sir” he drew the last word out, picking fun at the way Jake’s head chef had come in and demanded everyone start referring to him as Sir now. He wouldn’t admit it outloud, especially to his brother, but he quite liked it.

Jake started working at the restaurant straight out of culinary school. A little over two years ago now whether he believed it or not.

He was the first to graduate, having chosen an easier academic path than his brothers. Josh had just graduated next, having taken him one year longer to receive his bachelor's degree in fine arts and filmmaking.

It was a tedious search to find an area that benefited both Jake and Josh's dreams, culinary arts and film. Neither of them were ready to part after highschool, but eventually they found what they were looking for in Nashville. They made the move expecting to grow used to being out on their own but only a couple years later Sam and his best friend followed them out here.

After Sam’s first year of college Jake decided he had gotten enough partying in and got him a job at the restaurant so he could keep an eye on him.

At first Sam was just a waiter, but he hated that. Being quick to an attitude and having a loose tongue were not favorable attributes for the position. He was constantly getting in arguments with the guests.

Just when Jake thought Sam would be fired he got moved into the position as bartender. The role fit Sam’s set of skills far better, Sam being a genius mixologist since before he was even legal to consume.

Then Jake found out that Sam and the bar manager were hooking up. Savanna didn’t strike him as Sam’s usual type, but who was he to get in the way of his brother’s needs.

“You got tomorrow night off right?” Sam questioned as he followed Jake to his car, helping himself to placing his bags and bottles into the backseat before climbing in up front.

Jake didn’t reply. Of course he’d gotten the night off, Josh would literally kill him if he missed it, but he was dreading it nonetheless.

It was Josh’s going away party. Now that he’d graduated he was moving to New York to start working on a few sets. He had impressed one of his professors that was still in touch with a few influential people on Broadway, giving Josh a recommendation and ultimately a test run at a job the summer right after graduation. It wasn’t film, Josh was excited to be getting started somewhere.

Although Jake was more than proud of his twin, the idea of living alone for the first time half way across the US from his other half made him sick to his stomach.

Before leaving Josh decided he wanted to host a party. He convinced Jake to agree to have it at their place since it was a central location. He had invited quite a few friends from school and Sam turned around and invited people from the restaurant against Jake's wishes.

When Sam asked him why he was so pissed off he had invited their ‘friends’ Jake merely rolled his eyes. He saw those people nearly six days a week. Home was his escape from work and he did not want to see any of them there. Well, all but one.

Then there was Danny.

Jake was very familiar with Danny. Having also grown up with him in Michigan. He was Sam’s childhood and still best friend who followed Sam follow his brothers to Nashville.

When he first heard that Danny was coming with Sam Jake was shocked. He knew the two of them had been close in highschool, but to leave home together, there had to be a deeper reason.

Then the pieces started to fit the more Jake observed him. Sam got Danny his old waiter position when he became a bartender. Stating it was just easier for them to work together than separately since they were coming from the same school and to the same apartment.

Danny and Jake were a lot alike compared to their counterparts. Sam and Josh were both chaotic and high energy. While Danny and Jake were overall more reserved and soft spoken.

The four of them were like chess pieces on opposite sides of the board. Josh was the king. The most protected piece, able to take a step in any direction, but always having to watch where he went. He was the oldest, by five minutes mind you, but he still took that very seriously. Always striving to be one worth looking up to.

Sam, whether he liked it or not, was the queen. Also able to move very freely. Being the youngest he had the world in the palm of his hand.

Jake and Danny were both knights, the king's knight and the queen's knight. They were restricted in their movements, constantly fighting and sacrificing themselves for the benefit of those most important to them.

Jake was bound by his dream, wanting to follow in his fathers footsteps. Although their dad never went through culinary school, he managed to open and run a successful restaurant back in their hometown, all while juggling raising three boys.

The three of them grew up in that restaurant, feeling obligated to put in some work when they were able to give back to their parents. It was never a chore for Jake though. He loved cooking, and just about the time he realized he was good at it, so did his father, having been the one to convince him to go to school.

The plan had always been to go back home and take over, but after graduating he realized he had developed a taste for the finer variety of the culinary world. The restaurant he worked in was much nicer than the family restaurant. Not that he wasn’t proud of where he came from. The demographic for restaurants in Michigan and the ever growing Nashville just called for different atmospheres.

Danny was bound by love. Jake knew Danny was in love with his younger brother. It was written all over the boy's face the way he stared longingly at his best friend when he thought no one was paying attention. He didn’t know if Sam knew Danny was in love with him. He hadn’t figured that one out for sure yet, but if he had to guess the way Sam heedlessly brought Savanna over to their shared apartment, the answer would be no.

Jake pulled into his parking spot in front of his apartment, waiting for Sam to gather all his things before locking the car.

Sam had a key, but his hands were too full to dig it out so Jake let them in instead.

“You crashing here tonight then?” Jake grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge to take back to his room with him, tossing one in his brother's direction. If the party was going to be anything like what Sam had been hyping up, then they both needed to start hydrating now.

“Yeah, Danny will be over tomorrow afternoon to help” Sam opened his water and downed about half of it before jumping onto the couch where he planned to make himself comfy for the rest of the night.

“Great, can’t wait”.

“Are we already out of the booze?” Jake groaned while shifting through the empty glass bottles on their counter top.

“Not by a long shot brother” Josh called him out of the kitchen and into the small laundry room. He lifted the lid to the washer and revealed it had been filled to the brim with ice, multiple cans of beer and more liquor stashed inside. “Didn’t have enough counter space” he grinned.

“Clever” Jake shook his head in disbelief but also thoroughly entertained by his brothers’ resourcefulness.

After retrieving a bottle he mixed a strong drink before braving returning to the living room.

Jake had been buzzed since before people started showing up, holding out on getting completely shit faced for his brother’s sake.

Josh introduced him to a few of his close classmates, each one being shocked to find out that Josh was indeed a twin. Jake put up an easy going front, but he was getting burnt out quickly. Tonight was his first night off in over a week and it was going to be his only night off this one. It was a bitch to get this night specifically off, having traded a few days and come in extra to make up for it. Of course Danny, Sam, and Savanna had also worked it out to come, so Jake couldn’t help but wonder how the place was doing without all of them.

“Think the dinner rush is going smoothly?” Someone who was reading his mind muttered from closely behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Don’t sneak up on me, you know I scare easily” Jake spoke quietly back to Danny. He didn’t know why he felt the need to converse with him in a hushed tone when everyone else in the house was practically yelling at each other over the music. “Result of growing up with brothers who constantly played pranks on each other”.

“I remember,” Danny chucked, stepping up to stand next to Jake now instead of behind him “sorry”. he didn’t need to apologize, but the effort was still nice. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Jake sighed, letting his facade drop for the first time tonight. For Josh he had to be strong, Sam had done well in steering clear of him, but this was just Danny. “Honestly? I’m exhausted. There’s a dozen things I’d rather be doing with my day off”.

“I understand” Danny so easily responded. Although Jake knew Danny could get wild especially when getting into a mess with Sam, he retreated into a shell in big crowds of people he didn’t know as well as he did Jake and his brothers. He’d likely been masking all night too and was also relieved to be talking to just Jake.

Jake’s eyes kept scanning the room, watching Josh bounce around from group to group constantly making sure his guests were being entertained. If anyone was going to be exhausted by the end of the night it was going to be him, but for now he was feeding off the energy. Then his gaze found Sam, hand propped up against the wall as he leaned in towards his date, a pink flush in his face from his drink signifying he’d already had too much. He leaned over and whispered something into Savanna’s ear, making her blush even darker and giggle. In his peripheral he could see that Danny was also watching the exchange between Sam and his girl.

An idea hatched in his fuzzy brain, taking a large gulp of his cup for the courage to follow through with it. “Like I’d much rather be getting laid right now. Too bad the only one who looks like they're getting any around here is Sam”.

Jake knew he would get a rise out of Danny, he could see it in the way his grip was tightening around his cup. He did not expect Danny to say what he did though, and it was very intriguing.

“Jake, you could sleep with anyone you wanted to in this room” Danny nearly scoffed. He was getting riled up as Sam was now openly planting kisses down Savanna’s neck. He tore his eyes from them and looked down at Jake intently watching him in return.

“Like you?” Jake pressed, smirking when Danny’s jaw fell.

Jake had dabbled with both sex, never bothering labeling himself rather just letting himself experience every beautiful corner of sexuality his heart desired without too much thought. Some people, however, were off limits. On any other night his younger brother's best friend was definitely off limits.

As soon as he poured that last drink Jake knew he could kiss being sober goodbye, but what his drunken state was allowing him to do was none of his sober self’s business. It wasn’t a lie when he said he’d much rather be getting laid right now. The joke was that ever since he’d become aware of Danny’s secret little crush, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

“Jake, I-” Danny was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, not able to form a coherent sentence for everything that was running through his head right now.

“I’m going to make up an excuse to say goodnight to Josh so he’s not looking for me. You remember which one is my room right?”

Danny stayed silent, eyes flickering around to see if anyone was watching them have this shameful conversation, which no one was, then simply nodded his head.

Jake did just as he said, finishing his drink and pretending to be absolutely plastered as he approached his twin.

Danny watched, a smile fighting its way onto his face as Josh attempted offering to help Jake up the stairs, but Jake managed to convince him he could do it. With success, he turned around to send Danny a wink before trekking up and disappearing onto the second floor.

Danny made a stop by the kitchen, grabbing another plastic cup from the open package and filling it along with his before slipping away from the party.

He thought about knocking, but he had a cup in each hand now. His heart was pounding as he stood at the door, debating if he should just turn around and go back downstairs and deal with Jake being upset with him later.

Before he had too much time to think about it, the door opened and Jake was standing there having stripped down to only his boxers.

“Were you just going to stand there like a big idiot all night?” Jake had a permanent smirk on his face, making Danny question even further if this was a good idea or not.

Despite his better judgment he stepped inside, Jake shutting and locking the door behind him.

Danny’s eyes immediately went to his bed. It was large and dressed in deep red sheets with a matching duvet, taking up most of the room centered on the far wall. The headboard had built-in shallow shelves, just enough to fit a few books and some other various nicknacks.

He turned around to face Jake now, thrusting the extra cup into his chest until he took it from him.

“Thanks” Jake chuckled, making Danny’s blood rush at the sound mixed with the sight of his smooth chest barely rising and falling with the breaths it took to do so. He took a sip of the drink, actually wincing at the taste. “Damn Danny, you trying to actually get me plastered? Or do you just have to be that drunk to sleep with me?”

“Hmm?” Danny still hadn’t found his words yet, taking a drink of his cup as well to see he had mixed them really strong, but by complete accident. “No, it’s just-”

Jake cut him off again, his nerves making him talkative whereas it made Danny speechless. “Look, you don’t have to do this. It’s just I haven’t gotten any in a long time. You know what it’s like at work, I don’t have time to be trying to meet people. We know and trust each other, so it’s just convenient if we can help each other out with this”.

Jake took Danny’s cup from him and placed the both of them down onto the desk in the corner, moving slowly so Danny could think about what he’d said.

“How did you know?” Danny finally managed to speak up, but Jake didn’t understand exactly what he was trying to get at. “How did you know I’m into guys?”

If Jake was in his right mind then maybe he could have come up with something to say, but instead the truth came sliding out. “Because I know you’re in love with Sam”.

Well if that wasn’t a mood killer then he didn’t know what was.

Again, Danny was shocked into silence. He wanted to deny it, but knowing Jake as long as he had he actually felt a little relieved that someone knew his secret. Someone who he was also close with and knew would keep it quiet until he was finally ready to tell. If he was ever ready to tell.

“Don’t worry, this doesn’t have to mean anything” Jake tried to salvage this energy between them. He’d gone as far as to get Danny up into his room, and he would be damned if they backed out now. (Well actually if Danny said he felt uncomfortable or decided he actually didn’t want to then of course Jake would back off, but until then he was going to try to keep pressing forward).

“We’re both adults now, with needs” Jake started back over towards Danny, maintaining an intense eye contact as he carefully approached. “Needs that can easily be satiated tonight”. He reached over and placed his hands on either side of Danny’s waist, putting solid pressure in each of his fingertips.

Danny’s form was stiff underneath his touch, but was quickly softening as Jake tugged at him to move forward. Once he broke free of the imaginary roots holding his legs in place, Danny stepped forward, letting their lower bodies press together. Jake slid one hand up his still clothed torso, trailing it around his shoulder and burying it into the hair at the nape of his neck. “You have needs don’t you Danny?”

Danny shuddered at the feeling of Jake's fingers massaging his scalp, allowing himself to reach over and cup Jake's flushed face in his large hands. “Yes, I do” he sighed heavily, his warm sweet breath tickling Jake's cheeks with how close they were, but something was still holding him back.

“Besides, I do look somewhat like Sam. You can pretend I’m him, I don’t mind. Just for tonight”. With that Jake pulled Danny down into a heated kiss.

All of the force was in Jake's lips, but Danny reciprocated the kiss just with more hesitancy.

He already felt himself slipping away, the allure of Danny becoming stronger the closer he allowed himself to get. His lips parted ever so slightly, not enough for Jake to get his tongue inside, but enough for him to slit his lips in between. He took Danny’s bottom lip between his, now able to taste him, the warmth and bitterness of his drink still so fresh. Jake nibbled on Danny’s bottom lip before letting him go to take a step back and gauge his reaction.

“If we are going to do this then I need to know you want to. There can’t be any weirdness between us after this. We still have to work together, be around each other, and act like nothing has changed between us”.

Jake spoke with certainty, or at least he was doing a very good job at reassuring him that he was. In reality he was just as hesitant and nervous as Danny was. He did hope this would change something between them. Jake was determined to rock Danny’s world tonight. To treat him both as gently and as rough as a man like Danny deserved so he’d have no choice but to come crawling back to Jake for more.

Even if Danny couldn’t love Jake the way he loved Sam, at least Jake would have this. At the end of the night, he hoped that it would be enough.

Danny pulled Jake back against him, letting his head fall onto his shoulder, his curly hair tickling Jake's jaw, and just held him there for a moment.

Jake had to concentrate on standing still. Sure he had been this close to him before, they’d had their fair share of friendly hugs over the years. He’d never given him a hug with a half hard-on though.

Their hugs usually only lasted a short while, but Danny wasn’t breaking contact as he fought to think of a reason not to indulge. A real reason besides the obvious one. That if Sam ever found out he’d be furious with the both of them.

Danny turned his face in towards Jake's neck and let his lips brush over the sensitive raised skin there, finally admitting “I want to”.

He placed a kiss there, then higher up on his neck, his jaw, his cheek, until his lips landed back on Jake’s to seal the deal.

Something seemed to snap inside Danny, he let go of whatever last bit of reservations he had and really let himself succumb to the darkness within himself.

He’d always noticed this siren-like allure Jake had. He was appealing to put it simply, the way he played to his strengths without boasting about his accomplishments. Not very many men could keep themselves humble, but Jake never even wavered in his standards even as he took control.

Without letting his lips leave Danny’s again Jake mumbled “let’s go to the bed then. Unless you want me to tackle you to the floor?”

He felt Danny’s lips curl into a smile just before he gripped Jake's hips and spun them around. Backing him up through his room until Jake's legs hit the edge of his bed. Jake fell backwards into its embrace, curling his fingers around the collar of Danny’s sweater and pulling him down on top of him in the same motion.

With his feet still on the ground in front of the bed, Danny was bent over above him. One hand firmly planted on the bed next to his head and the other was roaming the expanse of bare skin on Jake's side, stopping every few inches to grip and squeeze then moving on as he deepened the kiss. Jake wasn’t expecting this position so soon, but it wasn’t a bother, he knew he could still take back control even from this angle.

Jake parted his lips now, a wide invitation that Danny graciously accepted, diving his tongue inside for his own taste.

With Danny distracted in exploring his mouth, Jake took the initiative to test taking it to the next step by wrapping one of his legs around Danny’s hips. His calf came to settle on the swell of Danny’s ass, and he leveraged himself up so that their fronts could grind together.

Danny let out a sound that wasn’t quite a moan yet, more like a stifled plea for more. Then his hand left Jake’s side, moving lower to gather his other leg and pull it around his hip as well before bucking back harder into Jake.

They were both fully hard now, rutting their erections on each other through their clothes like a couple of horny teenagers just trying to prove how turned on they were right now.

Jake was trying to remain patient, but now that Danny had reciprocated his desire, it was becoming harder (literally harder) to not lose his cool.

Despite how badly he wanted Danny right now, whatever way and in whatever position he would give it to him, Jake didn’t know the extent of Danny’s sexual history or if he’d ever been with another guy before.

He’d already accepted coming into this that he’d have to be the one to keep them focused and make sure enough prep had been done before things got too far.

They both needed a breath, so Jake pulled away first. “I sure hope your idea of getting laid doesn’t include staying completely dressed” he teased.

Danny stood back up, letting Jake's knees fall to the side onto the bed and worked at his belt buckle. As soon as he got the belt undone the button and zipper was next, undoing the both to allow a little more room for himself.

Jake wanted to complain when Danny abandoned what he was doing at his hips but quickly became appeased again when he reached up to instead lift his sweater off revealing a more toned torso than he remembered.

He had to bite his lips to keep himself from the subjective commentary that was flooding his brain since Danny seemed somewhat unsure of himself.

He wanted Danny to feel comfortable around him otherwise he wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy himself and Jake couldn’t have that.

Sitting up, Jake took over for him, digging his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and helping slide them down, his boxers getting caught and pulled off with them.

Jake held eye contact with Danny as he felt him spring free between them. Starting with one hand, but without looking away, Jake reached down and felt him.

He could already tell he was larger than he’d even expected, not too big, but so hard that he almost pulled back from his touch. “Fuck, Danny” Jake breathed out as he slowly tightened his grip and offered some relief.

Danny put his hands on both of Jake's shoulders to steady himself and he sighed and leaned his head back. “Yeah, that’s the hope” he chuckled once he’d gotten over the initial sensitivity of being touched by someone else for the first time in a while.

Now that Danny wasn’t watching, Jake took the opportunity to look down. He looked even bigger with Jake's hand wrapped around him. Jake had seen Danny naked before, plenty of fourth of Julys were spent at home changing together in the back of a van at the lake. Back then though Jake hadn’t dared look too far nor did he know at the time that he would someday be excited by seeing Danny.

Excited he was indeed, having to palm himself over his boxers for a second just to ease himself a little bit before moving onto his next course of action.

Danny felt Jake disappear as he lowered himself onto his elbows and knees on the bed in front of him. He took Danny by surprise as he traded his hand for his mouth, his plump lips stretched out as they wrapped around the tip.

“Fuck” Danny hissed, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair as he started to bob his head.

Jake reached up again, stroking the base of his shaft now that he’d gotten it nice and slippery. “Yeah, that’s the hope” he pulled off just to repeat Danny’s smart aleck comment then went back in with even more vigor than before, sucking and twisting all at the same time.

The fingers in his hair tightened and he knew what that meant. Removing his hand, he let Danny rock his hips further into Jake's mouth until he was brushing up against the back of his throat.

“I’m close” Danny groaned, warning Jake since he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from continuing until he’d released.

With that Jake gave him one last cheek hollowed suck before popping off and backing further onto the bed.

