#ITS LIKE. CHILDHOOD NONSENSE AFTER THE WORST ANGST IN YOUR LIFE??

[just-a-chickadee]

one moment I'm questioning my sanity throughout my multiversal versions of myself next I'm laughing my ass off bc "Zombie song nightcore" came on immediately after "digital hallucination"

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

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They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

[jeonstellate]

farewell letter: winter’s truth

you left junhui a letter with everything you couldn’t say.

๑彡 wen junhui x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 musician!au, your lie in april-inspired!au — character death — angst(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 this is heavily inspired by your lie in april, but don’t expect too much . . .

Dear Wen Junhui,

It feels weird writing a letter to someone I just talked to over the phone . . .

You’re the worst.

Inconsiderate. Sarcastic. Jerk.

The first time I saw you, you were six years old. You were playing piano by the widest, second floor window of your childhood home. Sweet, beautiful melody escaped from the gap between the windowsill and the glass, blessing passersby with a tune that would most likely be stuck in their heads for the rest of the day. We didn’t meet that day, partly because my parents suggested to yours that they rather not disturb you for some silly introductions.

Seeing you entranced with your element was captivating. Your head was hanged low, which caused a fraction of your hair to fall onto your face. Your fingers were dancing on the keyboard as your feet moved along underneath. You weren’t singing nor mouthing the lyrics, but your head was bobbing along.

The second time I saw you, you were eight years old. Just like how it was a couple of years prior, you were playing the piano when my parents and I pulled up on your driveway. I didn’t get to hear any of the melody you were playing that time, however, nor did we meet. There just wasn’t any window for us to be introduced to one other in the ten-minute span I spent in your home.

Unfortunately, that was the last chance we had gotten in order to be part of each other’s childhood lives; that very same day, my family and I moved to the United States.

You may not have realized it, but you have changed my life — even way before we formally met. You had, albeit indirectly, urged me to learn how to play an instrument. I wanted to be able to perform a duet with you, in a more extravagant way than just sharing a piano to play with, so I ended up settling on learning the violin.

I didn’t strive for greatness, though; I merely wanted to be good enough to play with you.

Then I found out you gave up the piano. Even though it drastically changed my life.

You really are the worst.

Inconsiderate. Sarcastic. Jerk.

I was the one who persuaded my parents to come back to China, even for just a vacation. I intended you meet you officially in some way or another, but I never voiced it out to my parents. Nevertheless, the day that we finally met happened because they wanted to catch-up with yours.

When you came in to the room, I don’t know how nor why, but I instantly recognized you. Perhaps it was your hair (although your current hairstyle differed greatly from the one you donned as a child)? Or your hands (long and slim fingers that were extremely ideal for a pianist)? Maybe it was the way you smile.

As thrilled as I was to meet you, I was also nervous. After all, it could be quite difficult to hold a conversation with — must less talk to — an utter stranger that I felt like I have known all my life. Yet, in the end, I chose to pretend like you didn’t lead the way of how I lived.

I never expected to grow close to you, but I’d be lying if I said I never thought about what you’d be like. It doesn’t matter how I imagined you, but I think it was important to let you know that you were utterly different than how I expected you to be . . . yet also just the same.

You were meaner.

And snobbier.

And more annoying.

And unpredictable.

And sweeter.

And more beautiful.

Looking at the stars and attempting to name the constellations as we sing "Twinkle Twinkle" was my most treasured memory with you. I really thought we could spot every single one.

Performing "Liebesleid" for our families was my favorite. Somehow, we managed to turn sorrow into a beautiful memory. We were utterly magical.

Discussing nonsense with you from hours on end were my most awaited moments. Who would’ve thought we were both afraid of being forgotten?

Unfortunately, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest.

I’ve been lying to you, Wen Junhui. Constantly.

I kept telling you that I, [full name], was fine.

Ever since I was a kid, I had been going to hospitals regularly. Sometimes just visiting there for checkups, but often staying there for observations. There was no doubt that I must’ve spent more of my life inside hospitals than schools — or anywhere else, really.

The hospital trips lessened when my family and I moved to the United States; but, during one of my stays (prompted by the sudden collapse I hadn’t done in a while), I saw my parents crying in the little chapel. And that was when I knew.

My time was running out.

So, naturally, I decided to no longer hold myself back. I had no time to let fear restrain me, so I started to live how I always wanted.

I started wearing contacts, even if I was so scared that I would poke my eye out. I started eating desserts whenever I want, even if too much consumption wasn’t really ideal. I started to play violin however I want, even if I stray from the songs’ original scores.

Best of all, I convinced my parents to take me back to China — so I could finally meet you.

After all, I didn’t want to leave with any regrets.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But I’m sorry, Wen Junhui.

I’m sorry I kept stealing your food.

I’m sorry I kept pestering you to play with me.

I’m sorry I was so selfish.

I’m so, so, so sorry.

Thank you for making my last year worth living — as well as the others that preceded that. It had been my greatest pleasure to know who the boy playing piano by the window grew up to be.

Please don’t forget me.

[full name]

[otonymous]

Kissed By The Baddest CEO (MLQC Victor x KBTBB - NSFW)

Description: Old flames and prospective lovers threaten to derail your budding romance with Victor before it even begins.  How will you extricate yourselves from a web of misunderstandings?

Warnings:

NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential Trigger Warnings: profanity, jealousy, angst, exes, mentions of alcohol, bone fetishes, rough sex, 69 sex position (oral sex), mirror sex, vaginal intercourse, swallowing, size kink

Mild spoilers for Victor’s family history (MLQC); slight bending of MLQC & KBTBB canon universes via creation of original side character

Word Count: ~10K words (please set aside a good chunk of time for some fluff, angst and smut 🤣)

Author’s Notes:

First of all, a GIANT thank you to the super gracious @lin-ful​ for commissioning this Victor piece from me.  You are an absolute joy to work with and I really appreciate the fact that you gave me carte blanche to basically do whatever I wanted 🤣  I really hope you enjoy the read!  (P.S. I would never be so sadistic as to ever make you choose between Victor and Eisuke, so please rest easy 😆)

This story is especially significant to me as a writer because it represents the culmination of a number of milestones: the first time I’ve created an original character, my first attempt at writing a crossover story, the first time I’ve written in both first- and second-person perspectives.  It is also the longest single piece I’ve ever written.  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

Nb. This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1: Hello Diana

“Really Vic, I thought you were beyond name calling by now.”  

Her voice is sultry and low, smooth in your ears like the whiskey in her tumbler.  Completely at ease in a couture Givenchy pantsuit that likely cost more than one of your production budgets, she sat with her legs elegantly crossed in a leather armchair, tipping her glass to vermillion lips.  And as the flames danced in the imposing marble fireplace of one of Shanghai’s oldest and most exclusive supper clubs, they reflected off an enormous ruby ring gracing her middle finger.

Victor scoffs, taking a sip of his own whisky and glancing at you as you follow suit with the virgin cocktail he ordered on your behalf while you were in the restroom.

He was so infuriating at times, but at least it wasn’t warmed milk.

“First of all, you weren’t meant to hear that.  Secondly, I hardly consider ‘dummy’ name calling.  Far worse exists when it comes to options, as I'm sure you can attest to, Diana. You’ve used quite a few in your day.”

Amusement spreads across her fine features as she throws her head back in laughter, the sound enticing even as it disrupts the low chatter in the room.  However, none of the men looking her way seemed to mind.  She was brimming with so much joie de vivre that even you weren’t immune to her charms, smiling despite the anxiety that sat heavy in your chest from the very moment Victor introduced you to Diana Shum that evening.

You didn’t quite know why you felt ill at ease, especially towards someone who was doing you a favour by brokering a major deal on behalf of your company.  Well, more like doing Victor a favour, since he was the one who made the request.  Perhaps this was how all men felt in the presence of such a woman: elegantly confident and unapologetically vivacious, drawing attention everywhere she went.

“Are you still dredging up stories from our Oxford days, Victor?  Not very gentlemanly of you.  How do you put up with him?”  Diana turns to wink at you and the spotlight of her attention makes you feel like the only other person in the room.  “Let me assure you those boys deserved every insult in the book; one-track minds and transparent to boot.  They should consider themselves lucky I even acknowledged their sad existence.”  

“Di, you made the Prime Minister’s son cry.  You should’ve seen those puffy eyes the next morning at the swim meet against Cambridge."  

Victor raises his brows, subtle amusement colouring his expression.  And simple though it was, the sight of his handsome face so transformed by the faint smile on his lips made your heart race.  

No, there’s no way.  It’s probably just the fatigue catching up to you.  The flight to Shanghai from Loveland City must’ve been more taxing than you initially thought, even though Victor had graciously offered to let you hitch a ride on his private jet.  You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the frenzied rhythm of your heart.  The gesture goes unnoticed by Diana but Victor throws a worried glance in your direction.  You smile to ease his concerns.  He furrows his brows.

“Oh please, I should’ve ripped him a new one with the way he tried to get frisky on our date.  He’s lucky I didn’t call Soryu to deal with him and his wandering hands.”

A sudden change seeps into Victor’s eyes, dark irises softening as if focused on something miles away.  “Soryu.  How is your cousin doing, by the way?”

Diana leans back, taking another sip of her drink.  “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.  I take it you are accompanying this lovely producer to Tokyo to meet with Eisuke and wherever the Ichinomiya heir is, Soryu isn’t far behind.  In all honesty though, Vic, surely you would know better than I.  Weren’t the three of you thick as thieves during prep school?”

You perk up at the topic of Victor’s childhood.  It was a rare chance to learn about the formative years of this stone-faced man before he became the slave driver of Loveland Financial Group.  

“I was only there for a year and a half with Soryu and Eisuke before…before my mother passed.  My father sent for me shortly afterwards.  I haven't seen them since.”

Deep voice trailing off, Victor’s gaze shifts to the fireplace where it remains, as if hypnotized by the flicker of orange flames.  And as the silence stretches on, you become disconcerted to see him so uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts.  You reach out to touch him but Diana beats you to it, laying a delicate hand on top of his much larger one as it rests on the leather armrest.

The gesture is ridiculously small for how much it blindsides you — the sight of her hand on Victor’s dazzling like the light reflecting off her ruby ring.

He blinks at the touch, long lashes fluttering in the split-second it takes for him to compose himself and suddenly, the unflappable CEO is back again.  

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and we should probably call it a night.  But you have my thanks, Diana, for setting up this meeting with the Ichinomiya Group.”

It was Diana’s turn to scoff.  “Can we please dispense with the formalities, Victor?  Soryu mentioned Eisuke was having difficulty finding the right people to make this documentary on the anniversary of his Tres Spades Tokyo hotel, so it was serendipity that we bumped into each while on business in London.  It’s a win-win situation.  Meant to be.”

Meant to be.

There is a spark of something in Diana’s eyes when she makes that last statement.  It stays with you long after you part ways with Victor for the night, lying awake in your hotel room as you wondered whether the LFG CEO was already asleep in his.

Chapter 2: SOS

“You’re awfully quiet.  Should I take this to mean that you already know everything about Eisuke Ichinomiya and his chain of luxury hotels?"

Victor speaks without raising his head, leafing through the documents on his lap and stopping periodically to leave his signature with the same gold pen that marked up your reports. Its barrel glowed warm, reflecting the soft lights of the cabin of his private jet, en route to Tokyo from Shanghai.

Letting out a shaky breath, you try to steel yourself despite the rising heat in your cheeks.  Because after a night spent tossing and turning in your hotel room, you arrived at a conclusion so absurd it could only be true:  

You were in love with Victor Li.

Against all odds, the bane of your life had become your biggest ally and mentor.  All the pieces of the square puzzle that was the LFG CEO had fallen into place to form one coherent and beautiful picture:

His exacting demands transformed into standards of excellence, his workaholism a paragon of commitment and dedication.

And though you were loathe to admit it, each soft utterance of “dummy” leaving his lips made the corners of yours turn up in the goofiest of grins.

