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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years ago

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Chapter 7: Green Light

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note: i don’t know why i can’t edit chapter 6 so hopefully you reach this chapter

2 weeks.

2 weeks have passed ever since that night Yuta walked you home, the same night that you and Kuroo got into the biggest fight you’ve ever had. The doors were slammed, the remote of the TV flew from one wall to another, your voices were on top of your lungs.

Kuroo threw words he shouldn’t have, like accusing you of cheating on him. You even went on your knees just to prove to him that you didn’t. Apology after apology. You didn’t even know why you were asking for forgiveness when you did nothing wrong. He told you to leave, you should have, but you didn’t. You couldn’t leave him. You love him way too much even if he does you so wrong.

Kuroo has all red lights turn into green and you let him drive you insane.

But you’re getting tired of the ride that doesn’t have a destination.

——————————————————————————

“Just go see (Y/N) at her office,” Kenma tells Kuroo as the two are looking over files. “My secretary and her secretary are friends. I can ask for her schedule if you want.”

“Why would I?” Kuroo scoffs confidently and his friend deadpans at him. “What? It’s not like I miss her or something.”

“You’ve been writing her name and scratching over it like a teenager going through a heartbreak. I thought the two of you made up already?” Kenma rebuts and the raven head pouts.

“We did.” Kuroo continues to read the document, trying his best not to get distracted by invasive thoughts of you. ‘But she isn’t chasing after me like she used to.’

You really have been different. Yes, you still message him and act sweet around him, but it seems like you’re forcing your actions, especially sex. Whenever you have time to go home, you two only do the deed, then sleep, and then he wakes up to an empty bed again.

Sex is good, great even. Kuroo loves doing it with you. But it isn’t enough. When was the last time you went on a date? Or ate a meal together? Or talked about your days? When was the last time you told him you love him?

“So why are you moping around?”

‘Because I miss her,’ Kuroo’s inside thought speaks in volume. He really does miss you but he can’t say it out loud. “I don’t know man. I guess because of work.”

“But aren’t you here with me because you barely have work to do?” Kenma says in an almost teasing tone. Kuroo just rolls his eyes and ignores his friend. Oh how the tables have suddenly turned. Kenma is the one teasing him now.

Kenma then realizes that Kuroo has finally started caring about you.

Kuroo arrives at your workplace earlier than your meeting time because he’s that excited to see you. He even bought flowers for you and pastries for your workmates. It’s his way for thanking them for taking care of you at your work. Also, it’s to let them know that you’re together so they stop shipping you with other people.

“Oh, Kuroo, you’re here,” Terushima greets him as they meet in the lobby. “(Y/N) has an emergency photoshoot today so I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Photoshoot for what?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow as he follows Terushima inside the studio of your office. There are big lighting equipments, a huge white backdrop in the room, and a lot of wedding dresses.

“For our wedding dresses catalogue. Usually, Alisa does it but she’s sick today so (Y/N) has to take her place,” Terushima explains and Kuroo nods in comprehension. “I think she’s preparing for the last dress already so you don’t have to wait long for her to finish.”

Terushima gives Kuroo a chair he can sit on and directs him to a spot where he can see you while you shoot. While waiting for you, he hands out goodies to your coworkers, bowing and thanking each one of them.

Not long after, you come out in a white tulle ball gown with white flower petals on the bodice and ends of the dress. Your hair and makeup done bridal style: subtle, elegant and will surely take the groom’s breath away. Kuroo doesn’t know why but his breathing pattern suddenly changes and his heart beat picks up a rather speedy pace.

You literally and figuratively took his breath away.

‘I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack,’ Kuroo thinks without knowing that he has a sweet smile on his face. His eyes are staring at you in admiration, maybe even in a loving way. You just look too gorgeous in that dress it makes him wonder what you’d wear in your wedding if you even had one.

Come to think of it, what would you like your whole wedding to be?

The man is getting flustered just thinking about your wedding day. You’ll have one soon, right? It’s working out for the two of you so there definitely will be one. Or so he thinks that it’s working out for the two of you.

“Kuroo?”

“Kuroo.”

“Kuroo!”

“Yes?” Kuroo finally snaps out of his thoughts and sees Terushima smirking at him. “What?”

“You’re staring too much,” the blonde chuckles. He expects Kuroo to deny it and such so he gets shock when the raven states...

“Why wouldn’t I? My wife looks mesmerizing.” Kuroo continues to watch your shoot, his attention only on you and no one else. You finally see him, so you flash him a sweet smile and flirty wink before focusing back to your work.

Kuroo giggles with a blushing face which causes Terushima to laugh at his reaction. Terushima teases him so he hits Terushuma, telling the blonde to stop teasing him. “You are such a simp!”

The two of them are having butterflies in their stomachs because they’re lowkey like teenage girls, giggling and whispering to each other with blushes on their face, talking about the love of their life. If you’re looking from a far, you would never know what they are talking about.

The shoot finally ends and your secretary tells Kuroo to wait for you at your office. He does as told and roams around your workplace while he waits. He finds your little bedroom and sees some of your belongings in there. It must be where you sleep when you finish work when trains stop operating for the day.

Kuroo hears your door open so he gets out of the tiny room and skips to you, hugging you tightly in the middle of the room. He takes a look at your face and then tackles it with kisses, enabling you start a proper conversation.

“I missed you.”

Kiss.

“I missed you.”

Kiss.

“I missed you so much.”

Kiss.

“Tetsu, love,” you call him out in between giggles, your hands trying to cup his cheeks for him to stop, but he captures your lips with his first. Your eyes flutter close and give into his actions.

“You looked so beautiful in that dress, my love. Makes me wanna marry you again.”

You’re supposed to be happy hearing his words. Your heart should be jumping out of your rib cage by now. So why can you feel yourself forcing a smile?

“Love, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Kuroo asks you, his arms snaking around your body, nuzzling his nose on the crook your neck. You just humm, eyes closed, fingers tangled into his hair.

“What’s your ideal wedding?”

Your lids shut open from his question. “All of a sudden?”

“I just got curious.” Kuroo shrugs, waiting for your answer. He’s ready to take mental notes and use it when you plan your wedding.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you answer honestly. Kuroo moves away from you and stares, not believing the words that came out of your mouth. “What? I always knew I was getting arranged so I never thought about having my own wedding.”

“You’re a wedding planner and you never dreamed about your own wedding?” Kuroo is skeptical about your statement and he also feels disappointed?

You’ve never thought about your wedding? As in the ‘you as the bride and him as the groom’ wedding? Has it really not passed your mind even just for a second? Because that was all he was thinking about when he saw you in that wedding dress and up to this moment.

“I just don’t see myself having my own wedding,” you explain, not sparing a glance at his disheartened face.

“Not even with me?” He says without thinking, which you look at him for. You examine his face and see how he genuinely looks discouraged about your words. Not understanding why is he so hurt about your words, you cock an eyebrow at him.

“We’re married.”

“But we haven’t had a wedding ceremony. I personally think it’ll be great to have one,” Kuroo says as if it’s not a big deal, but deep inside he is making a huge fuss about it. He’s indirectly proposing to you and if you turn it down, his heart will shatter to pieces.

“Let’s see after our trying period,” is all you responded. Your response breaks him. You haven’t decided if you’ll stay with him?

He can feel his chest tigthen and hand sweat. Why are you saying that when months ago you were speaking about how much you love him? Why are you saying that when weeks ago you were begging him to forgive you?

“Don’t you love me anymore?”

——————————————————————————

Facts:

The idea of signal lights was first used on railroads to prevent trains from colliding. These signals were then adapted all over the world and used in roads since it worked so well.

The original pattern was red for danger, green for caution, and white to go. However, since white could have been easily missed against a starry sky so then it was changed to the green, yellow, and red we know of now.

The first constructed roads date from about 4000 BC

Roman roads were often stone-paved.

The Pan-American Highway is the longest roadway in the world, spanning around 19,000 miles or 30,000 kilometers

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #kuroo tetsuro smau #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo smau

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darkpurpledawn · 3 years ago

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ladling out a bowlful of hubris as I do the fanfic asks game even though I’ve been taking a writing hiatus this whole spring and summer

thank you for the tag @heavens-bookshop!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

14. I tend to leave shorter stuff (<2500 words) on tumblr, but I have several works on Ao3 shorter than my longest tumblr ficlets

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

143,641. someday I’d like to write a fic that’s longer than that. baby steps

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

...it’s pretty much all Good Omens. back in early 2019 I wrote a few bits and pieces of (MCU) Thor fanfic, but GO is the only thing I’ve published!

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost (3k, G)

Exactly what it says on the tin, in fake review format

A Visit to the Pet Shop (2k, T)

Outside POV of the herp supply store owner who encounters Crowley and Aziraphale

In Mixed Company, Or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell (52k, M)

Continuing the trend of spelling the whole fic premise in the title. it delights and amuses me to no end that this one is included in the collection “Fics in which Gabriel doesn’t suck”

Come Adore on Bended Knee (and Other Ways to Make an Angel Rejoice) (5k, M)

Friends to mutual blowjobs speedrun, Christmas edition

There Were Angels Dining at the Ice Cream Parlour (2k, T)

My first fic from back in the heady summer days of 2019

All of these are from the time the fandom was just straight up bigger, but looking at patterns among my own fics it seems like weird formats, smut, and very long and specific titles tend to do well, all of which Checks Out

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try! I feel like a goof writing replies, but I am super grateful for them and I do attempt to respond, albeit erratically. I don’t usually reply to comments that are just a few words or emojis, not because I don’t appreciate them, but because I feel a little obnoxious writing a thank you that’s longer than the comment??? idk I’m probably overthinking it

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

SO when I first started writing fanfic, I thought I was going to write all unresolved pining historical fics all the time, and accordingly, my first chaptered fic, A House in the Country, is a melancholy 1920-set slice of life in which Aziraphale and Crowley take a trip to the Lake District and pine for each other. I don’t think it’s super angsty but it ends on a somber note

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I was going to say no, but then I remembered one of my absolute favorite things I’ve written is technically a Good Omens/Macbeth crossover

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope!

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, inclined towards “lots of foreplay and then a weird but hopefully suggestive sequence of metaphors, all in some kind of Uncertain and Forbidden Situation”

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No I keep my fics locked in my fic safe and u can’t have em

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, not yet

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Aziraphale/Crowley, definitely. Also shoutout to Hermione/Ron and Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy...apparently my type is Person Who Excelled At Formal Education/Redhead, And They Argue A Lot

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

hey hey hey I am going to finish both of my Good Omens WIPs! I do have an unpublished horror comedy WIP that I’d like to post around Halloween but am completely stuck on because I can’t decide what it should be rated, so I may use parts of that for other things if I can't pick a tone

15) What are your writing strengths?