Danny whimpered at the feeling of the cool air hitting his wet cock. Wishing now he hadn’t said anything so he could have stayed in the warmth of his mouth for even just a minute longer. A minute longer was about all he was going to last though, and he didn’t want to be finished yet.

“My turn” Jake called for Danny to join him, laying back and lifting his hips to slide off his boxers.

Danny looked anxious, maybe he had never done this before, but followed Jake's command, crawling over to him on the bed with determination in his eyes.

“You don’t have to blow me. Another time perhaps” Jake reminded him that they didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, but only wished Danny would be willing to try a few things.

“I need you to help me with something else, you see a blue book up there?” He nodded to the headboard above him. Danny’s eyes scanned the few books, quickly finding the one Jake was referring to and reaching to pick it up. Something about it felt off, it was light compared to its size, but the weight distribution was also moving as he brought it down and handed it over.

Jake pulled the cover back to reveal the book was actually hollow, containing a stack of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

“Often jerk off while reading in bed?” Danny questioned his stash as Jake retrieved the bottle and tore off one of the foil squares before handing him the book to put back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know” Jake smugly replied, opening the bottle and squeezing the tiniest amount since he knew a little went a long way onto his hand then coating his member with the slick gel.

Danny watched Jake work himself with wide eyes. The way Jake laid there seemingly without any fear and let Danny see him in such an intimate state, it was breathtaking.

“Have you ever fingered someone before?” Jake questioned. All teasing and jokes had left his tone, instead he was completely serious and trying to keep his breathing steady.

“I’m not a virgin” Danny replied, slightly chagrin about Jake's doubting of his skills.

“Noted. Good to know, but what I asked is have you ever fin-” it was Jake's turn to be cut off when Danny quickly snatched up the bottle and squeezed some onto his fingers before positioning them at his backside.

“Woah! Ok! Easy! You have to go easy”. Jake tried to scoot away, but Danny placed his free hand on his hip and pulled him back down until his inner thighs came in contact with Danny’s knees.

“Relax, you have to relax” he copied the same pattern of speech, but with a soothing voice as he leaned down and connected their lips once again before slowly easing a finger inside. “See, I do know what I’m doing”.

Trusting in his friend, Jake did relax, moving his hand that had gone steady against himself to grip Danny’s thigh letting all his tension reside there instead of other places.

“Does it feel good?” Danny questioned after a few moments of working another in.

Jake let a long breath out through his nose, “actually, you can go a little harder, if you want”.

“You don’t have to tell me twice” he gave Jake one more peck on the lips then twisted his fingers upwards before pressing further inside, as far as his knuckles would let him go.

“Oh!” Jake felt his voice nearly squeak when Danny managed to brush up against the spot no one else had managed to reach with just their fingers before. Jake never minded being fingered, but it was usually just a means to reach a better goal. The way Danny was handling him though, it was different than anyone else he’d ever been with before. It was like Danny was trying to make him enjoy it.

“How about now?”

“Oh god Danny, enough, I’m ready for you now”. Jake moved his grip from Danny’s thigh to his forearm, desperately trying to pull him away. “Would you lay down? I like to start out on top”.

The sound of that was appealing enough to get Danny to retreat, removing himself from between Jake's legs and flopping onto his back next to him.

Jake found the condom he’d left at his side, tearing it open before lifting himself up and mounting Danny.

He was situated just above his knees so he could roll the condom on before inching forward. A pair of big tanned hands caressed his thighs as he got into position.

Jake paused, allowing himself to study Danny’s face as he lowered himself onto him, slowly letting out the breath he was holding in as he did so.

Danny closed his eyes, letting his fingers dig into Jake's skin just as Jake had into his. “You’re really tight” he groaned, wiggling his hips trying to get comfortable.

“I know, I might have gotten a little ahead of myself, I forgot how big you are. Just give me a second” he placed his hands on the chest of the man below him. Then letting his legs do the work he began to move, the leftover lube inside of him from Danny’s fingers just enough to help him glide up and down.

“Forgot?” Danny panted, his hands traveling from Jake's thighs to his rocking hips. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure you don’t forget again”.

It felt like the earth turned on its axis, and suddenly Jake felt the bed beneath him again. Danny managed to stay tucked inside during the move, lifting Jake's leg onto his hip like the position they’d been in earlier.

He lifted Jake’s lower half barely off the mattress and began thrusting, making Jake cry out at the sudden deepness and shocking sensation he was driving through his body.

This was not how he imagined the night playing out. He meant to work up to it, build some pressure, make it last long. The way Danny was man handling him right now sent the plans of all the dirty things he wanted to do to him flying out the window.

Jake was glad the party still seemed to be going strong downstairs, the music a cover for his moans. In hindsight he had probably been a little ambitious in the way he egged Danny on. It really had been a while since he had gotten any, and Danny was giving it to him so good now that he was already dangerously close to the edge.

He reached in between their sweating bodies, stroking himself to his limit. “I’m going to cum,” he staggered out, “just don’t stop what you’re doing”.

Danny’s moves were faltering, he was close too, but he managed to keep it up just long enough for Jake to finish, clenching around him as his body quaked with pleasure.

Since he came so quickly, he’d expected to have to finish Danny off, but as soon as his body settled Danny dropped to his elbows, burying his hands into Jake's long hair.

If it had been anyone else Jake would have pushed him off. The overstimulation was getting to be too much especially now that his spent cock was caught pressed against their bodies, but Danny seemed so close he just bore down and let him have it.

With one more heavy thrust Danny was coming undone, his brows furrowed and his eyes clenched closed. Jake watched again as the smallest bead of sweat rolled down the tip of his nose and dripped onto his lips. His tongue darted out to lick it away, then he pulled his lips between his teeth, one silent word leaving his mouth.

It didn’t matter if Danny didn’t say it aloud, Jake had seen him say it a thousand times, he’d recognized it on Danny’s lips anyway.

Sam

Part 2

#Greta van fic #greta van smut #greta van angst #Janny gvf #Sanny gvf #jake kiszka #Danny Wagner #Sam kiszka #Spotify

[barananduen-blog]

Sights from the drama & filming location, from local tourism office [Source] 🔊Sound on for the drama's cute "walking music"🔊

"BELL RINGING" - REVIEW

This drama performed extremely well, reaching #1 in viewership among currently airing short dramas and remaining in the top 2 spots through its entire run. Due to its good results, it stopped being only a webdrama and was broadcast on Chinese national TV and satellite TV as well! 🎉IMO, these accolades are very well deserved!

Plot Premise: The story takes place in Silver Bell Island, pastoral and peaceful with a hint of magic. Chi Ye, who, near the beginning of the story becomes the island's mayor, harbors a secret that none but his assistant know: he is immortal and has lived for hundreds of years, awaiting the return of his beloved, Shen Qi, for whom he made a sacrifice that not even he fully understands the depths of.

Present-day Shen Qi is a happy and carefree young woman, well loved by the community. She plans events and takes care of everyone, as they took care of her when she first arrived at the island. One day, she meets Chi Ye and falls in love at first sight, but, inexplicably, he always makes himself scarce around her. Thus begins her plan to "chase and capture" the reclusive Chi Ye.

✅Recommend! ✅Beautiful visuals, camerawork, etc. ✅Well-written, good flow and pacing ✅Interesting story ✅Good acting from almost all cast ✅Combination of ancient/modern was fun ✅Good characterization despite short length

❌It would have been nice if the second couple was developed more, but this was probably due to time restraints; it would have required a longer drama.

📺Where to watch: MangoTV website/app or MangoTV's official YouTube channels ("MangoTV Drama" and the language-specific channels)

Review (No Spoilers)

I was very impressed with this drama. It was very well written and the production and direction were excellent. Definitely one of my two favorite shorts/minis.

The writers managed the time restraints really well - I haven't read the novel it's based on, and yet I didn't feel like I missed anything at all for comprehension. I really, really liked how it's written like a long movie instead of a series of short episodes. In this sense, it's like a full-length drama, but shorter. This makes it stand out from among other short dramas: the flow is excellent, the plot and the two main characters have depth to them; so you do not get that feeling of superficiality that you see in most mini dramas.

The visuals also stand out. Despite being a modern drama, it has a magical, fairy-like feeling, with soft colors and lighting, rural and village scenery, lots of flowers (LOTS OF FLOWERS!). The camerawork impressed me, because the panning and zooming made even still scenes (like when the couple is just lying in bed) feel very dynamic, while contributing to mood and ambiance. Lots of people have described the drama's visual ambiance as "refreshing" and "healing," and I feel that's correct. The video above really shows a good sample of the feeling you get while watching the drama.

That said, plotwise, this is a very emotional show, and I think the juxtaposition of the peaceful scenes and the emotional turmoil was performed flawlessly. Life and death and fighting against fate are major themes, and the actors really make you feel for the characters.

The main story is set in the present time, with flashbacks to 500 years ago sprinkled throughout. The switching between the two time periods is done very well, and is neither obtrusive nor confusing. The viewer discovers and peels layers of what happened in tribal times as the characters themselves do. This layering is an integral part of the plot, and was written and executed very well.

Storytelling, camerawork, and post-processing filters come together seamlessly once again to create mood in the scenes leading up toward the end. The ending itself is very well written, too, and manages the viewers' feelings well.

Trivia: I forgot to add that voices are everyone's own and were recorded on-location, while filming the action. Recording studio work was limited to when characters were "thinking" and things like that.

#Bell Ringing #cdrama #Li Daikun #Song Fangyuan #Miao Weilun #Yu Yilei #Zhuang Yuan #chinese drama #drama review #B text post #original post

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Court of Faded Dreams: Chapter 48

Chapter Title: Turning Page

Happy Anniversary Lovelies!! ACoFD is 1 year old today!! 🥳 I'm so grateful for all the friends I've met, and all the support y'all have shown this story!

Fic summary: In her grief after Rhys sacrifices himself to restore the Cauldron, Feyre accidentally sends herself back in time. Back in her human body, in her early days in the Spring Court, Feyre must be careful how she alters the timeline as she tries to save Rhys and Prythian from Under the Mountain.

Beta-read by the wonderful and dedicated @noirshadow <33

Read on AO3 ⟡ Masterlist

The sun that rose the next morning ushered in a new era of Prythian.

It cast golden rays through the open archways of the meeting room, cutting past the assembled High Lords in favor of spilling light over the parchment that sat in the center of the table. It glinted against the fresh bubbles of ink, like even the celestial bodies acknowledged the magnitude of what laid before them.

Indeed, as Helion lifted the quill from the final punctuation, the world, too, seemed to pause. Prythian and its lands yielded to the High Rulers’ every breath, and now it held like a single, lingering note in a symphony. Everything else went silent. Watching. Waiting.

A new Treaty sat proudly on the table before them. Or, as close to one as they could currently establish. Once the High Lords signed, each Court would be bound to join the forces of an allied Prythian in the war with Hybern—and what’s more, it conditioned that at the war’s end, they would hold negotiations for peace.

Peace, Feyre thought with tears brimming in her eyes. Not a single High Lord had protested that clause. No one had turned distrusting eyes to her mate, no one brought up the role he played Under the Mountain. Not when she and Rhys had ultimately been the ones to free them—and they had all witnessed what it had cost.

Tamlin cleared his throat, the first to break the trance.

Dragged back from her awe, Feyre turned her head, warily, to the male she had once loved to the point of destruction. He was looking at her, green eyes the same color as the leaves that danced in his court. She saw none of the contempt that he had held when they last stood together in this room. If anything, he looked… thoughtful.

 “Perhaps Prythian’s High Lady should lay the first signature?” Tamlin proposed to the room, though his eyes stood on Feyre.

She wondered if the suggestion wasn’t its own private treaty. His quiet way of saying they could be friends at the end of this war, beyond their bargains and alliances formed out of necessity. A part of her, the part that had sat in this room and listened to Tamlin hurl insults and accusations at her Court, raged at the idea. 

But the other part had seen him negotiate on behalf of his greatest enemy, had opened his doors to her sisters, and had tended to her wounded friends. 

For that male, she smiled. 

And when no dissent came from the others, she accepted the quill from Helion. 

Tamlin wasn’t that male anymore, and neither was she that same female. Too much had changed to continue acknowledging that version of themselves, and that past world, that no longer existed. It was time to stop dwelling on the half-truths of an old timeline.

The mate who stood beside her, pride gleaming in his violet eyes, was also a different male to the Rhysand who had died reforging the Cauldron. Lucien, watching carefully by his biological father’s side, carried himself like his body was lighter. Elain and Nesta, unharmed and human, watched from behind as Feyre leaned over the table to dip the quill into the pot of ink.

Ink bled from the tip of the pen as she pressed it to the blank space at the bottom of the Treaty. The letters flowed into one another, as seamlessly as seconds flowed into hours, and small decisions became new realities.

Prythian had changed. And she would see it for the better.

Magic coiled from the pen up her wrist, twining with the tattoo that marked her as High Lady as though it were seeping into the ink on her skin. A bargain here did not leave marks on the body like it did in the Night Court, but she could still feel the way it clung to her magic, a small weight to remind her of the gravity of this agreement.

She looked back at what she had scrawled across the parchment. 

Feyre Fatechanger

It was a meaningless name for most of the Fae gathered. But across the room, the corner of Lucien’s mouth quirked, and she felt a velvet laugh vibrate down the bond.

Hail to the Master of Riddles and Slayer of Wryms, Rhys murmured, accepting the quill from her. Perhaps we can add ‘Champion of Peace’ to your list of titles.

You are in no place to be making fun, she scolded. Not when your family name—

I wasn’t making fun, Rhys interrupted, leaning forward to sign his name below hers. His expression, as always, gave nothing away of the conversation he was having in his mind. Feyre Fatechanger is deserving of all her titles, and many more. 

She was certain Rhysand could come up with a slew of inappropriate titles, but he spared her—save from a small, devilish grin that said he would whisper them when he was next between her legs. His expression shifted as he looked over to Tamlin, handing him the pen in a way that felt exaggerated. Meaningful.

Tamlin held his gaze, face an unreadable mask of calm as he accepted the outstretched quill and joined his name beside the High Lord of Night. He then handed it off to Tarquin, and Tarquin to Helion. So forth, until every Court save Autumn was represented on the new Treaty. And if Lucien was successful in his task, Eris would sign it before the Wall collapsed.

Lucien found her after the meeting adjourned. The retinues were largely departing back to their own Courts, save for a few that lingered to speak with others individually. Feyre had caught Helion hovering towards the back as he watched Lucien and Elain say their goodbyes, but the High Lord of Day was nowhere in sight now.

Elain would be coming back to the Night Court with them and Lucien… off to Autumn, she assumed. Though she hoped he had a better plan for infiltrating the Forest House than simply walking inside.

That mechanical eye tracked her carefully. “I’m leaving now,” he told her. Feyre nodded, swallowing her concern. Lucien had once traveled across the world to retrieve a Mortal Queen from nothing but fragments of his mate’s vision, and had returned with an armada. She would trust he could handle this. “I’ll send updates back to you when I can, but should anything go wrong…” he reached into his jacket pocket. “Give this to Elain for me, please.”

He extended a white envelope into the space between them, Elain’s name written elegantly over the front. Feyre frowned. “Why not give it to Elain yourself?”

Feyre watched his throat bob as he pushed the envelope further into the space between them, almost desperately. “She won’t accept it, had me promise her I’ll come back.”

That russet eye filled with dread as he watched Feyre’s lips part in realization, then horror. “You don’t think you’ll come back?”

“I don’t think it’s impossible, I wouldn’t have volunteered for it if I did. But if Beron was so easily killed, someone would have done it by now—Eris, especially. And with Hybern involved… who knows what I’ll be walking into.” 

Lucien’s expression was so grave, no trace of the smile he had worn when he accepted his task to find the Mortal Queen Vassa. Good, he had said when Mor told him it was dangerous. It’d be boring otherwise.

She could imagine this was different. This was a quest to kill the man who had murdered his lover. Who had abused his mother and her sons for centuries. Who had kidnapped his mate like she was little more than a bargaining chip. 

Lucien was no irreverent courtier accepting a job out of duty.

He was an exiled Prince seeking retribution.

Feyre accepted the letter grudgingly, holding his eyes as she did so. “You better come back, Lucien.”

The ghost of a smile flickered on his face, so like the one he wore in the early days of knowing him. “That almost sounds like a threat.”

“It is,” she said with a sharp laugh, though there was nothing funny about sending her closest friend to his potential death. She prayed to the Mother that he would get his vengeance, and find whatever peace it could offer him. “And you’ll not just be facing the wrath of one Archeron, but two.”

“I better succeed, then,” he said. “Or I’d be a foolish male indeed.”

⟡⟡⟡

Amren was waiting for them when they returned to the townhouse.

She arched a single, slender brow. Her arms crossed as unnerving silver eyes assessed their group like she was very unimpressed.

Rhys held up a box carved of thick, polished stone. Whatever the material, Kallias must have selected it for some magical property, because it dulled the awful, lurching energy to a more tolerable hum that vibrated through the stone. Amren’s eyes flickered in recognition and she held her hand out expectantly.

“I suppose now it's up to you to translate it,” Rhys said. They all winced as Amren cracked the box open, and that ancient, oppressive energy burst from its confinements.

Lady of Time, the other half of the book had called her. The light. The goodness to balance the chaos.

In contrast, this half hissed, its dark energy pulsing through the room like a corrupted heartbeat. Thief, it accused. Cheater of Death. Pay the price you owe.

Amren promptly slid the lid of the box back in place. 

“The spell to release you from your fae body is on the penultimate page,” Feyre said to Amren, ignoring the way the Inner Circle was watching her so carefully. “Last time, you were able to translate a spell that could nullify the Cauldron. I wasn’t strong enough before, but maybe now—”

“Feyre,” Rhys warned.

She leveled him a don’t start with me look, before turning to face Amren again. “Maybe now, I’ll be strong enough to use that spell,” she continued. “I’ll write down what I remember for you. You may be able to use it as a cipher to translate the rest. And once you have the spell—I can try to nullify the Cauldron again.”

Rhysand set his jaw, but otherwise held his tongue. Amren nodded, summoning a pen and paper so Feyre could jot down any scraps of the spell she had used in Hybern. If she thought about it long enough, she could still feel the current of power that had rippled through her when she first joined the books together. How it rang in her ears until she tasted blood in her throat. 

After Feyre finished scribbling down what she remembered, Amren took the note and quickly returned to her apartment to undoubtedly pour through the pages. They wouldn’t see her for days, if Feyre had to guess.

Her sisters had filtered off somewhere. Elain likely needed some time to process her mate’s departure, and Nesta had presumably seized the opportunity to escape Cassian’s heated stares. How they’d managed to live alone together for so many weeks was beyond Feyre’s understanding. 

But now it was just Rhys, his brothers, and Mor hovering in the entryway, waiting for their next instructions while Rhys thought long and hard about something. Feyre felt like she was standing on the edge of an abyss. They’d been outrunning this great, terrible beast and now it finally had them cornered. This was the end of their plan. They had gathered the pieces of the Book of Breathings, they had forged an alliance with the other Courts, and now… how did they stop the Cauldron, and lose no one in the process?

They were safe in their home, but Feyre felt her unspent energy coiling in her blood like she was on a battlefield. She flexed her fingers, needing to do something to let it out. Cassian must have felt it too, with the way his wings shifted.