Oh god, how did it ever come to this?!  Where and when along the rocky path of your working relationship with the slave driver did you fall in love with him?  But that wasn’t even the worst of it.  If your intuition about the previous night’s events served you well, the beautiful Diana Shum was also enamoured of him.

You turn to Victor, meaning to inform him with utmost confidence that you had already conducted extensive research on the Ichinomiya Group’s charismatic CEO and his chain of casino hotels.  You even thought to throw in a snarky reminder that he himself had been marginally impressed with the presentation you gave on the topic back in Loveland City.

“Are you close to Diana Shum?”

Was NOT what had you meant to ask.  Especially in a voice that cracked like a 12 year old pubescent boy’s.  And if there was a way by which you could’ve drowned in a bottle of water, you would’ve gladly done so.  Instead, you settle for gulping it down, trying to keep your stupid mouth from spewing more nonsense in front of the man who was your de facto boss.

“Ahem.”  Victor clears his throat, long legs uncrossing as he shifts in his seat.  Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the muscles of that chiseled jaw settling firm.

“I-I’m so sorry.  It’s none of my business.  You don’t have to answer-"

“I’ve known her for a while, if that’s what you’re asking.  She’s a classmate from university and also a cousin of a friend of mine from prep school, as you’ve probably gathered from yesterday’s conversation.  Since graduation, she’s taken over her father’s role as CEO of Shum Property Developments and we’ve partnered periodically on various business ventures…”

He continues and you nod at the appropriate times, half listening as a million thoughts filtered through your head: your surprise at how unusually verbose Victor was being, the relief you felt to see that he was as determined to avoid your gaze as you were his.  Because the truth was that the longer he went on about Diana — so beautiful, polished and charming that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her even if you tried — the harder it was to keep the clouds from darkening your face.  And when Victor says,

“Not like it has any bearing on anything now, but we also dated for a short period of time…”

…It hurts to breathe.

Finally turning in your direction, Victor fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze.  “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, um, I just…wanted to know a bit more about the person who helped me and my company.  So I can better thank her later.”

You speak without meeting his eyes, hoping to placate him with a quick smile as you pretend to rummage through your purse.  Thankfully, he drops the topic, returning to his documents.  And though the rest of the plane ride is spent in near silence, the thoughts in your head have never been so loud.

Chapter 3: Sexy Bones [Victor]

She wore that dress today.  The same one she had on when she impudently stormed my office to insist that I give her company a final chance before pulling funding:

Fitted to conform to every curve, yet formal enough to be professional.  Beautifully sensual in her usual understated way.  My favourite shade of red.

“It’s my go-to outfit when I need a confidence boost,” she told me once in between bites of pudding at Souvenir.  “It makes me feel like a queen, like I can do no wrong.  Perfect for business meetings I just have to nail, you know?”

“Dummy,” I had said then, feigning dismissiveness so she wouldn’t pick up on the way my eyes kept drifting towards her lips, so soft and plush I couldn’t help but wonder if her kisses would carry a hint of caramel sweetness.

It was true that the girl could be incredibly dense at times, playing at being queen when she already ruled my heart.  Or how oblivious she was to the fact that the British doctor was completely smitten with her during today’s meeting at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel.

Dr. Luke Foster.

Completely absorbed in reading through what looked to be like a stack of medical journals, Dr. Foster had largely ignored us while Eisuke and Soryu made quick work of introducing the eclectic mix of other associates in the room:

Ota Kisaki, the so-called “Angelic Artist” whose work I was well-acquainted with, having previously spent a small fortune on his painting, Koro of My Kokoro.

Baba Mitsunari, a charming man whose handsome features were made all the more striking by the black fedora and red suit he wore.  The girl pointed out that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the cashier we saw at a convenience store earlier that day and I had to agree.

They glossed over a man named Mamoru Kishi, apparently sound asleep in one corner of the room with his face covered by a newspaper and a full ashtray by his side.

Finally, they came to Luke Foster, a blond-haired man with the air of an English gentleman.  Eisuke explained that Dr. Foster was the hotel’s on-site physician as well as a fellow alumnus of our prep school, apparently having left for reasons no one wanted to articulate the year before I transferred in.

And when the doctor finally looked up at us from his readings, his eyes took on an almost maniacal quality to see the girl standing by my side.

“Those proportions, those angles….perfect…absolutely perfect!”  He exclaimed as if in a daze, standing up suddenly and causing the reading materials to spill from his lap in the process.

He looked completely unhinged, almost like a zombie as he reached out a pale hand towards her collarbones of all places.  I stepped in front of her on reflex, only to have the doctor fix me with a piercing gaze as if he had just become aware of my existence and found it thoroughly offensive.

“Annnnd there he goes again,” Ota’s tone was one of exasperation, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the smirk that spread wide across his face.

“Ooh, Lu’s got a new victim!  Maybe now he can finally stop staring at the Boss’s girl every time she comes in to clean the penthouse!”  Baba chimes in, fingers stroking at his chin as if hatching some mischievous plan.

“Will the lot of ya shaddup!?  I’m tryin’ to sleep over here…zzz…” The man with the papers over his head gave a muffled shout before promptly rolling over onto his side.

Soryu just sighed, running a hand over his face.  And just when I began to worry that the girl was scared out of her wits, having wandered into this strange den of wolves, she surprised me by chuckling under her breath.  

Did the dummy find this funny?

“Tch, ignore them, Victor.  Let’s just get on with the presentation,” Eisuke said as he took his seat at the head of a long table.  The girl straightened up and immediately got to work, transforming into the consummate professional she always was when it came down to business.  I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watched her nail her pitch.

Taking a surreptitious glance around at her rapt audience, I stopped at Luke.  The intensity of the doctor's stare made me uneasy, the way those blue-grey eyes hovered above the scooped neckline of her red dress, tracing along her collarbones as if he were caressing them with his gaze alone.  I mentally berated myself for not putting my suit jacket over her shoulders before she got up there.

And though it was spoken under his breath, Dr. Foster’s murmur of “sexy bones” rang loud and clear in my ears.

Chapter 4: In A (Traffic) Jam [Victor]

“Victor, you won’t believe my luck!  Not only did we cinch the Ichinomiya account, I also found the perfect candidate to appear on our Mystery Finder show!”

The girl was practically breathless on the other end of the line, words jumbling together as they came a mile a minute.  And though her enthusiasm is as infectious as it is adorable, I remind myself to play it cool.  “Really.  And who might that be?”

“Dr. Foster!”

HONK!

I swerve back into my lane on reflex, narrowly avoiding an accident as the driver next to me flips me the bird before speeding away.  My heart raced, beating fiercely against the cage of my chest, but it had little to do with my near brush with death.

At this moment, I was more concerned with a man who looked like Death himself.

“Oh my god, Victor, what was that?  Are you okay?”  The concern in her voice is palpable and it makes me think of how kind and tenderhearted she is, of how easily someone could exploit that to their advantage.  “This is a bad time, isn’t it?  I’m so sorry, I’ll call you ba-”

“Don’t worry about it, just some idiot not paying attention on the road.  And what's this about, ahem, Dr. Foster?"  The name itself was unsavoury, sticking in my throat until I spat it out.  I hoped the vitriol escaped her notice.

“Okay Victor, get this: it’s like the man has X-ray vision!”

She whispers for dramatic effect, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel as I picture those slate grey eyes sweeping over the curves of her body, a lewd expression falling over the doctor’s features.  He was a handsome enough man, that much was true; intelligent and a first-rate surgeon according to Eisuke and Soryu.  Goldman confirmed as much when I had him dig up all available information on Luke Foster.  On that basis alone, many women would find him to be an extremely attractive suitor and ludicrous though it is, I can’t help but think the worst.  Luke had been quite open in his admiration of her, especially her collarbones.  What if she returned the sentiment?

In retrospect, it was a horrible idea to leave her to her work (and that wolf) in Tokyo while I returned to mine in Loveland City.  While she had the company of her coworkers, clearly none of them sensed the danger in Luke Foster that I did.  I no longer had the right to call her a dummy when I was obviously the idiot here.

“I’m telling you Victor, he can just look at somebody and tell you everything about their bone structure.  It’s too accurate to just be guesswork!  Apparently, he can remember anyone he's ever laid eyes on based on their bones.  It’s incredible.  I’d love for Professor Lucien to meet him.  If only he had the time to fly out to Tokyo…”

The girl continues and I catch sight of my furrowed brows in the rear-view mirror, deepening the longer she goes on and on about men who weren’t me.

“…He’s already agreed to be a guest on the show!  But…he did make a rather strange request."

For a moment, I can barely breathe.  The skin over my knuckles blanches as it stretches tight, my grip on the wheel growing harder as I brace for unwelcome news.  God knows what she would’ve agreed to in my absence.  Filled with a sense of dread, I had to know all the same.  “Which was?…”

She pauses, the hitch in her breath subtle but speaking volumes nonetheless.

“Just say it, dummy.”  I soften my tone in encouragement though my mind was already racing, thinking of all the ways my legal team could dissolve a contract should the girl have already signed papers.

“Well, he…he asked if he could examine my body in lieu of payment for appearing on the show.  You should’ve seen him!  He was so desperate he was practically begging and I…I just couldn't say no."  

MOTHERFUCK!

Chapter 5: Role Model

“STUPID VICTOR LI!”

You had meant to throw the rolled-up magazine in dramatic rock star fashion, sending it flying across your suite at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel to give at least a resounding smack as it hits the wall.  Instead, it flutters to the carpeted floor, barely a few feet from where you lay sprawled out on a bed much too large for a single person.

And from the surface of that glossy cover, Victor’s handsome face — all sharp eyes and chiseled jaw - staring up at you from beneath a headline that read: "Man On Top: How Victor Li Conquered The Business World.”

Man on top.  What a tease if there ever was one — especially since you’ve developed the recent habit of falling asleep to the fantasy of having the broad expanse of Victor’s muscular chest hovering over you.

“The only thing he should be on top of is ME!”

Your voice echoes in the room, empty save for you.  Even still, your cheeks burned from embarrassment over the absurdity of your current situation.  Victor Li didn’t belong to you.  Not when he had someone like Diana in his life.

Victor and Diana.  Diana and Victor.  A perfect match regardless of how the pieces fit.  And for an instant, your anger flares to remember the nonchalance in Victor’s voice when he told you that their past history as lovers had no bearing on the present, as if they didn’t look like they belonged together when you saw them just now in the lobby of the hotel, moments after you purchased the magazine with Victor’s face gracing the cover from one of the shops.

Practically ecstatic in your surprise to see him there at the Tres Spades, you were just about to call out to him when his name died in your throat, choked by the sight of the woman at his side.  Victor was escorting Diana to a limo waiting just beyond the revolving doors.  And the last thing you saw before the chauffeur pulled away was the two of them slipping into the vehicle together.

He hadn’t even told you he was coming to Tokyo.

It was only after you became aware of the fact that you were blocking the entrance to the shop that you recovered from the shock, murmuring apologies as you pulled yourself together just enough to make your way back to the safety of your hotel room.

Rising up off the bed, your feet sink into the lush carpeting as you pad over to where the magazine lay.  You pick it up and smooth out the crinkles, fingers tracing the outline of Victor’s profile as you do — gentle, as if you were touching the man himself.  And when your nose begins to tingle, you know it won’t be long before you feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“Think you could stop being so nice to me, Victor?  You’ll give a girl the wrong impression.”  

Heaving a sigh, you slip the magazine beneath a pillow on the bed.  A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was almost time for your dinner date with Dr. Foster.  Sitting around moping wasn’t an option, at least not tonight.  Lightly slapping your cheeks, you push the image of Victor and Diana out of your head and get ready to step into the shower.