*Mike Wazowski voice* These are the jokes, kid

I’d also say I can write sexual stuff that is not repetitive and dialogue that sounds in character. Oh, and I genuinely enjoy writing titles and summaries!

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

besides…not writing…

On a structural level, I have a tendency to take too long getting to first plot beats and then rush endings. On a sentence level I think I have a terminal case of Dependent Clause Disease that genuinely interferes with clarity

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

No real thoughts other than whenever I am reading an old book and someone says something in gratuitous French or one of the 12 expressions I know in Latin I feel very Smart bc the fifth grade snob lives within me

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

It’s been so interesting seeing responses to this question from people who have been writing fic since their early teens or childhood! I didn’t write any fanfic before 2019 or any fiction at all except for school projects. I wrote maybe 1k words of Thor fanfic that summer and then went straight on to Good Omens

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

In Mixed Company, for sure. I’m hopeful that when I finish current WIPs it’ll be Lest They Be Flatmates though!

tagging @lenore-is-lost and @mllekurtz if you'd like, and anybody else who sees this post!

#fic writer asks #long post #good omens fanfic

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razberryyum · 4 years ago

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Scumbag System (SVSSS donghua) Episode 10 Thoughts (spoilers)

(covers SVSSS chaps 24 - 26, BC Novels Translations)

And thus the first season of the SVSSS donghua comes to an end...rather weirdly abruptly to be honest, but more on that later. Obviously I love the donghua. It was not perfect, but it still exceeded my expectations. I truly appreciate what they were able to do within their budget constraints and I think they captured the spirit of the source material perfectly, which is really all I hope for when it comes to adaptations. The writing was strong, the humor hit the spot always (for example, when poor Shizun got motion sickness from sword riding, I guffawed), and they also gave us some of the most beautiful characters I’ve ever seen on screen, especially with Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge. I really, really hope they release official figurines for them. I’m going to start saving my money now just for that possibility.

Even though their time together in this episode was short, the BingQiu love was definitely strong. They gave them a combo move that was not in the source material: for someone like me who grew up watching Cantonese dramas, two characters who have a combo sword move (”雙劍合璧”!) are usually a couple so I was especially tickled by this addition. I am always thankful to the donghua team for the little Easter Eggs they give us for BingQiu, like the way Binghe's eyes lit up when he sees SQQ...

or when SQQ touches him...

Once again, for those not in the know, it can easily be interpreted as a disciple just being devoted and filial to his Shizun. But for those of us who have read the novel, of course we know it’s indication of Bingmei falling in love with SQQ. I love how subtle yet significant these little expressions of Binghe’s are, and I hope they continue on with these little touches even in the next season.

Of course then there are the more obvious gestures, like that HUG:

It lasted for a good 15 seconds and oh my God look at the Binghe’s hand placement! There was totally nipple groppage happening there! This wasn’t in the book by the way...SQQ didn’t get woozy and Binghe most definitely didn’t have to catch him like some fainting damsel, so we have the donghua team to thank for this wonderful moment of (sexy) physical contact between the two of them.

The donghua team was also especially generous in this episode since not only did we get some BingQiu love, but we got a pinch of LiuShen and QiJiu love too.

LQG’s eyes were on SQQ the entire time! And then Yue Qingyuan as usual took any opportunity he got to touch his Qingqiu. So all shippers were fed. Hell, they even threw in some more straight-baiting again so peeps who are watching the show for the “straight” romance between Luo Binghe and his never-to-be-future-wife Qin Wanyue were fed too since the scene where Binghe gives her the handkerchief to wipe away her tears were not in the chapters of the book for this episode, and racking my brain I don’t even think it was in the book, period. I’m trying to remember if that handkerchief even holds any significance but even if it does, it’s all for naught since we know Qin Wanyue is at most just a minor side character. She does pop up again later on but then is mostly forgotten, so...not quite sure what that moment was all about other than to, I don’t know, throw off the censors?

I’m also not sure why we spent so much time with Liu Mingyan and Gongyi Xiao in this episode. Nothing against them personally, I like both characters very much (despite my previous complaints about GYX’s character design), and it’s not that they don’t deserve more screen time, but this was the season finale! Even though the next season has been announced, God knows when we’ll see it next year and how many episodes it would be, so every minute of screen time matters! That’s why I was a bit puzzled that they used up half of the episode showing LMY basically facing the same perils with her group of fellow disciples as before and GYX just running from that huge serpent. Even if that thing DOES turn out to be Zhuzhi-lang, it was still a bit much. They weren’t exactly character building scenes either so...why? Budget reasons? Didn’t have enough money to pay SQQ’s voice actor (Wu Lei-laoshi) so they had to stick in miscellaneous scenes to lessen his screen time?

I’m kidding of course. God I hope that wasn’t the reason because that would just be sad.

Speaking of miscellaneous scenes though, what was going on with these two dudes?

I gotta admit, I’m a bit salty that these two mob characters got to do what our main couple can’t. What’s their story? Why do they get special privileges? Damn these nobodies. XD

All kidding aside, I have to say, of all the episodes this season, this might be the weakest one, not only because of the “filler” scenes, but also, the way the episode ended was so odd, especially for a season finale. The season basically ended on a scene transition. Not a cliffhanger, just a scene transition, and then cut to credits. What?? Why??? It’s almost as if they just ran out of time so had to stop the show all of a sudden. And then as if to make up for it, they added post-credit scenes which, honestly blew me away because it was so unexpected. It was indeed almost enough to make me completely forgive the weakness of the episode as a whole and that weird-ass ending.

I teared up! The scene was kind of chopped up, didn’t even flow that smoothly, but I still got emotional! I’m sure when I see this scene in its entirety next season I am just going to be destroyed. I think they made it even more gut-wrenching than it was in the novel. Looks like the donghua team really aren’t gonna hold back when it comes to delivering the BingQiu knives.

We also got to see Mobei-jun appear in the post-credits scene; I guess they had to stick him in there since he was featured in the poster for this season, so it would have been weird if he didn’t at least make an appearance.

I immediately thought of him as Sephiroth’s younger cousin when I first saw him on the poster and I still feel that way. Anyone related to Sephiroth, I will approve and instantly have affection for. For the MoShang shippers’ sake, I hope the Shang Qinghua they create for him will be just as pretty. I think I can now safely discard my guess from last time and also that moon-faced bearded ojisan others have guessed. We actually got a glimpse of the real deal in this sequence:

They strategically made him blurry so you can’t really make out his features, but what we still can tell from there is that he does not have facial hair (hence, he cannot be the ojisan) and the hair crown he’s wearing is silver and different from the twinky sect leader. So I guess we’ll be getting a fresh out of the microwave Airplane Bro instead of any of the no-name potential cannon fodder we’ve already seen.

We’ll probably get the abyss opening up in maybe even the first episode of next season but that’ll still leave a lot of ground to be covered in just 10 episodes (rumored). There haven’t been any talk about a third season, but I really hope it’ll happen, even though it might take them a while to make it. I know it’s premature to even think of a third season when we haven’t even gotten an actual release date for the second, but I’m greedy because I already miss the donghua. This season was over so quickly, I’m already mourning the lack of new episodes. I hope we get the second season in the first quarter of next year and then by some miracle, a third or even fourth to properly finish out the story. I know we will never get the FULL story, but as long as they keep the spirit of BingQiu’s love and continue to hint at it like they’ve been doing this season, I will be more than satisfied.

And while I’m wishful thinking for new seasons, I hope we also get a BingQiu duet and character songs. I love the opening and ending theme this season, if they want to save money I totally don’t mind if they just use the same OP/ED themes in the next season as well, but I hope they throw in a good BingQiu insert song and then release some individual character songs as well. I’m still not a fan of Binghe’s voice, but maybe they can have someone else do his vocals for the songs. SVSSS is the older son of MXTX’s works, I feel like it already got short-shrifted in terms of adaptation since it got the lesser budget compared to MDZS and TGCF. Hopefully with how popular the donghua is this season, it will be given a bigger budget next season so they can bring to life all the subsequent proceedings from the book properly. And whatever they’re paying Wu Lei-laoshi, SQQ’s voice actor, they should double it because that man is just amazing. I worship his voice and performance. I wish he would read the audiobook version of the the novel. I would listen to the hell out of that. I have always loved SQQ, but if I’m going to be honest, I came into the show just a little more excited about seeing Bingge being brought to life. I still love Binghe of course, in all his phases, however, now, because of Wu Lei-laoshi’s stellar voice performance (and of course SQQ’s beautiful looks), I’m leaving this season absolutely head over heels about SQQ/Shen Yuan. Also thanks to the show, I’m completely obsessed with Liu Qingge as well. So for those two reasons, I will eternally be grateful to the donghua team.

#SVSSS #Scumbag System #Scum Villain donghua #Scum Villain Self-saving System #BingQiu #LiuShen #QiJiu #MoShang

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barnesandco · 4 years ago

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Eat the Rich: Chapter 2

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s Hydra days, and a short mention of dissociation. Disaster Avengers having breakfast.

A/N: I really really really love that people are saying they like the reader bc that’s the character people envision themselves as when they insert themselves into this kind of fanfic. I hope you enjoy what more we get to see of the reader here. So enjoy, and please continue to reblog and comment -- it makes this so much fun!

I’m not doing taglists, but you can follow and turn on notifications for @ayeshaupdates to be notified when I post.

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers!

The dispute that had ensued after Bucky had voiced his wish to Steve had turned to resigned acceptance by the time the first slivers of dawn had started to creep across pristine floors, and Bucky found himself victorious. It's a grim glory that accompanies him down the hall and into the cell you had been moved into for the night. There's no mode of observation for this room, save for the presently closed viewing panel in the door. It's really early, and even though he doubts that you're asleep, given the stressful circumstances, his hand pauses where it's about to knock on the door.

With Steve having left for his run with Sam, and the others asleep or inactive in some way, shape or form, he's alone in the silver hallways of this portion of the Compound. Hand still in the air, tight fist, white knuckles and lip bitten red, and then he composes himself. Stepping away, he sits down on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled up.

While he waits, he listens, even if all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint, collective chorus of the birds chirping. The sturdy walls and doors between your bed and his floor prevent any speculation on your activities, since the only monitoring permitted is that of vital signs so an alert can be raised if there is danger. He could open the panel, but that might wake you and he doesn't want that. Whether this disruption, and how it is sure to initiate the crucial dialogue he’s here for, is undesired for his sake or yours is unclear.