Cassian cleared his throat. “I’ll need to go back to Winter and rehash our plan to the war-lords. Start flying the legions South.”

Rhys nodded, still thinking. Still leaving them suspended in the silence.

“Cretea,” he finally said, straightening. The stars in his eyes became sharper with renewed focus. “I need someone to come with me to Cretea. Drakon’s troops joined the battle in the previous time, and I mean to ask them to join again.”

The rest of the Inner Circle seemed to hesitate. The Seraphim legions would be invaluable to their forces, but they all sensed that was not Rhysand’s primary objective. 

“Miryam…” Mor began, cautiously taking a step towards her cousin.

“Has been Made,” Rhys interrupted. “Just like Feyre. She should be able to act as a conduit for the Book.”

Mor took a sharp breath, like someone who had been prepared for a blow but was still surprised by its force. Miryam was their friend. Feyre recalled the way Rhys had wept when he saw she and Drakon had joined them on the battlefield. And now to ask Miryam to replace Feyre—

Not to replace, he said down the bond, this voice more strained than the one he used to speak. Vulnerable to her in a way he would not allow even his Inner Circle to see. It softened some of Feyre’s anger. Just to help take some of the burden.

“We couldn’t ask that of her,” Feyre protested. “It could kill her—”

“It could kill you.” That strain was seeping into this spoken voice, too. Feyre held her breath as she watched him struggle between High Lord and mate, mate and friend. When loyalties split, she knew who he would always choose. And maybe it should have terrified her that he would cut anything loose to save the people that stood in this room, but a part of her loved him deeper for it. 

Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps if there was another who could help you with the spell, together you could survive it.”

“Miryam isn’t fae,” Mor reminded him. “She was given immortality, but her body is still human. She was not Made in the same way that Feyre was.”

It was Feyre he looked to. Rhys’s eyes were wide enough that she could track every constellation swimming in them, and in those pools of swirling violet, she could practically see the memory he was replaying. He had fixed her with that same pleading, apologetic expression when he had slid a dagger into her heart. And now, that dagger came in the shape of a choked, “I have to try.”

Her throat went dry. Feyre knew she couldn’t begrudge him that.

When she nodded, slowly, it was Az who stepped forward. “I’ll go.”

Rhys shook his head. “No, we need your eyes on Hybern’s castle. Feyre will debrief you on what she remembers. I’ll take Cass, and drop him off at Winter on the way back.”

The two Illyrians glanced towards each other, and it was something about the weariness on Cassian’s face that encouraged her to grab Rhys by the arm. “Tomorrow,” she said. Then, Give them some time to rest. Let Cassian spend a day with Nesta before you send him back to war.

“As our High Lady wishes,” Rhys agreed out loud, bowing his head. She felt a pinprick of guilt through the bond as Rhys lifted her hand to his lips, ghosting a kiss along her knuckles. “Today should be focused on celebrating our victorious High Lord’s meeting. We’ll go to Cretea tomorrow. Go relax, all of you.”

That means actually getting some sleep, Az, Feyre said. His shadows curled curiously around the mental talon she’d cast towards him. 

The corner of the Shadowsinger’s mouth twitched. Is that an order, High Lady?

Yes.

I’ll sleep, he said, with an underlying meaning that had her endlessly curious. The shadows pressed around him and with a wink tossed in her direction, Azriel disappeared.

Soon, Feyre found herself in the bedroom she and Rhys shared. She laid back on the bed to watch as Rhys removed his finery, stepping away from the High Lord he’d played—someone gentler than the cold overseer of the Court of Nightmares, but still not quite Rhys. Not the male of unparalleled warmth and kindness that had led her out of darkness time and time again. But he was that male now, relaxing his shoulders like the shedded clothes had taken the weight of his Kingdom with them.

Feyre watched appreciatively as Rhys stepped out of his trousers. He faced away from her to gather more comfortable clothes from the dresser, providing her an unobstructed view of his toned legs and backside as he leaned over.

Despite not being able to see his face, she knew he was doing it on purpose. It was obvious by the amusement that flooded the bond, and the satisfaction in his voice as he purred, a thought for a thought, mate?

Feyre lowered her shields so that he could see precisely what she was thinking about. How the muscles in his ass flexed with the way he straightened, how she might like to paint every curve of taut, golden skin he was displaying for her. I’m thinking that you’re a tease.

Rhys was smirking when he turned around. She held her breath as she stared at him, naked aside from clothes that he held loosely in his hands—hanging low enough from his grasp that the indecent parts were covered, which she was certain was part of his game. 

Feyre could still remember what it was like to love him without acknowledging it. The way her stomach would flutter when he would take his shirt off in the training ring, the way her heart stuttered with every stupid, irritating smile he reserved only for her. Back then, it had been the power of his body that was a marvel to her. The rippling stomach, the broad chest, the swirling tattoos. Now Feyre admired his more subtle features—the delicate collarbones, the angular slant of his hips, the hair that fell into his face as he stared down at her with open admiration.

  I’m thinking that I will love you until my bones are dust and all the light in this world has died.

So dramatic, Feyre said, knowing that through her lowered shields he could feel the way her heart swelled. She dug her fingers into the sheets to quell the temptation of calling him over. Any chance of having a productive conversation would be ruined the second he was between her thighs—she could feel her rationale already unravelling from just the sight of him naked. I’m thinking that I’m tired of plans that hinge on one of us dying.

As if he could sense that underlying need, Rhys stepped toward her. I’m learning that it’s okay to ask for help. Today was proof of it.

That, at least, was able to draw her attention away from his muscular thighs. What do you mean?

The Treaty we signed today… I don’t think it would have been possible if we didn’t ask Tamlin for his help.  The golden tether between them went taut as Rhys approached, like it was being pulled on either end, demanding him closer, urging them to touch. He paused at the foot of the bed, his eyes tracing admirably over her dress, the jewels around her neck… her crown. His expression softened, and he sounded reverent as he admitted, It’s something I never would have done on my own, but I've seen the way it paid off. His eyes were thoughtful as they met hers. If it had been me, Feyre, I would have tried to keep it all a secret. Maybe even from you. I would have tried to handle it by myself, and I likely would have failed.

A residual instinct wanted her to squirm against the praise, but she met his eyes levelly. Raised a cool brow. All this to say, I should forgive you for suggesting Miryam nullifies the Cauldron?

Forgive me? He echoed, tossing the clothes aside as he lowered himself to his knees. I wasn’t aware I was in need of forgiveness. Though I hope you might agree it’s okay to ask her. It’s okay not to take on everything by yourself.

Feyre sat up so she could hold his gaze, watching him carefully as he sank to the floor. Rhys stared up at her, his smile a soft, guilty thing as she said, Advice I hope you will heed as well, Rhysand.

Rhysand? He crooned, warm hands encircling her feet, unclasping the buckles of her shoes so he could rub apologetic circles into her skin. Clearly I do need to beg for forgiveness. How best will I receive it, mate? With my tongue, or with my cock?

If she craned her head, Feyre could see the large cock that was already stiffening from this position, and the promise of his words. Feyre felt that hot, desperate need spear through her at the same moment Rhysand’s eyes darkened with lust. Just like that, the Cauldron and all its perils slipped away. 

Feyre smiled, knowing he would enjoy the added wickedness of her dark painted lips.

You think just one will suffice?

Rhys grinned. He sounded nothing short of delighted as he purred, Cruel, beautiful creature.

Kiss me, she murmured, falling back into the bed. She wanted to feel his weight blanket her body, grounding her to the mattress until she could forget there was anything in this world apart from the two of them.

But Rhys stayed on his knees. Using the hands on her feet, he tugged her closer to the edge of the bed until her heels rested against his shoulders. Looking impossibly smug, Rhysand turned his head to place a soft kiss against her ankle.

You didn’t say where, he said, placing a second kiss further up, against her shin. It seems I’ll have to kiss every inch of you, to ensure accuracy.

Torturously slow, he traced his lips along her calf, and Feyre elicited a low whine, unable to wait any longer. I meant my lips.

It took no time at all for Rhysand to surge forward and duck his head beneath the gown she still wore so he could place a kiss against her clothed, hot center.

Rhys, she protested, earning a low, dark chuckle in response.

Have the fae taught you nothing about choosing your words carefully, Feyre darling? He hummed, clearly enjoying himself as he trailed his lips lazily over her lace. She could feel his tongue prodding her through the cloth and she bucked her hips in an attempt to discourage the teasing.

It only seemed to have the opposite effect. Rhys held her hips still as he ran his tongue upwards until he came to her clit. He sucked on it through the now wet fabric, purring, You asked for my tongue. I am only obeying my mate’s command.

I asked for your cock, too, she said, gasping as a flash of starkissed night tore through the lace, and suddenly there was no barrier between her sensitive skin and her mate’s hot, eager mouth.

Rhysand groaned as he licked her. I’ll give it to you, he rasped. As soon as you come for me.

Her whole body was on fire, kindled by his merciless tongue as he devoured her in long, sweeping strokes. Feyre could feel his ravaging hunger flooding down the bond, and she couldn’t breathe through the sharp desire that plummeted her body, leaving her panting for air. She ground her hips desperately in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure, until Rhys held her so tightly that he pressed half-moon indents into her skin. 

She moaned against that dull pain, marveling at the way her soul ached to be so close to him that it negated even the protests of her own body. Feyre found herself hoping that the depressions his fingers left could be permanent, so she could always be reminded of the way he touched her now. Like she was stardust in his hands. Like if he held her tightly enough, he could stop her from slipping through his grasp.

She found herself tugging against his silken hair to pull him closer, thinking that she knew exactly what it felt to hold her mate and feel him slip away. Thinking that if maybe she did the same, maybe if they both held just tightly enough, they could stop it from ever happening again. 

“Rhysand,” she whispered, feeling her awareness narrow to just that tongue between her thighs and the living thread between them that pulsed and thrummed with their combined pleasure. He was her tether, her truth, the only thing she knew with certainty. And when she shut her eyes and light exploded behind her vision, it was the stars in his eyes that she saw.

⟡⟡⟡

Rhysand and Cassian left for Cretea early the next morning. 

Azriel came to the door not long after, looking better rested despite the wind-swept hair that told her had just come from a significant flight. Maybe she wasn’t alone in feeling that fate was nipping at their heels. She wondered if, like Rhys, Azriel took to the skies for comfort.

It was hard to imagine him doing anything aimless. A stray shadow curled around his shoulders, whispering in his ear before vanishing like smoke. Feyre thought it was much more likely that he had been working. 

“Tell me what you can remember about Hybern’s castle,” he said.

So she detailed every inch she could remember. From the lower levels where the King had kept the Cauldron, to the the passage they had been marched up, and the throne room that still featured in some of her nightmares. If Miryam agreed to help, they might just be going back there. Horror bloomed in her gut at the thought, but Feyre assured herself that they would know the tricks this time. She could cleave the wards if Hybern tried to trap them. Assuming, of course, that neither she nor Miryam were killed in their attempt to nullify the Cauldron. 

Azriel took to the wind soon after, heading towards that very castle to monitor the guard patrol at that small back entrance they had used before. She reeled in his departure, still imagining the way her teeth rang as the Book and the Cauldron flowed through her. Would a second person be enough?

It was a stupid, reckless plan. She needed to know if it would work—if it would be worth risking Miryam’s life. And there were only a few people who might have the answers she needed. 

So she sought out Mor. 

Feyre found her lounging on one of the chairs on the rooftop, admiring the sunrise with a cup of tea braced in her hands. Feyre knew she’d been bothered by what they were going to ask Miryam, too.

“Come with me,” Feyre said, by way of greeting.

Mor sat up, eyeing the way Feyre was dressed. Illyrian leathers, clad with weapons, hair braided back. Her lips, blood red despite the early hour, tilted into a smile. She set the tea aside and slid gracefully into a stretch. “Where are we going?” 

“To the Prison,” Feyre answered, grinning conspiratorially. “I want to pay an old friend a visit.”

In response, Mor stretched out her hand and summoned her Seraphim blade. It glinted off the morning sun, streaking like lightning through the air as she gracefully slid it into the scabbard that had appeared at her back. “What are we waiting for?”

They took each other’s hand and were greeted to shadow and wind and, soon after, the gray and misty island that held Prythian’s most ancient and vile creatures. They frowned up at the slope of the mossy, rocky mountain from where they stood at its base.

It was colder here than in Velaris. Damper. Feyre could already feel it nipping at her cheeks, numbing her skin as it threatened to seep through her fur-lined leathers. Mor, in her ill-suited gown, hardly even blinked as the wind that came up from the sea rustled her loosely bound hair.

“Only one way to warm up,” she said with a heedless shrug, already stalking up the mountainside. Each of their footsteps was swallowed by wet moss as they climbed, and Feyre’s thighs began to burn despite her regular training. Even Mor’s breath quickened as she hauled her body over the harsh rock.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re here?” She asked, extending a hand down to Feyre. Despite her size, Mor pulled her up as easily as Cassian would have, her smile never wavering.

“We’re visiting the Bone Carver.” Feyre cast a sidelong glance towards her friend, who had only raised a curious brow. “He helped us fight in the war, and I intend to ask him again.”

“That’s not all you’ve come here for,” she said, an observation posed as a question.

“No,” Feyre answered. “I have some questions for him.”

Mor eyed the jagged rocks surrounding them as though she suspected they were listening in, before saying quietly, “I can hardly believe it. The Bone Carver fighting for us. There are many fascinating things about your tales, Feyre, but that is one of the most extraordinary.”

Feyre’s step faltered. Mor quickly grabbed her wrist as Feyre’s foot scuffed over loose stone and nearly sent her tumbling off the jagged cliff face. 

“Careful,” Mor said lightly. “Rhys would have my head if I had to tell him you were lost at sea on our secret mission.”

Feyre steadied herself, but the balance that returned was purely physical. She felt suddenly that, since they returned from Dawn Court, all she had spoken about was about the previous timeline. The information was necessary to draw from for their advantage in the war, but after signing that Treaty…

She wanted to focus on the stories that were being told in this timeline. The story she and Mor were writing as they approached the massive bone gates at the top of the slope.

“Hey, Mor?”

“Yes?” The blonde murmured, bouncing on her toes like she was preparing to run sprints.

Feyre offered her a wild grin as she extended her hand. “Let’s make this tale extraordinary, too.”

Hands clasped together, they each drew their blades and stepped into the dark entrance to the Prison. The air swelled around them in a heavy current, growing thicker the farther they descended into the dark. It was not damp like it was on the rest of the island. The way it pressed and clung to their skin was more stale, more foreboding. More like stealing the breath from the open mouth of a skull. 

Mor’s grip on her hand prevented any blood flow to either of their fingers, and it only grew tighter with every crunch of their steps against the dry ground. Mor knew exactly the monsters that were kept behind the hidden doors. They weren't visible to their eyes, but Feyre could still feel them lurching behind the black rock, scratching at the walls.

But Feyre had only ever met one of the monsters contained here, and she felt none of that ancient fear as they came to a large, carved-ivory door that swung open the moment Feyre laid her palm against it.

For a moment, there was nothing save for the darkness of the cell. And then, as they walked farther into the blackness, a flash of piercing blue eyes. 

Mor stiffened, and Feyre wondered briefly who she saw while Feyre stared at the face of her mate, younger and softer and with some of her own features blended in. That was her father’s mouth curling into a smile.

Feyre suddenly felt like weeping at the reminder of what was at stake. Their son. Giving him a peaceful world, and a home with both his mother and father to care for him. Her heart cracked as she imagined Rhysand, cradling their babe in his arms.

“I was wondering when you would come to say hello,” the Bone Carver said, inclining his head in greeting. He was grinning like he knew precisely the pain his image was inflicting. “High Lady. What a marvel, the things you have accomplished since we spoke last.” He cocked his head, blue eyes flashing as he looked to the hand that clutched her blade, and then to the one that held Mor’s. “No gift?”

Feyre released Mor’s hand to reach into her jacket, and the clatter of bone against the smooth floor was his answer.

“From a Hybern soldier in the Battle of Winter,” she said.

Those lovely blue eyes were sparkling with unholy delight, the kind she hoped she would never see on her true child’s face.

“You have been changing things,” he purred, leaning down to pick up the smooth bone, turning it over in his small hands with morbid fascination. “You gave the mirror to my sister.”

Feyre wasn’t surprised that he knew. “You didn’t want it.”

“No,” he agreed, stroking the bone in his palm. He said simply, “You are not here to ask me to join you in the war.”

“Will you?” Feyre asked. 

His eyes glittered. “I was there.” He broke his concentration on the bone to look at Feyre. “The place that you spoke of after death. I did not want to come back.”

She could recall him asking about it, that very first time Rhys had taken her here, how curious he had been about what waited beyond, what it felt like. A God of Death, after so many years, finally having a taste of it. Finally escaping the older brother he feared.

“I will join,” he said absently, as though it were all very inconsequential to him. “But do not use the Cauldron to bring me back this time.”

“If it was nullified,” Feyre ventured, “no one would ever have the power to bring you back.”

The wicked smile stretched, amused as he sensed exactly what answer she was after. “I have already told you how to nullify the Cauldron. It is not my fault you were not paying attention.”

“The price is too steep.”

“Then we will play this game again and again,” he said irreverently. “The Battle of Adriatta. The Battle of Winter. Perhaps I will collect a bone from each of the Courts. Each of the realities you create. How many times would it take, before you surrendered to the Mother’s original intention?”

“I didn’t know you believed in the Mother.”

“I would be foolish not to, considering it was her Cauldron that dragged me back.” He studied her face with none of the sentience of a child. “What did it feel like, when it put you back in your mortal body?”

And so the game began. “An answer for an answer,” she demanded. 

The Bone Carver only grinned and nodded his agreement. She could still recall the way her soul had felt raw, the way the world had chafed at her grief, light and sound simply too much to bear. “One second I was on the battlefield, and the next it was as though it had never happened. Like waking up from a dream.”

The Carver tilted his head thoughtfully, and she briefly wondered what it had felt like for him to return to his body. But she wasn’t here for those kinds of answers. “Is it possible to survive nullifying the Cauldron?” 

“It would depend on your method,” he said. Before she could snap at him for a half answer, he added, “The Cauldron cannot be leashed without a cost, but perhaps it is one that could be split, if there were enough Made fae to endure the spell.”

“Would two people be enough?” She pressed, despite owing him a question.

The Bone Carver did not seem to mind. “Two… perhaps three.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. “We only have two.”

The Bone Carver didn’t look convinced. “Perhaps if your sisters—”

“My sisters are human,” Feyre protested, rage simmering in her blood at just the suggestion. Those haunting images flickered, unbidden, behind her eyes. The pain and anger and horror on Nesta’s expression, bound and gagged as their sister was forced into the Cauldron. The way Elain had trembled on that cold floor—how she hardly spoke for weeks afterwards. Mor placed a steadying hand at the small of Feyre’s back as she spat, “And they will stay that way.”

She was not certain who the threat was aimed at—the Carver, Hybern, perhaps even the Mother. But the indifference on her son’s face told her that threats would hold little weight against the forces of this world. And that terrified her more than anything else.