Chapter 6: Hard To Swallow [Victor]

“I’m glad you remembered that you owe me a dinner, Victor Li.  And though I practically had to drag you to this restaurant, I guess the means don’t really matter if the end result is the same.  But still, what a lucky coincidence that we bumped into each other again at the Tres Spades of all places.  Now that’s something to drink to.”

Diana holds up her glass, Cabernet Sauvignon swirling as it meets mine with a delicate clink.  Under the table, the tip of her stiletto pushes against my oxfords before sliding past my ankle, inching its way up my leg.  I pull away, watching those red lips spread into a smile as I do.

“You might be the first man who’s ever been able to resist me.  Has anyone ever told you you’re one stubborn asshole?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughs at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down.  “So, tell me about her.”

“Her?”  I focus on cutting into my Kobe beef, already aware that Diana will see through my bluff.  She always did.

“Surely there must be another woman if you keep turning me down over and over again, Victor.  A girl has her pride too, you know.”

“We are not getting back together, Diana.”

“Tsk, you’re no fun, Vic.  All work and no play, all the time.  I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I start entertaining thoughts of calling you up again.”

She pouts, but it isn’t long before her eyes take on that familiar spark of mischief as she continues.  

“But seriously, tell me about your cute little producer.  That is the girl you keep rejecting me for, I presume.  I need to know about the woman who’s finally managed to infiltrate the entirety of Victor Li’s notoriously impenetrable heart.  She must be quite the lover if she’s got you wrapped around her little finger like that, pulling strings with all your friends left, right and centre.”

It annoys me to no end that the mere mention of the girl is enough to reduce me to a swooning idiot.  I fight to keep the smile off my face.

“You’ve got the wrong idea.  She’s not my lover.”  

Diana begins to protest, but her words are lost on me because I’ve stopped listening.  In fact, the only thing I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, propelled by the adrenaline racing through my veins to see him enter the restaurant.

Dr. Luke Foster.  

WITH MY DUMMY, NO LESS.

And my dummy looks…absolutely gorgeous.  Her hair is done up, leaving her graceful neck and collarbones exposed in a little black dress I’ve never seen her wear before, I realize with not an insignificant amount of jealousy.

But wait…collarbones?!

Sure enough, that surgeon is staring at her clavicle like some kind of pervert.  The sight alone incites the beginnings of a dull throbbing in my temples, no doubt exacerbated by the vice-like clench of my jaws.

I follow them with my gaze as they are led to a table for two; fixate on Luke’s face even as the sommelier arrives to make his recommendations to the pair.  The doctor stares at my girl like he couldn’t care less about the meal, as if the only thing he hungered for was precisely what I myself had desired for so long: the woman.  And she—

Just looked my way.

Surprise etches itself onto her beautiful features — the brows I had dreamt of one day lightly running a fingertip over while she sleeps lifting into a delicate arch.  And why shouldn’t she be surprised?  I had given her no indication that I had rushed over to Tokyo from Loveland City as soon as I heard what Luke had requested of her.  

But there is no nod of acknowledgement, no smile in greeting.  Just her, looking away as if she hadn’t seen me at all, her smile apologetic when she retrains her attention on the doctor.  And while it was only for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn her eyes carried a hint of sorrow.

Or perhaps I’m projecting.

Because her obvious avoidance feels like a rebuff, a sucker punch to the gut.  She’s never blatantly ignored me like that, no matter how wound up she was even during those times when I verbally tore her sub-par proposals to shreds.  The feeling of rejection sits heavy on my chest, the tie around my neck much too tight.

“Victor, are you all right?”

Diana’s voice cuts through my thoughts.  She is looking at me curiously.  I reach for my glass of wine, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of choking.  “Of course, what could possibly be wrong?”

“ ‘What’s wrong’ is the fact that you haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes.  Even if there’s no chance we’ll ever get back together again as you so adamantly insist, the least you could do is pay attention to the person you’re sharing a meal with.”

I take a deep breath, more than a little disconcerted by the girl’s ability to affect me.  “Of course.  My apologies, you’re absolutely right.  Please, continue.”

Across the candlelit table, I look Diana in the eye, resolved to keep up at least the pretence of being interested in what she had to say when all I wanted to do was storm the table where Luke sat with my girl.  With each sideways glance in their direction, my grip tightened on my utensils to see them chatting, seemingly engrossed in the world’s most interesting conversation.

And when she hands over a manila envelope to the doctor, my heart skips a beat.

Could it be…marriage documents?!

One tiny corner of my brain berates me for how ridiculous I am being but when it comes to her, I simply can’t help it, and the fantasy in which I casually stroll over, flip the table onto Luke Foster and steal my girl away in a bridal carry becomes so vivid in my mind’s eye, it almost seems like a good idea.

Diana excuses herself to use the restroom and I pounce on the opportunity to send the dummy a text:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 7: Choked Up

“Is there something wrong, Dr. Foster?  You haven’t touched your meal.”

You do your best to school your expression into one of polite neutrality as you take in the strange sight of the pale, blond-haired man shaking out an alarming number of pills onto the palm of his hand, tapping loudly on a bottle seemingly produced out of nowhere.  He pops them all into his mouth at once and you pray you won’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver as he chases them down with a few gulps of water.

A smile spreads across the doctor’s lips as his eyes fall upon your collarbones once more.  You were used to feeling like a third wheel by now, even when alone with Luke Foster, given his penchant for carrying on conversations while staring intently at your bones.  But you took no offence at his behaviour, especially after Baba’s attempts to give you insight into Luke’s peculiar mannerisms:

“Try not to take it personal, Miss.  Lu will look at anyone who’s got beautiful collarbones.  It’s a well-known fact that he’s obsessed with the boss’s - he's even framed the X-ray films of Eisuke’s bones.  He likely just wants yours to add to his collection.”

Strange though it was, the request that Luke be allowed to have X-rays films of your collarbones in exchange for appearing on Miracle Finder was innocent enough.  Certainly nothing that warranted the stony silence you received on the other end of the line when you called Victor the other day to tell him that Dr. Foster wanted to examine you.  After a brusque “I have to go,” he had hung up.  No goodbyes, not even a mutter of “dummy.”  

But Luke Foster had been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, never once laying a hand on you.  Moreover, he even insisted on paying for tonight’s meal despite the fact that you had invited him as thanks for appearing on the show.  

“Please, just call me Luke.  Vitamins and water are all I need to survive.  I only ordered because Eisuke said it might be awkward if you seemed to be the only one dining.”

“I-I see.”  You smile, taking another bite of wagyu.  And for a moment, you are too wrapped up in the blissful way it seemed to melt on your tongue to be disconcerted by the strange events of the evening.

You weren’t, however, too distracted to continue throwing surreptitious glances in Victor’s direction, fighting to keep composed each time Diana’s laughter carried over to your table.  What were the chances that you’d find yourselves at the same restaurant in all of Tokyo?  You know that he knows you are here; even Chik couldn’t put on a performance convincing enough for the LFG CEO to believe for a second that you didn’t see him.

With your dismal acting skills, you definitely didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re in love with him.”

COUGH, COUGH!

You clear the steak lodged in the back of your throat with a few hacking coughs, half of your face hidden behind your napkin as you tried to be as discreet as possible, the words “Death by Wagyu” flashing through your mind.  After soothing your throat with a sip of wine, you ask:

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in love with that man sitting just over there with the woman dressed in red.  That Victor fellow who accompanied you to that first meeting with Eisuke.”

For someone who seemed to pay very little attention to matters that didn’t concern bones, Luke Foster was surprisingly perceptive.  Or maybe you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and it was obvious to all but yourself that you were staring at the golden couple.

“I…how did you...what makes you—”

“Please pass this message on to him for me.  If he doesn’t treat your collarbones with the respect they deserve, he can’t blame me for swooping in to take his place.”

Then, for the very first time that night, Luke Foster looks you in the eye, the intensity in blue-grey irises making your breath hitch when he says: “Until then, I hope you find happiness with him, Sexy Bones — especially since he also seems to be exceedingly fond of you.  Quite the annoyance, really.”

And for the very first time that night, you smile freely, naturally, at Luke, blushing hard as you contemplate his words.  Suddenly bashful, you drop your gaze only to catch sight of the manila envelope you brought with you.  You pass it across the table to him.

“Here.  Your payment for agreeing to appear on Miracle Finder.”

The expression on Luke’s face can best be described as euphoric when he takes the films from you, momentarily excusing himself from the table as he murmurs something about requiring brighter lighting to examine them.

That is when you hear the buzz of your phone from inside your purse.  And when you finally fish it out, you see a single text from Victor, commanding as always:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 8: Green-Eyed Monsters [Victor]

“Another whiskey on the rocks for you, Sir?”

I nod to the bartender, watching as he chips away at a block of ice to produce a perfect crystalline sphere — still spinning in the glass when he pours the amber spirit over it like a libation.  It almost takes my mind off the fact that the girl is late.  By exactly ten minutes, according to my watch.  And for a moment, I’m gripped by a sense of panic when I consider the possibility that she might not come.

She never did answer my text though I knew she saw it — having witnessed her reaching into her purse to pull out her phone seconds after I sent the message.  And while the logical part of my brain is telling me I’m being an absolute idiot, worst-case scenarios are already running through my head: the girl is side-swiped by a car while crossing the street, or somehow managed to fall into an open manhole and is currently standing knee-deep in sewage.

Or maybe she is pinned to the wall in a dark corner somewhere, hemmed in on either side by the gifted hands of a world-class surgeon by the name of Luke Foster.

I lift the glass to my lips, too impatient to even savour the smooth burn of the drink as I reach for my phone to send her another text.  That is when I see her:

Cheeks flushed and chest gently heaving as if she had rushed to get here.  An errant lock of hair falling from her up-do, framing that beautiful face like I had dreamt so many times of doing with the palm of my hand.

She makes her way towards me in that dimly lit bar, and though I’m aware of the faint ticking of the second hand of my watch, time may as well have stood still.  Because I could have lived in that moment forever, gazing upon the light in her eyes as if they held every last star in the sky, as if those heavenly bodies had fallen just for her in precisely the same way I had: deeply, irrevocably.

And I know there is no turning back.

“Victor, sorry I’m late!  What are you doing here in Tok—”  

“Why did you ignore me?”  My voice comes out stern, even to my ears, and I curse myself for losing my cool around her yet again.  The girl furrows her brows, eyes dropping from my face to the half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the counter.  And when she looks up again, something in her countenance has changed — soft surprise giving way to a hardened expression.

“If it’s the text you’re referring to, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze as she perches on the stool beside me.  “Surely you wouldn’t have wanted me to interrupt your dinner date, especially when you and Ms. Shum seemed so intimate.”

Intimate?

The bartender approaches, interrupting our conversation before I get the chance to formulate a reply.  “What can I get for you, Miss?”

“She’ll have a glass of warmed milk—”

“Whiskey.  On the rocks, please.”

She speaks over me, turning slightly in my direction as she does.  I ignore the murmur of “Ladies’ choice” from the bartender as well as the smirk on his face as he begins preparing her drink.  The thinly veiled challenge in the girl’s expression — elbow propped up on the counter with her chin resting atop a loose fist — only serves to highlight how incredibly alluring it is when she pushes back.

“Hmm.  Bold.  Since when did you start drinking whiskey?  I don’t think you need me to remind you of your non-existent alcohol tolerance.  Besides, didn’t you already have enough to drink at dinner?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Victor Li,” she says, reaching for the glass the bartender sets down before her.  She takes a moment, staring at the rich, golden hues before finally taking a sip.  I fight to keep the smile off my face when hers pulls into a grimace from the sting of the alcohol she clearly wasn’t familiar with.  Dummy.

“I’m surprised you even noticed me at all, not with the lovely Diana there.  But I guess old wounds really do have difficulty closing, no matter how much we say they’ve healed.”

“You’d have to ask for the expert opinion of your overly friendly doctor about that.”

“Excuse me?”  She sets her drink down a bit harder than likely intended, sending the liquid sloshing about the glass to kiss the pink of her lipstick imprinted on its edge.  