His head meets the metal behind him, and the cold stings at his scalp, but Bucky stays that way. Likes the cold bite of it, on occasions such as these, when he needs the ice-crystal clarity of mind, and he knows it'll warm up soon, under his touch. Likes knowing that Hydra doesn't control him all the time, that he can feel the prickle of freezing skin without having a debilitating flashback to cryostasis is indicative of how far he's come. He's no longer the man Steve flew to New Zealand for a month after he had a hellish dissociative episode courtesy of New York's first snowfall.

The metal thaws behind him, sunlight through the thin sliver of window at the top of the wall slides higher on the door. Opalescent solar glare on silver steel, half a rainbow in his exhausted eyes, and the weight of evaporating dew in the air is what precedes a conversation that has his stomach in knots and crosses.

The digital, holographic clock strikes nine above the cell door.

Rising to his feet, Bucky can feel every single one of his 103 years in his back, the avoirdupois of a century's lamentable events on his weary shoulders. So he does a breathing exercise before he tries the door again.

Allowing his lungs to expand to their full capacity, and then holding that breath there until his alveoli scream, before exhaling in a rush of sweet-cereal scented breath, makes him feel less stone-like. More muscle than metal, soft and pliable and open. Steve would argue that that's perilous, here, in front of a woman who's so touch-and-go, all breakneck smiles, but he's not an Avenger when he enters that room -- he's Bucky Barnes, looking for more pieces of himself, pieces that he'll never find if his eyes are shut tight against the impact.

You answer upon the second knock. "Come in." Your voice lilts to a light taunt, but it’s effect is minimized by the drowsy scratch of your voice. Opening the door after letting it recognize his irises, Bucky thinks that the same can be said about the Christmas-just-came-early spark in your eyes, when they're underlined by dark bags. You're still wearing the green hoodie.

" 'Morning," he says softly, pausing in the doorway. The cell contains a metal chair of the same style as those in the interrogation rooms, and the cot you're sitting up in, back against the wall behind you. There's a small door in one corner that he knows leads to a toilet cubicle.

"To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure, Mr. Barnes?"

"Bucky," he blurts unthinkingly, and your eyes widen in surprise and amusement. His guard is down, and he needs to be cautious. "And you can thank yourself for being so goddamn persistent and getting on everybody’s nerves."

The smirk brought to your face is aimed at your hands, bound loosely in front of you. A more tender expression than most seen before. The long, fretful night seems to be taking its toll on you. Perhaps you’re slipping. Or perhaps you’re pretending to, his instincts warn. He sighs, clenches his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his palm. Metal whirs, purrs, and he releases when you move both bound hands towards the chair in front of you.

Bucky sits down, rubs his palms back and forth over his thighs, lets the grainy feel of the denim under scratch at his hands. "You know me,” he begins.

"Not nearly as well as I'd like,” you say with a grin, looking up from your hands. He glowers.

"I'm serious."

Your smile widens. "So am I. Come a little closer. I don't bite,” you tease, and he decides to take you up on it. Gets up and sits on the cot a couple of feet away from you, folding one leg up so his foot is under his thigh and keeping the other on the floor. You’re unfazed at having your bluff called. "...Unless you want me to,” you finish, and he ignores it.

"You kept asking for me while you were being questioned.”

“You were watching? Did you like what you see?”

The temptation to roll his eyes is strong, but he manages to hold it in check, and fixes a strong focus on you. This is important. It’s about his life. “You wanted to talk to me, so here I am. Now let’s talk.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“How about your name?”

“Oh, you’ll have to get to know me a little better if you want me to give up that secret. Try again," you urge, and he huffs. Like drawing blood from a rock.

Every question he could ask, every query he needs an answer to is being whirled around in the chaotic storm in his head, and it's so difficult to pick out just one. “Have we met?” He decides upon, momentarily forgoing the alternatives: Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why do I feel like you're important? What part of me do you hold in those bound hands of yours?

Head tilted upwards, you consider the ceiling while searching for an answer. “Briefly.” And then you pause. Bite your lip, look down, make a so-so motion with your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say met, exactly. I wreaked some havoc and you watched.” That tells me jack-shit, sweetheart.

“When?”

“February of 2013," you respond instantaneously. Good memory. That's useful.

“So I was with Hydra," he assumes, instantly going down all the roads he might know you by. A mission, a murder, more violence, another apology. Were you partners in crime, or his target? Or were you just in the way?

“I don’t agree with that phrasing, but yes, I suppose so."

“Did we work together?” He dares to question.

There's a change: a tangible shift in the atmosphere, like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. The stiffening of your posture, how you sit up straighter but hunch your shoulders against some invisible attack tells him he's touching a nerve, nearing cyclone waters. It takes a moment for the mask to fall back into place over your face, before you're able to answer, with venom, repulsed. “God, no. I would never work for them.” It's the most sincere emotion he's heard from you, this disgust. It eases him to know how strongly you feel about Hydra, but he’s wary of your raw response to it.

So, he treads more kindly. Softly. On eggshells sharp and off-white, feeling his way around the balance of your temper. “Then how did we meet?”

“I was on a heist,” you say, matter-of-factly. In your tone of voice, now even and professional, it sounds like the most natural thing in the world. As though stealing from megalomaniac neo-Nazis is just another day at work.

“What kind of heist? Who sent you?” Bucky observes the way you're pulling the edges of your sleeves over your hands as much as you can with your restraints. At this question, your smile returns, and he relaxes. Can now feel his leg falling asleep under him now that he's not so tense.

“Nobody sent me. I’m a free agent. I work for myself,” you announce, chin up.

“What were you going to steal from Hydra?” He asks, and your head turns slowly towards him, firework sparkle meeting level, cool, sky-blue, a hurricane simmering behind his irises.

“You.”

“We did not sign up for this,” Barton grumbles from his second cup of coffee -- addicts, the lot of them -- adjusting his hearing aid with a frown on his face at the turn of events.

Sam clears his throat, setting down a half-empty glass of orange juice next to Natasha’s espresso on the table and speaks next, “That’s messed up, man, that’s really, really messed up.” This is said with a shake of his head, and Bucky, having no response to either Barton or Sam, addresses Steve.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, Rogers.” He uses the last name to revert to the days of talking shop in green tents with the gravity of impending shelling in the air. Life or death, and though the circumstances aren’t quite so acute right now, this is a grave matter, too. Steve's standing hunched over the kitchen island, arms outstretched and hands flat on the granite surface, studying the pattern like it holds all the answers.

Bucky watches him think, but Stark, in Spider-Man PJs and the bed-head of the century, strolls into the kitchen at a leisurely pace and interrupts. “There are a lot of things she’s not telling you. Who she is, where the money is, wh--”

“She’s not telling me why," Bucky interrupts a tirade that he knows could continue forever, given the chance. “People don’t go around stealing super soldier assassins for the hell of it.”

“Maybe she’s working for someone who wanted you to work for them instead of Hydra," Peter suggests over a ridiculously large bowl of ridiculously colorful cereal at the breakfast nook.

“She doesn’t work for anyone. Says she’s a free agent."

“And you believe her?” Sam wonders. It's a genuine question, curious but not dismissive or doubtful.

“Barnes has quite the built-in lie detector," Nat tells Sam from next to him, her yoga-pant clad legs splayed across another chair. Yeah, he’s good at telling when people are being dishonest, but there’s also the fact this woman is way too fearless, fucking crazy to be made to do anyone's bidding. No chance in Hell does she takes orders.

Tony slumps in an orange loveseat. “Must be a Russian thing," he quips, and then breaks out into a yawn.

Bucky puts his hands on his hips and glares at all of them, by turn, sharply. "Would you let me finish?" He demands. "She couldn't tell me why she was going to steal me from Hydra, but she said she'd show me." One could hear a pin drop in this room, now, the bustle of Avengers replaced by the obviously preposterous proposition Bucky's relaying. "Just me," he adds.

"Me?" He asks, voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fights to control both, rising to his feet. "Why would you steal me?"

"Have you seen you?" You ask back, eyes scintillating, glowing with mirth. "Gorgeous hair, those eyes, and hands that I'm sure know how to treat a girl right.”

Bucky looks daggers at you, and you look back. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Bucky,” you say innocently, and he thinks he could scream in frustration, but he drops down, kneels just beside where you sit, and holds onto the edge of the cot like it’s the end of the world he’s falling off of.

"I don't think you understand how important this is to me. You know something about me you won't say. I've been trying to put together my past so I can understand myself better and you have a piece of my history. I need to know,” he enunciates each word as if it’s his last. Needs to convey the severity of the situation, how he has been trying to rebuild himself into a new life from the scraps of the old ones. He’s aware that he’s complete as he is but he also makes choices for himself now, and he chooses to know.

You look down, and although it’s your hands that are bound, you offer a golden prayer. "Let me show you." A lifeline, something he doesn’t want to believe and doesn’t know if he can trust. Hence, the question:

"What?"

A sad shrug of your shoulders is the first answer, and it all starts to unravel from there. "I can't tell you, I really can't. It's complicated and a really long story--"

Bucky elevates himself on his knees, his fingers dig in a little tighter, and the metal of the bed begins to creak ever so slightly. "The way I see it, we have all the time in the world, darlin'," he says in a thick voice, emotion simmering at the corners of his lips.

"Darlin'?" You can’t help but ask, without any flirt this time, any teasing, just a question in a tone as surprised as he is at the slip of tongue.

Bucky decides to ignore the interruption. "So let's start at the beginning.”

Fervently, you shake your head. "I can't." At his wide-eyed disbelief, "I mean it, I can't."

"No, you can, you just won't,” he insists.

"We could have a grammar lesson if you want, or I could show you why I was going to steal the Winter Soldier."

"What do you mean show me?" Bucky asks, moving to sit on the chair again. Leaning forward, he places his hands on his thighs, looks into your eyes to pull forth the words you won’t give him.

You blink, unbudgingly. "I have to take you somewhere. It's the only way to explain."

A sharp bark of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head as it recedes into chuckles. Your face is now blank and expressionless, gauging how to handle this, and he gives you the first response that comes to mind. "You're full of shit."

"What happened to darlin' ?"

Meeting your eyes, he says, “You want me to let you out so you can escape. A five-year-old could see through that.” Then, Bucky leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other as well his arms. His hooded gaze is at a stalemate with yours, and it’s a hopeless tug of war. So this is how it ends. A night spent sleepless in vain, a few battle bruises and the tug of disappointment in his belly.

A dismal, and last-ditch sigh ripples through the air, from lips dark and worried bloody. Your eyes look overcast and you open and close your mouth repeatedly to say something, but do not voice your thoughts. Giving you the time to formulate whatever perfect sentence you’re trying to utter is torturous, but he waits. Until you stop, speechless, and he gets to his feet. Turns to the door, and then you speak from behind him, while his hand hovers over the handle.