Fate wasn’t just nipping at her heels any longer. It was curling up her legs, cording tightly around her chest so it could pull tauntingly at the strings of her heart. The ones that tied her to Rhys, to her sisters, to the Inner Circle. All at once she understood what it felt like to be Rhysand standing in that foyer, juggling between High Lady and sister, sister and mate. If one of the strings needed to be cut, who would she choose? How would she choose?

“There are too many things you are trying to achieve,” the Bone Carver cautioned. For once, there was no trace of humor or mockery. He was frowning at her chest like he, too, could see the way she struggled against the invisible force, the way it cut her so deeply that her blood should have trickled to the floor. 

But the ground was unstained. 

He said, almost softly, “You will find there is something that needs to give.”

Taglist: @arrowmusings@achernarlight@rhysandswingspan@imsecretlyaherondale-blog@loverofdemoncorns@swankii-art-teacher@reddidh@thebonecarver@xo-fangirl-xo@daydreamer-anst@hinnyforlife@thegloweringcastle@darling-archeron@cretaceous-therapod

#A Court of Faded Dreams #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhys #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction

[artbychromo]

oof, this took a while. 

I’m not so good at comics but I was high-key inspired by @cerasi-nalamine‘s fic, “Make My Body Say” which I could go on and on about. My favorite thing about the fic, though, is how much subtlety gets packed into Monoma and Shinsou’s communication, like in their first conversation that I tried to draw here.

#monoma neito #shinsou hitoshi #shinmono #monoshin #bnha #fic art #also i know you published the fic months ago so!! sorry this is so late #i'm always late to party when it comes to fandoms #but gosh this was such a good fic #like also the pacing was amazing bc in a oneshot you go from #first meeting to happy ending and all of it flows so seamlessly #ALSO #the careful consideration of the real world use and possibilities of their quirks was wonderful #And!!! just!!! I was starting to fall for the ship before i read the fic #but this story just cemented the dynamic and gave me so many headcanons and it's just #the most perfect thing a rare pair shipper could ask for #so #yeah

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fic #black widow #mcu #mcu fic #black widow movie #erin takes requests #bianca my love #erin writes

[hyungieyoongi]

Found: “Run Away to You” Part 1

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff + Angst 

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You 

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

// Part 2

---

Looking at the calendar on your wall, the date glared back at you, red marker encircling the number as if you could forget it.

One year. It had been one whole year since you ran away from your old life.

Happy anniversary to me, you thought bitterly.

It hadn’t been easy–no, it had been tactful, strategic. Your best friend-turned-publicist, Marianne, had programmed your social media accounts to simultaneously deactivate. The phone you used for “celebrity” contacts and business-related matters was permanently turned off, stashed away in the back of a drawer. You had already moved all your belongings to a new apartment on the other side of the city, address undisclosed to everyone except Marianne and your parents on the other side of the world. Everything had been in place for you to completely disappear.

You were instructed to lay low for at least one entire month, groceries delivered to your door under a fake name with Marianne’s credit card. You had cut your hair, once long and flowing, to your collarbone. It was often hidden under a baseball hat when you went to your favorite café for a coffee or took your elderly neighbor’s dog for walks around the park. You were completely off the radar, just as intended.

That didn’t stop the world from trying to track you down for a while. Fan blogs speculated where you could have gone, and tabloids splashed old pictures of you on their covers with speculative headlines. Your parents even had to install a state-of-the-art security system in your hometown in the States after a magazine found out where you grew up and tried to break into their backyard. But you weren’t naïve enough to go back home; that was the first place people would expect you to go. Instead, you were hidden in plain sight in Seoul, just sans the flashes of the cameras following you. Without the designer clothes or big sunglasses hiding your features, you looked just like anyone else. Undetectable.  

You had grown up in America, studying acting and Korean during your time at university with Marianne. Upon graduation, you landed a major role in a K-drama, uprooting your entire life to move to Seoul. For five years, you lived in the spotlight under the industry’s microscope. People said you were living the dream, but it started to feel more like a nightmare. It became overwhelming, suffocating.

When the show wrapped after three seasons, you knew it was time. You decided to run. You just wish you didn’t have to hurt anyone else in the process. Especially him.

You had instructed Marianne to give him a letter explaining why you had to go away, but she never heard back from him.

Let me go, Yoongi. Don’t look for me. This is for the best. I will always care about you. – Y/N

The words were emblazoned in your memory, your eyes tearing up at the thought of him reading the words you wrote to him.

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.  

Your cell phone rang, distracting you from the memories that plagued your thoughts today.

“Good afternoon, dearie!” Marianne chirped on the other end of the phone. “It’s a big day for you. The first half of your manuscript came back from the publisher, so get excited to do some editing!” Hiding away from the world for a year gave you a lot of time to think. For you, that meant time to write. Marianne seamlessly transitioned from being your publicist for your acting career to managing your budding career as an author, even helping you pick out a pseudonym.  

“That’s great news,” you mumbled in reply, taking a long sip of your coffee, the bitterness blooming on your tongue.

“Are you alright? You sound, I don’t know, a little off,” Marianne questioned, concern lacing her normally peppy tone.

“It’s been one year, Marianne,” you replied, knowing she’d understand.

“Oh my,” Marianne said after a beat of silence. “It completely slipped my mind. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright just a little…weird, I guess? I’m so relieved to have my own life again. But I’m also just kind of mourning my old life today.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Do you want me to come over after work–we can order takeout and watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” Marianne offered.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m just going to spend the day doing some self-care. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss the manuscript timeline, right?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be at the café at 11:00 a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay today?” Marianne asked, clearly not convinced that you were telling the truth about being alright.

“I’ll call you if I need you, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Night or day, Y/N, you know I’m here.”

After you both said your goodbyes and ended the call, you started to feel restless, needing something to take your mind off the date and the competing emotions swirling in your brain. You decided fresh air and comfort food were the solution.  

Grabbing your keys off the table by the front door, you slipped on your shoes, heading for the local corner store in your neighborhood, mindlessly forgetting your hat on the hook on the wall.

---

Mask pulled over the lower half of his face to conceal his appearance, Yoongi slipped into a nearby corner store, saving himself from the prying eyes that seemed to be examining him a little too closely from across the street.

He had snuck out of the studio without security, wanting to just take a moment to breathe all to himself. He had driven around Seoul with no destination in mind, eventually stopping in a neighborhood he found with a quiet park for a walk. His thoughts betrayed him as they kept going back to you and the letter he received one year ago, now crumpled in the top righthand drawer of his desk. He didn’t need to pull it out today to remember exactly what it said.

Let me go.

Once he read those words, he had stopped reading, smashing the paper together between his fists in frustration, shoving it in the drawer. It had stayed unopened since last year.

Yoongi aimlessly wandered through the aisles of the store, his mind continuously returning to that drawer. He had worked so hard to stop thinking about it–about you–over the past year. Today was a harsh reminder that you were still on his mind. He had stopped calling a long time ago, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up or return his calls. Sometimes though, if he had a little too much to drink with the boys, he’d call your number just to hear your voice on the voicemail recording. He didn’t tell anyone about those late-night calls.

Rounding the aisle corner, he collided with someone, knocking the snacks they had bundled in their arms to the ground. They immediately knelt down, trying to collect them.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” Yoongi offered, starting to lean over.

“Oh, no that’s okay I’ve got it.” Yoongi froze, his body going rigid. That voice. Your voice. He hadn’t heard it in-person in over a year. The sweetness of it rang through his ears, reminiscent of the voicemail he knew by heart.

It was you. After all this time.

---

Standing up with your snacks back safely in your grasp, you looked at the man in front of you who seemed to be barely breathing.

You were about to ask if he was alright, but then you recognized it. The black hat–the one with two rings on the edge that he would often wear when he went out. His mask had slipped below his nose, his pale cheeks slightly squished under the pressure of the fabric. Black hair poked out from underneath the hat, falling onto his forehead and into his dark brown eyes. They were wide with shock.  

You felt the color rush from your face, hands beginning to shake because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were safe. Safe in your self-made bubble away from the world.

Until he found you. And it burst.

You contemplated turning around, pretending you hadn’t recognized him. Leave him again. But you knew that wasn’t an option now. You had to face the thing you were most scared of–him.

“Yoongi, I-” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Your hair,” Yoongi remarked, cutting you off, tone flat and quiet. “You cut your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “Just...wanted a change, I guess.”

Hide. You wanted to hide.

“You seem to have gone through a lot of changes,” Yoongi said, bitterness seeping into his voice.

You winced at the implication of his words. You took a deep breath to try and collect yourself before replying.

“Can we...can we not do this here?”

“Fine.”

“I live around the corner. Maybe we could just...talk?” you asked, averting your eyes to the ground. When you didn’t hear a reply, you looked back up to Yoongi, who nodded at you once in agreement.

Abandoning your would-be purchases, you walked out the front door of the store, Yoongi silently following behind you. You felt his eyes burning into your back.

Just put one foot in front of the other, you thought to yourself.

As you and Yoongi silently walked to your apartment, neither of you noticed the camera pointed at the two of you, snapping the photo that would change everything.

// Part 2

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles​ @agustd-2020​ @delacyrose224​ @crispychanniee​ @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️ 

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #run away to you fic #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga #suga x reader #sugar x y/n #bts au fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

[lululawrence]

Polyamory Fic Rec

I thought I’d made one already, but apparently I hadn’t. So, since @twopoppies had an anon looking for more, I figured I’d go ahead and make a rec list now. This is not exhaustive, but it’s a start! 

Please remember to leave the authors kudos and nice comments to show appreciation for their work.

I Should've Known by @nikogda (Liam/Louis/Harry, 11k)

It started out with little things here and there. A light that needed replacing. The belt in the vacuum. Small things, and eventually they took advantage of it.

Louis decided they needed another, larger repair whilst talking with his alpha neighbour, Liam. Liam had said he would do it for Louis and his partner, Harry.

And, well, it sort of went a little off track from there. What was an innocent thing at first, was now the two omegas’ way of catching the sweet deep scent of their alpha neighbour one whom they both mutually crushed.

Or: the one where alpha Liam moves in next door to bonded omegas Louis and Harry. All three go on their own journeys but in the end find that maybe, in the end, it really was always each other.

And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic​ (Zayn/Liam/Harry/Louis, 23k)

“Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch.

“Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

That Don't Define Who You Are by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 7k)

“Shit,” Harry muttered, rushing towards the man. “Are you alright?”

The man clearly tried to muffle his scream. “No, I’m really not. I’m afraid you’ll need to call 999.”

When Harry reached the man, he saw the man’s leg had gotten caught by pieces of the bike that had come apart beneath him. Without thinking, Harry leaned down and lapped where the blood was flowing quickly until it slowed.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to pass out whilst I was on the phone.”

“God, no, don’t apologise,” the man said. “My mum’s a licking omega, see. Quite soothing.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Let me see about an ambulance for you.”

Or the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

Its Mutual We (All) Discussed It by @nikogda (Zayn/Harry/Louis, 29k)

“Well you go to the agency, Alpha Donor Services and fill some forms out, whoever is doing the deed gets tested and such. And then they match you based on the papers with a few Alphas. You read the information on them and pick a few, they make sure they’re still willing and tell them about you. Eventually you guys will meet in public, do that a few times until you’re comfortable.” Niall scratched his arm lightly, and glances over at Harry, “The point of the service is to help a family, mostly an omega one, who can’t have children of their own. An Alpha will help an Omega get pregnant.”

“I feel like this is a lot.” Harry mumbles, setting his mug down.

“It is. Or well it was but it was worth it, H. I mean, I would do this again. We already talked about it.”

“Really?”

Or: Two omegas in a committed relationship are ready to start a family. In the process, their alpha donor becomes part of the family too. Every part of their relationship may be unconventional but all of them have never been happier

old haunts are for forgotten ghosts by fortymaliks (Nick/Harry/Louis, 8k)

“It’s the three of us, now,” Harry says, finally.

Louis blinks.

“Like,” Harry rushes to clarify, “you, and me, and Nick.”

Louis wakes up with amnesia, and learns that he's missing two whole years of his life. Two whole years, and some interesting developments...

Orion's Belt by @londonfoginacup (Nick/Harry/Louis, 24k)

Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo.

All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark.

As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

You're a Rabbit, Louis Series by @magicalrocketships (Nick/Harry/Louis, 16k)

"Maybe Louis turned into a rabbit," Nick suggests. They both laugh. Louis doesn't. Harry is an idiot and Nick is an even bigger one.

Louis stomps past both of them on four tiny, furry, baby rabbit paws, and into Nick's flat. "I hate you both," he says. He sits on the rug by the TV. "And you can stop following me around too," he says to Pig, who sits down next to him on the rug.

"But seriously," Harry says, from the door. "Where's Louis?"

Louis thumps his back leg on the floor. "I'm here, you idiot."

"I'm not really suggesting this could be true," Nick says carefully, "but are we sure he isn't a tiny baby rabbit?"

The "A" in "Normal" by Yesitstyles (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

Louis eats chips, argues with his best friend Nick about the validity of various sexualities, and falls for a second crush. Harry tries to spell the word "normal".

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 11k)

Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly.

It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick.

Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Come Out and Play by @dinosaursmate (Combination of OT5 pairings, 30k)

“I have this… fantasy.” Louis smiled self-consciously. “Well, I- I’ve been thinking about it recently, you know?”

Harry smiled softly. “Say it, Lou.”

“I have this fantasy,” he repeated. “Of… all five of us.”

“All five of us,” Harry exclaimed. “Gosh.”

Louis buried his face into Harry’s armpit, and Harry giggled softly. --- Harry and Louis discover a new kink in their relationship, and it brings all the boys closer than they could have ever imagined.

Trinity's Fate by Anonymous (Nick/Harry/Louis, 43k)

When a person is sixteen years old, he or she finds out if they are a dom or a sub. Later when they turn eighteen, the name of their soulmate(s) appear somewhere on their body.

Louis Tomlinson, a sub, fears getting a dom more than anything.

When his eighteenth birthday approaches and the names Nicholas Grimshaw and Harry Styles, a well known dom couple who are DJs for BBC Radio 1, appear on his arms, Louis panics.

Let me be your good night by Conscious_ramblings (Nick/Greg/Harry/Louis, 8k)

The one where Harry and Louis are in love, they end up at a party with some friends, and end up discovering things about themselves, and their friends that could change everything.

The thing was, Harry and Louis weren’t poly. They’d never even played with others together, despite having talked about it quite a lot in the heat of arousal. When they had been at torture garden and antichrist they had flirted with the idea. Harry had even kissed a friend of theirs once to rile Louis up, which had lead to a great session on the Saint Andrew’s cross. Louis loved to watch Harry flirt, loved the way jealousy turned him on and riled him up, loved how pliant and submissive Harry could be when Louis claimed him after. But they definitely weren’t poly, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what that meant for this evening. Everyone else attending the party was, and Louis’ green-eyed-monster had been feeding off that fact for most of the bus ride here. Now he was confronted by a really hot man playing with his boyfriend’s hair like it was no big deal, and he didn’t know quite what to do.

Perfect Sky by @polkadotlou (Nick/Harry/Louis, 40k)

Sub pairs are a rare thing, not only because of the jealousy that can brew between submissives if a Dom isn't attentive to each.

A sub pair has to be balanced.

Harry and Louis have always fit each other without trying. With them, it's easy.

But sub pairs can't just go out in the world and live on their own.

Alternatively, Louis always knew that a Dom was going to come into his and Harry’s lives – he only wishes Nick picked him too.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf (Nick/Elgar/Louis, 73k)

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

it hurts, but it's worth it by words_unravel (Liam/Harry/Louis, 14k)

Liam finds the shots of the three of them, rolling around and laughing, a week or so later during a late night. After a moment's pause, she saves one of the photos, giving it some inane, boring name. She shuts down her computer after that and goes to bed.

It takes a long time before she falls asleep.

#mine #poly fic rec #my fic rec #fic rec #i love poly fics so much #i thought i had made one of these already???? #i was surprised to find i hadn't #so anyway #this is a good start

[wintersongstress]

What Remains of a Butterfly

Summary: A glimpse into the after; of where you and Arthur find yourselves after the fall of the Van der Linde gang.  

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Tags: fluff, mild mentions of smut

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: a gift for the lovely and kind-hearted @actuallyhansolo​, though this piece was inspired by a prompt I received in my inbox ages ago. I hope you enjoy ♥ Also a big thank you to @the-halo-of-my-memory​ for being the best beta I could ask for :)

1905 — Gallatin, Montana; 

“Try not to squeeze ‘er with your heels, else the horse’ll canter. You wanna grip her sides with your legs,” calls out Arthur from across the front pasture. A little neigh follows, carrying through the heavenly sigh of the breeze whistling down through the forests and into the valley you called home. Thistle and larkspur waver in its wake, flowing and flawing with streaks and splashes of color, and the hum of bumble bees fills the air. The only intrusion to the symphony of nature’s awakening is the occasional creak of dead wood as your seat on the front porch leans, forwards then backwards.

Overhead, a flock of warblers glide across the sky. Their song, a rising whistle, twittering and sweet, melds with the leathered yet honeyed tone of Arthur’s voice. A gentleness he reserved for one special person laces his rough timbre. Your eyes draw away from your knitting needles at the sound, and the sight that greets you warms your heart.

Your daughter Cora sits astride a chestnut pony, the straw hat covering her head askew. From beneath the floppy brim the early morning sunshine warms her cheeks, revealing the determined twist of her mouth as she heeds her father’s instruction. She hangs onto the reins and her hat, her neat braid bouncing as the horse trots in circles in the grass. Autumn’s hooves below her thud the earth softly, her cinnamon tail flicking and catching the gold of the sun all the while.

A long, satisfied breath fills your lungs. The windsong, calm as a seaside, lulls you into a deep state of bliss as you listen to the harmony it inspires in the surrounding land. Your porch chair rocks as you hum a thoughtful melody, stitching together the tight, blue row of a sock while taking in the splendors of the hour.

From a thousand places in the grass, little gems of dew wink back rainbows in the sunrays. Clouds drift seamlessly along the horizon like the verses of a poem, embellishing a sky flushed the color of a ripe peach. The sunlight has breached the distant snow-patched mountain peaks, its golden warmth lifting the mantle of fog settled deep in the green dark shadows of the valley. The wind rises forever and again, breathing life into the lungs of the cottonwood forest and stirring all that lay deep within wide awake. Woodpeckers flit amongst the treetops in their quest for insects, but all around far and near bird song prevails.

Comforted by the gift of your present, you tug free more yarn from the basket beside you. A hummingbird visits the columbines growing along the side of your homestead as you knit, gone in a flash of bronze. You pause at the boon of its appearance, but your eyes distractedly settle across the way.

Arthur leans on the paddock fence with his elbows propped up as he watches over Cora. A cup of coffee steams in his hand. He raises it and takes a sip, and you note with amusement that only three of his fingers fit through the handle. His fingernails are clean and square against the tin.

In all of your time together you never tired of the way the morning light poured over his tall frame. A heavenly gold illuminates the outlines of his arms and shoulders in his cotton white shirt. His sleeves, rolled humbly up to his elbows, display his tanned forearms, and a pair of dark suspenders divide his strong back handsomely. You never ceased to appreciate how lucky you were to have this view daily, and with each day, your love for Arthur and your family grew tenfold.