I don’t like where this conversation is going, the ill-disguised barbs only serving to increase the tension between us.  It was foolish to have what should’ve been a very private discussion in a public space but, as always, the thought of her and Luke together is enough to make me forget my place and position, throwing caution to the wind and behaving with reckless abandon.

And still, the heat beneath my collar goads me on.

“Luke Foster.  The one you’re so enthralled with that your manners seem to have been completely swept from memory.  I presume that’s the reason why you didn’t acknowledge my existence when you saw me in the restaurant.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she leans in close, voice dripping with sarcasm: “Just like how you didn’t remember to tell me you were coming to Tokyo?  Or maybe you weren’t planning on telling me at all, since it clearly looked like you weren’t here on business.  But then again, I guess your business is none of mine.”

I don’t know whether I want to push back or kiss her senseless.

Instead, I settle for a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check.  Having a heated argument with her was not how I had intended my evening to go.  In fact, my entire day had not proceeded as planned, and if I hadn’t been accosted by Diana as soon as I stepped foot in the Tres Spades hotel, I would have been having dinner with the woman who occupied all my thoughts, all the time.  At the very least, I could’ve saved her from the clutches of a pervert doctor.

I glance in her direction, study the beautiful melancholy of her silent profile as she watches the ball of ice slowly melt into her drink.  Then I take another sip of mine, steeling myself for reparations I desperately needed to make.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely.  Diana Shum and I dated shortly after graduation for all of two months before we decided to part ways on amicable terms.  We make for much better business partners than we ever did romantically, and while she has expressed occasional interest in rekindling our relationship, I have never been of the same mind.  I can assure you this will never change.

“The reason I came to Tokyo is not because of her — professional or otherwise — but because I was in a rush to prevent a certain dummy from doing anything she’d regret later on.  But…”

I knock back the rest of my whiskey, emptying the glass.

“…I’m afraid I’m too late.”

She looks at me now, eyes wide as if she were still processing the words.  Her next question comes on a whisper: “Why would you be too late?”

And it is my turn to look away.  

“Well, you seemed to be pretty intimate yourself with Dr. Foster during your dinner date.  I can only presume that…”

The girl moves closer and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her mouth — the tremble of her lower lip, full and pink and lush.  Without thought, I allow my gaze to trace along the graceful column of her neck, settling at the delicate notch between her collarbones and in that instant, I come to a visceral understanding of the extent of Luke Foster’s obsession, for mine was magnified a million times over:

I yearned for the entirety of this woman before me — needed her for myself, now and forever.

“Presume what?”  Her voice is low, shaking.

“I can only presume that you’ve already allowed him to…examine your body.”

There is a moment of silence — each torturous second seeming to stretch into eternity to smother the last embers of hope.

“I have…”

Oh god.

“…given him X-ray films of my collarbones as he requested.  That is all.  He’s never touched me, not even once.  I took him out to dinner tonight so I could give them to him as thanks for appearing on the show.”

Petty.  Sheepish.  I felt all these things, but none so powerful as the staggering sense of relief that washes over me to hear her say these words.  Closing my eyes, I let the revelation sink in, finally feeling like I can breathe for the very first time that night.

Chapter 9: The Big Bang

You don’t quite know what made you do it.  

The ambience of the bar, perhaps: sultry jazz and flickering candles purposefully placed to create just enough shadows for a veil of privacy.

Or maybe it was the crestfallen uncertainty that painted the handsome features of Victor Li’s face, his sudden display of vulnerability both novel and endearing.

Most likely however, it was the way in which his downcast expression morphed into one of ecstatic relief when you told him that Luke Foster had not laid a single finger on you.

Because when Victor tilts his head back, eyes closed and sighing deeply as if some unfathomable burden had been lifted, you cannot help but bring your lips to the Adam’s apple bobbing along the length of that strong, thick neck.

Cedar wood and pine.  

The notes of his cologne are so familiar you didn’t realize how much you missed his scent until you literally came face to face with it.  Victor is warm, so very warm beneath the skin of your lips.  And under your touch, you become vaguely aware of the fact that the rise and fall of his chest has stilled.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned your sanity for how boldly you were behaving, especially towards someone who was your boss.  You had never been one to put yourself out there when it came to matters of the heart.  Something about the moment however, about Victor, made you feel like the one thing you could not do was let this chance pass you by.

So when you hear that shuddering breath, feel the faint scratch of his five o’clock shadow when he nuzzles against you in return, you know you’ve made the right gamble.  Being with Victor Li feels right.  And the surreal sense of belonging you find within the embrace of his muscular arms gives you the courage to say, “You must really believe I’m a dummy if you think I’d let any man other than you touch me.”

He slides a finger beneath your chin, gently lifting until all you can see are those jet black eyes, swimming with heat and emotion.  The sudden silence of your surroundings sinks in: no more music, no idle chatter.  Not even the rustle of limbs moving about in the dimly lit bar.  And there, in the strange privacy of suspended time…

...Victor kisses you.

                        *                                     *                                      *

“Are you sure…this is…what you want?”

The deep timbre of Victor’s voice sends a thrill vibrating along the surface of your skin as he questions you between kisses — laid on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the pulse of your neck.  His firm body presses you into a corner of the elevator, empty save for the two of you writhing in unison against a mirrored wall.

Each movement of his soft lips against yours is purposeful, imbued with meaning: longing in the gentle teeth that nibbled on your lower lip before drawing it into his mouth, in the sensual slide of the tongue that sought yours.  Affection obvious in the hands that rose to cup your face, thumbs tracing circles on the apples of reddened cheeks to tell you in no uncertain terms that Victor Li belonged to you as much as you yearned to belong to him.

So you had no qualms about answering in the affirmative, nodding your head because the press of Victor’s muscular thigh between your legs already left you breathless and wondering whether he could feel your wet heat seeping through your panties.

And all he really did was kiss you.

Ding.

The elevator stops at your floor and even before the doors slide open, Victor has hoisted you up, wrapping your legs tightly about his tapered waist and whispering into your ear, “Which room?”

You knew Victor was fit, had seen him move fast and effortlessly through the waters of his Olympic-sized swimming pool that one time he had you deliver a report to his mansion on a Sunday.  And yet, you could not help but admire the sheer perfection of his physique — the bulk of his biceps, flexed beneath strained layers of clothing; the ease with which he carries you all the way to your suite.

And when he sits you down upon the king-sized bed, you wonder if it is, in fact, too small for all the things you cared to do with him.

The LFG CEO shrugs off his suit jacket, loosening his tie just enough to pull it over his head before dropping to kneel at your feet.  You watch him reach for you, shiver when he caresses the sensitive skin behind your knee with a light graze of gentle fingertips.  Large hands trail down your calf — touch barely there and teasing — until his palm finally cups the heel of your stiletto to slide it off your foot.

He looks up at you then, the intensity in ebony irises rendering you still and mute as you patiently await his next move despite the frenzied pounding in your chest.  There is a stroke of something almost feral in the dark depths of the gaze that falls heavy upon you — searching your eyes, lingering on your lips…tracing the neckline of your dress.

“I’ve never seen you wear this dress before.”  Victor says, taking the same amount of care to remove the shoe from your other foot.

And if you were able to think straight under the influence of his touch — the hands that pushed back the hem of your dress as they roamed higher and higher up your thighs towards your heat — you might have found it strange that Victor was choosing now, of all times, to comment on your wardrobe choices.  As it was, you answered without second thought: “It’s new.  I bought it especially for tonight’s dinner.”

Victor stills and when he speaks again, there is a faint tremble in that voice, as if fighting to contain some unfathomable emotion.  

“The doctor couldn’t stop staring at you.  I know because I was the same way.  I couldn’t look away from the moment you stepped foot in that restaurant.”

The revelation leaves you silent, waiting with bated breath for Victor to continue.

“Forgive me…”

Fingers entwine with fabric, gripping tight.

“…but I can’t stand the thought of you looking so beautiful for anyone else.”

RRRIIIIPPPP!

You fall back, wincing at the sound even as you feel your body respond to the sudden shock of having your dress torn right down the middle.  Victor’s display of brute strength was so at odds with the façade of composure he was synonymous with and yet, there was no denying that you were incredibly aroused by this show of power — by the fact that he was now straddling you on all fours like some wild beast, tearing away the rest of your undergarments to leave you completely bare.

You’ve never been so desperate to feel him inside you, deep and rough and untamed.  The thought throws you into a frenzy of lust.

Digging your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, you yank it open to send buttons flying in haphazard directions, but the only thing that concerned you was the sight of that broad chest and muscular torso, so impressive it actually elicits a moan from your lips and a smile from his in return.

Propping yourself up onto your knees, you press against him, flesh to flesh — one hand running over the burning surface of his skin even as the other tugs at the buckle of his leather belt, impatiently moving to palm him when his dress pants fall and gasping to finally see and feel the full extent of the LFG CEO:

Victor Li is rock hard and intimidatingly large.

And the sight makes your mouth water.

Sinking onto your heels, you trail your lips along Victor’s chiseled body, tongue teasing at his nipples as you do and relishing the catch of his breath in his throat.

But just as you begin to lay kisses along the deep V of his abdomen with the intent of tracing lower and lower, Victor stops you, puling you up for a kiss before laying back on the bed and positioning you above him…

…with his face between your legs.

“This way,” he says, voice muffled, and you might have commented on his inability to relinquish control even in the bedroom were it not for the sensation of his flattened tongue sweeping hot and wet along the seam of your already dripping pussy, teasing from end to end.

The sensation is so intense it’s almost unbearable.  You throw your head back, mouth dropping in a silent scream as you sink onto Victor’s face, fighting the instinct to grinder lower onto that talented tongue despite the encouraging grip of Victor’s hands, strong on your hips and thighs.

“I’ve wanted to taste you…for so long,” he murmurs, sucking the swell of your clit into his mouth and humming in approval against moist flesh to hear you moan above him.  “Your flavour is absolutely exquisite.”

Gathering your wits, you fold forward — intent on giving just as much pleasure as you were receiving.  Victor twitches once within your grip, not quite contained by the circumference of your palm and fingers, running up and down the sizeable length of his cock, hot in your hand like his breath on your slit.  And after placing a few wet kisses on the smooth, hard head, you open your mouth to taste him.

The tepid salt of his arousal.  The groans originating from deep within Victor’s chest each time your lip brushed past the tender underside of his cock.  The subtle rhythm of his pelvis, lifting in time to your mouth swallowing more of that solid shaft, quickly becoming slick with your saliva.

And then you catch sight of your reflection in the mirrored closet.  See the bulge of Victor’s bicep as he grips your hip, the flex in the muscles of his neck when he lifts to bury his face deeper into your folds.  See yourself: hair disheveled and eyes half-lidded, drunk on sex.  Observe the messy smear of your lipstick as your mouth stretches to accommodate more and more of your boss’s cock.  And when the tip of Victor’s tongue begins its relentless tease of your clit, you watch as a most debauched expression falls over your features, the tension in your body breaking as you find release on his lips.

You are still shaking when he enters you, sensitized by an orgasm that left tiny sparks of electricity running along every nerve, priming you for second helpings.  A true paragon of patience, Victor Li takes his time, deliberately slow as he pushes — savouring the sensation of drenched, swollen flesh parting just for him.

It was almost unfathomable that you could experience such extreme pleasure, each powerful swing of Victor’s hips driving him deeper into your body — hitting just the right angles until your very senses were extracted along with your second release of the night, running slick between your legs to ease the slippery slide of your bodies.

It draws out Victor’s own, your lover moving to pull out moments before you surprise him by taking him once more into your mouth — gaze locked onto those dark eyes from below as you taste him on your tongue, euphoric to see him bite his lips when your lick yours to swallow every last drop.

Chapter 10: Pillow Talk

Beep Beep Beep Beep.

You roll over, eyes still closed as you reach out to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.