"Let me take you, and only you, to the place you need to see, and I'll cooperate. I'll give you what I have left of the money, and I'll plead guilty in court and serve my time.” Bucky freezes. "Just come with me,” and you’re the one making requests, making pleas now. It’s inexplicable, he knows he should be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth, and he convinces himself that he will, in time, but right now, he accepts.

"Was that an innuendo?" He asks, still facing away, the question indicating a truce.

"If you want it to be," you say, and he turns around to look at you. "What do you say, Barnes, are we going on a road trip?

Hope swells somewhere in him he thought had been long abandoned for darker days and arduous nights. The same intuition that taught him to ask for this piece of himself tells him something is coming. Something that’s going to make a difference.

"Bucky. It's Bucky. And yeah, I guess we are.”

#ayesha writes #jamiesmadwritingbash #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Love Part 8 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So uh...I wasn’t going to post this until at least Wednesday but uh....after that game...I changed my mind. It’ll definitely be a bit of a wait until the next chapter because this was the last one I had banked but hopefully it makes it worth it. Thanks Cale for making me spontaneously combust about a dozen times today.

Gif credit: @mitchmarner

Warnings: cursing, smut

Word Count: 3,975

~~~~~~

It had been a week since Cale had gotten home and although you’d seen him, you hadn’t had any alone time together. Cale had come over a few times, once with just Laura to help you do some more unpacking, a second time with his mom and dad who had bought you a patio set as your housewarming gift and then a third when his promised king-size bed had arrived and he’d brought his brother Taylor to help swap it out with your double.

Each time, you’d had to settle for a quick hug, unable to kiss him like you wanted to in front of his family. If you were slightly frustrated by having him so close and not being able to act the way you wanted, you didn’t let it show, but it did contribute to the utter exhaustion you were feeling.

Work was crazy, anyone wanting to move trying to do so while school was out for the summer. On top of that, you were trying to get the house completely unpacked, just wanting to be able to live without tripping over boxes or having to dig for something you needed. You’d been eating far more takeout than you would have liked, so when you came home to find Cale in your kitchen cooking, you almost immediately started to cry.

“Hey, you’re home…” Cale grinned, stirring something in the pot in front of him. When he noticed the tears, he adjusted the burners before stepping to wrap his arms around you. “Why are you crying?” He questioned and you just sniffled into his chest, so many emotions swelling inside of you.

You weren’t shocked that Cale was in your home, you’d sent the security code to the hide-a-key to Cale and his family in case of emergency. But the fact that he was here...cooking dinner...you certainly hadn’t expected that in your exhausted state. As your body finally settled at the feeling of Cale’s hand rubbing your back, you leaned up to kiss him gently.

“I just...this was unexpected and I’m exhausted and you caught me off guard.” You murmured. Cale nodded and kissed you again before glancing over at the pots on the stove.

“Well go change. Dinner is almost ready.” Cale insisted. Following his instructions you moved to throw on a cotton sundress, letting your hair down from where you’d clipped it to keep it off of your neck. By the time you returned to the kitchen, dressed down and barefoot, Cale had glasses of wine poured and was in the process of serving dinner. “Take those glasses outside and I’ll meet you there in a minute?” He suggested.

Taking a sip of one of the glasses of wine, you moved through your house, out the backdoor, and into one of the cushy chairs surrounding your outdoor table. It was a beautiful evening, and Cale’s surprise appearance was just what you needed after a long day. The fact that he’d cooked...well that impressed you even more and you couldn’t wait to taste what he’d made. A minute or so later, Cale was setting a plate down in front of you, loaded down with chicken alfredo.

“My favorite.” You declared, smiling over at him as he settled into the chair next to you, scooting it just a little bit closer.

“I know.” He replied. “Hopefully it tastes okay. I uh...I’ve never made it before. I had to google a recipe.” Honestly, it was a hard dish to screw up and Cale wasn’t totally incompetent in the kitchen so your hopes were relatively high.

“I’m sure it will be great. I didn’t have to cook it and it’s homemade not takeout.” You assured him, squeezing his hand before reaching for your fork. The food was more than okay and you devoured your entire plate fairly quickly. Cale finished fairly quickly as well and leaving your plates on the table for the moment, the two of you moved over to the loveseat, just enjoying each other’s company.

Cale’s fingers stroked gently at the skin just above your knee and his chin rested on top of your head as you laid yours on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you.” He breathed, pressing kisses into your hair.

“Me too…” You agreed. “This whole sneaking around thing is hard when I want to kiss you all the time.” Cale chuckled, his chest vibrating against you.

“I know…” Cale conceded. “I just…” He started speaking until you cut him off.

“But we both know your mom would ask a million questions and it’s kinda nice not worrying about what anyone else thinks even though I know she’d be happy for us.”

“Exactly.” Cale mused. “Speaking of my mom though…” He transitioned. “She uh, she suggested I come talk to you about something...which saved me from having to make an excuse...” He admitted trailing off.

“What?” You questioned, confused.

“I uh...I’m thinking about taking a trip,” Cale explained. “Mom suggested I ask you to go with me.” Your eyes went wide immediately wondering if Laura had picked up on this even if you hadn’t told her anything. “She said it would be good for us to spend some time together after everything. I think she’s still worried about our friendship.” He continued, rubbing at the back of his neck after a moment.

“Oh.” You whispered, your brain just a step slow on the uptake.

“I uh...was going to ask you anyway for the record.” Cale clarified. “Her suggestion was just the prompt for me to come over tonight.”

“So a trip huh?” You breathed, curious as to what he had in mind. “Like to Banff or BC?”

“I was thinking Iceland.”

Your eyes went wide and you twisted to face him, your stunned reaction making his cheeks flush.

“Iceland?” You repeated. Cale could have given you a million guesses as to the location he had in mind and you still never would have guessed that.

“Yes, Iceland,” Cale said, completely nonchalant. “It’s supposed to be beautiful in the summer. And let’s face it, you and I aren’t really beach people. Looking at all the things there are to do there, it sounded like a trip we’d both enjoy.” Cale was right, neither of you was really a ‘lay around on a beach all day’ kind of person. The fact that he’d put thought into what you would like when selecting a location made your heart skip a beat.

“So what do you say?” He finally inquired. “Take some time off work and go on a trip with me?” You were nodding almost immediately, excitement filling your veins. As if you wouldn’t go pretty much anywhere with Cale if he asked you to. “Good.” He grinned. “I’ll make all the plans and let you know the exact dates.”

Standing, he pulled you to your feet and wrapped his arms around you.

“Our first vacation together as a couple. I can’t wait.” He breathed, kissing you softly but deeply.

“Hopefully it’s just the first of our many adventures.” You murmured against his lips. Cale continued to kiss you until your knees started to go weak before he pulled away, moving to clean up your dishes. “I can do that.” You insisted. “You cooked.”

Your attempt to grab the dishes failed when Cale dodged your hands and moved inside.

“Relax sweetheart. I got it.” He called, and you shook your head feeling spoiled. Little gestures like tonight meant worlds more to you than any material present ever could and you felt blessed that Cale always seemed to want to do things to show you just how important you were. Letting yourself back inside, you moved through the living room where the picture Cale gave you last week was now settled among so many others. While not every photo included Cale, a good number of them did and it was amazing to see just how far your relationship had come.

Pictures weren’t the only things you had that revealed the depth of your friendship. Moving into the guest bedroom, you sat down on the bed, your fingers immediately drifting over the fabric of the quilt you’d found stored in one of your boxes from your childhood home. It was made of every jersey Cale had ever worn, even including the avs. You yourself had worn pretty much every one of these jerseys as you cheered Cale on from the bleachers.

Lost in thought about all of those weekends and afternoons spent at various rinks you missed Cale searching for you.

“What are you doing in here?” Cale murmured, his body leaning against the doorframe.

“Just thinking…” You responded, smiling over at him fondly. You felt Cale’s eyes just take you in before he realized just what you were sitting on. He had never seen your quilt before so you watched as his eyes went wide.

“This is…” He cut himself off and you reached out to him, drawing him further into the room.

“The summation of all of the years I spent freezing my butt off while supporting my best friend.” You ribbed him, your fingers running along his abs as he stood in front of you. Cale had a mystified expression on his face and you reached for his hands, holding them in your own. “I’ve always been so proud of you, you know that right?” You insisted. “Like my family has always joked that being your biggest fan is one of my defining personality traits.”

Sliding to your feet in the limited space between Cale’s body and the bed frame, you gently pressed a kiss to his lips.

“My mom saved all of the jerseys and I guess when I was in college she sewed them all together to make this.” You explained. “I got it shortly after I graduated but I forgot about it for a while. Then I found it while unpacking and decided it would be perfect in here.” It was something sentimental and it made you feel even more like this home was a place for the two of you. It was a piece of Cale present even when he couldn’t be.

Cale’s only response was to kiss you again, his hands pulling your body close with the sort of touch that made you feel both powerful and powerless at the same time. The more time you spent with him, the more all of those suppressed feelings rose to the surface ready to sweep you away. You weren’t ready to admit it, even to yourself, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind was getting louder and louder by the day with one clear message: you love him.

Pulling back from the kiss you let out a long yawn, your eyes blinking slowly.

“Someone really is tired.” Cale murmured, his arms wrapping around you snugly. Nodding against his chest, you relaxed against him, some of the tension in your body slowly slipping away.

“I need a shower though...so I can’t go to bed.” You mumbled, your words muffled by his shirt. Cale still heard you though because suddenly he was scooping you up bridal style and carrying you into the bathroom, setting you down on the vanity. After closing the bathroom door behind him, Cale opened the shower door and reached in to turn the water on.

Before he’d even turned back to you, you were already certain that he had plans for the two of you to shower together. That was confirmed when Cale removed his clothes before slipping his hands under your ass to slide your dress over your head. Gentle hands pulled your undergarments off as well before falling to your waist to carefully set you onto your feet on the bathroom tile.

Checking the water temperature, Cale stepped in, pulling you with him under the spray. The sight of his wet body in front of you made your mind go blank. You knew you were lucky, but god...the sight of him was mindboggling.

“Are you going to shower or stare at me?” Cale prodded, leaning down to kiss you quickly but firmly. Rolling your eyes, you wet your hair before stepping from under the water to get shampoo. “Just hold still.” Cale directed, his hands already covered in a soapy lather. Watching him, you felt his fingers run through your hair before they lightly scraped at your scalp, massaging gently.