After a hearty breakfast of pancakes and eggs, Arthur took your daughter out to the horse pasture to learn how to ride—much at her own insistence and prodding. From a young age Cora shared his deep respect for horses and spent time with the ones you kept every day, grooming, feeding, and bonding with them. In the mornings you washed the dishes together, and afterwards, Cora bolted outside eager to start her lesson.

Today Arthur had lingered in the kitchen once the porch door slammed shut behind her and you were at once alone. The tick of the clock on the floral-papered wall was the only sound for a moment, until Arthur withdrew from the table.

You stood before the washing basin, drying a plate with a dish towel and adding it to a stack on the counter when he slipped his arms around you from behind and held you close. All of your quiet thoughts of the arriving day paused. Together, you breathed in. Your eyes closed. No words were needed between you to speak of the content that settled in your hearts then. He had only hummed a deep sound that passed through you, and began to gently sway you in a dance as you both basked warmly in the window. A jar of amber honey on the sill bloomed light, pouring gold like a waterfall. The birds sang—they always sang in this heavenly place—and you tilted your head back against his broad chest. You melted in his arms when his mouth pressed upon yours and it was a long, blind time before he pulled away.

When the kiss ended his forehead softened against your brow, him stealing a moment to remember you like this. He traced his thumb along the curve of your cheek, a sense of deep wonder speaking through his touch, and you sighed your assent.

In the beginning doubts plagued him. Years before when he knelt before you with a ring amidst a meadow of lupines, his hands held the slightest tremble until you took them into your own, guiding the pale stone down your finger and kissing away his uncertainties. He made promises to do right by you, and he kept every one of them.

In time, he came to believe in the second chance life had granted you both. It made it all the more fortuitous that your first child was a girl.

The embrace in the kitchen was one of beyond number. Arthur was a man of few words but many looks, so you understood his silent language of showing thankfulness. From the careful touch of his hands, moving as if to measure and memorize your importance to him, to the curve of his blooming half-smile, his expression voiced an ineffable gratitude and a disbelief that you shared this life together. His devotion never waned, but the encumbrance of the past did, the fetters that once hindered your steps toward freedom breaking when he built this homestead for you. They shattered forever when you first told him you were pregnant, standing on the porch in the twilight, his arms in their favorite place around you.

When the tingle of his kiss dissipated from your lips, your eyes had been slow to open at last.

“What was that one for?” You murmured in the space between you.

His soft, sage green gaze found yours, and the love in his eyes could not be misunderstood or undervalued. As always, your heart melted like the April snows at the warmth that look bloomed in your chest.

“Nothin’. Jus’…all you do is make me happy,” he confessed, following the gentle ways the angle of the sun fell upon your face.

“Oh you.”

With your heart strings plucked, you turned in the circle of his arms to embrace him. You nuzzled your nose along the endearing divot of his and let the softness of his smile melt against yours once more. The tannic scent of oak and pine and the musk of gun oil seeped into your senses, and you let yourself get carried away and intoxicated with his nearness and the rasp of his beard beneath your touch.

Cora’s prompting from outside tethered Arthur to his promise and he broke away from you with a sigh, although his warm hands slid down your hips longingly before departing.

“Real eager, that one is.”

“You better get to it,” you laughed and made to finish putting away the breakfast dishes. The other chores of the household could wait for an hour, you decided, as you made to rejoin them on the porch with your knitting.

Cats lazed about beside you presently, preening and stretching their legs before turning their watchful golden eyes to the high grasses in search of mice. One of them stalks up to Arthur at his post, weaving between his feet and brushing a white tail against his knee with affection. He reaches down and scratches its neck, the cat lifting itself on its feet to meet him halfway.

Doubtlessly he was smiling beneath his hat, as you were. You could only imagine what the sunlight must be doing to the color of his eyes as the sides crinkle with amusement.

Cora’s pony begins to straighten its gait and walks in a line, causing her to squeal with delight from her saddle.

“Daddy! I’m doing it! I’m doing it!”

“There you go! Keep holdin’ the reins, just like that. Lead ‘em to the left and right to steer.”

“Mama! Look!”

Your joy is instant.

“You’re doing wonderful!” You cheer. Cora giggles, her cheeks dimpling from her contagious glee. The bow laced at the end of her braid flutters like a butterfly’s wings as she rides through the pasture gracefully. The image of her with her gingham neckerchief around her throat, sitting proud in the saddle struck you with familiarity. She looked so natural, so at ease; so much like her father.

They mosey along at a steady pace and Arthur laughs under his breath. “Well, look at that. You’re a natural.”

He was always so patient and attentive with Cora, shushing her cries and soothing her when she was a baby, encouraging her every little step as she grew. Long ago you envisioned how great of a father he could be, despite his own uncertainty and the paucity of his self-worth. It took years for him to believe he deserved any of the happiness you found in each other, but he always wanted to protect it, never wanting to lose what mattered most to him.

Dutch abused the protective nature of Arthur’s heart, channeled it for his own gain and allocated it to his benefit. For years he strove to bring pride to his surrogate father, giving his all. But he knew. Arthur knew before it was too late when he was being used. You were the first to confess the hidden fondness you held for him, and it was the push he needed to start thinking for himself. Much as he tried to convince you of his own lowly opinion of himself, you persisted in your beliefs that he was a good man, deserving of happiness. Regardless of whether or not he found it with you.

Moments like this were the ones you wanted to capture and hold. Because reaching this place was worth every pain you endured, every mistake, and every misfortune if it meant it all led to this moment.

A breeze stirs the porch wind chimes. Their soft notes tinkle, joining the songbirds singing the joy of another sunrise. In the warm blanket of the wind the scent of alfalfa chases up your nose. You close your eyes against it, listening to the earth and the skies and the peals of Cora’s laughter. When it settles you open them again, finding Arthur’s gaze fastened to you from across the prairie. Caught, he smiles to himself bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck while his gaze dips to the slight swell of your belly and the pair of baby socks in your lap.

Warmth floods through you at the remembrance of that same smile earlier this morning, when the first blue light of day came and slipped through the gossamer curtains. Thoughts of Arthur’s mouth—soft and warm with sleep against your bare shoulder—tucks your lip behind your teeth and turns your gaze shy under his. But it lingered all the same.

The way he traced your skin with the lightest drag of his fingertips as you laid side by side in the early dawn light. How his touches led to languid kisses along your neck until he reached the spot that always made you sigh, your hands slipping along the lovely angles of his stubbled jaw to get lost in the soft, golden brown strands of his hair. How you let him lay you below him before he settled over you, the bedsheets catching on the small of his back. The roughness of his palms sliding along the delicate lace of your chemise, raising it all until it bunched around your shoulders. Parting your legs and lifting them around his hips, his calloused thumb drifting between—

“I think horsey is getting tired,” Cora announces, and Arthur snaps his attention back to her. You cross your legs and take a deep breath to compose yourself, returning your thoughts to the chaste exercise of knitting.

“Let’s give her a rest, then.”

Cora pulls up on the reins and Autumn yields.

Arthur dumps the remaining dregs of his coffee and leaves the cup on the fence, swinging his way through the paddock gate. In a few minutes he would be leaving for town, a star pinned to his vest and a promise to return before sundown. It made it all the more precious that he spent this time with her.

He lifts Cora off the saddle, his hands swallowing her tiny waist. She yelps with delight as he spins her around once, twice, exclaiming how proud he is and how fast she is growing up. Her braid and her skirts swing around her small frame until Arthur sets her down, squatting down to her level. With a mellow voice he speaks, encouraging her to thank the animal and explaining how important it is to show your horse you respect them. Cora nods. She reaches out and strokes Autumn’s neck, patting it alongside Arthur until she whickers and leans into the girl’s touch. With a grin, Arthur produces a crumbling oat cake from his satchel and Cora obediently holds out the treat. She laughs when a wet tongue tickles her hand.

They begin to lead the horse into the stable and Arthur squeezes her shoulders, telling her how well she did. Their words fade into the barn, indiscernible from where you sit, but your heart swells with contentment and a great rush of affection floods through you.

The gold band of your wedding ring rests coolly against your finger. You admire the smooth facets of the oval stone, the mounted sapphire twinkling in the light, thinking again of the first time you saw it and the pure happiness it brought as you trace its edges. Long ago and far away were the days of turmoil and gloom, for as dark as the past was is how bright your future together became. For you were safe at last, harbored in the arms of one another, thriving under the roof Arthur built where your family could grow. And it was all more than you could ever dream of.

A butterfly alights the roses growing along the trellis on the side of the house. Orange and black wings dance, flitting among unfolded dark pink petals and seeking the golden centers within. From one, to the next, to the next, the butterfly graces each bloom and delivers the promise of a sweeter future from its visit, leaving your world also a little better from its passage through it.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan/reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption imagine #arthur morgan imagine #arthur x reader #red dead redemption fic #rdr #rdr fic #arthur morgan fic #rdr drabble #arthur morgan #*my writing

[chansmuffin]

Golden Bridge | five

When your soulmate rejects you and you feel like your worlds ending, you meet someone who puts your pieces back together.

Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut - soulmate!au

Pairing: minhoxfem!reader, changbinxfem!reader

Word count: 2k

mlist, one, two, three, four, five

tag list: @tardis-world​, @yuchan-stole-my-heart​

“So, don’t kill me,” he said carefully as the two of you sat in your living room, instruments in hand. “I brought something not exactly sad.”

Your eyes turned to slits as you looked at him, “You know we only play sad.”

He used his bow to point at your nose, as he often did, “Yes, but I was thinking we should switch it up a little. Come on, what could it hurt?”

Could you play anything happy? Would you be able to even hit the notes? You were skeptical but for Minho, you were willing to try. After all, he played sad songs relentlessly with you for the past few weeks you had been jamming together.

“Okay,” you said, “but if I can’t do it, can I tap out?”

Furrowing his brows, he dropped his bow, “Of course. We can stop any time you’re uncomfortable.”

But you played the song. The notes flowing seamlessly from Oliver and you couldn’t help but smile. You hadn’t played something like this in what seemed like ages. Ah, it felt good. Minho was smiling at you the whole time and you saw it from your peripherals. He moved his cello to the beat, swaying it softly back and forth between his legs as the two of you played.

“It seems you aren’t the sad violin player I met, anymore,” he remarked.

You bit your lip sheepishly, “I guess I’m not.”

“It’s a good thing, Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m proud of you. You’ve overcome a lot.”

You sighed, “You don’t even know much about me.”

“I know you don’t want to let me in right now but one day you will and the thought of that makes me really proud of you. I know you’re getting there. Besides, I know enough,” he said.

You sat Oliver down on your lap, “You know enough for what?”

“To be your friend. To care about you.”

His words touched you, and you felt yourself smiling, “I don’t know much about you either,” you realized.

“I guess I’m still getting there too.”

“Does it...” you trailed off for a moment, trying to find your words, “Do you feel like we communicate with our music? I feel like... I know so much about you even if I know nothing, just from the way you play.”

His smile was bright, “Yes. I feel that too. I may not know the details of your life but I know your thoughts just from what you play. And I wager you’re pretty happy right now.”

“I am. For the first time in a long time. My life was really dark until we started to play together, Minho.”

He eagerly nodded, “I’m uncertain about so many things in my life but at least now I’m certain in one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Our friendship.”

Minho and you began to play together often - at least once a week. He was at your house normally during late nights and sometimes even during the day, when the two of you were able to schedule a day off together. As the weeks passed by, the two of you seemed to flow seamlessly together. You probably saw him every day as it was; if you weren’t at the coffee shop he was at the bookstore and it was becoming a beautiful friendship. A friendship you never thought you could have but a friendship that you now welcomed.

Everything was going smoothly. And you were finally starting to be happy. You woke up most mornings well rested. You woke up most mornings not feeling like you had your soul sucked out of you the night before. You weren't crying when you were playing anymore so you felt happy even if you were playing sad music most of the time. Although, Minho had pushed you to play more upbeat pieces of the past few weeks. And it was okay. The music was beautiful.

Somehow you still felt okay even if the hurt from Changbin and your mom still laid heavy on your heart. So you were doing better. That was until it all came crashing down. 

Minho and you were playing together, laughing and smiling as you played O Waly Waly in triple speed when a knock sounded at your door. You paused, brows furrowing as it was just past ten o’clock.

Minho looked at you with nervous eyes, “Should I get that for you?”

You shook your head, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You opened the door and immediately felt your eyes glaze over as you saw none other than Changbin standing on your front entry way. Immediately, you went to slamming your door but he stopped you hand pressing against the cold metal.

“What are you doing here?” you spat at him. 

His now bright gold eyes were heavy with regret. It hurt you to see them that way knowing your eyes would mirror his and you would be forced to see the after effects even after he was long gone.

“She left me,” he said simply. 

You glared at him, “What do you want me to do about it? You want me to pick up your broken pieces? Do you want me to tell you it's all gonna be okay? I'm not going to pick up your pieces, Changbin and it's not going to be okay. Do you know what you did to me?” You were flushed with anger from the neck up. You felt your blood boiling just from seeing his face. This, the man you were depressed over didn’t make your heart thump with excitement when you saw him but rather, it hammered with anger. You weren’t happy to see him. He broke your heart, threw the pieces on the ground and left you to deal with the aftermath. He was no friend. He was no true soulmate.

And you wanted him gone.

His face had fallen, “I told you we just needed some time apart - that this wasn't goodbye forever.”

“Well it was for me! I needed it to be goodbye forever because of how you left me, you tore me apart and threw me to the wolves, Changbin. I had just lost my mom you knew that I couldn't afford to lose you too. You knew that and still, you left.”

Y/N, I-” he started but you stopped him.

“I was just finally starting to pick everything back up. Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” he said honestly. “The night I walked away from you it felt like my whole world came crashing down.”

He felt like his world came crashing down? You scoffed. It was your world that was crushed. He selfishly chose to leave you.

“Then you should've came back sooner,” you all but growled. Then you felt a presence behind you and Minho reached out to touch your shoulder. In an instant, Changbin’s eyes glazed over your shoulder and you knew all he could see was a hand as you had the door blocking most of the inside of your house.

“Y/N, what's going on?” Minho asked with a tinge of concern hidden in his voice. Your eyes flicked back to him and you tried to assure him that you were okay.

 “I'll be there in a minute, Minho,” you said softly, placing a hand over his for a moment. But when he saw your eyes you could see his eyes flash with shock. You could see him have an internal debate when finally he slipped his hand off your shoulder and he made no effort to leave your side. You nodded to him, knowing you had no energy to fight him off.

“Who's this?” Changbin asked with a tone.

“A friend,” you responded with venom as his tone made you immediately defensive, “Can I not have a friend?”

“You can have a friend,” he said in a standoffish way, “I was just asking who he was.”

“You know, Changbin, it's not your damn business who he is. If you don't recall you left me.”

“Y/N, I think we should talk this out. I think we can make things work,” he said firmly.

“I’m curious, what do you want to make work? Our friendship or being romantically involved? What do you want from me? Some girl you think you’re in love with leaves you and you decide suddenly you want to make things work?” 

“I don't know what I want...I just know that I need you in my life. I've been devastated without you, Y/N,” he said softly.

“Well you should have thought about that along time ago!”

Minho’s hand snaked back up and squeezed your shoulder before pushing the door open and stepping beside you. You watched as he looked deep into Changbin’s eyes before looking him up and down, “I think it's time for you to leave,” he said firmly.

Changbin in turn looks Minho up and down glaring at the other boy, “Do you know who I am?”

 At the question, you glared at him but Minho just smiled, “I know who you are. I'm not stupid but you are if you think that you have some sort of chance here. She told you to go so what more do you want from her?”

“It has nothing to do with you, don't involve yourself in others business. She's my soulmate.”

“What does that matter?” Minho asked, “I've been around her every day and she doesn't mention you - in fact I haven't seen her eyes gold in all the months I've known her. This is clearly a case of an abandoned soulmate. How can you act all high and mighty as if she matters to you now?”

“You need to step off, man,” Changbin warned.

“No, I think you need to step off, man.” 

You stand strongly between the two of them, flicking your eyes back to Minho and thanking him silently. He was standing up for you even if he didn’t know what battle you were currently fighting. It had been a long time since you had someone stand up for you other than Changbin and you weren't sure if anybody ever had besides him. You barely stood up to Changbin yourself so you were thankful to have this backing from your new friend.

“I think you need to go, Changbin, we have no business here,” you said with all the courage you could muster.

“Y/N, we're soulmates, you can't just leave me out to dry like this.”

“I know we're soulmates.If anyone knows that it’s me. But you left me, remember? This was your choice. There's no going back Changbin. I don't want you in my life and you're hurting me more than what good you're doing me.”

“We can't even be friends?” he asked.

You looked at him carefully breathing out your nose, “Not right now. I'm in the process of healing and I can't heal with you by my side. Maybe later. Maybe after I’m better. Maybe. But I need space. I need time. I don't think we will ever be the same. Not after you left me for somebody and claimed we couldn't be friends because of her. You couldn't be friends with me before how could we possibly be friends now? You need to let it go, Changbin, soulmates aren’t all there is in this world and thanks to you, I learned that.” 

“We have a bond, Y/N, we always have. I’m sorry it took me something like this to realize that I need you. I need you,” he said desperately, “Please. Hold on to us.”

You shook your head, “I need space.”

Minho looked at him harshly, “You can leave now.”

Changbin gritted his teeth, “You can only protect her for so long. She will come back to me.”

“Not like this, Changbin,” you reminded. “Maybe we can be friends but for now, again, this is goodbye. I’ll reach out to you if things change. Please don’t come back.”

He shrugged, “You’ve missed me this whole time. I know you have. That’s why you’re putting up a fight. I know everything about you. You’ll come back.”

Minho started to push the door closed, “Don’t think you know her anymore,” he spat and then before Changbin could stop him, he slammed the door and locked it.

“That’s him, huh?” Minho asked quietly, “The reason you’re so broken?”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s him. Unfortunately, fate messed up on my soulmate.”

#skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know series #lee know angst #lee know fluff #lee minho fanfic #lee minho series #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #minho fanfic #minho angst #minho series #changbin angst #changbin series

[maadorii]

Hinata with a Hispanic s/o pt.2

max.note’s: so the first one did really well so i made a continuation!  NOTE: you don’t have to read part one, but it’s recommended and translations available at the end!!

warnings/tags: mentions of drinking

Pt. 1

       - the first time he meets your family, it was one of your little cousin’s birthday party. hinata didn’t think much of it, thinking it’ll be just you, and a couple of your immediate relatives. when y’all pulled up to the house... let’s just say, the house was over flowing with your family. like, why the fuck were they’re so many people? almost had a nervous break down in the car. “(y/n)! there’s so many people here––! jesus christ how big is your family?? there’s gotta be... ten, fifteen... twenty–– ahhh theres too many to count!”

 - you sometimes forget that hinata doesn’t have that big of family of his own, it’s only himself, his mom and sister. you offered to just skip the party and go home (granted, hotel since you moved to japan permanently to live with hinata after high school), but he said it was okay. literally, the moment you both walked through the front door, you were bombarded by all the tias and abuelitas (1), news spread pretty fast in the family that you had a boyfriend... cause some people don’t know how to keep their mouth shut. 

- your mother would not stop gushing over hinata, pinching his cheeks till they were red and hurt to the touch. or just simply fawning over him in general. “¡ay (y/n), él es muy lindo! ¿dónde le encontraste?”  (2) she’ll ask, much to your own embarrassment. 