Except your palm comes down on warm flesh with a resounding smack, echoing throughout your hotel room and accompanied by a deep voice that says, “Are you finally awake, Dummy?”

Your eyes shoot open to see Victor lying naked in bed next to you, a splotch of red blooming on his chest where he had been attacked.  He sets his phone down to hand you a glass of water from the bedside table, and even though memories of the previous night come rushing back to burn your cheeks, you cannot help but notice how glorious he looks bathed in morning light.  You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand shakes when you accept the glass from him with a meek “Thanks.”

Victor clears his throat, waiting for you to finish drinking before he says, “That was the fourth time you slept through the alarm.  I’ve already informed your colleagues you’ll be taking the day off.  We didn’t get much sleep last night and I think you’ll need some time to…recover.”

You bite your lip, turning sideways to feign a sudden interest in the curtains so he wouldn’t see the giant smile spreading onto your face.  It was almost surreal that Victor Li was your lover, and if it weren’t for the exquisite soreness you felt between your legs, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it for yourself.

The sheets rustle and before you know it, Victor has his chest pressed up against your bare back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on it.

“How are you feeling?”  He asks.

“Okay.  Pretty good, actually.”  It was too early in the game to tell him you were already doing cartwheels in your mind.

“Good.  I’m glad to hear that because I found this under your pillow…”

He places something in your hands.  Your eyes widen when you recognize the magazine with his face on the cover.

“…And this ‘man on top’ wants to know what it feels like to have this woman on top of him for the rest of the day.”

You’ve made it to the end! 🤩 Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚 

[onthepageoftears]

What Was Lost —  Pt 2 (Jaskier x Reader) || Witcher

A/N: And part two is here! Thank you everyone for reading, and also thank you to all my new followers! A reminder that I now have a taglist, so don’t be afraid to sign up through the google doc I created (the link is in my description) :) Also, this is my fourth @thewitcherbingo entry, whoop! Enjoy!

Summary: Y/N, a famous bard, is cursed by a sorceress and loses her voice, leaving her only hope to get it back with the famous Witcher and her rival, Jaskier.

(based on this post)

Bingo Square Filled: Road Trip

Warnings: grief, language, angst, fluff!!

Words: 2,047

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

(Pt 1)

Though you were a traveling bard, this trip seemed excruciatingly long. Geralt insisted on taking the paths with little to no interaction of villages, meaning you couldn’t even stop to talk to the townsfolk. Not that you could anyway. But still, a big part of traveling was meeting the people, and with Geralt, that was the last thing on his mind.

It didn’t take long on the trip for you and Jaskier to start making music. Despite your lost voice, you couldn’t keep yourself away from your lute. And even though you learned that Geralt cherished his peace and quiet, you also learned that Jaskier didn’t give two fucks. So, the two of you made a great team in annoying the Witcher, one chord at a time.

You secretly thanked the gods that Jaskier was there. When before your rivalry was a playful past-time, now it was almost completely gone. What replaced it was…a friendship, which was something you realized you never really had until now. Watching the bard perform had been a pleasure, sure — but performing with him was so much more exhilarating. You couldn’t wait to get your voice back so you two could sing the best songs both of you would ever write. It was a bold statement, but something felt right in your gut as the two of you wrote random lyrics and came up with new chord progressions in your downtime.

It was the night before visiting the sorceress, and Jaskier was strumming his lute and humming along. You watched him with your body leaning against a tree trunk, smiling as he made nonsense lyrics and fucked up his chords repeatedly.

As you listened to Jaskier strum away, your smile faded. In the short bursts of time that you were enjoying yourself, you would suddenly remember what circumstances you were under. In a matter of seconds, like the flip of a coin, your mood shifted. Your heart jumped to your throat as the same questions you had been mulling over for the past few days swirled in your mind. What if the sorceress wasn’t where Geralt thought she was? What if she refused to give you your voice back? What if you could never sing again?

“Y/N?” Jaskier’s voice took you out of your trance; his hands were no longer playing the lute, and instead, he looked at you with concern. “You’re not crying because of my singing, are you?”

You laughed, though no sound came out. The sick feeling returned to your stomach as you wiped the tears from your cheeks; you picked up the notebook beside you and wrote: your singing is the least of my pain right now.

“I take that as a compliment.” Jaskier gestured to the lute in his hands. “In that case, any requests?”

You gave him a sad smile before writing in the notebook: I want my voice back.

“Hm. Well, I’m not familiar with that one…” His amused smile faltered when yours didn’t appear. He placed the lute on the ground next to him and focused on you. His jaw clenched as it searched your face. “We will get it back.”

You nodded your head but turned away from Jaskier’s gaze. You were still unconvinced; you decided to change the subject.

You pursed your lips as you wrote: do you hate me? Then turned it to Jaskier.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “If I hated you, would I have gone on this journey to find your voice?” You just stared at him, each blink more dramatic than the next. He rolled his eyes harder. “I don’t hate you.” He sighed, then quirked a brow. “Do you hate me?”

You smirked, then wrote: next question.

Jaskier groaned. “Now come, that’s not fair.”

You shrugged and made a ‘zip the lip’ motion. Jaskier grumbled to himself and turned back to his lute, where he began strumming a song you two thought up just the other day.

—

“This is the place.”

You didn’t know what you expected. A large castle, maybe a few guards standing out front. Possibly some rabid animals ready to attack. After the surprisingly long trip, you thought the climax to your journey would lead to a crazy battle — at the least. But this…this was anything but that. It was a small hut, barely sturdy looking. You were positive that if you threw a rock at the front door it would fall off its hinges. You supposed the sorceress had some sort of magic enchantment on the structure, keeping it upright. If she didn’t, the walls were sure to fall down come the next storm.

Jaskier must have been thinking the same thing, as his nose was scrunched up. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“This is where she was last time I saw her.”

“Which was?”

Geralt blinked. “The last time I saw her.”

“Great. Fantastic.” Jaskier threw his arm forward. “Lead the way.”

As Geralt walked towards the hut, you felt your stomach drop. This was the moment of truth. This was the end of your journey.

Jaskier placed a hand on your arm. “Are you ready?” You nodded. It was now or never.

You were grateful that Geralt and Jaskier went in first; your stomach did about twenty-five flips as you followed them into the hut, your head whipping from side to side as you looked for the sorceress.

The hut was filled with dozens and dozens of trinkets; you thought if you breathed they would fall over. Bottles of random ingredients, liquids and solids alike, filled shelves that lined the walls.

“Fidelia.” Geralt spoke, making you turn your head to the corner of the room. There stood the familiar sorceress, smiling the same smile she did a couple nights ago. You shivered.

“Geralt. How strange it is to see you again.” Her eyes flicked to Jaskier, then quickly to you. “Ah. I see.”

Jaskier cleared his throat, “We’ve come to…ah, claim Y/N’s voice back.”

The sorceress — Fidelia, nodded. “That you did."

The room grew quiet as Fidelia squinted her eyes at Jaskier, then back to you. It would have been awkward if not for Geralt’s interruption.

“Fidelia. Her voice.”

“Yes, yes.” Fidelia brought her eyes back to you. She closed her eyes and breathed in, listened. It made you feel self-conscious, like she was listening to your thoughts. Which, maybe she was.

Luckily, she didn’t close her eyes for long. In fact, only a couple seconds after, she smiled. “Looks to me like you found what you needed.” The sorceress winked at you and stepped away to reach into a cabinet nearby. She pulled out the jar she had the night you met her. “Open this up and your voice will find its way back to you. Be patient. It will settle when it is ready.”

You tentatively took the jar from her hands, almost expecting her to rip it away. When she didn’t, you hugged it to your chest.

Geralt’s body weight creaked on the wooden floor as he leaned forward. “If I hear about something like this again—“

“You’ll never let me hear the end of it. I understand. Stay a bit, Geralt, so we can catch up. I might have a favor to ask you.” She turned to you, her smile as fresh as ever. “Take care now, darling.”

You barely nodded before gripping Jaskier’s sleeve and pulling him out of the hut, leaving Geralt and Fidelia to reminisce on whatever times they shared.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath. Your heart banged in your chest, begging you to get further away from the hut, just in case. You motioned for Jaskier to follow you and ran down towards the river that you had passed on the way to the hut.

You finally caught your breath as you sat down on a log near the river. The sound of frogs filled your ears and you breathed in again, this time feeling more at ease. You looked down at the jar and wondered, just for a second, if the return of your voice would hurt. Shaking that thought away, you uncapped the lid, bracing yourself for the worst. All you felt was a small gust of wind — then, nothing.

“So.” Jaskier sat on the log next to you and nudged your shoulder. “Have you truly...found what you needed?”

You took a big gulp and looked down at the jar in your hands. It was such a fragile thing, and just minutes ago it held an even more fragile part of yourself. You could now only hope that your voice was back — though the sorceress said it may take a while, your faith was flickering.

You looked to Jaskier and shrugged, a sad smile forming on your lips. For some reason, you thought back to your childhood — to the mother you never had, the father you wish you knew longer. Your eyes teared up at the thought of all that you had lost in the past; you wondered why the world had to take so much away from you, and why, when you were just beginning to feel better, more was taken away.

But now it was back, in your hands. And still, you felt like something was missing.

“You know, what I said about your voice. It wasn’t true.” You turned your head towards Jaskier; he was looking at a tree in the distance, probably avoiding your eyes. “At the tavern. And before that. None of it was true.”

You smiled at Jaskier, but the smile turned to a frown. I want to help you find what you were missing. This whole time, you thought what you were missing was your voice. Surely, that was part of it, but...maybe what the sorceress had meant wasn’t your voice — it was your companions. So many years after losing what was left of your family, and finally, you found a new family of your own. You had been traveling the Continent for years trying to fill the gap in your life that music couldn’t; and now, the gap was nearly overflowing.

You turned to Jaskier, heart brimming with… love? Excitement? You didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. All you wanted was the be with Jaskier for the rest of your life — for forever. Though you still couldn’t speak, his eyes caught yours at just the right moment; at that moment, he smiled. You smiled. And you grabbed his face and brought it to your own, capturing his lips with all the words you wanted to say to him, all the songs you wanted to sing with him. And he responded, placing his hands firmly on your waist, allowing you to lean into his grip, feeling the steadiness that his presence brought you.

At the feeling of his hands on your hips, you hummed; his touch brought butterflies to your stomach, butterflies you hadn’t felt in a long time. But then, your eyes opened wide with realization. You hummed.

You broke the kiss with your own smile and pulled back with a laugh.

“Thank the gods!” Your voice was husky, barely a whisper, but it was enough. Your smile stretched at the sound of your own voice; though it had only been gone for around a week, it felt like an eternity.

“I never thought I’d be saying this.” Jaskier’s smile lifted into a teasing smirk. He brought a hand to your face and wiped away a happy tear that fell without you knowing it. “But I am glad to hear your voice again.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but decided better of it. Jaskier watched you with a furrowed brow as you reached for the notebook you were carrying around; his eyes followed your hand as it wrote two words onto the page: Fuck off.

“I will definitely take that into consideration.” Jaskier nodded thoughtfully and pulled you in for another kiss; as his hands traced the sides of your face, you silently thanked the sorceress for forcing you on this journey — though, part of you still wanted Geralt to kick her in the face while you laughed as loudly as your lovely voice would allow. 

But maybe that was a bit harsh.

———————————————————————————————————

Tags: @trees-fanfic​, @sdavid09​, @mystrade-shipper​

(if you want to be added/removed to/from the taglist, don’t be afraid to send me a message or sign up via the link in my description)

[broadwayandnetflix]

It’s Always Been You - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff, Pining, Semi-Angst

Summary: Being the youngest princess in a wealthy kingdom definitely has its ups and downs, especially when your father is trying to court you away to some wealthy prince. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was made for @bucky-smiles​ Secret Santa Writing Challenge, and I wrote this for the lovely @delicatelyherdreams​. I really do hope that you enjoy this, even with its late arrival. I feel as though this story went in a million different ways, but I tried to do you justice. I also hope you enjoy my very creative way of coming up with kingdoms. (no sarcasm here)

You sat upright on your mattress, eyes closed, and knees tucked underneath you, a faint smile gracing your lips. The air of your bedroom peaceful, quiet minus the soft sound of your record player playing in the background, calm and serene.