“That feels good.” You hummed, tilting your head a bit into his hands. As more stress left your body, Cale guided you back under the spray until all of the soap was washed down the drain. He repeated the process with your conditioner, making sure not to coat your roots, lazy kisses killing time before it too was washed away.

Quickly washing your face yourself, you turned to find him squeezing your body wash into his palm. Though the feeling of his hands rubbing over your back was innocent enough, by the time you turned to face him you were relaxed and on edge all at the same time. His hands on your breasts drew an unsolicited moan from your throat and immediately his eyes flashed with lust.

You couldn’t tell from his behavior though, his touch remaining light and caring as he drew his hands up and down your body, lathering you in soap. Though you were still exhausted, as you rinsed off you couldn’t help but feel that uptick in heart rate and tingle all over your body that signaled your desire.

“Remind me to shower with you more often.” You said softly, reaching out for him. “That was really nice...thank you.”

“Such a hardship,” Cale replied, an easy grin on his face. It was impossible not to take what he had tee’d up for you and you dropped your fingers to trail along the v of his hips.

“I mean something is hard.” You smirked, just barely grazing your fingers against his semi-erect dick. Cale immediately let out a low grunt in response. Eyeing him for a moment, you moved to drop to your knees but Cale’s hands stopped you, quickly pressing you against the shower wall. “Cale...let me take care of you...you’ve been taking care of me all night.” You requested.

“And I’m not done yet,” Cale announced. A shiver ran through your body and you bit your lip watching as he moved to step out of the shower. As your mind flashed to the condoms in the vanity drawer, you thought about your upcoming trip.

A split-second decision had you reaching out to stop him, and this time when you bit your lip it was because you were slightly nervous. You hadn’t been with anyone in a long time besides Cale and you knew you were clean. You were fairly certain he hadn’t been with anyone else besides you in the last few months and you knew the Avs players were tested fairly regularly for all manner of things. And with your birth control given via shot every three months the risk of pregnancy was extremely low.

“Do you not want to…?” Cale asked. It was clear that you had confused him, so swallowing hard you moved to remedy that.

“I do. Of course I do.” You assured him. “I just...I was thinking…” There really wasn’t any reason for you to be nervous, you were both adults who could have this kind of conversation, so swallowing hard you just spit it out. “I get a birth control shot every three months and I know I’m clean. I’m pretty confident you are as well and it would be nice not to have to stop to reach for a condom every time if you’re comfortable going without.” Taking another deep breath you spoke once more before stopping to await Cale’s response. “Of course if you want to continue using them we can...your comfort is important to me.”

It seemed to take Cale a minute to process what you threw at him but after a moment he nodded and stepped toward you again.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, his eyes revealing that he wasn’t fully certain but he was definitely intrigued.

“That my birth control is effective? Yes. That I want to feel you and only you? Yes. That none of that matters unless you’re okay going bare? Triple yes. So go grab a condom, Cale.” You murmured pushing him toward the shower door.

When he resisted your push you sighed, the sound choked off as Cale’s mouth came down with a demand that had been absent before.

“I’m okay with it.” He insisted when you finally pulled away to breathe. Searching his gaze, all those hesitations that were there before were gone, leaving nothing but desire.

“Then why don’t you take care of me like you promised.” You suggested.

Cale’s strong hands fell to your thighs, hauling them up his body and around his waist as he leveraged you against the shower wall. It was a show of athletic strength that sent a wave of moisture to your core, one that Cale quickly discovered as he brushed his thumb through your folds, ending at your clit.

“You wet enough for me?” Cale asked, his nose bumping against yours as he pressed a needy kiss to your lips. Feeling him hard, pressed between you, it was impossible to do anything but nod. He didn’t move, however, until you eventually found your voice.

“Need you inside me.” You commanded softly. Cale started to shift but then cursed lowly.

“Spit in your hand.” He directed. Realizing he was concerned that the water was washing away some of the natural lubrication you followed his instructions, spitting and then wrapping your hand around cock. You’d barely started removing your fingers when he pulled back to shift and adjusting your grip you settled his tip at your entrance. He slipped through your fingers as he pressed up inside of you and the dual sensation drew a sharp moan from deep in your belly.

The lack of a condom wasn’t super noticeable, but you could have sworn he felt a little hotter and the friction was a little smoother without a barrier between you. They were minute differences but just as you were aware of every other sensation Cale’s body created, you were aware of those as well.

As Cale thrust his hips against yours you took in the difference between this time and your previous two times together. Of course the location was different, but while the first time had been need driven and the second beyond soft, this was a combination of the two. The physical exertion required on Cale’s part meant that he couldn’t take his time, but he was also acting ever so gentle, truly focused on taking care of you.

Determined to do your part, you wrapped your arms around Cale’s neck, kissing him as you rolled your hips down against his. Each hip roll created slightly different timing against Cale’s thrusts and the variety of angles created drew curses from your lips.

“Fuck…” You moaned when one angle hit a particularly good spot deep inside of you. “Right there…” Holding your hips still, Cale’s next thrusts hit the same spot and your head fell back against the shower wall. One, two, three more thrusts had you screaming Cale’s name, your orgasm crashing down on you hard, taking with it all of the frustration you’d been feeling before.

With a pleasurable numbness settling in your muscles, it took you a moment to realize that Cale was still grinding again you, seeking his own orgasm. Though you were slightly oversensitive, you wanted Cale to orgasm so you trailed your hands over his arms, appreciating just how big and broad he was. His body held such power that it both amazed you and turned you on.

Feeling Cale’s strain you pulled him into a kiss, your hand dropping between your bodies to gently roll his balls between your fingers.

“You gonna fill me up handsome?” You breathed against his mouth. “Gonna let me feel your cum deep inside me?” His balls twitched and he groaned your name. With one more half-thrust you felt him pulse inside you and his hot sticky semen coated your inner walls. The foreign feeling sent a jolt through you and caused a surprise orgasm to ripple through your body, completely exhausting you.

“Shit…” Cale grunted, his forehead pressed against your own. A long moment passed as Cale worked to collect his breath. “Can you stand?” He posed the question softly, his hands shifting on your thighs so that he didn’t drop you.

You honestly weren’t sure your legs would support your weight so you shook your head burying it against Cale’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Cale replied, shifting one hand quickly to turn the water off, which was surprisingly still warm, before placing it back on your thigh, elbowing the door open. Slowly pulling out of you, he set you down on the vanity, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he kissed you. As soon as he felt you shiver, however, he reached behind him for a towel, quickly wrapping it around your body. Retrieving a warm rag he cleaned you up first before wiping himself down. You could still feel his cum slowly dripping out of you, leaving you feeling dirty but in a good way. That was by far the most intimate thing you had ever done and it felt you feeling even closer to Cale than you were before.

Wrapped in a towel, you watched Cale quickly dry himself off before throwing his clothes back on. Then he turned his attention to you, carefully drying you off as well before lifting and carrying you back into your bedroom. Since you’d been too tired to make your bed this morning, he was able to easily settle you between the sheets. The moment your head hit the pillow you felt your eyes start to struggle to remain open. When Cale moved to your bedroom door your heart sank.

“Are you leaving me?” You whimpered, tears forming in your eyes. Immediately Cale paused in the doorway, turning to face you.

“Sweetheart...I’m just hanging the towels up and grabbing your dirty clothes. I’ll be right back.” Nodding, you closed your eyes, not opening them until the bed shifted beside you. “Come here.” Cale murmured opening his arms to you. You settled against him, your head on his shoulder as he kissed your forehead.

“Sunshine...I’m not just going to leave you after sex okay. Not unless I absolutely have to.” You knew that, you did, you were just exhausted and feeling vulnerable after that experience. Cale’s fingers stroked through your still wet hair and you felt yourself starting to doze against him, his rhythmic breath soothing you.

“I should go home at some point though.” Cale finally admitted. “Otherwise mom is going to ask a lot of questions.”

“Can’t you just tell her you fell asleep watching a movie and didn’t want to drive back when you woke up because it was the middle of the night?” You pleaded, pout settling onto your face. For a moment you thought Cale was going to resist, but then he kissed the pout right off of your face.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He agreed. “Let me go lock your doors and I’ll be right back.’’ He stated, slipping out from under you. When he returned it was with a bottle of water, which he placed on your bedside table before moving around the bed, shedding all of his clothes except his boxers. As he slid into bed, you snuggled against him once more, and this time you stopped fighting sleep knowing that he was right here with you. Right where he was supposed to be.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #cale makar nws #nws #lemon #038 #cavalanche

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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

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3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

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unforth · 3 years ago

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Hello unforth! Thank you for your wonderful blog, and the the untamed art blog!! I followed you years ago for destiel, and you were one of the people that got me into the untamed. I watched it last summer and have been binging various cdramas ever since!! I had a question for you about reading. After watching the untamed I read the novel, and didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. I think you’re someone who prefers the show, but if not, sorry if I’m remembering wrong… hoping you understand. I want to try reading other novels but I found the romance in mdzs to be kinda off. I guess I’m wondering if you have a recommendation for the best novel you’ve read so far? It would be great if it’s one with fanfic but if not I’m still curious to try! I hope this didn’t come off as rude about the untamed, it’s just a personal preference. Thanks in advance, and thanks again for all your work in fandom!

Howdy! *waves*

You have not misremembered, I definitely prefer the Untamed to the novel of MDZS (and I'm with you, no shade on people with different preferences, of course!). I also didn't enjoy the novel of MDZS as much as I thought I would, though I think some of that was because I read the Exiled Rebels Scanalations translation which - again, no shade, translating that was a HUGE job and kudos to them - but I do here from native speakers that some questionable translation choices were made, which can detract from some people's enjoyment of the novel (and can enhance other people's, it just depends how those translation choices relate to each person's personal likes and dislikes).