- after spending the next hour introducing every aunt, uncle, cousin, etc., you managed to pull hinata to the kitchen to eat, which was very happy about. he literally inhales every plate of food you put in front of him, a seamlessly never ending worm hole. 

- funny enough, hinata finally begins to warm up to everyone at the party, participating in conversations with the men (and in spanish because he’s been practicing) or playing games with the little kids. you even managed teach him how to dance bachata when the playlist suddenly switches up. he was a little stiff at first, but eventually, he got the hand of it. personally, i think hinata would love bachata and dancing to it because of the intimacy of it. he just wants to be close to you and he’ll twirl you around (AND ON BEAT by the way) with the cutest smile on his face–– oh my god i need to stop, my inner simp is showing

- you don’t leave till 4am, with a slightly drunk hinata hanging off your shoulders slurring the lyrics to “la canción.” (3) hinata hiccuped, giggling afterwords, his body swaying left to right next to yours. “this is the first, and last time i’m letting you drink with my uncles.” 

- okay, moving on to more general headcanons––

- because hinata spent a lot of time learning spanish, you can’t hide certain conversations anymore like how you used to in the beginning the relationship. we all know he has a brain like a sponge.

- speaking of languages, if y’all ever decide to have kids, them being able to speak both of their native tongues is necessary. and not only just being able to speak both languages, but hinata will ingrain both of y’all’s cultures into your kids too. he believes it’s important that they know where they came from and be proud to be able to embrace both uwu 

- he loves pan dulce (4), specifically conchas (5). especially the chocolate flavored ones. (oh my god, conchas are so difficult to make... trust me, it took me forever to make them T^T)

- he’ll learn how to make your country’s dishes!! you’re working late tonight, you come home and you see a steaming plate of arroz con pollo (6) sitting on the table. 

- hinata is the life of party once he settles into the family, he becomes the “favorite tio (7)” to all the kids in the family, which makes all the other uncles lowkey kind of jealous of him (i mean... he do energetic as hell so it makes sense.) 

- the quinceañeras (8) ?lord have mercy... he eats half of the damn food AND he will not leave the dance floor, you literally have to drag him out of the damn ballroom. he goes all out for the occasion and you can not tell me otherwise. but you find it endearing in a way. 

- you still refer to him as your gordito (9), because... yes

(1) aunts and grandmas (endearingly) 

(2) oh (y/n), he is very cute! where did you find him?

(3) the song, song by j blavin + bad bunny

(4) sweet bread 

(5) sweet bread roll, meaning “shell” 

(6) rice with chicken

(7) uncle

(8) “sweet fifteen,” party celebrating girls transitioning to womanhood

(9) chubby one or little fatty (endearingly)

copyright © 2020 maadorii. all rights reserved.

#haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x poc reader #hq headcanons #hinata shouyou #hinata headcanons #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x gn reader #haikyuu x hispanic reader #hinata x gender neutral reader #hinata x y/n #poc reader #hispanic reader #xreader #jas.✍🏼

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song, chapter one

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) (reposting with cover!)

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea.

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.” It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“…That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me—and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!”

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors.

“Your Highness! A moment.”

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths.

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own.

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.”

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.”

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence.

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra.

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause.

“What, all over?”

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice.

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.”

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else.

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?”

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.”

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.”

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.”

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!”

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.”

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.”

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did.

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron.

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you… Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?”

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome.

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora.

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word.

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked.

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.”

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped.

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.”

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her.

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon.

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while—

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.”

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!”

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

“One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath.

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!”

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day.

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not.

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.

#i made a cover for the 2nd chapter and decided to do one forall of them #will post new chap tomoro #korrasami #korrasami fanfiction #legend of korra #** #asfos

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Breathe - Chapter Three

After the biggest meeting of her career, Y/N went for a drink and met him. Dean Winchester, the handsome bartender at The Shop, who managed to say all of the right things to soften her hard shell. Was it possible that Y/N was wrong all of this time? Had she spent the better part of 2 decades focusing on her career when there was one man in a city of 18 million that could make her feel more alive than any job ever could? Will she be able to slow down long enough to let herself fall in love with a man that was never a part of the plan? After years of holding her breath, will she finally let herself breathe again?

This story is written for my beautiful and talented friend and beta @dean-winchesters-bacon, thanks for always inspiring me and supporting my whims. Love you always.

Banner by the talented @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three

Her

Y/N woke up groggy with a pressure on the inside of her skull threatening to crack her head open and spill everything out. Her temples throbbed insistently and a wave of nausea hit her as soon as she opened her eyes. The gloomy, dark skies hid the sun from bleeding in through the open curtains, but it still felt too bright for her hangover. Everything felt slow and sluggish, like she was trying to walk under water. 

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and a streak of mascara darkened her skin. She rarely forgot to take off her makeup, and she knew her skin would punish her for it later. She yawned and squinted at the window. She didn’t usually leave her black out curtains up… in fact, she never opened them. 

There are moments that are subtle, brief and fleeting like the first flake of snow of the season. Sometimes they go completely unnoticed and unremembered. Other moments are big, grand, powerful enough to move mountains and change a person’s life forever.

As Y/N looked around the apartment, her surroundings coming together like a puzzle that finally clicked together seamlessly, she experienced one of those astronomical, mounting moving moments. 

This was not her apartment.

“The fuck…” 

Quickly orienting herself, she tried to find any kind of identifying information to tell her where she ended up and who she may have gone home with. It was not like her to be so reckless. 

The apartment was tidy, but, by the simple decor and smell of the sheets she was able to discern that the apartment definitely belonged to a man. She pinched the bridge of her nose to quiet an oncoming headache. She didn’t even remember a man from the night before that she could’ve gone home with. Oh how the mighty have fallen, she thought solemnly. 

She glanced under the blanket that was hiding her bottom half, happy to find that she still had her dress and panties in place. She had to admit, though, that the situation was confusing. She didn’t have sex last night, that she was fairly sure of, but in that case… Why was she in a strangers apartment? It didn’t make any sense. 

She slipped out of bed, finding her heels resting neatly on the floor next to the bed, placed with care. 

Who would take her home and just tuck her into bed? That was something a friend did, or a boyfriend. Her stomach twisted as Sam’s face flashed in her mind. His kind hazel eyes wrinkling at the edges as he smiled at her. He would take care of her in that way without question, and that thought terrified her. She’d avoided his apartment for so long for that exact reason. She couldn’t risk him getting the wrong idea. 

She picked up her shoes, not wanting to risk clicking on the hardwood floors and alerting the mystery man. As she poked her head around the room separator she was hit with the smell of cooking. Her mouth watered immediately at the savory smell of meat sizzling on the stove and something sweet that she couldn't quite place. Y/N did not cook. Her kitchen was purely aesthetic. She wouldn't even know how to turn her oven on, let alone use it, so the smells were new and warming. If the food tasted as good as it smelled, she may have a reason not to sneak out after all. Her stomach growled in agreement, and she resisted the urge to shush it. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice said, gruffly and familiar. Her eyes followed the sound of the voice and caught his green eyes from across the apartment. 

The bartender! You went home with the goddamn bartender?! You’re better than this, Y/N. You aren’t twenty anymore. 

“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, her voice strained and awkward. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyebrow quirked in response. “I’m almost done with breakfast. Do you have time to have a seat?” 

She shifted her weight awkwardly. The mix of her own vulnerability, the smell of bacon grease, a hangover, and how undeniably attractive he was had her reeling. The answer should’ve been no immediately. She had enough problems without adding a man to the mix, but yet there she was, considering it. 

“You good, Y/N?” 

The sound of her name snapped her out in an instant. Her shoulders rolled back, and her grip tightened on her heels. “I’m fine. I should get going.”

“Big day?” he asked, his eyes flashing with something mischievous. 

“Every day is a big day if you make it big.” 

“That sounds exhausting.” He pulled a pan off the stove. “Do you ever have days where you do nothing?” 

She squinted at him. This guy is kidding, right? “That doesn’t sound very productive.” 

“So I guess that’s a no,” he said with a chuckle. “You should try it. No plans. Just relax and go with the flow.” 

“Don’t you have to plan to have a day like that? So it’s not really without a plan.”

“You got me there.” Dean laughed, crossing his arms. “Do you always plan out your own days?” 

“Yes. What kind of question is that?” 

“I was just wonderin’ if you ever let anyone else plan things for you.” He shrugged. 

“Absolutely not.” 

He walked toward her, his height overcoming her as he approached. He wore a pair of jeans, socked feet, and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His hair was messy from sleep, but his eyes were wide, awake, and engaged. “Are you afraid to lose control?” 

“No.” Yes. 

“Let me plan a day for you, Y/N.” His voice was silky and thick like honey, tickling her cheeks as he brushed her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, feeling taken aback from his sudden intensity. She half expected her skin to catch fire from the electricity bouncing between their chests to the beat of her racing heart. 

“Dean I…” 

“Hey, before you say anything hear me out,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. Her lips pressed together, giving him only a moment to make his case - which was more than she allowed most people. “I know you’ve got all the reasons in the world to say no. You don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but you’re a professional. I can see that, hell anyone can see it just by lookin’ at you. Y/N, you should know that there is risk in the world, and you could miss out on some of the best things in life if you don’t take it. Someone took a chance on you once, didn’t they?” 

He was breathing heavily, obviously a little worked up, and the sight of his body twisted up in ragged breaths sent a chill up her spine. The risk he was talking about was not the same thing as her job, as law school, as every tough case she had ever taken. He was out of line trying to make it seem like they were even on the same plane of reality. Even though she knew all of that, she still found herself wanting the impossible, the outrageous. 

“Take a risk on me, Y/N.”

She wanted a life that could move mountains. She always had. She wanted to say yes. 

Dean

Later

“Hold up, hold up. You’re going on a date?” 

Dean shrugged, running his fingers through his hair in the bathroom mirror, unable to keep one spot from sticking straight up. “I don’t know if it’s a date or not. I’m just gonna give her some fun. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

“So it is a date.” 

“Sammy, you need to relax,” Dean said, waving his younger, half brother away. Dean’s parents had divorced after he was born, and a year later Dean’s mom fell in love with Sam’s dad, and the boys had been together ever since. “My romantic life isn’t your concern.” 

“Sure it is,” Sam said with a laugh, sitting on Dean’s bed. He moved the room divider when he’d entered the apartment to give himself somewhere comfortable to sit, and was currently lounging across the large mattress. “I don’t want you to die alone.” 

“Nobody is dyin’.” 

“We are all dying, Dean. Technically.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“I don’t see your point,” Sam said with a frown, his eyebrows coming together. 

“How’s mom?” 

“She’d like to see you.” 

Dean exhaled sharply from his nose. He didn’t see Mary nearly enough. She lived out in New Jersey and it still felt like a betrayal to his dad going out to visit her frequently. Plus, he spent most of his days in The Shop. There was always an excuse, even though none of them seemed good enough. “Miss her too.” 

“You should call her.” 

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom to eye his brother. “I don’t need a lecture, Sammy.” 

“Hey you asked.” His brother was quiet for a beat before sitting up. “So… I got the case.” 

“What?! Why didn’t you lead with that! I would’ve taken the night off to take you out to celebrate. This is huge news!”

“Wait, you’re going to work? I thought you were going on a date?”

Dean shrugged, “She said I could have her time Sunday morning. From eight to ten thirty.” 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You want to go out with someone that stringent?” 

Dean shoulders lifted again, “Guess so.” He walked out and sat next to his brother. “But this isn’t about me. I’m really proud of you, brother. You’ve worked really hard for this.” 

Sam’s cheeks reddened a bit, and he reached behind his head, scratching his neck awkwardly. “Thanks. I’ve really been trying, and I’m excited for the opportunity. I know they’re taking a chance on me and it means a lot.” 

“They’re making the right choice, Sammy. You’re damn good at your job. It’s too late for me to get a replacement, but come by, and I’ll get you dinner and drinks on the house.” 

“I’ll just ride with you then. We can split a cab.” 

Dean grinned at his brother, squeezing his shoulder. “You got it, kid.” 

He could still see little Sammy with his bright eyes staring up at him. He had all of these grand dreams that were so big. For a while he wanted to be president, and Dean believed that he could do it. Sam had the heart and the drive to do anything he put his mind to, maybe that was the draw Dean  had to Y/N. She reminded him of the same fire he saw in his brother. 

“What about the woman you’re talking to?” 

Sam let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I dunno Dean. She might hate me.” 

“She’d be stupid to hate you, kid. You’re a goddamned catch.” He slid his wallet and phone in his pocket, and offered a hand to Sammy so he could pull him up. “Fight for her. That’s all you can do.” 

His little brother looked up at him knowingly and nodded, clasping their hands together. He pulled Sam up, looking up at his younger brother who towered over him by at least three inches. “I will,” Sam agreed, “I’ll fight for her. 

“Good. Now let's go get you a drink.” 

“Or five.”

“Or five.” 

Her

“Give me your hand.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow before offering her palm. 

The fiery red head in front of her consisted of her one guilty pleasure in this world. Rowena McCloud. The self proclaimed witch was cheaper than a therapist any day of the week, and she provided tea leaves that were usually the only thing, other than two fingers of whiskey, that put Y/N to sleep after a long, stressful day. 

Rowena ran her long manicured nails along the lines of Y/N’s palms. “You’ve met someone.” 

Here she goes again. Why did I even come here? Y/N asked herself every time that she came to the tea shop for a visit. Why did she come? She knew the answer, but saying it out loud was too fucking pathetic for words. 

She had no friends, and her relationship with her mother was strained at best. So who else was she supposed to talk to about her issues? She could always ignore them, but that was like cutting wires at random, just hoping the one she was cutting wasn’t the trip wire that would explode her entire life. Bottling up emotions caused frown lines and acne break-outs, and she was too damn old for pimples. So she’d ended up with a Scottish witch examining her love line a little too closely. 

“Have not.” 

“Oh come on, Y/N, you have.” Her green eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s, her red painted lips curled into an ornery smirk. “I can tell. You’re flushed. What’s his name.” 

“There is no him.”

“Fine. Then what’s her name.” 

Y/N pulled her hand away and crossed her arms in annoyance. “Give me a break, Rowena.”

“I cannot, I'm afraid, but I can make you tea.” 

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but smile as the woman turned away. Even twenty-plus years her senior, they still meshed well together. She looked at her as a second mother, or even better, a friend. If she knew how to have those, of course. 

“Why did you come here?” 

“I didn’t get the promotion.” 

“Ah.” 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Y/N said, a bite to her words. “I deserved it.” 

“Of course you did,” Rowena said smoothly as she poured a dark, steeped liquid into the small tea cup. “But you’ll have something better.” 

“If you say love I’m going to come across this table and smack you.”

The witch laughed at that, the skin crinkling around her eyes in amusement. “I was going to say sex.” 

“I am having sex,” she said with a huff. 

“Not sex that you enjoy.” 

It was a bold statement. A bold statement that Y/N wasn’t confident that she could disagree with. She thought she enjoyed it, but she never had anything outside of other meaningless connections to compare it to. She’d never wanted more, though. Her one love was her job and that’s how it was always supposed to be. At least before her job royally fucked her. Maybe it was time she started thinking about herself, instead of the firm. 

“I enjoy sleeping with him.” 

“You hesitated, love. It’s mighty okay to be unsatisfied. Well, it isn’t okay, but it’s normal. You don’t have to stand for it.” 

She waved Rowena off dismissively, “It’s fine.” 

Rowena shook her head, her deep red curls bouncing. “Oh sweetie. It shouldn't be fine. It should be electric, hot, passionate. You aren’t living your best life if your sex is just fine.” Her green eyes flashed as she grinned. “You must’ve not slept with him yet, or you wouldn’t be so casual.” 

“You’re obsessed.” 

“Aren’t you? You said yes to him, after all.”

“I had to get him off my back. He was persistent. He wouldn’t take no as an answer.” 

Take a risk on me, Y/N.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me.” Rowena tapped the lip of the cup with her index finger. “It’s all in the leaves.” 

Y/N looked down into the cup that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been sipping. The mushed, wet leaves were at the bottom of her cup, and maybe she just had it on the mind or maybe Rowena was right and magic was in the air, but she could’ve sworn that they looked just like a heart. Lumpy, misshapen, but like one nonetheless. 

Dean

Part of Dean worried that she wouldn’t show. That would be his luck. Maybe he would deserve it after being a little too intense. Take a chance on me. Who the fuck did he think he was? He didn’t normally come off that strong. 

She wouldn’t let him pick her up. “What if you’re a serial killer?” Evidently he hadn’t earned her trust yet, even though he was a perfect gentleman the night before. “A woman can’t be too safe, Dean.” He liked the way she said his name. She sounded annoyed, but amused at the same time. She couldn’t quite keep up the unimpressed expression. He made it a personal goal to make her smile more than she frowned. She’d look amazing with laugh lines. Everyone should have them. 

Lisa often complained about the lines on her face, and she painted makeup over them to hide the creases and curves. Dean had loved them. They told the story of her life. Laugh lines showed a long, happy life full of laughter and joy. He could never understand why she would want to hide them. It was beyond him. 

He was meeting Y/N in front of the restaurant.  He held two disposable cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other, leaning against the building. He watched people stroll past. They weren’t watching their surroundings, constantly staring straight forward. That was the downside to New York City, no one was interested in the now. All they cared about was the next thing. He supposed it made sense that no one stopped to smell the roses in a city made of steel and concrete. There were no flowers to smell, only exhaust. 

Dean, on the other hand, believed in things that were beautiful. There was always something good to see.

In front of him, a woman bundled her baby in a ball of blue, fluffy blanket to keep him protected from the autumn chill. A man jogged with his dog, whose tongue was out, having the time of his life. A man in a suit, who kissed a woman goodbye as he stepped out of a cab. And her. 

Y/N stood across the street, fumbling around her purse for something. He could see her eyebrows furrow even from that distance. She wore a pair of black pants tucked into black boots and a long burgundy sweater. A curl fell into her eye, the rest of her hair tucked into a wide-brimmed hat. She looked different than she had the day before, and he took note of everything about her to add to his mental collection right next to the way she looked first thing in the morning, how she looked when she was angry, and the way her voice sounded when she was drunk. He was excited to learn all he could about her. What was her favorite food? What was her ideal temperature? How did she like her coffee? 

He wanted to know her, even with the high probability that she would hurt him. He figured that pain was something, and something had to be better than the emptiness he’d been feeling. Pain at least meant that he was still alive. 

—————————————

Chapter Four

Masterlist

Read on A03 Here

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[drivingsideways]

Misaeng review

Ok, it's been almost a week, so I feel like I can get my thoughts (somewhat) in order. As usual, I'm late to the party, given that Misaeng aired 6 years ago, and is already considered a kdrama classic. Still: thoughts!

(under the cut)

I came to this drama with quite a lot of expectations, both because I'd seen it on a lot of rec lists, and also because I'd watched director Kim Won-seok's Signal and My Mister, which are justifiably as beloved as Misaeng. I'm happy to report that Misaeng mostly lived up to those expectations!