Rarely if ever, you had moments like these to yourself. Periods where you can just relax and not have to help your family tend the Kingdom.

Where you could simply pop open a book, wear more comfortable clothes, do nothing, go out, and not have Barnes check up on your every move. Well, you could let that last one slide.

For the last 19 years, your existence has been claimed by your family’s royal history. From the first day of your life, you were titled as one thing and one thing only.

Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Starkonia.

You were to be polite, flexible, and accepting of those around you, you had to be presentable and prepared at your father’s beck and call. You needed to be present during ceremonies, and get prepared for what seemed to be your most significant task, marriage.

Even the mention of the word tasted bitter on your tongue, the prospect of being wedded to a man you barely knew was revolting. Yet, just like your sisters did before you, you too would have to get married at some point.

Savannah was first, marrying some big wig from a neighboring country. Juliet was next, getting married at only nineteen to one of the richest princes from Rogeria. Shortly after followed Hannah, who conveniently married Juliet’s husband’s brother.

Growing up, marriage was all your sisters could talk about. Often dreaming of what they would wear on their wedding day, or how they would soon one day become queen, conjuring up the royal subjects that they would lead and inspire over.

You would listen, of course, with an eager grin, but whenever they would ask for your input, you’d often draw a blank. Even during your early teenage years, you couldn’t really imagine your future starting off with marriage. Which, of course, was unusual regarding your sister’s childhood, so you often became alienated from discussions.

So you found refuge in the likes of one of your father’s young knights, James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky to you and you only. Despite his dedication and serious attitude to his job, you’d often find time to sweep him away.

The two of you frequently met in secret within the palace’s gigantic library, reading side by side, eating stolen pastries from the boisterous and clattering kitchen.

Underneath the full bookshelves of the library was where the two of you let your guard’s down. Both of you share secrets that you’d tell no one else, read books from the tallest shelves, and chatter on about the latest palace gossip.

The library was where you learned that Bucky was an aspiring writer, but became a knight to make a living and impress his father. He was thoughtful, quiet, but also quite humorous, always seeming to tickle you with his quips and comments.

In response, you shared your distaste of marriage and how you desired a more straightforward career that didn’t require so much attention. Instead of being judgmental and critical of your complaints, Bucky, to your delight, welcomed them with considerate eyes, and a listening ear.

Bucky made your days meaningful, always giving you something to look forward to, an escape if you will. So when your father, unbeknownst to your growing duo, made Bucky be your personal guard, the two of you were ecstatic.

Of course, you knew the reasoning behind this, your father valued your safety, being the youngest of your family meant that you were the last to be scooped up. Given your family’s rich lineage, courting, you would be a satisfying compromise for growing countries and their princes.

Bucky would often find himself falling subject to your long, and constant complaints about your potential suitors.

Nobody ever seemed to meet your fancy. Thor of Asgard was too self-absorbed, Bruce of Bannaria was too quirky, or worst of all, Samuel of Willaria was way to forthcoming.

Oh, how they all gave you quite a headache!

You could tell that your father was becoming quite frustrated with your lack of progress. Day by day would pass with to no avail, you’d always find some way to shoot each of them down.

Dinner’s would be filled with short tempers and argumentative quips that’d send you to sleep angry and exhausted. Unless you found a suitor that satisfied your father over yourself, then you could make him proud.

Yet through thick and thin, Bucky remained a constant in your life, even if he technically had to be. The two of you would often explore the little village outside of the palace. Complete with bustling vendors within the local farmer’s market that sold ripened fruit, pastries, linens, and fresh honey from the town’s apiaries.

You always found joy in seeing the many vendors that always greet you with a smile. Or seeing the kids that would run around trying not to trip over themselves to see the royal horses. Days like these were your escape as they were Bucky’s who could always be found in the town’s small bookstore.

Days where you don't have to prove yourself to anyone or focus on whomever you were going to marry. These days were your favorite, like this one, in particular, your mother and father out for a gathering with a neighboring kingdom.

Despite the flurry of servants and staff that resided in the palace, you were technically by yourself for the day. That was until you hear a knock on your door, open your eyes, and swing your legs forward to stand up from your bed.

“Come in!” you called out before rushing over to lower the sound on your record player.

The door opened with a swing and in stormed Bucky with a sour disposition, a scowl planted firmly on his lips. You gaped wide-eyed at the sight in front of you, never had you seen Bucky so angry.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, watching as he simply paced your room, ignoring you.

That is until he stopped abruptly before focusing his gaze onto you, his shoulders sagging almost immediately. He stood in his uniform minus the exception of his gloves, his metal fingers reflecting in the light that streamed through your window.

“My father,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly, “My father found my novel and went fucking ballistic.” he seethed.

Concern flooding your senses, you move forward to comfort him but ultimately decided against it, taking a step back to give him some space. Bucky’s father had always been tough on him, especially after the loss of Bucky’s mother.

Bucky, more often than not, had to take control of the house to protect himself and his little sisters while his father went out and got drunk at the local taverns. Hence why he had this job in the first place, ultimately crushing any dreams that Bucky had for writing.

“How could I be so stupid? I shouldn’t have left it in plain sight! Or, more specifically, a place where I should’ve known that Rebecca would’ve found it!” he exclaimed, cursing himself quietly, eyes widened like saucers.

“Bucky, you aren’t stupid, and there was no way you could’ve known that she would’ve found it,” you replied quietly, catching his gaze just for a second before he focused it elsewhere.

He exhaled heavily clamping his eyes shut, despite the way he held himself up, you could still see the slight tremble between his legs.

“I’m sorry that your father reacted the way he did. Buck, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment from your father.” you continued on before sitting down on the bed, his eyes opening warily at the sound of you falling against the cushions.

He watched you sit momentarily before joining you without a second thought, his much taller figure slumping onto the bed, before resting his head against yours.

You grew rigid at his touch, trying to fight the pounding in your heart that seemed to echo painstakingly loud in your chest. His arms snaking their way around to your side before he let out a shaking sigh, his metal armor cool to the touch on your skin.

Why do you feel so sweaty all of a sudden? You two had never been this close before, so why does this feel oddly comfortable? Is that cologne? Bucky smells..nice.

“Thank you.” he murmured ever so quietly so only you could hear.

“Anytime Buck, anytime.” you exhale promising yourself that you’d hold him as long as he deemed necessary.

-

One Week Later

“Come on, sister! Is there really nobody that you fancy nowadays?” Savannah, your oldest sister, exclaimed one evening as the two of you caught up as of your monthly tradition. Her eyes all giddy, hands on her hips in a way too over dramatic manner.

You frowned at the comment presented in front of you, of course, you did not ‘fancy’ any of the young princes offered to you. Yet, there did appear to be someone who did cross your mind more than often nowadays.

Bucky.

No, that didn’t mean you fancied him. Of course not, Bucky was … well, Bucky. He was your best friend, best friends don’t date. Princesses most certainly don’t marry knights either that was just fairy tale nonsense. Father would never approve either.

“Well?” Savannah quipped, her body tilting as she shifted all of her weight onto one foot.

You swallowed sheepishly, glancing down at your feet, flinching at the excited squeal that your sister let out as the realization sunk in.

“Oh my gosh! Y/N! Tell me everything? Who is he? Is he cute? Oh, tell me he’s cute!?” Savannah cried out, nearly tripping over her dress to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Savannah!” you gasped, squirming your way out of her hold, looking at her all bewildered.

“Sorry, It’s just, my baby sister finally found someone,” she replied before taking a seat on your bed, looking at you expectantly.

“Okay, well, for starters, I don’t even know if I like him. I’m friends with him, but he’s just been very touchy lately,” you admit before plopping down beside her lying down on your bed.

“Define touchy,” she questioned while following your actions, her hair now brushing up against yours.

You glanced at her perplexed, the two-year history between you and Bucky swirling around in your mind. Why now? Why were you questioning it now?

“I don’t know, he’s just been a lot closer than he used to be.” you murmur as you rub your face in frustration.

“Don’t tell me this is that young knight that always follows you around like a lovesick puppy?” Savannah exclaimed as she sat upright, looking at you wide-eyed.

“He does not!” you retort back.

“Oh, it so is! You have to tell him!” her voice reaching a pitch that you didn’t think was possible.

“I don’t think I could even stomach that, what if he rejects me?” you sigh, sitting upright only to notice your bedroom cracked open slightly ajar.

“I’m sorry, is this a wrong time?” a voice calls out as the door pushes forward to reveal Bucky.

You have the hold back the gasp that threatened to escape your lips. Bucky catches your gaze, noting the tension in the air between you three before adjusting it onto your sister, who was just as surprised as you.

“I’m guessing this is the wrong time,” Bucky stammers awkwardly before turning around to go.

“Wait!” you cry out, causing him to turn back around, eyeing you curiously.

“I, I need to talk to you about something,” you stammer anxiety pricking at your skin. You felt hot and heavy, the bed dipping as Savannah slipped out the door.

Bucky letting the door close behind him, before walking over to sit beside you on the bed, just as you did for him not so very long ago. He looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes searching yours for what you were saying.

“You know I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me sooner,” you start trying to hide the shakiness of your words.

“No one ever seemed right, or just worth my time, not even if my parent’s approval was on the line.” he nods to himself slightly at that, chuckling softly.

“I’d be so disappointed with myself, and then I would turn around, and you would be there. Bucky, you have always been there for me,” you admit swallowing before mustering up the courage to meet his eyes.

“It’s been you, Buck, it’s always been you. You are the one I want, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” the words fall from your lips, and just like that, it’s as if time stops for just a second.

The room that felt heavy and thick with hesitation or the anxiety that clung to your skin evaporated. All you could see was Bucky and the soft smile that complimented his features. The way his hand slipped into yours, the way he didn’t look away from you as he inched closer.

The way his hand caressed your check sending shivers down your spine, or the way he kissed you with a longing that had never felt so good. Who knew someone could taste so good, or smell so good.

It was perfect, it was long overdue, and it was brand new all at once. And you couldn’t wait to see where it takes you next.

[chromsai]

GX Review

I’ve finished my long, grueling trek through GX and so now it’s time for a quick review. I don’t want to make this too long because I don’t wanna continue rambling on the same points I made throughout my liveblog, so let’s get this goin’ already...

Season 1 (Episodes 1 - 52)

This beginning fourth of the show introduces us rather gently to GX’s trend of “filler” episodes, or, rather, episodes that introduce us to villains-of-the-week that serve as fodder for our protagonist (and sometimes for GX’s side cast characters). Yes, GX is that kind of show. While I’d say it’s worthy to note that not every episode or characters is exactly boring, what is boring is GX’s complete refusal to build up its own world beyond just the span of the perspective of a few characters. It’s such a shame, really, because the concept of a world which takes dueling to a whole new, professional and academic level is quite interesting but it’s not explored much this season. That being said, certain characters are fun and have interesting enough beginning development brewing up slowly, however the group of main villains introduced in the second half are almost all incompetent and lacking in any appeal to the main cast, and even less so to the audience. They’re overall forgettable, as are most of the episodes this season. It certainly doesn’t help the side cast’s appeal that the majority of the duels are dependent on Judai, the protagonist’s, victory, leading us to quickly (and appropriately) assume that even they are easily expendable. Still, there are fun moments here and there, especially when the show doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is something that GX later tries to “fix”.

Production value-wise, it’s passable in terms of animation and sound design (which admittedly gets repetitive), but not anything to write home about.