Now, I can tell you what I've read and what I've thought of each one, happily - I don't know what turned you off about MDZS specifically, beyond an aspect of the relationship dynamic, so it'll be hard for me to say which of these might appeal to you more? But, here's a list of which danmei novels I've read, and my opinion. The list is shorter than you'd think - danmei novels are long and I read slow, lol.

Note that all of these end happy, for various definitions of "happy," and the main ship is canon in all of them. Also note that I tried to avoid spoilers, but sometimes it's hard to even talk about the ship dynamic without some mild spoilers.

These are (roughly) in the order I've read them; I just finished the last a few days ago. All art is by the official artists, but I'm not always sure what their names are, sorry - I've tried to figure them out for my art blogs but it's REALLY hard.

1. Mo Dao Zu Shi, by MXTX.

(since I'm writing this post for you, and you're already familiar with it, I'm not putting in TW and plot)

My take: I figure knowing my opinion of MDZS will help you assess all this? There are things I loved about MDZS, including the book, but MDZS is still obviously trying to figure out pacing. Whereas in SVSSS, the storyline doesn't always flow that smoothly and the ending is rushed, in MDZS in my opinion the biggest issue is that she clearly didn't plan some things ahead. For example, Miangmian and Wen Ning are both introduced within a few pages of when they'll be needed to Do Shit. It shows that she hadn't quite worked everything out as she was going, and every once in a while was like, "shit shit I need a character for this thing" and hastily added them. The plot itself is better paced, though, though I could have wished for a less talky denouement. When it was the only one I read, I also often thought, "this author doesn't understand consent," and, "this author has kinks I don't share." Now that I've read all three of her books, I completely retract the first one. MXTX absolutely understands consent, and was intentionally playing with it in MDZS. Not sure if the evidence of that got lost in translation, or what, but...yeah.

Relationship Dynamic: ...the second of those opinions, I still kinda feel. The consensual non-con is just not really my thing, like I'm okay with it in small doses? And I don't love some aspects of Lan Wangji's domineering attitudes and Wei Wuxian's act of bare tolerating it. And don't get me wrong, now that I'm more familiar with her work, I think it was an intentional writing choice and I also think they're both largely roleplaying it a lot of the time...but I still don't personally enjoy it much.

2. Scum Villain Self-Saving System, by MXTX.

Genre: modern transmigration into a fantasy xianxia world.

Where to find it: English translation by BC Novels | donghua season 1

Trigger warnings for: graphic descriptions of suffering, non-con of the "fuck or die" variety, and body horror...I can't think of anything else rn?)

Plot: SVSSS is MXTX's first novel, and is a satire of classic stag harem novels. Shen Yuan, the protagonist and half the main ship, is reading a serialized web novel by "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky" about a demon named Luo Binghe who has a harem of over 3,000 women and has done all kinds of ghastly awful things. He hates this novel but has read all, like, 3 million words of it or something, and trolls every chapter...until one gets him so angry that he dies...and then he wakes up in the book right around when the book starts, in the body of one of the early antagonists, a cultivator named Shen Qingqiu who abuses a young, innocent Luo Binghe physically and emotionally and, ultimately, is horribly tortured to death. Shen Yuan, in Shen Qingqiu's body, thus sets out to not be horribly tortured to death by Luo Binghe. Hijinks ensue.

My Take: In terms of my opinion of it...SVSSS secured for me that MXTX is a much more brilliant author than I thought when I'd only read MDZS. She understands tropes and subverts them brilliantly throughout the story, and from a writing standpoint, I was impressed with her. However, from a plot standpoint...she's got all the ideas but hasn't, imo, yet figured out how exactly to bring them all together. The pacing is off at times, and the ending felt abrupt to me. It's also the only danmei I've read where I ship a side ship more than the primary one (which is, of course, Shen Yuan (as Shen Qingqiu)/Luo Binghe. (also, oops...I read SVSSS after TGCF and just put them in the wrong order, oh well, not gonna change it now.)

Relationship Dynamic: In terms of relationship weirdness...it's hard to sort in that regard, because, like, it's supposed to be weird? I think it's a really interest book but I'm not sure I'd recommend it in your situation. Bingqiu's main dynamic is...uh...tolerance and obsession? They're kinda hard to describe. Shen Yuan often seems like he's just kinda putting up with Luo Binghe, whereas Luo Binghe is...god. So hard to describe, lmao. He's a big clumsy ox in a museum full of porcelain dishes and he really, really loves his Shizun. (also note that Shen Qingqiu is Luo Binghe's teacher. They don't get together until after they're not master/student, but if that's not your thing, another reason to avoid.)

3. Tian Guan Ci Fu, by MXTX.

(art is by Starember)

Genre: historical China (loosely), xianxia (note that I'm still figuring out exactly how stuff gets classified so sorry if I get one wrong, but I think I kinda get it???)

Where to Access It: English Translation by the astonishing yummysuika | manhua (this is an official translation by Bilibili! It's a few chapters behind the actual release, but still...) | donghua season 1 is on Netflix | a live action adaptation is juuuuust getting started on script reading and filing

Trigger warnings for: MCD, temporary MCD, body horror, graphic violence, epic levels of mind fuckery, uh...genocide?...again, racism/colorism, probably other stuff, sorry, I can't take as long as I'd like to for this post so I'm not being as thorough as I oughta be.

Plot: TGCF is about Xie Lian, an 800 year old man, and it commences at the moment when, unexpectedly, he ascends to godhood...for the third time. Unfortunately, when he ascends, he accidentally does some damage in Heaven, and he has to repay that, so he gets sent back to earth to deal with a ghost who's been causing some problems. Hijinks ensue...and then fucktons of angst ensue...then more hijinks...then more angst...and basically it broke my heart like four times and I am grateful for it every day? The main ship is Xie Lian and a ghost named Hua Cheng, but it's hard to even talk about without some spoilers because of some identity shenanigans. (they're VERY mildly identity shenanigans, but still).

My Take: So, you asked what my favorite of the danmei novels I've read is? It's TGCF. TGCF is one of my favorite novels ever, and it has a growing fandom, a donghua that's on Netflix, and a live action that's just starting to film. TGCF is the culmination of the skills MXTX developed through her first two works, imo. She clearly plotted it out all from the start, and while Book 1 especially often seems kind of random - lots of elements are introduced and then kinda...apparently...forgotten? And never explained? But she actually DOES bring it ALL together and it's flat-out masterful. I'm a big fan, obviously.

Relationship Dynamic: it again depends on your preferences and what you didn't like about MDZS, and there's no way to talk about it without spoilers, so consider yourselves warned. Xie Lian ascended to godhood first at the age of 17, and right around then he also saved the life of a 10 year old boy...and that boy is Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng is a follower of Xie Lian's, in that Xie Lian is literally a god, and Hua Cheng is literally one of his followers. However, they're separated for almost 800 years, so the age difference is largely irrelevant, and while some people complain about Hua Cheng's behavior being stalkery and obsessive, I honestly think they're dead wrong. It's more like when you read a celebrity/fan AU, and it starts weird, and then they really genuinely fall in love. Like, the fan may have been in love the whole time, and how they felt about the celebrity before they really met might feel slightly ooky, but it's how they act AFTER they meet their idol that matters more, and...yeah, Hua Cheng is great, they're both great, antis fight me. Xie Lian is easily one of my favorite characters EVER, he is all my favorite tropes in one horribly, wonderfully fucked up martyristic idealistic sweet kind laid back package. I would kill for him, lmao. In terms of their relationship dynamic...they love and respect each other? There's really nothing that weird about it other than the aspects of the "fan" Hua Cheng that get revealed over time - and he's always terrified that when Xie Lian realizes what a fanboy he was, Xie Lian will be upset or disgusted, but of course Xie Lian never is. They adore each other. It's glorious. Highly recommend. :D There's also no explicit content in TGCF (unlike MXTX's other two books).

4. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (aka 2ha) by Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat.

Genre: original world, xianxia, time travel, dimension hopping, it's so many things, 2ha is so hard to describe lmao

Where to Access it: English Translation by the amazing yummysuika (things are complicated, though, and it's not finished) | a manhua is in the works and should be out this year | a live action called "Hao Yixing" or "Immortality" is already filmed and could theoretically air literally any time cause it's completely ready, but when will it actually come? Who knows!

Trigger warnings: all of them. Literally. MCD, temporary MCD, murder, suicide, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, rape/non-con, abuse, manipulation, gas lighting, torture, graphic violence, body horror, literal graphic onscreen horrible blood murder of a small child (I had to skip that chapter), teacher/student relationship sort of but not exactly, probably other stuff, this book is dark as fuck, and a lot of these tags apply to behavior of one half of the main ship toward the other, but...it's complicated, and there are reasons things happen, and those reasons aren't "well they're just a bad person."

Plot: This is another one that's hard to describe because there's sooooo much mind fuckery going on, but I'll try. 2ha is about Mo Ran, who rises to be the Emperor of the World, Taxian Jun, but slaughtering all who oppose him...and who is so miserable that he commits suicide, only to wake up in his 16 year old body. This is pretty much perfect from Mo Ran's point of view, because he's gone back so far that the love of his life, his fellow disciple Shi Mei, is still alive. He has a chance to fix everything that went wrong, starting with preventing his awful evil Shizun, Chu Wanning, from letting Shi Mei die.

Spoilers: the main ship in this book is Mo Ran/Chu Wanning.

Hijinks do NOT ensue. There are no hijinks in 2ha. It is all pain all the time (but I swear it ends happy).

My Take: ...well, from a structural standpoint there are some pacing issues. The book is incredibly long (over 300 chapters, over 1 million words) and there are definitely some chunks that could just be excised and it'd still be fine. However, other than that, it's pretty amazing and absolutely masterful how it's plotted. As a reader you'll spend 100+ chapters thinking you know what's going on, and who the good guys are, and who the bad guys are, and how they relate to each other...and then Meatbun starts in on revealing what's ACTUALLY going on and she then spends 200 chapters repeatedly punching you in the face! Like, I went in knowing a LOT of spoilers, because the tags were so dark that I felt that for my mental health it was important I have a general idea what was going on, and I STILL ended up sobbing my eyes out (and I am NOT an easy crier and don't usually cry at books) over something I knew was coming.

Relationship Dynamic: That's about the only thing that the title accurately conveys about this book. "The Husky and His White Cat Shizun," sounds so soft and fluffy, right? That's how they get you, ha. But, Mo Ran is absolutely a big dumb husky who wants to do the right thing (well, sometimes he does) but just completely fails depressingly often. When he sees someone he likes come in the front door he WILL jump all over them and bark in their face as his way of trying to communicate affection. And Chu Wanning is equally absolutely a cat. He is emotionally constipated, poor at expressing himself, uptight, touch starved, desperate for affection, and so lonely my chest hurts when I think about him. And for how they relate to each other...well, picture that big dog greeting a loved one at the door...except that loved one is the most hide-bound proud white cat you can imagine.