The writing & direction work together to make Misaeng a very immersive experience, which is good, considering the entire run time is over 20 hrs. The level of seemingly mundane detail of the operational aspects of running a trading firm that they delve into (and other dramas might have avoided for sake of pacing) seemed odd to me at first, but eventually result in a world building that's incredibly well fleshed out. The (formerly unlikely!) high stakes of a misplaced piece of paper or octopuses in a shipment of squid end up being parts of an emotionally wrenching narrative whole fairly seamlessly. Still, at 20+ hours, Misaeng also does get into the kind of pacing issues that most of the slice of life kdramas I've watched so far have. And it didn't need to! I think it had a wonderful ensemble of characters, and if they'd maybe given a little more time and space to characters other than Jang Geu-Rae (Im Si wan) and Oh Sang-sik (Lee Sung-min), the mid portions may not have felt quite so, well, stuck.

But more than the strong writing and direction, it was really the actors who delivered. They made what could have easily been a dull-ish office drama into a heart warming story about human connection and the joys and troubles of leading an "incomplete life". I'd never watched Lee Sung-min in anything before, and about half way through the series I was like, HOW IS HE MAKING A SHORT TEMPERED, ALCHOHOLIC MIDDLE MANAGER SO SEXY? Like, serious props, dude. Lee Sung-min is by turns annoying and brash and too shout-y and stubborn and funny and so incredibly vulnerable as a man trying his best to live by his principles in a world that thinks they are an impediment to "success", that you forget that he's playing a fictional character-- he's someone you know, he's someone you've seen in the mirror.

His performance as Oh Sang-sik is very ably matched by Im Si Wan's Jang Geu-Rae. This series would not have worked if these two actors didn't have the chemistry they do, and play off each other in every scene. I had watched Im Si Wan recently- in JTBC's "Run On", in which I liked his performance quite a lot, but I absolutely loved him as the naive and endearing Jang Geu-rae. Misaeng, is in part, a bildungsroman narrative centered around Jang Geu Rae. Im Si wan brought a kind of vulnerability to the role that might have felt cloying and emotionally manipulative in the hands of other actors, but Im Si-wan manages to do it with a light touch. I feel he's one of those actors that uses his whole body in a scene, not just relying on facial or verbal expression, and it's a joy to watch.

Each of the other actors in the ensemble also bring that dedication and talent to their roles, even if it's in a single scene. There are lots of one-off characters that we meet during the course of the series, and every single one of them leaves an impact.

But! I'm going to pick a fave from the supporting cast and that's Byun Yo-han, whom I'd last watched as the broody, troubled (and very sexy) swordsman Lee Bang-ji in Six Flying Dragons. I can't imagine a character more in opposition to that one than Han Seok-yul in Misaeng, but Byun Yo-han just knocks it out of the park as the scheming, cheerful and mostly inappropriate clown with a heart of gold; Han Seok-yul is the definition of Chaotic Good, and you're equal parts horrified by his antics- which include sexual harassment dont @ me -- and yet charmed by him. I wish they'd given him a few more scenes and a larger plotline to work with, but I also suspect that he might have just walked away with the entire series if they did that. (Am I plotting that series in my head as I write this? MAYBE.)

Alright, this is getting a bit too long, so I'm going to get to the bits that disappointed me. That's really one major thing: the gender politics. I don't know how different the show is from the web toon it's based on, so I can't tell whether they made significant changes to the basic plot and characters. As in- I have no idea if the webtoon was as male dominated in every way as the show is, so I'm not sure how much of the show's treatment of women as a class, and its female characters in particular, I should lay at the door of the original writer vs the screenwriter and director. I'm also lacking the Korean context in which this was written and made and aired, so you may take my criticism with a pinch of salt, if you please!

That the show features mainly male characters is perhaps unsurprising and realistic, since we know that the kind of corporate life it depicts is very male dominated, top to bottom. The show also portrays the very real and horrific overt and subtle misogyny that women face in the workplace and out of it; mainly in the character of Ahn Young-yi, played with steely determination and quiet suffering by the lovely Kang so-ra. There are only 3 other female characters that have any sort of real speaking role- Sun Ji Young (played by Shin Eun jung), a senior manager at the company, Jang Geu-rae's unnamed(!) mother (played by the amazing Sung Byoung-Sook) and Oh Sang-sik's unnamed (!) wife (played by Oh Yoon-Hong, who's a delight in every tiny scene she has). There are other women who appear but in very minor roles, and often in "comedy" moments that often rely on sexist tropes to start with.

Anyway, right there you can see one of the problems- 4 women characters that have any kind of real screen time, and only 2 of them are named. Aigoo! Screenwriter Jung Yoon-jung is a woman, and like, I don't like putting the burden on any one woman to y'know fix structural misogyny, but I can't also help feeling disappointed that she overlooked even this "small" thing among the larger things.

But that apart, the main issue for me was that while the show doesn't shy away from depicting egregious sexism in the form of sexual harrassment, verbal and physical and certainly emotional abuse, in a manner that's clear that we are meant to be horrified by it--it falls short of depicting how women deal and work with it. It just doesn't give enough space to women or their worldview.

It's very comfortable depicting victimhood, but doesn't put work into depicting the ways in which women survive by finding solidarity with other women. We have a scene or two where Ahn Young-yi who is this show's poster child for female victimhood interacts with the older women who offer sympathy and understanding, but no real strategy or support. And yes, we see men also being targeted by their seniors for the grossest verbal and physical abuse; and it's men who help Ahn Young-yi strategise on how to deal with her situation. Real life experience tells me that it's the women who do this work for other women. I have certainly been on both sides of this equation, for one, and so has every woman that I know in corporate life. And yes, one of the show's core philosophies is that those who endure, survive--but it is none the less extremely painful to watch Ahn Young yi "endure" the kind of abuse she does as a coping strategy and a survival strategy.

At the end of it, when she slowly manages to gain the support of her sexist team, it's shown as a victory-- though naturally imperfect, because this show takes its Realism very seriously (right until the end where it makes a tonal shift into quirky that I was a little ?? about)-- and y'know, sure, it is a victory. And I absolutely understand the choices she makes and why she does it-- I guess I just got annoyed by the fact that other antagonistic figures in the narrative get a more straightforward comeuppance for their egregious behavior, but Ahn Young-yi doesn't even get a goddamned apology from her abusers. Instead, we have a half humourous, half serious moment where she comments on how she's working at turning herself into "someone cute"- because she understands now that sometimes the right strategy is to "go with the flow". Be the water that slowly wears away at the rock. It's an interesting moment- the men she tells this to are taken aback by her bluntness, but also a little clueless about what she means. It's the kind of nuance that I would and do enjoy. Unfortunately, it also closely follows one of the show's most annoying scenes at the tail end of the series- where it tries to play off workplace sexism and misogyny as comedy- boys being boys-Reader, when I tell you that I had to WORK to unclench my jaw--!

I'm not saying we should have a single and obvious narrative of female emancipation. I'm not against realism in fiction, but god, sometimes, please do remember that when we look for escapism, we are actually imagining a better world. The first step toward liberation is allowing yourself to imagine it.

And the show does allow other characters its moments of unfettered fantasy- Im Si Wan parkour-ing all over the rooftops of Amman- and having a semi mystical + Indiana Jones moment in the deserts of Jordan--so why, I ask, are the women not given that gift?

*looks into the camera *

Tl;dr: I enjoyed it, it made me cry every episode, and I cared about all the characters, and if you haven't watched it yet, treat yourselves.

PS. Yes, Han Seok-yul is a disaster bi, sorry, I don't make the rules. Yes, hotties Oh Min Seok and Kang Ha-neul are canonically naked in a hot tub six feet apart because they are bros. Yes, I will be writing the fix it in which they fuck like angry bunnies. Yes, I am going to put my shipper cooties all over this gen slice of life show, deal with it.

#misaeng #kdrama #thinky thoughts

[pearl-blue-musings]

Perchance to Meet pt. 3

whoops is it time for a little bit of angst??? i think it’s time for a little bit of angst. 

warnings: cussing, suggestive language, attempted assault, sexual assault, stalking, unwanted advantages,smut, angst, another smut warning cause i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute, please 18+ cannot stress that enough 

masterlist for my writing

Part 4 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One date had turned into three which sprouted into many many more. Despite having challenging schedules, the two new found lovers made time for each other. Aizawa didn’t really think he’d get a chance like this but here he is, standing outside the bookstore he frequents as often as he can with a tiny goofy grin on his face.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He stutters out a response upon seeing the outfit his girlfriend decided to wear. It wasn’t an easy thing to squeeze out of the man, but after the fifth date and the first time she spent the night at his place the couple made it official. Even his co-workers couldn’t believe the sleepy man had a girlfriend on top of everything he already does… But here she is, wearing one of his favorite outfits of hers as they meet up for a brief date.

“I was about to drop dead if I had to wait any longer,” he whispers as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love the way you look tonight.”

(Y/n) looks away embarrassed. Even though they had been dating for over three months now, she still couldn’t get used to Shouta’s flirting and downright cuteness. “T-thank you, Sho. I’m glad you get a few hours before your patrol shift starts.” She looks to him with bright and eager eyes that he could get lost in forever. “So, where are we going?”

It takes a little willpower in Aizawa to hold back a smirk as he enjoys the view of her impatience adorn her features. He’s not sure who will be more excited for the date, him or her.

“You’ll see,” he snickers. Her eyes roll as they stroll along the street. The setting sun ahead of them litters the sky with beautiful purples and oranges; a few clouds line the skies giving the world around them an ethereal feel.

They continue to walk for about ten more minutes, having mindless conversation about anything and everything, from how he’s going to be a homeroom teacher for the next year, how she wants to add a café portion to her bookstore to draw in more people and have more income, it flows seamlessly.

Soon they stop at a store front that is unfamiliar to the woman. Once she sees that her lover has stopped, she looks to the sign and suddenly her face lights up.

“Shouta, shut up are you serious?”

He leans down to her ear, “we’ve walked by this before and I’ve always noticed how your eyes linger here. So I got us reservations.”

The sparkle in her eye is unfazed as the grin on her face only gets wider.

“A cat café!? Shouta, I can’t- I mean you took me? Here? God, you’re amazing! I just-“ she ends her sentence by pulling him by his jacket collar and kissing him lovingly. After his initial shock, he cups her face with his warm hands and deepens the kiss. The feel of his lips on hers is a sense she never wants to tire of; she’s practically addicted to it already.

Aizawa hesitantly pulls away, “as much as I’d like to continue that, we don’t wanna miss our reservation, Kitten.” He kisses her on the cheek and pulls her inside the establishment. Once inside, the couple gets swept up in the ambiance of the place. (Y/n) had an inkling that this date wasn’t just to make you happy, but to make a certain cat lover of a man next her happy too. She had picked up on his love of cats and strays on their other dates and she may or may not attempt to adopt one of the cats as a surprise.

Two hours went by too quickly in the couples opinion, but they had to sadly leave. Their stomachs and hearts full, the two begin their walk back to the bookstore. A deep voice breaks the content silent. “I really don’t want to go on patrol tonight.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow at his statement and silently urges Aizawa to continue. “I want to keep looking at you like this. So happy and content… I wish our schedules weren’t so crazy.”

“I do too,” she breathes, “but that’s how it is and I get it. I mean, we both know each other at this point and know that we’re busy. It’s life, we do what we love and hopefully someone will be there with us you know…”

The momentum of the conversation slows as they reach the bookstore. The words she wishes to say fill up her lungs begging to burst from her lips as she stares at the pre hero before. She gulps whatever anxiety she has and blurts out the words she’s wanted to say all night.

“I love you.”

Black eyes widen at the proclamation and then soften once he sees the shyness and slight fear (Y/n) poses in front of him. He steps up to her, staring at her lips then back to the eyes he can get lost in forever and whispers, “I know, I love you too Kitten,” and softly kisses her lips.

***************************************

“Hey, it’s (Y/n), I mean, yeah it’s me… But where are you? I’ve been waiting outside the club for about 10 minutes now. I know your patrol ended half an hour ago. Just call me back okay?”

(Y/n) grouchily hangs up the phone and pouts. She knew he was out late which is why she wanted him to pick her up from work so she could spend the weekend at his apartment. Aizawa had just finished the first week of school as the new 1-A homeroom teacher and his girlfriend knew he would need sometime to relax. Begrudgingly, of course.

She looks to her phone again and sees that it’s approaching 2:30 in the morning. Normally she doesn’t take closing shifts because of the bookstore, but wanted to align her schedule with Aizawa’s for some time together. After almost a year don’t you think he would have been a little more considerate of this fact? This wasn’t easy for her with the new café being added to her store and having to hire new employees; she needed this one little thing.

“Fuck it, I’m walking by myself.”

Clearly a bad idea. Blissfully unaware, she sullenly walked away from her second job and toward Aizawa’s apartment. The city at night wasn’t always the safest and she knew that, but she had been waiting for more than 20 minutes for Aizawa to show and he hadn’t so she took matters into her own hand. She kept her bag close to her body as she sped walk, attempting to keep her roaring thoughts at bay.

Her phone buzzes which halts her mind, and herself, and she stops in her path. She reaches in a sees a text from him saying “omw”. That’s it? And just now? Barely being on her way, she decides to turn around and go back to their original meeting place.

Bad idea number two. Roughly, she bumps into a stiff being and trips back a few steps. In front of her is a man in a long coat and hat, covering most of his identity. “Excuse me,” she mutters past him, but is abruptly stopped when his hand grips her forearm.

“You don’t remember me.”

“Sir, let go of me.”

“Why don’t you remember me?!”

Panic rising in her, (Y/n) begins to struggle against her assailant. “Sir I have no idea what you want from me! Please let me go.”

The man, clearly hysterical, pulls her into a nearby alley and slams her against the brick wall. The woman winces in pain and tries her best to not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, just take my bag… Don’t hurt me!”

“…Why don’t you remember me? You served me for months at the club. Months! You always made my favorite drink, always made me feel better. I love you (Y/F/n)! I always gave you extra tips when I came in and now I find that you’re thinking of quitting?! Is there someone else? I left my wife like you said I should because I wasn’t happy!”

The more the man rambles, the more she starts to remember. He went by the name Shuichi Oda and from what she gathered had a rough night. Obviously a drunk, it seems like things haven’t been going well for him. She remembers having some brief conversations with him to make her patron feel better but… Damn it! She knew that this was the downside of her quirk, some people took it too personally.

“Look, Shuichi-“

“You do remember me!” He exclaims and pulls her into an unneeded hug and starts to pet her hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to be alone for quite some time. Your quirk made me feel better. You, made me feel better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shakily tries to reason, “I’m just a bartender. It’s my job to make people feel better.”

The man hits his head with his fist, frightening the woman. “No! With you, it’s different, see?” After he says he leans in to sloppily kiss her, holding her still against the wall behind her. His hands begin to roam in places they shouldn’t which make tears start to form in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he wipes a tear from her face but she moves out of his reach. “Don’t be scared, I love you. And you’re gonna come with me and be with me forever okay?”

“Please,” she screams, “let me go! I have- mmph!”

“Sh sh sh sh, we can’t have you screaming! Others could hear and try to take you away from me!” The hand he placed over her mouth is now covered in tears from her eyes. She bites at him, but his maniacal smile only gets bigger. “I don’t feel physical pain darling, just emotional.” As soon as he says that, his wandering other hand goes toward her breast and he sighs in contentment. “Oh how I’ve longed for this-“

“That’s enough!”

Soon Shuichi is being thrust into the air. He’s wrapped up in bindings and hanging from a nearby streetlamp. Eyes glowing red stare at the apprehended man and pull the wraps tighter, causing him to cough in pain. Aizawa tugs on the wraps to make the man hit his head on the light and pass out. Luckily some sirens are heard closely as someone walking by heard her scream and called for the police. Aizawa was on his way and followed the direction of the police cars hoping it didn’t involve his lover.

An hour later finds the couple walking into the pro hero’s apartment. A strong silver blanket is still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body as they make their way in. They both take off their shoes and settle in silence as the events of the last hour replay through their minds. They don’t even bother to eat anything and start to get ready for bed. Her pajamas are partially on when he sits down on the bed and mumbles, “why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Hm? What was that?”

Sighing louder, her turns to face her. “I said, why didn’t you wait for me like you were supposed to?”

(Y/n) scoffs as she pulls his shirt down her body. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I wait? Why were you late?” Her question came out more forceful than she intended but it had been a very long day. “I rearranged my schedule so then we could get off work around the same time for once. Where the hell were you?”

“Don’t give me that,” he states getting louder, “school went late so I began my patrol late.”

“Would it have killed you to tell me that instead of keeping me waiting?”

“Would it have killed you to wait where I wanted you to? Then maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened.”

Her mouth flew open at his assumption. “Are you saying me getting attacked was my fault?!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as his frustration grows. “If you had just stayed there and waited I was going to get there.”

“Yeah sure! But did you forget the part where that nutjob has been following me for months? He would’ve gotten to me regardless.”

“That’s because you’re too kind. Letting people think that all their problems and issues will go away with just the right fix!”

“You’re ridiculous!” You yell, “Is that really what you think of me and my quirk? Is that what you think I did to you?” (Y/n) moves around the bed to get face to face with him to prove more of her point.

He stands up off the bed to look down at her. “It could be like that for him or any other guy you’re kind to or use your quirk on. All you had to do was wait!”

“And we’re back to where we fucking started. You were late! What was I supposed to do? Wait for the next guy to come along and fuck me over in the middle of the night?”

“(Y/n) that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Oh is it? Then why do you keep putting the blame on whether or not I waited?”

“Look,” he recedes slightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being late, but you can’t just walk around by yourself like that!”

“Fuck off, yes I can! I’ve done it before why does it suddenly have to change now?”

“Because I fucking love you, idiot!”

Throats hoarse after the shouting match, black eyes shut as he sinks into the bed. (Y/n)’s conviction begins to falter as she follows him onto the mattress. “Shouta?”

He takes a deep breath in attempt to control himself, “I know I should have told you I was late, I’m sorry. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. When you weren’t there, I panicked.” He leans onto her shoulder while she rubs his back soothingly. “I was so scared for you. When I saw him touching you, I saw red.”

(Y/n) breathes deeply taking in his words, “Sho…”

“I don’t want to lose you, or have you be hurt because of me. I’m a pro-hero and a teacher at a prominent school, I’m bound to have some enemies.” He sits up to meet her gaze, holding her face in his hands. “That guy hurt you because of you and I wasn’t there.”

“Sho, it’s not your fault.”

Silence falls over them, letting the weight of their words settle into their beings. He brings her forehead toward his as fresh tears fall from her face wetting his skin.

“Kitty cat, I’m sorry for yelling.”

She kisses him lightly, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, and again, and again, Until the light, chaste kisses become deep and full of lust. Her hands find solace in his hair as her lips grant his tongue entrance. He pulls her closer to him, hoping that she can feel his erection through his pants. The feeling of him grinding against her sleep shorts elicits a moan from her mouth that makes him harder. They break for air, a line of saliva connecting them as their pupils dilate.

“Fuck I wanna keep going but you’ve had a long day.” He tries to pull away from her only to be brought in for another breathless kiss. His hands automatically went to her hips. “Kitten,” he moans into her lips.

“We have the whole weekend for me to treat you right. The whole weekend for you to be screaming my name, calling me daddy,” he smacks her ass at that comment earning a hiss from (Y/n) which ended up making her even more wet. “But we need to sleep.”