Overall rating for this arc: 2.7/5

Season 2 (Episodes 53 - 104)

Season 2 introduces a bit more of a proper overarching conflict throughout the next 50 or so episodes. We’re introduced to a cynical villain and a new rival for Judai that leads him to develop... or so we would figure. While it does indeed seem so at first that Judai is about to undergo a bit of growth, mainly Judai’s defeat to this new “rival”, Edo Phoenix, leads him to the discovery of a new archetype that he tacks onto his deck as easily as that. While this season has a bit less of the villain-of-the-week -esque episodes, it still drags along its cast to near helpless states, which Judai is expected to eventually save them from. The overall plot focuses on the main villain Saiou and his relationship with Edo, however the spotlight is stubbornly set on Judai and of course all other characters are as expendable as Judai is the protagonist, and oh boy is he ever the protagonist.

We get a bit more world building but nothing is ever expanded upon too thoroughly as all the world building we get is mostly through side-character agency, which, as you may have already noted, doesn’t ever last too long. Production value-wise, it’s about the same as Season 1. For me, the most enjoyable moments included expansion on Edo’s backstory and Hell Kaiser Ryo’s fall into the corrupted underground duels scene, but again... those moments aren’t too often. I’ll give this season a bit more points for at least keeping a consistent plot line running, even if it was marred with nonsense and irrational interactions between some of the more, in my opinion, potentially interesting characters of GX’s cast.

Overall rating for this arc: 2.9/5

Season 3 (Episodes 105 - 156)

Ho boy.

Not sure how many people read my review of DM, but this arc suffers from a lot of the similar issues found in the Doma arc of that show.

I want to emphasize that up until now, the show’s central themes (about... having fun with dueling... and.... believing in your cards (?), as well as... growing up (???), destiny(?!??!???)) have not only been vague and jumbled, they’ve also been laughably weak, so when GX decided to use this season to finally “get serious” about addressing it’s “maturer” tones, you can probably guess how that played out. Hint: it plays out as well as any fanfic tagged under the “#angst #war au #self-insert” tags you’d find on the 13th page of AO3 at 3am after your 8th shot of vodka because you’ve lost control of your life, just as this show has lost control of all sense of its identity.

It’s illogical, melodramatic, dreary, predictable, and just a drag to get through. When Judai’s “friends” aren’t sucking on his poor, abused teet, then you can bet the show is doing its damnedest to appeal for you to take your turn too. It envelops him in this over-glorifying aura that just screams “look at me, I can do the development too” but then falls flat, settling on an anticlimactic plot twist that makes you question why you didn’t just skip to the last episode.

It has a few quirks here and there, I’ll give it that. A few sassy lines from a character here or there makes it a clever show, right?

Overall rating for this arc: 1.5/5

P.S. Yes, this is the season every ardent GX fan wants you to see. This is the one that makes it “worth it”. Right.

Season 4 (Episodes 157 - 180)

Just when you thought the worst is past you, your beloved GX characters have made it back to their regular daily lives, more or less, but then, suddenly, you’re enshrouded by endless DAAARRRKNESSS.

DAAAAAARRRKKKNEEESSSSS.

DAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRKKNEEESSSSSS.

*Ahem*

Judai returns as well, having developed into a much less sociable young man. He’s oh so very pleasant to be around now that he actively ignores his friends, but, of course, this is due to the traumatic experiences he went through in Season 3. He’s now a grown up. A fully fledged adult. And mature. And the show will make sure you know this. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.

Judai withstanding, which is now extremely difficult to do for this show apparently, I can promise you that none of your favorite characters will receive proper treatment throughout this arc and only a very limited number of them will receive a proper send off. And the plot for this arc? Well. It’s pretty DARK. As in there is not a single shining fleck of light emanating from this rushed story line of a final arc.

Overall rating for this arc: 0.6/5 (I stand by my belief that 4Kids’ decision to end their dub of this show at the end of Season 3 was the correct narrative choice to make for this show).

Final Overall Rating for this show: 1.9/5.

Final thoughts: My final calculated score may seem rough but I agree with it. GX is not well written and, to be fair, that may have been due to the fact that, as the first spin-off of this anime franchise, the show’s producers seemed to have had an air of skepticism when approaching it. While I enjoyed watching it as a kid, a fresher perspective on GX didn’t bode me as well as I initially believed it would. I did enjoy some of the cast of characters, but I found their written development overall disappointing. And Judai for me could have been a likable protagonist but he ends up coming off as pretty insufferable and egotistical by the end of the show. Despite this, I think the rating I gave it reflects that there is something salvageable from it: character concepts and alternative theories of its under-developed and underutilized ideas. Nevertheless, it almost hurts me to say this because I do still see it as having been a part of my childhood, but I see now that it is no longer a show for me and I think it’s best I’ll keep it in my past.

Bonus note: Having revisited some clips of the dub, I believe it to be the more enjoyable of the two versions due to the fact that it doesn’t tend to take itself as overly serious so its themes don’t come off as disingenuous as the original version definitely does.

[autumnhobbit]

Story Starters Meme

I got tagged by @tantalum-cobalt, so it’s time to dust off the lines you’ve already seen bc I haven’t written in forever. 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

So here goes. And yes, these are the actual Google Docs names of my fic drafts.

de-ageing bc audrey gets what she wants fic:

“Alfred,” Bruce says, and Alfred can hear the odd sort of deadpan panic that only Master Bruce is capable of conveying. “Help.”

How exactly it came to pass that he said these words while standing in front of Alfred in the Cave, having just stepped out of the Batmobile veritably dripping in children---precisely six of them, as a matter of fact, with all of them going in various directions---was beyond Alfred’s mental capacity or willingness at this point.

So when Bruce opens his mouth and begins to say something---whether it be a scientific or practical explanation of how he came to be in this situation, Alfred simply raises a finger. “Don’t.” He says simply.

Bruce closes his mouth with a snap.

vaguely catholic jason death angst:

When he wakes up in his coffin, Jason isn't sure what to make of it.

Of course, at first there's very little thinking, and very much screaming and crying and clawing and thrashing and begging and pleading. He hasn't really prayed in years, drifted away from it when Bruce took him in and away from the cramped, trash-filled apartment he'd spent his childhood in. But that doesn't stop him from reciting every prayer he knows, slurring the words together in mindless terror as he digs.

looooong scarletdevil nonsense:

Saturday evenings were fast becoming Matt's favorite day of the week. Well, maybe not favorite--more like least miserable. The only day he avoided going out at night was Sunday, which, as Foggy had said during a particularly bad argument, was pretty dumb. "Sorry I beat up a bunch of criminals and/or cops today, Lord, but at least I'm breaking for the sabbath!"

another “jason meets damian” thing:

Damian ducks beneath a stroke his mother swings towards his neck, parries two more thrusts in rapid succession, and with a flick of his wrist sends her weapon skittering to the tile. The tip of his own blade rests at her throat.

Her grey eyes meet his, and he feels proud at the impression he can see dancing in her orbs. "I concede," Mother says, and he pulls the blade away from her, allowing it to tip towards the floor. His mother stands gracefully. "You are making good progress, Damian. I am very pleased with how well you've done with your new swordmaster."

"Tt. It is nothing, Mother," he says proudly. It seems like forever since she has personally sparred with him like this, and he revels in the opportunity to please her. "He says I am the best he's ever trained."

sucky draft of yj installment:

"Damian. Wake up."

Damian had learned very early in his life that if anything disturbed his slumber in the League of Assassins fortress, he should be ready to stab upwards without a moment's hesitation. But he recognizes his mother's voice, so he doesn't raise the wickedly sharp blade his fingers are curling around beneath his pillow.

jason outlaws feels + domestic unrest:

The Outlaws contact them at a quarter till midnight. Bruce takes the communication when it comes in at the Batcave--he's there to re-equip and head back out, and hears the alert from the locker room. "Batman, here. What's the situation?" He tries to squelch the instinctive fear that rears its ugly head--he doesn't know where Jason is, what he's doing, if he's safe, and the Outlaws would not contact him unless it were something important.

tbh i have no idea where i was going with this but gen timdami feels sooooo:

Tim was honestly just doing his best not to freak the hell out. It was hard--very hard. He and Damian had never gotten on like he'd hoped they would, back when he'd first found out that Bruce had a son. Time had made their hatred cool off a bit. They hadn't been brothers, or even friends. Tim had hated him, suspected the worst of him at all times, and he had no compulsions to deny that fact.

Until he'd been perfectly conscious less than fifty feet from Damian when the little brat's Mother had him skewered through the torso by his own clone. Less than fifty feet away and half-heartedly struggling while Damian choked on his own blood. Less than fifty feet away while he bled out all over the street in front of Wayne Enterprises. Less than fifty feet away when he stopped breathing and died, all alone. By the time he'd gotten free and rounded the obstacles between them, Damian was a tiny corpse in Bruce's arms, Dick was in shock.

And Tim? Well, as far as he was concerned, Tim was a monster.

very old cold fluff/angst/hurt/comfort thingy ft. the robins:

See, the thing is, the suits are pretty friggin badass. They're made to withstand heat, bullets, knives, fingernails, teeth, and basically whatever Gotham's underbelly has to throw at them. (They're even pretty spiffy, too.)

One thing they're not made to withstand, however, is cold. Which is fine, until Gotham hits a cold snap of 7 below zero. Which was also fine, to start out with, because even criminals usually had some semblance of a brain, and avoided going outside when the snot froze in your nose (ha, that rhymed), after two seconds. The downside was that Freeze seized the opportunity to break out of Arkham and roam the streets without his suit. And he'd apparently gotten a slew of henchmen, off of villain craigslist or whatever the hell the criminals in Gotham used to find help. Hence, Jason was wandering through the city at some ridiculous hour, shooting henchmen while everyone else huddled inside their nice, warm houses.

Well, almost everyone.

MORE attempt at plot/hurt!Jason and Bruce:

Bruce hit the water hard and plunged beneath the surface rapidly. He stifled a yelp of pain when he hit the bottom only milliseconds after submerging, his legs folding up to take the impact and something in his hip pinching suddenly and sharply. He forced himself to maneuver his feet beneath him and push against the bottom towards the surface. He broke the water with a gasp, shaking his head vigorously to try and dislodge some of the water filling the cowl. His hip was throbbing and he was panting, but he whipped his head from side to side, anyway, searching the tank frantically. All he could see was lapping green through his night-vision lenses. "Hood," he gasped out, his voice clogged with water and fear.

No response. The water continued to ripple against the walls. Bruce kicked his legs, ignoring the screaming pain that radiated up his spine as he did so. "Hood?" He grunted again, his voice lowered to some extent for fear of being overheard by their captors. But panic was quickly overriding that concern. "Jay?!" He called again, raising his voice just a bit, becoming taut with frustration and fear. "Jason, if you can hear me, answer." Still nothing. Bruce gulped. "Jay, please."

Silence except for the lapping, dripping water. Bruce's heart was hammering against his ribs, and he was having a hard time catching his breath. He glanced around again.

attempt at plot + hurt!Jason and Bruce bc what else:

Jason woke to his head pounding and intense, burning pain in his abdomen. He felt hot and dizzy and sick. He couldn't stifle a groan as he shifted.

"Hood?" A familiar growl--close and tense but surprisingly gentle--said, and Jason tensed. He had no idea where he was, but that voice...he knew it far too well. He tried to open his eyes, and after a few moments he managed to blink them open to slits. Sure enough, he could dimly see Bruce looming over him, his jaw tense with worry beneath the cowl.

"What?" Jason croaked, starting at how hoarse he sounded, how hard it felt to draw breath.

"Lie still," Bruce ordered, and Jason froze. It still ticked him off when Bruce ordered him around as if he were still Robin, but the concealed fear in Bruce's voice combined with the pain--and having no memory of how he wound up here--made him listen. His gaze flitted from Bruce to the metal surrounding them, enclosing them from all sides. His pulse sped up without his consent.

Unnamed Jason&Bruce angst:

"You know," Jason croaks hoarsely, his throat tight with pain and his chest burning from the effort of speaking, "in our line of work, no one expects to live forever." He pauses to gulp for air that burns as it goes down, and he clenches his eyes shut at the pain the effort causes him--and at how his headache is being exacerbated by Bruce banging against the bars of the cage they're locked in, roaring threats at their captors. He doesn't seem to be hearing anything Jason's saying--he just keeps slamming his hands against the metal frame surrounding them. Jason's not even sure if he's speaking English. His posture is wound tight, and anyone even half-sane who saw him this way would turn and run the other direction as quickly as possible. Jason's never been sane, though.

“Untitled” sequel:

The rest of the League thought of him as some superhuman, repressed ball of efficiency and brutality. He never failed, never wavered, never doubted or deviated from his mission. Bruce knew that was what they saw. He'd gotten used to it.

But every once in a while, he remembered just how much of a lie that was.

the "Jay is protective of the other Robins even when he acts like he's not" fic:

Tim wasn't entirely sure what day it was, anymore. It seemed like it had been forever since he'd seen the sun--or anything, for that matter--but the brain had a funny way of dealing with stressful situations, one of them being the general weird-ness of the sensation of time passing. He offhandedly wondered if it was morning as he worked at the bonds around his wrists for the thousandth time. Still no give. At first, his wrists had stung awfully, and later they became unbearably itchy, no doubt from dried blood. Now, his wrists were numb and his hands felt large and awkward. He supposed that tended to happen when they'd been supporting all his weight for several hours at least.

the JayKara thing:

"Sooooo."

Tim was preoccupied with peering over the edge of the rooftop, using his binoculars to scan the deal going on below. He'd been working for weeks to trace the shipment of drugs to these two gangs, and find enough evidence to lock them up, but tonight his work was finally going to pay off. It didn't bother him too much that Jason was rambling behind him; he did that a lot, and Tim had gotten good at tuning most of it out. He adjusted his binoculars again and focused on one of the head mercs, who was deep in heated conversation with another head. Aaaaaany minute now...

"--you and Spoiler are...like....a thing. Occasionally. I guess."

Tim slowly turned his head. "Hmmm?" He said, a bit dumbly.

The "hurt!Jason vs. the GCPD which was supposed to be funny and sad but just wound up mostly sad" fic:

By the time Commissioner Gordon arrives on the scene, it's swarming with the fifth precinct, EMTs, news cameras, and onlookers who are barely held back by the thin, yellow crime scene tape. He hops out of the car, barely sparing the thought to lock it behind him and hope that whatever poor kid was driving has the keys. He immediately spots Bullock standing in a knot of people, only about twenty feet from the door, which is currently leaking smoke and flames and sparks out into the air with continuous gusts. There's some sort of commotion going on inside---he can faintly hear gunshots and shouts even from this distance. He draws his pistol from its holster, just in case, and jogs over to join them. There's a definite yell as he reaches them, and another gunshot. No one seems to be dodging or taking cover. He has no idea what the hell's going on. 

As usual I tag anyone who feels like it or any authors who haven’t been tagged yet who’d like to share some of their first lines. 

[iwaoiyoonminphan]

JJP Fic Rec

hi! i love jaebum, jinyoung, and most importantly jjp so here’s a fic rec for the ship of the life 

this is hardly a fraction of the quality jjp on ao3, but these are honestly my favourites and the ones i recommend the most! enjoy and join me in jjp hell

sfw (no smut)

1. (why dont you) speak it out loud  by sevencm 

complete/ post college au/ fluff/ 9k

“Imagine that A and B are dating, but person B doesn't voice their feelings much. One day person B is cursed/drinks a truth serum and has to say everything they think about out loud. Person B starts saying 'I love you' and other super cheesy shit to person A every five minutes. Person A enjoys it very much.” 

thoughts: actually the cutest fic to ever exist! the characterization in this fic is so good and i reread it all the time^^

2. Falsettos, Stains, and Drama   by jaenly 

complete/ high school au/ fluff/ 9k 

“It all starts when Jinyoung becomes Juliet Capulet.”

thoughts: ok so like jjp are both in drama club and they end up as romeo and Juliet. actually the cutest ever jaebum was so shy n bashful ///////// n jinyoung was dense as fuck, the ending made me smile so much!    

3. look at me for a sec (don’t be too awkward) by turbrolence(shortiest) 

complete/ hogwarts au/ fluff/ 10k 

“in which a bludger shatters jinyoung's shoulder and jaebum ends up volunteering to feed him breakfast.“

thoughts: so cute!!!!!!!!!! jinyoung is dense as a brick and i loved his interactions with the side characters too, jaebum was s o chivalrous but also dorky and SO ENDEARING this fic makes me want to spontaneously combust honestly 

4. Of douchebags and pretty boys  by schoetheisrealaf 

complete/ asshole au sorta/ fluff and humour/ 7k 

“’Dear Dog Biscuit, Since you seem unable to understand the sign that clearly indicates that this parking space is to be exclusively used by the staff of this facility, I’ll kindly explain it to you again: Until you’re an employee of the state who works his ass off for society only to get shit wages and the worst working hours you CAN’T USE THIS PARKING LOT, SO FUCK OFF! Apart from that, have a nice day. PS.: I hope you don’t have sex for a year. :)’

OR

You steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you're hot AU Starring Jinyoung the kindergarten teacher and Jaebum the (arrogant yet dorky) business man“ 

thoughts: ok ok so this is so funny n also soft? jinyoung and kids makes me really happy and why is jaebum like this??? hilarious and also so cute rereading this is always fun! 

 5. opportunity cost  by symmetrophic 

 complete/ corporate au/ fluff and humour/ 4k 

“kim yugyeom, 25, is PA to park jinyoung, 29, feared ceo of park powers (this sounds marginally less ridiculous in korean). a lot more intellectually insulting and ghei than it sounds.”

thoughts: this fic is kind of yugyeom centric but its so funny and cute i just couldnt resist ukno!! jinyoung depends on yugyeom so much its cute and also jinyoung screaming over jaebum? the BEST 

6. Always By My Side by bb_bambam 

complete/ soulmates au/ fluff and angst/ 21k 

“Soulmates!AU where after you meet your soulmate, you experience physical pain when you’re apart for more than 12 hours until you both acknowledge that you’re soulmates.Essentially, it takes Jinyoung and Jaebum way longer than it should have to figure out that they’re soulmates.“

thoughts: the softest soulmate au ever! i especially loved how it was set in canonverse bc the emotions were so real n pure! the au setting was very clear and jaebum made me ssso sad 

7. Your Smile Is Sweeter Than (Hot) Chocolate  by bb_bambam 

complete/ coffee shop au/ fluff/ 12k 

“Jaebum brings Youngjae to a coffee shop for some hot chocolate, and they end up getting Jinyoung instead.Basically, the jjp coffeeshop/kidfic mashup au no one asked for.“ 

thoughts: another one from the goddess herself! jinyoung is the best barista and single dad jaebum is so sweet n whipped i loved it so much its just tooth rotting fluff tbh and kid! youngjae im really about to SCRE AM 

8. Topaz by setaxis 

complete/ idol verse/ angst/ 6k 

“Mark loves much the way he does everything else, quietly, unthinkingly. He doesn't know when he fell in love with Jackson. He doesn't think it matters much.

xxx

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” 

thoughts: ok this is the only main markson side jjp but i included it in this list bc jjp is pretty important here too and the angst hurts so much jaebum is so stupid and jinyoung hurts prepare to cry 

nsfw (w/ smut)

1. Disappear Here by foxxing(gayfantasticfour) 

complete/ detective au/ angst and mystery/ 70k 

“Homicide detective Im Jaebum's career has been steady and his personal life mostly uneventful, until the morning officer Choi Youngjae wakes him up at 3am and he finds out his childhood best friend and ex-partner has been murdered. He takes the case only to watch everything he's ever known slip through his fingers like sand and to finally figure out that sometimes life is all about finding forgiveness.” 

thoughts: this one was an emotional roller coaster! the plot was really intriguing and i cried so hard at the end. the writing was amazing too, as expected of the queen of jjp fanfiction 

2. read you like a magazine by dollyeo 

complete/ college au/ enemies to friends to lovers (!!)/ 42k 

“Ever since Jaebum passed auditions and he didn't, Jinyoung's been hell-bent on hating the guy. Now that they're in uni together, it's like destiny is screwing up all of his plans.”

thoughts: theres no actual smut in this but theres other nsfw-ish content so read at your own risk! this fic has the perfect amount of angst and fluff and ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS AAAAAAA jinyoungs character development was super fascinating n jaebum was so whipped in this i love him 

3. Citation by KingJackson 

complete/ college au/ enemies to lovers/ 115k 

“When the one book he needs for an important term paper has to remain in the campus library, Jinyoung catches the eye of Jaebum, a library assistant.”

thoughts: a fandom classic honestly! jinyoung is such a bitch but soft perfect jaebum loves him anyway its so angsty but also the best gghhhhhh check out the sequel renewal its also SO GOOD 

4. A Certain Romance by foxxing(gayfantasticfour) 

complete/ escort au?/ fluff/ 17k 

“By day, he's a top-rated babysitter. By weekends he's an x-rated escort. These things are generally kept separate, until the day his weekend regular gets his phone number by recommendation and calls for an emergency babysitter. The problem is that Jaebum doesn't know that Junior the escort is also Jinyoung the babysitter.In which Jaebum and Jinyoung know each other in the biblical sense but maybe want to get to know each other, too.“ 

thoughts: also by the queen! jinyoung with kids is the bane of my existence tbh and kid! yugyeom gives me so much feelings bOI jaebum is kind of awkward in this but jinyoung still likes him hehehe i loved this SO MUCH 

5. Compass Calling by sugarbowl 

ongoing/ pirate au/ action and angst and fluff/ 65k rn 

“Prince Jinyoung is destined for a lifetime of luxury, until he's shoved in a trunk and accidentally abducted. Im Jaebum clawed his way out of poverty to captain a pirate ship and... not much else, actually. Jinyoung could be his first real treasure, if Jaebum could just figure out how holding someone for ransom actually works.“

thoughts: cant believe this is the only fic on this list by god (actually just read sugarbowl’s entire ao3) this fic is so beautiful jaebum is kind of dorky and also really cool this fic had me at the edge of my seat all the time AMAZING 

6. The Tiger & The Duke by foxxing(gayfantasticfour) 

ongoing/ sugar daddy au/ angst/ 160k rn 

“Im Jaebum is the richest man in the country under forty, content to mess around and skirt the headlines as a cutthroat businessman and casual playboy. Park Jinyoung is a graduated English Literature major, content with (in Jackson's words) his boring life working at a restaurant and writing poetry. When their worlds collide over a spilled cup of coffee, Jinyoung learns there's a lot more to life than the secrets of his past and the safety of library books.“

thoughts: another one... but this is so good ok at first i was kinda wary bc the ten year age gap but its not very important in the plot and nothing illegal happens lol jinyoung makes me want to PROTECT and jaebum is trying his best ok hes sO anyway its good and ill cry when it ends 

7. muses by comingbackhometoyou

complete/ star trek au/ enemies to lovers/ 120k

“Your dad gave his life for-”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Jaebum interrupts, voice ringing through the empty bar. “My dad gave his life for Starfleet and died with honors. I’ve heard this story a thousand times before. No offense, but why should it matter to me? Why are you here telling me what I’ve known since I was five years old?”

Jaebum has been running for 16 years when his past finally catches up with him.”

thoughts: this one doesnt have much smut i think just ALMOST smut but anyway i dont even like star trek but this made me so sad jjp love each other so much its beautiful and i love jinyoungs no-nonsense character its so funny and also heart wrenching i dont know this fic just hurts me its wonderful 

i hope you liked my recommendations and enjoyed the fics as much as i did! the jjp fandom is honestly blessed by so many good writers so i hope you find more good work in the tags!!