That's their dynamic.

(However, also...there are multiple timelines at play, and Taxian Jun does some truly awful things to "his" Chu Wanning in the original timeline, and many of these things are graphically described, and while it's ultimately all explained, it still all HAPPENS, so if you're going to have trouble reading fucktons of abuse between the main ship, I would not recommend this book)

5. Thousand Autumns (Qianqiu) by Meng Xi Shi.

Genre: historical China (like, references actual people, as far as I can tell), xianxia

Where to Access it: ...reading Thousand Autumns is HARD, it's split over like four websites/translators. This Carrd can kinda help? I can get you the rest if you want | donghua season 1 | I heard there's a live action in the works? But I don't know more than that.

Trigger warnings: graphic violence, mentions/threats of sexual violence (but it's all stopped before things really go wrong), starvation, description of child death (from starvation), near-death, emotional/mental abuse, major semi-permanent character injury, god, minor character death, they're major characters depending on your pov, I can't actually think of others, after writing about 2ha it feels positively fluffy). Note that there's not really any explicit content, just implications of smut, and not til basically the very end and extras.

Plot: Yan Wushi, sect leader of a demonic sect, has just come out of an extended seclusion to improve his cultivation when he and one of his disciples come across a man who is wounded to the point of near death. This turns out to be Shen Qiao, the sect leader of Mount Xuandu. When Shen Qiao awakens from his wounds, he's lost his memory, AND he's blind, and Yan Wushi decides it would be great fun and an excellent use of his time to fuck with Shen Qiao by trying to turn him evil - because Yan Wushi is certain that ALL people are inherently evil, and shattering Shen Qiao's veneer of righteousness will just help prove that.

Spoilers: it's not a veneer.

Not spoilers: Not many hijinks ensue, but there are a few hijinks, and even when it's not hijinxed, it's still not that painful...usually.

My Take: despite that synopsis, a lot of the plot of Thousand Autumns is actually political, and I like political plots, so I liked that aspect of it. However, it has some serious pacing issues imo, and it's also hard to read in English atm because it's not fully translated; it's close, now, much closer than when I read it a few months ago, so it'll be easier to read soon. Or maybe I shouldn't say it's pacing problems, but rather, it's more of a sequence of multiple major plots, strung together, with the growing relationship between Yan Wushi and Shen Qiao playing out in the background. I think if I'd known there was no "one big plot" that would have actually helped me, because it kept feeling like, "Oh, THIS is the main thing," but it never was. Things would feel climactic...except then there'd be more. So it's probably better to actually think of it as more...episodic? And the episodes/stories build, and interrelate, and do have a culmination, but not all of them directly tie in, and not all the threads end up coming together/getting resolved.

Relationship Dynamic: early on, Yan Wushi is definitely abusive and manipulative, intentionally so, and I would argue that, imo, Shen Qiao falls for it. However, mid-way through, there's some big reveals, and after that when they're reunited Shen Qiao no longer takes any shit and Yan Wushi continues to act like he doesn't care even when he clearly does. They're not a typical ship in ANY WAY, and I'd say their relationship is more founded on mutual respect than on love. Indeed, in the author's notes at one point MXS actually says they doesn't see them as the kind of couple to ever exchange love declarations, and I thought that was really interesting and it really helped me to understand how they worked together because I'll own I struggled with at times. Yan Wushi is self-interested, often cruel, and ethically and morally dubious. Shen Qiao, on the other hand, could probably ascend to Daoist godhood, he's so pure. Yet...they DO work. I'd say "opposites attract" but that's ALSO not their main trope, not exactly. They're a VERY hard ship to explain, and I know some people who've read the whole book and still don't really...get them...and I've had to really think about them to wrap my head around them...but the more I've thought about them, the more I like them.

6. Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by Man Man He Qi Duo.

Genre: historical fiction set in either actual China or make-believe China, I'm not sure if this is directly incorporated any real people

Where to Access It: English Translation by Perpetual Daydreams | manhua (untranslated, I'm not sure if there's anyone translating it into English) | I think there's a live action in the works? Not sure beyond that though.

Trigger Warnings: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation, drug addiction, drug abuse, chronic illness (different character than the drugs), manipulation, abusive, awful parents and parental figures (not all, but definitely some), some homophobia (but way less than there could have been), probably other stuff

Plot: After 7 years away, Zhong Wan returns to the capital of the Empire with the three children of his benefactor, the seven-years-dead Prince Ning. Prince Ning was executed for treason against the previous Emperor, and Zhong Wan has done all he can to protect and raise the three kids, but he's got a lot of worries about returning to the capital and what could happen to his charges if they get pulled into the politics surrounded the Emperor. But, even worse, he's got even more worries about being reunited with Yu She, nephew of the Emperor, with whom he has more than a little history...and about whom he has been lying for the past 7 years, claiming that he is Yu She's lover, in a bid to help use Yu She's reputation to protect Prince Ning's children.

Hijinks ensue.

And so does a political nightmare.

My Take: TYQHM was a hard book to get into because there are just so many characters and it's all about politics - this is NOT a xianxia or wuxia novel, and these characters are NOT cultivators. There's basically nothing supernatural in the whole book; instead, it's about Zhong Wan and Yu She figuring out their own histories, and accepting each other, while trying to survive in a political world that increasingly wants both of them dead. However, I adore political plots, and when all was said and done I really enjoyed it, and I'm trying tooth and nail to claw other people into the fandom with me, so far with basically no success. It only has like 15 works in English on AO3. And so not only does it not fit that requirement of yours...

Relationship Dynamic: ...I think you would also probably not like the relationship dynamic? Zhong Wan is a bit like Wei Wuxian-as-Mo Xuanyu, except more...genuinely? Like, it's his actual personality, not an act, in quite the same way. I don't mean the "flamboyantly gay" part...usually...he definitely has his moments...but he's just...like, he's been through so much that he'll basically say anything, and drag himself entirely through the mud, to distract people who might hurt the three kids (they're like 16, 13, 13, now I think? It was never THAT clear to me, tbh...certainly, all are at least 10...) and, later, Yu She. He has zero face, and doesn't mind having negative face when he feels the situation demands it...and Yu She, on the other hand, has MAJOR depression issues, is sure he deserves nothing, and mostly wants to destroy everyone around him and then kill himself, at least until Zhong Wan starts giving him a reason to live again. But, more than that...Zhong Wan is like the fucking epitome of a bratty subby bottom. He wants to get fucked SO bad. And Yu She is an incredibly reluctant dom, hilariously so at times, uncomfortably/manipulative so at others. When all was said and done, I was pretty fond of them both, but there were definitely moments that made me grimace, and given what you say of how you felt about MDZS, I think this one is less likely to be to your taste?

Bonus 7: Guardian by Priest. I never finished the novel version of Guardian because the translation had some issues that caused me not to enjoy it, so I won't get into it too much, but again, Guardian is a very different book than any of the others, because it's modern fantasy(ish, like, it's still deeply embedded in Daoist-related tropes but it's more "magic spells" and less "cultivation." Like, in terms of what it's like, it felt more like Japanese modern Onmyoji style stories, to me, than it felt like the ancient Chinese wuxia/xianxia cultivation stories.). I'm not gonna get into lots of details, because I read part of the book more than a year ago, and have seen the show (which is VERY different) like three times, so I can hardly even remember what they're like in the novel. There was definitely some weirdness, though? If you're potentially interested, I'd suggest starting with the drama instead. The plot for that is...

Plot: Zhao Yunlan heads a Special Investigation Unit in the human world tasked with maintaining a treaty between humans and the dixigren ("undergrounders") who are (in the show) aliens (in the book...it's the world of the dead). While doing this job, he keeps running into this professor, Shen Wei, who definitely knows more than he oughta.

Hijinks ensue.

And then it murders you with feels.

The live action streams from YouTube - here.

(Warning: uh, I don't want to give spoilers, but my "guaranteed happy ending" does NOT apply to the Guardian TV show...but it does apply to the book, as I understand it.)

Anyway, this was a terrible use of my time but it was definitely more fun than what I should be doing, and it's probably way more information than you wanted or needed, but since I wasn't sure what exactly you had in mind, I figured...might as well be thorough?

(Today's hyper-focus fail: this post, ha...)

#unforth rambles #i'm not gonna tag the fandoms because i give my own opinions #some of which aren't all THAT positive #i think it's best if I don't just dump that into the main tags

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lovingmyselfcore · 4 years ago

Text

Protect You Chapter IV

Oh my god I did it. I wrote a thing for this thing!! You guys are def getting other writing things from me this week but idk what it'll be bc apparently my brain is god and works in mysterious ways (is that offensive?)

Significant lack of Cardan today and I apologize for that but he will deffo be in the next part (if you've read the end of this then you know)

Chapter IV; Some Attempted Breaking and Entering ft. Nicasia being Nicasia and I hate her :)

“Ow,” I deadpanned.

Oriana looked up at me, mouth pinched at the edges, “Jude.” She had the way of saying my name (always has) that perfectly conveyed her distaste at my existence and scolding me for whatever I had done.

We were in Vivi and I’s apartment, Oriana had me propped on the counter while she adjusted my sling and bandages. Every time she saw the injury she grimaced in disgust, which meant that was her only current expression.

“When Vivi does this it’s much quicker,” I muttered, crossing my ankles and swinging my legs against the counter.

“Well, Vivi has had weeks of doing this for you.” Oriana pulled the bandage tighter and my ‘ow’ wasn’t deadpan anymore.

I didn’t think she was going to speak again but she did, “Training,” She scoffed. “I can’t believe you injured yourself so severely.” She looked up at me, “But at least it wasn’t a gunshot wound. At least your life isn’t as dangerous as that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Lying always has been my specialty.

Oriana pressed her lower body into my legs to keep me still against the counter. “Stop banging, you’re going to dent or chip it.”

I rolled my eyes and her grip tightened on my arm before she released me entirely.

“All done.”

I rolled my shoulder as best I could, “Great.”

Oriana stepped back and I hopped off the counter. Grabbing my jacket and slinging it over my available shoulder I called back to Oriana, “I’m going to work, Dain needs me.”

I was two steps from the front door when Oriana caught me by the shoulder. “Tayrn’s engagement party is tomorrow night,” She said it like I hadn’t been thinking about it since it was announced.

“Don’t worry,” I grinned at her, “I’ll be there to make everyone’s life hell.”

~~~~~~~~

“Jude,” Lilliver waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re spacing. Everything good?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s just…”

“The party.” Garrett said, matter of factly.

I gave him a look. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well lucky for you, you’ll be spending the whole time on a job,” Garrett said. Van and Lilliver winced.

“What?” I asked, meeting Garrett’s eyes. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh edge to my voice, the undoubtedly even harsher look in my eyes.

“Dain wanted us to tell you,” Van said, raising his voice as the music caught a crescendo.

We were in some day club that was clearly only for rich people. Sitting at a table tucked in a dark corner, watching as Dain mingled amongst the crowd. Shadows in the shadows, I mused. Weirdly appropriate.

I wasn’t sure who it was, but someone had rented the place and filled it with the highly respected, feared, higher-ups. Dain had heard about the event and invited himself, using the situation to make connections, and further the ones he already had.

He’d dragged us with him, of course. It was 11 at night, I was supposed to be curled on the couch with Vivi, eating ice cream out of the tub and watching Criminal Minds or beating up the punching bag in my room until my knuckles had split, even through the bandages and I couldn’t feel my arms. It depended on my mood.

But Lilliver had called me, said Dain needed his shadows, and that Garrett was waiting outside my apartment building. He had been. I have no idea how he got my address, but I’d refused to let him be my ride. He was too unpredictable, I couldn’t give him that blind faith. So I’d yelled to Vivi that my bike was out of gas and I needed hers and I’d pay her back for the miles, took her keys, and trailed behind Garrett’s car. And now, here we were.

I was nursing a glass of whiskey, mostly to calm my nerves as I followed Dain with my eyes, watching everyone who got too close to him.

“You don’t think anybody would try anything?” I’d asked when I got here, sliding in next to Lilliver in the booth.

“Someone’s done it before.” Van had muttered grimly.

I arched a brow, “What happened to them?”

Van just looked at Garrett, who was eyeing everyone and everything like they all had guns and were about to start shooting people.

I got the message and hadn’t inquired further.

“What does he want me to do?” I asked now.

“Locke’s a friend of Cardan’s.”

“I’m aware.”

Garrett rolled his eyes and I glared at him.

Resting my forearms on the table and leaning forward until I was closer to Van I said, “But Dain isn’t worried about Cardan taking the power, is he?”

“No.”

“But,” Lilliver cut in. “Locke has been seen with Madoc and Balekin. Being with Madoc isn’t that weird-”

“Yes, it is.” I interrupted.

“But Locke is going to be Madoc’s son-in-law. How is that weird?” Garrett asked, tearing his gaze from Dain.

“Madoc hates Locke, he isn’t very happy about Taryn marrying him.”

“For what he did to you?” Van asked.

I snorted, “You’re overestimating him. Nah, he just thinks Locke is a stuck-up prick who doesn’t deserve everything he has.”

“Fair,” Lilliver murmured and I nodded my agreement.

“But Balekin?”

I shook my head, “You don’t know Madoc like I do. If he’s talking to Balekin and it’s not about just security stuff? It can’t be good. Throw Locke into the equation and anything could happen.”

“Great,” Van drawled with an exasperated eye roll.

“So, Jude,” Lilliver asked after a moment of silence. “You have a good outfit, right?”

~~~ A few hours later, I was sitting on my couch, crossing and uncrossing my legs, waiting for Vivi to be finished getting ready.

“Viv!” I yelled.

“Patience is a virtue!” She screeched back from the bathroom.

“Anybody that has time for patience is wasting their life,” I muttered to myself, trying to relax back into the couch unsuccessfully.

I was too stiff all over, shoulders tight, leg muscles straining as I dug the soles of my heels into the carpet as if trying to keep myself on the ground. I curled my fingers into the plush cushion of the couch.

I was wearing a gold dress and matching heels, a small handgun strapped to one thigh, a knife on the other. The slits up the legs of my dress would allow me to retrieve them but kept them hidden enough from prying eyes.

Vivi was taking too long. I rose slowly from my place on the couch and walked to the bathroom. Some Taylor Swift was playing from the Bluetooth speaker perched precariously on the windowsill and Vivi swayed to the beat, slivers of dying sunlight curling in through the window to wind around her gold curls. She was touching up her mascara so she didn’t look at me when I entered.

“I know I’m taking forever, but you should be thanking me for not making you go too early.” I rolled my eyes and leaned against the doorway, not saying anything in response.

Suddenly Taylor’s voice cut off as Vivi’s phone rang. “Can you get that?” She asked me, but I was already reaching for it. I had to twist my arm half under her upper body to get to the other side of the countertop but I eventually reached it and glanced at the caller ID.

“Heather,” I said.

Vivi looked away from the mirror to blink at me and I took that as my cue to answer.

“Hey, Heather,” I said.

“Jude?”

“Yeah. Vivi’s busy being narcissistic so you get to talk to me instead.”

Heather’s laugh sounded like a fairy. “That’s alright, you’re not bad to talk to.”

“Thanks for lying to me,” I replied, leaning against the doorway again. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I just knew the engagement party was soon and figured I’d talk to Vi now before she gets too drunk to do anything.” I snorted, “That’s a very fair assessment. We would’ve been at the party already but Vivi is taking forever.” The last word was louder and Vivi stuck her middle finger up at me without even turning to face me.

Vivi finally set down the mascara wand and turned to me with her hands on her hips before making a toddler-esque grabbing motion.

“Well Vivi’s finally done getting ready, but she wants to talk to you.”

Heather snorted, “Nice. Well, have fun at the party, Jude.”

It was my turn to snort.

Heather’s voice got softer, “It’ll all be fine. You don’t have to stay for very long, and maybe you can find something to distract yourself with.” Oh, I have something to do, alright.

“Thanks,” I muttered before handing Vivi the phone. “Hey, baby,” Vivi said immediately and I shook my head. She stuck her tongue out at me before turning away and I took that as my cue to leave the bathroom.

~~~~

I was physically unable to stay still.

Vivi and I didn’t own a real car, so we’d called an Uber, and sitting in the backseat, I was doing everything but stay still. Vivi kept side-eyeing me when she glanced away from her phone, but she hadn’t said anything.

I was bouncing my leg, tapping a rhythm on the door of the car, the seatbelt, the seat below me, my arms.

Vivi paused in her texting, probably to Heather, to clamp a hand on my knee. It didn’t do much to actually stop my movements but it got me to look at her. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not,” I said stiffly and turned away.

Vivi sighed and took her hand off my knee. “You can talk to me, Jude.” She whispered.

I didn’t respond.

~~~

Locke lived in a mansion. I’d been there before but it was still impressive. What took away a bit of that was that I knew he hadn’t worked for it. He was just a rich kid, born and raised. Like all the others that had looked down on me my entire life.

He fit in with Cardan.

Vivi thanked our Uber driver as we stepped out of the car onto the winding stone pathway leading up to the front door.

As the car sped off Vivi linked her arm through mine and yanked me forward to start walking to the door.

“Stop looking at the house like it murdered your cat,” Vivi muttered, her arm tightening briefly around mine.

I tried to school my scowl into something more neutral. It wasn’t easy.

“We’re here for Taryn,” Vivi continued, “You might not even have to see him, or them together at all.”

I nodded mechanically as my eyes drifted to the window on the second floor that I knew belonged to Locke’s bedroom. Would he keep his secrets locked in there? Taryn could get in there, so maybe not, but it was worth a shot.

Some servants pushed open the door to let us inside and Vivi and I froze in the doorway. It looked like some kind of fancy 1800s ball, but with smaller dresses.

“Is that Elowyn?” Vivi whispered. I followed her gaze. It was, indeed, Elowyn Greenbriar in all her glory, perched near a huge window as if preparing to leap out and make a run for it soon. She was eyeing everyone with that look of judgment that seemed to be a Greenbriar birthright, looking more expensive than Locke’s mansion itself.

“I didn’t think she and Locke were that close.”

“It’s not just her,” I realized, as my eyes fell on Cealia, who was worming her way through the crowd of people to reach her sister.

But Vivi had noticed something else. “Nicasia’s here,” She hissed. “And she’s headed this way.”

Vivi and I’s arms were still linked so I tugged lightly and dragged us deeper into the house and crowd of people, effectively disappearing from Nicasia’s line of sight.

I wasn’t ready to deal with her quite yet.

I breathed deeply through my nose and snatched a glass of champagne off a tray nearby, scanning the room.

How could I slip away and snoop without being detected?

“Hey, Jude.” I tightened my grip on my flute of champagne and turned to face Nicasia. Her expression wasn’t pleasant, so I didn’t bother trying to act pleased to see her, either.

“Nicasia,” God. Why did she have to be so pretty, a long, flowing dress that was so many different shades of blue, I couldn’t even count them. It looked like it was tailored to fit her-it probably was, actually. It rippled as she moved, like ocean waves on the shore. Her hair was loose for the most part, aside from a few intricate braids woven in that she had curled around a single finger.

She plucked the champagne from my hand and sipped leisurely. It made my blood boil.

“I figured you’re one of the few people who hates being here as much as I do.”

I grudgingly nodded and her answering grin was sharp.

“Why are the Greenbriars here?” I blurted before I could think better of it.

Nicasia blinked at me before responding. “Because they’re Greenbriars. They do whatever they want when they want.”

It wasn’t a real answer and I had a feeling that she wasn’t just being difficult; she didn’t know, and hated that she didn’t know.

Well, Nicasia and I had something in common.

“Are they all here?” I asked.

She shook her head, “Balekin was here for a total of fifteen minutes before he vanished somewhere,” She gestured vaguely, lips turned down in disgust. “I haven’t seen Dain anywhere, but the girls are here. And Cardan,” She added, pretending like it was an afterthought.

My gaze automatically shot into the crowd, taking note of every face. But none of them were Cardan.

“Do you love Locke?” She asked scornfully.

“Do you?” I shot back, like we were third graders.

She rolled her eyes, “I’d rather crawl naked over glass.”

“Then you have my answer.”

She just looked at me for a beat

Nicasia drained the glass and thrust it back into my hand. She gave me a final judging once over before strutting off in the other direction.

~~~~~~ The next half hour was nothing but mingling; I had to make it clear I was here, that I supported this. After Nicasia had left me alone, I gritted my teeth and dove into the cage of hungry sharks.

I slipped back into the darkness, listened to aristocrats talk to each other, pretending they were all above each other and felt the weight of the gun shifting under my dress; the cold metal pulsed like it was branding me.

I pretended I was one of them; the lies felt warm and comforting on my tongue, honey on a warm summer afternoon.

The realization hit me like a truck: I couldn't entirely blame this on the Shadows' crash course training these past few weeks. I had always had the capacity for this; lying and manipulating and scheming came as effortlessly to me as breathing. I had been born for this. The thought should've been terrifying, but it settled beneath my heart, caged in my ribs with a comforting weight that couldn't be ignored.

“Excuse me,” I murmured and slipped away from the group I’d been attempting to charm.

Balekin hadn’t resurfaced and I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d left the party entirely so as I slid along the walls of the second floor of Locke’s mansion, I kept my ears and eyes tuned to catch any and all movements.

Locke’s office.

Yes!

I glanced around, feeling like I was in some kind of cliche mafia movie before attempting to turn the door handle. Locked. Okay. Not great. I could work with it though.

Being Madoc’s daughter and Vivienne Duarte’s sister gave me access to an arsenal of weird abilities to use in a pinch.

I reached up to my hair before remembering I didn’t pull it up, so I turned my attention to my clutch, hoping there was a bobby pin or paper clip or something in there.

I’d let my guard down.

I heard his uneven steps coming towards me too late.

“My sweet nemesis,” Cardan slurred. “What do you think you’re doing?” ~~~

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@ladyofbloodandroses @cultofvamps @itsmentalbreakdownhours

#protect you au #jurdan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

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