“Fuck you Shouta,” she whines. “I wanna fuck you now. I’m already so fucking wet for you and I know your dick is itching to be in my mouth or better yet in me.”

Aizawa grunts at the implications but stays strong. “No, sweetie. As much as I really want to, we gotta sleep.”

“Please I want to forget he touched me so please do something or else-“

At that she’s quickly pinned to the bed with the strong man above her. “Don’t forget,” he whispers, “you asked for this.” He slowly drags her bottoms down her legs, exposing her dripping sex to him. It took everything in him to not move too fast. Once her pj bottoms were thrown across the room, he situates himself between her legs, rubbing his hands up her calf, to her thighs enticingly slow. A pressure is felt on her hips as she’s being held in place by her lovers grip.

On instinct her hips buck slightly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. The feel of his breath on her inner thigh sends her thoughts into a frenzy, only for him to place his lips around the sensitive skin. His kisses are feather light that they almost don’t feel like they’re there, but she’s reminded as soon as his teeth make contact with her skin. A whine escapes her lips at the action, making Aizawa growl.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so wet for me.”

“Mhm, ah, only for you Daddy- ah fuck!”

All his restraint came undone at the pet name as he wrapped his lips around her folds, sucking and tonguing her with earnest. The way his tongue would flit in and out of her wet hole drove him crazy; it was like she was made for him and only him. He continues to lap at her folds, already starting to feel the pressure build up within her.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy this early, eh? All I’ve done with eat you out and I’m not full. Plus,” he sneaks a finger into making her hiss and cuss, “I don’t think you’ve had your fill yet Kitty cat.”

Her moans and whines are music to his ears as he doesn’t let up his ministrations. Now two fingers deep into her, he begins to scissor her open while sucking on her abused and pronounced clit.

“Ah, fuck Sho. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” (Y/n) is breathless as her back arches off the mattress for the umpteenth time. She can feel him smile against her as he lifts up to face her. “Then cum Kitten, cum for Daddy.” His motions speed up and upon hearing her scream out his name mixed with curses, he lets up. God, she looks beautiful like this. Her body is covered in a glimmering layer of sweat, her stomach moving in time with her rampant breathing as she comes down from her high. No one else will get to see her like this, no one. Aizawa wipes away sweat from her brow and leans in to let her taste herself on his tongue. The action alone is enough to make him want to burst, which he is tempted to do.

“Damn, you’re still so wet and slick for me,” he notes swiping a finger against her to reaffirm.

“Babe, rollover. I wanna ride you.”

The lovely man above her lifts an eyebrow at her request, “as you wish, princess.” He is then forcibly pinned, almost like what happened to her not too long ago. “Fuck, you look so hot from down here babe.” He knows that she needs this, to feel to be in charge and take the lead. So he doesn’t help her line up the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, and he doesn’t push himself up into her like he wants.

A wanton moan escapes his lovers lips as she finally settles herself on his cock. She feels the grumble and twitching from her his dick inside her and the feeling is euphoric. The pro-hero’s breath gets shallower as he waits for her to move on him, again holding himself back from taking charge. Once she starts bouncing on his cock, all he can do is whisper and moan out praises and curses. “Fuck, Kitten. That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah babe? You like the way I’m riding your cock?”

He hisses, “fuck yeah. Please do it more- unf.”

Suddenly he feels a new and ecstatic feeling as she gyrates her hips in ways that have him seeing stars. He’s trying to figure out if there’s some kind of pattern. And then it hits him.

“You spelling your name on my cock, yeah?”

A gasp for air is heard from both of them before she responds, “I’m just, ah, letting you know who this belongs to baby.”

“Ah fuck, Kitten, I’m gonna cum soon. But first,” his voice lowers as he grabs her breast in his hand. His thumb flicks over her nipple, earning another moan before he wraps his lips around it. His tongue continues to work the hardening bud as his hand kneads her mound. His free hand works its way to her clit and begins to rub it fiercely.

“Fuck Shouta, if you keep doing that…”

A slick pop is heard as black eyes bore into lust filled ones. “I know Kitten, we’re so close. Come on, let Daddy cum. Let me cum inside baby.” “Yes, yes ah fuck- FUCK!”

The melodious sound of moans and whimpers fill the once noiseless bedroom as the couple comes down from their highs. They fall onto each other, sweat covered and full of love for each other. Their breathing starts to slow the more they wait out, still being connected by their sexes. (Y/n) is the first to move as she slowly removes herself from her boyfriends embrace, whining at the loss of contact. Aizawa leans up slightly to take in her form and beauty.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some water.”

He pecks her cheek and leaves the room. Once he returns, he sees (Y/n) and fondly smiles. She had finally fallen asleep after everything was said and done. He rolls his eyes but continues to clean up their little mess. He leaves her water glass on her nightstand while he had finished his.

Aizawa pulls the covers over the two of them as he cuddles into his girlfriend, watching her sleep soundly. She looks ethereal right now, no problems or stress on her features.

“I swear I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ha ha hahahahaha it’s so long whoops but yee if the option is there the taglist is open!  @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo @cupcake-rogue

#i did the thing #my writing #perchance #aizawa x y/n #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha aizawa #bnha x y/n #aizawa shouta

[illmaticreid]

We Fell in Love in October - Part 6

DESCRIPTION: Noah is in college studying film and has been a very boring freshman thus far. Her roommate demands that she goes to a party with her and this is where she meets an extremely bold Matthew.

Warnings: language, slight angst, unprotected sex, alcohol, daddy kink, butt stuff hehe, vomit

A/N: I am sorry it took me like two months to write this lol I know no one really cares but I feel bad that it took so long. Also, I am thinking of ending the story. I have no motivation to write and don’t see it going anywhere. Noah & Matthew are too happy to have conflicts lol. I am thinking of writing a sugar daddy story with Matthew/Spencer and then this story will just end :( 

Word Count: 3.1k

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE |

Today was my birthday. It was the first time I was actually excited for my birthday. Normally, I hated acknowledging that I was getting older. This was the first time I had someone to spend my birthday with, though. I am used to being with friends, but that really isn't the same as spending it with a significant other.

Ellie was planning on taking me to lunch today in between classes, and I just asked Matthew to spend the rest of the day with each other. I didn't want to have a party or be around a bunch of people I don't know very well.

Matthew and I are in a class together today, and we have to go through short scenes with dialogue. I am not sure what I want to do in life or in my career, so acting in front of others scared me. Especially Matthew. I know I am comfortable in front of him, but I am probably just gonna embarrass myself.

The scenes are supposed to be extremely intense, depending on how the actor wants to portray it. Matthew is not my partner, so we won't be doing any scenes together. I haven't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

A couple pairs had already gone through the scene a couple times in front of the class. The scene was about a couple getting into a fight, and either making up or continuing on with the argument. Most of it was adlib and, the pairs had to figure out how they wanted it to go on their own.

I think my partner had a small crush on me, which made me slightly uncomfortable. I had no idea if he was going to pull something on me during our act. Matthew's partner was this extremely attractive girl who was very serious about acting. I felt a little self-conscious but either way, it was just an assignment.

Matthew was up next, and I felt my palms start to sweat. Their dialogue started off like everyone else's. There was intense arguing that flowed seamlessly. Hopefully, Matthew and I never argued like that. I think I would burst out in tears.

As their argument became quieter, I realized they had decided to make up. Matthew's partner got close to his face, and their dialogue became almost too quiet for the class to hear.

She suddenly leaned up and kissed him softly. I almost got out of my seat and screamed. Kissing? No one said shit about kissing. No one else in our class had decided to kiss their partner on the mouth. What the fuck was he thinking? He pulled away from her rather quickly and went back to his seat.

My face heated up in anger as I gave him daggers from across the room. He refused to make eye contact with me. Okay, Matthew, two can play at that game.

When it was my turn to do the scene, my partner was being exceptionally weird. Maybe I was being weird because I was taking my real-life anger out on him. Our scene was supposed to end with a hug but, at the last minute, I told him to kiss me. It was actually me kissing him, but it didn't really matter.

I pulled him in by his shirt and placed my mouth on his in a heated kiss. The kiss was not heated at all, though. In fact, it was gross and slimy. Putting my lips on anybody's but Matthew's was enough to make me gag.   I walked off the front of the stage and left class altogether. I probably failed this ridiculous assignment but, I didn't care.

I heard footsteps behind me as I walked to my car. I was praying it wasn't my partner. I was also slightly praying that it wasn't Matthew.

"Noah, wait!"

I rolled my eyes when I heard the familiar sound of Matthew's voice.

"What was that?" He said once he finally caught up to me.

"What?"

"You kissed your partner, gagged, and then left the classroom," Matthew spoke. I couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or be pissed off at me. Probably a little bit of both.

"Oh? You're allowed to kiss your partner, and I am not?" I asked without a hint of humor in my voice. I didn't know if it was ridiculous to be upset, but I just wasn't expecting my boyfriend to kiss another girl today.

"Noah, whoa, whoa, whoa," Matthew chuckled before continuing. What was so funny? "I didn't kiss another girl, it was an assignment that we had to do for an acting class. Also, she kissed me. Should I be mad at you for kissing your partner? Clearly, it was only to try and get back at me."

My shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew me all too well, and now I looked like an idiot.

"I don't think it was appropriate to kiss her, Matthew."

"I don't think it was appropriate to kiss him, and then gag about it," Matthew laughed again. It was hard to stay mad at him when all he kept doing was laughing at what just happened.

I had to admit, I am acting ridiculous. Why did they have to kiss, though? The thought alone made my blood boil.

"I didn't mean to gag, he was just a bad kisser. I am mad that you let her even get that close to you," I spoke angrily.

"Oh, Noah. You are adorable," Matthew chuckled again. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, trying my best to seem angrier than I actually was.

"Take me seriously!"

"I can't, the argument is laughable. I don't want to actually kiss that girl. I don't even know her name. You should know that you're the only girl I love," He said sweetly.

I tried to be more upset, but I couldn't. He made me swoon.

When I didn't say anything, Matthew continued. "Don't ever forget how much you mean to me. You're so special. Also, my dick is literally so hard right now. You are so hot when you are angry."

My face got very hot very quickly as I looked down at his pants and saw his jeans starting to bulge.

"Would you like me to fix that for you?" I asked, innocently.

Matthew moaned quietly as I palmed his pants. I had to remember that we were in the middle of a hallway and anyone could walk out of class and catch us.

"I have a little surprise for you if you want to come back to my place," Matthew said with a smirk.

"I said no presents!"

"I know, but this is a present for both of us."

I agreed so, we walked to his car and drove to Matthew's apartment. When we got inside, he handed me a long but thin box that felt light.

"If this is jewelry or anything expensive, I won't accept it," I spoke firmly. I really hated getting gifts. If it was something small, or something I really needed then, I would be okay with it.

"Just open it, Noah," Matthew laughed. I sighed before opening the box that revealed tissue paper. I pulled back the tissue paper and found fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"You kinky little bitch," I squealed at Matthew before taking them out of the box. He let out a loud laugh and wouldn't stop smiling at me. They were adorable. The pink fuzz was more of a feather-like material. I am assuming that he bought these ones in particular so that they would be a little more gentle on me.

"Would you like to use them?" Matthew said sinisterly. The smile was ripped off of my face within seconds. Yes, I thought they were cute and funny. I had forgotten that they would actually have to get used. Which meant that I would have to be completely submissive to Matthew.

"Now?" I asked, my mouth agape.

I received a nod from Matthew as he took the handcuffs out of my hands and threw me over his shoulder. We entered his bedroom and Matthew kicked the door shut with his foot before throwing me onto the bed. He started to take his clothes off, never breaking eye contact with me.

Matthew only had his underwear on as he walked over to me and placed his hand underneath my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

"I can't wait to see how pretty you look with these little pink handcuffs on," Matthew spoke just above a whisper. God, he was so fucking hot. I started undressing, not being able to take the waiting anymore.

I laid on Matthew's bed, completely naked, waiting for him to make the first move. He flipped me over onto my back, grabbed both of my hands with one of his, and pinned me down. He grabbed the handcuffs and put them on me tightly. I winced at the pain but he knew how much I really liked it.

"Are you ready for the best birthday sex you've ever had, Noah?"

"Do your worst," I said as I lifted my hips up into the air.

No other words were spoken as he slipped his dick into me. I yelped loudly, and Matthew just chuckled at me. It hurt, but it also felt amazing at the same time.

Matthew continued to pound into mercilessly as I laid there, screaming and moaning. I started moving my hips back up against him, and Matthew stopped moving and let me do my thing.

"Fuck," I moaned, getting tired from all of the work I was putting in. My hips began to slow down and eventually, they came to a stop. Matthew apparently did not like that.

"Did I say that you could stop?"

"I'm sorry," I panted.

Matthew grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his hand in a fist. I moaned at the pain coming from my scalp. He rammed his hips into me quickly with as much force as he could.

"You feel so good, Matthew," I whispered into the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You like that? Tell me more."

I felt my face get red as I told him how much I liked it. How much I liked his dick absolutely obliterating me. I could feel the heat begin to grow in my stomach and I knew I was close. It felt like I was starting to see stars.

I felt Matthew's hand rest on my ass, and his thumb slowly started to drift somewhere that I wasn't quite sure I was comfortable with. I wasn't stopping him, though. I let his thumb travel dangerously close to my 'backdoor' before realizing what he was up to.

Matthew's thumb slipped inside of me and before I could scream at him to get out, I came. I was completely ashamed that he made me orgasm by sticking his finger in my ass, but also couldn't even focus because of how amazing it felt.

Seconds into my orgasm, Matthew pulled out of me and came onto my back. He was groaning and hissing, and it was music to my ears.

After he wiped me down, I figured now would be the best time to ask what the fuck just happened.

"First, uncuff me. Second, why did you put your thumb in my ass?" I all but screamed.

Matthew chuckled before saying, "I don't know. It was just there and I wanted to see what happened. You clearly liked it though." He had a stupid shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck you! You didn't even ask if that was okay with me."

"I know. I'm sorry, but now I know you are into butt stuff," He giggled.

"I am not into butt stuff. You are! It was your idea," I said while trying to hold back my own giggles and a little bit of embarrassment that I was indeed, into butt stuff.

"You came in less than half a second. I think it's safe to say that you liked it."

"Fine, maybe a little."

That was where we left off our conversation. Later in the day, I had lunch with Ellie and then I was going to spend the rest of the night with Matthew. I finished the rest of my classes and went home. I finished up some homework and got ready for the night.

Matthew picked me up right on time, and we drove back to his place. He opened the door to his apartment for me, and let me walk in first.

"Surprise!!" I heard from around the room. My face got red, but I smiled at everyone anyways. I was going to kill who's ever idea this was.

"Hi!" I waved at everyone, awkwardly. There were only around ten people here, which was okay. Thankfully it wasn't some huge party that would just make me feel awkward and uncomfortable all night long. I could handle a couple people but, any more than that, and I would have turned around and walked home.

"Whose idea was this? Hm? I want answers," I said as soon as I walked over to Ellie. I was trying to be fake angry but the smile on my face kinda blew my cover.

"Well, it was mine and Matthew's. He said no at first because he said you would hate it. But, I knew that you would secretly like it as long as you were able to get a little drunk," Ellie giggled.

"Okay fine. You caught me. I do like the attention just a little bit," I laughed with her. I was thankful that I had people in my life that cared about me this much.

As soon as Ellie mentioned getting drunk, I immediately started taking shots and making myself mixed drinks. I kept urging Matthew to drink but he was trying to stay at least a little bit sober to keep an eye on me.

"No, Noah, I don't want another shot. Thank you very much, though," Matthew said as he smiled at me. I giggled at him while taking a shot for him instead. I could feel the liquor coursing through my veins and I was probably acting a little silly. It's my birthday and I can be drunk if I want to!

I sipped on my Vodka Cranberry as some friends and I sat around Matthew's coffee table and played drunk Uno. I wasn't exactly sure how to play, I just liked regular Uno and I would just take a shot every time someone told me to.

"Baby, you have like twenty cards. You're gonna get alcohol poisoning at this rate," Matthew laughed at me. He wasn't playing, he just sat next to me and was trying to be my teammate because clearly, I was out of it.

"Don't worry, I have a trick up my sleeve," I said but I had no trick. I knew I was screwed. Eventually, someone called Uno, and on their next turn, they went out and won the game.

"Finally! That was the longest game of Uno I have ever played, and now I am completely shit faced," I sighed.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Matthew asked me.

"No, I'm fine. What are you, my dad?" I spoke back to him and giggled as soon as the words left my lips because I knew exactly how Matthew would take that.

"Keep giving me attitude and I will take you back to my room and punish you," Matthew spoke lowly. I thanked God that everyone left the couch as soon as the game was over, so we were out of earshot of everyone.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna punish me, daddy?" I said through more giggles. I was so turned on by what he said and I couldn't miss out on a chance to be a brat.

Matthew was just about to follow through on his promise when I felt a hiccup in my stomach.

"Uh Oh," Matthew said as soon as he saw the look on my face.

He rushed me to the bathroom quickly and I ran to the toilet. As soon as I started throwing up, Matthew grabbed my hair hurriedly. He kept it out of my face as I continued to blow chunks.

"You're lucky I love you, Noah because you are such a fucking lightweight," He said through laughs.

I started to laugh with him but instead, I just vomited again. For some reason, I was not embarrassed at all. I mean, Matthew had his finger in my ass earlier, I think he can handle seeing me throw up.

When my stomach was finally finished wreaking havoc on my birthday, Matthew helped me clean my self up. I brushed my teeth with him and cleaned my face, making sure I looked presentable.

"Let's get you to bed, sweet girl," Matthew said as he started to undress me in his bedroom. He grabbed me some clothes and was about to put them on me.

"No, I don't wanna wear clothes. I wanna be punished!" I whined, thinking about our conversation from earlier.

"You are too drunk. Don't worry, you have a lifetime to get punished by me."

"You want to spend a lifetime with me?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. I always got a little emotional when I was drunk.

"Well, duh. I wouldn't want to hold back anyone else's hair as they puke into a toilet anyways," Matthew said trying to make a joke out of the situation so I wouldn't cry.

"I wouldn't want anyone to hold back my hair either," I spoke as a tear streamed down my cheek.

"I know. Get into bed, I will tell everyone you aren't feeling well and to head out."

Matthew walked out of the door and I could hear him telling everyone that it was time to go.

"Oh no! Can I say goodbye to her?" I heard Ellie ask, and Matthew told her that she could. I heard the door open up and smiled when I saw Ellie's face.

"Hi," I said weakly.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I hope you had a good birthday party!" Ellie smiled at me.

"I did, you're such a sweet friend," I slurred.

"Good. Have a good night, Noah. No more throwing up," She laughed as she kissed me on the forehead and left.

Minutes later, Matthew came back in and took off his clothes and snuggled into bed with me.

"I got you some water," Matthew handed me a big glass of water that I gladly took. I chugged the whole thing, and I could hear Matthew saying, "slow down!" but that didn't stop me.

"Thank you," I whispered as I started to doze off in his arms.

"Happy birthday, Noah," I heard Matthew say as I drifted off to sleep.

#mgg #mgg fanfiction #Matthew Gray Gubler #college!matthew #Matthew gray gubler smut #Matthew gray gubler fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer x oc #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #mgg x reader #mgg x oc #Smut #mgg smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut