#but i think maybe ill read it closer to when the drama airs so ill have more context when watching

[hopkei]

oohhhh redblue manga shockingly has a translation online !!!!

[readwitheve]

REVIEW 3: THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY BY JENNY HAN

MY RATING: ★★★★

While most people read the books first and excitedly wait on the series or film adaptations, I have the opposite approach. I tend to like watching movies or shows first then deciding I’d like to read the book to see the differences between the on-screen adaptation and the source material. For me, I need to see the premise of the content and see if I find it entertaining before I commit to reading the book, though I admit that it’s a rather backwards way of thinking.

With this being said, though I consider myself older than the target audience as I was in my late 20s when I read this book (which was recent), I decided to pick up The Summer I Turned Pretty, which moving forward will be referred to as TSITP, after having enjoyed the first two seasons of the Amazon series of the same title. Now, I am familiar with Jenny Han’s work as I had read the To All the Boys I loved Before series, so I’m not surprised that I ended up wanting to read this series as well.

TSITP follows the story of Isabel “Belly” Conklin, a 16-year-old girl who’s grown up before everyone’s eyes. Alongside her mother, Laurel, and her brother, Steven, Belly returns to the beach house in Cousins Beach owned by her mother’s best friend, Susannah. Here, Belly experiences a lot of firsts that she would’ve usually avoided when she was back home and in school, like her first kiss and first date happening with a boy named Cameron. However, despite how nice Cameron is and how it seemed like fate that the two of them would be at Cousins together after not seeing each other for years, since the Model UN convention in middle school, Cameron is not the boy Belly actually wants. Instead, Belly is still head over heels for Conrad Fisher, Susannah’s first-born son and her crush since childhood.

Conrad, however, seems to have a wavering interest. One minute, he’s hanging around Belly and saying things that could be construed as flirty, the other, he’s pushing her away. He’s also seemed to lost interest in the things he once loved and had backed out on things he said he’d do, like football and working as a lifeguard with his brother. As a result of Conrad’s aloof behavior, Belly gets closer to Conrad’s younger brother, Jeremiah Fisher, who starts to develop feelings for Belly. All the while, distracted from her own drama, Belly doesn’t realize until the end that the reason why Conrad has been so distant with her is because he’s going through a lot, with his mother no longer in remission and her cancer having returned, and his father having cheated on her while she’s battling her illness.

In the end, though, first love seems to prevail as Conrad and Belly start to date.

As happy as I am that these two had wound up together at the end of this first installment in the trilogy, there really is a lot missing in the book, which is how Belly and Conrad actually get together. The ending seems so up in the air, the only thing that really happened was them kissing but there were no conversations as far as what they were and Belly didn’t state they were together, which is sad for Belly/Conrad fans. But as they say, this is about the journey and not the destination.

Overall, I did enjoy TSITP. It’s a cute story, and I do wish there was a bit more focus on Susannah and Laurel’s friendship like in the show compared to the books being limited to Belly’s point of view. I think this would be a good read for its intended audience of young adults, and maybe even older, who like reading romance and coming of age novels.

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 16

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 16 under the cut

Chapter XVI:

There were a few different tactics that Gong had shown him in preparation for this moment although none were guaranteed to work since the Prince had never actually tried them before.

Each failed attempt was more wasted energy and, the more energy Pangu wasted, the more frustrated he grew.

Kira watched, feeling a little too helpless. “Maybe there is some stipulation. Something that would make breaking the seal seem impossible to Tiandi. Something that would make him feel confident in leaving them unguarded.”

Pangu sat down on the floor and huffed a few times. “I have no idea what that could be.”

“Is the Xiang using his abilities to blast the stones not enough?” May asked from her position on the ground. She was completely sprawled with her arms and legs stretched as far as possible.

“Maybe this writing is a riddle,” Lady guessed and looked closer at the grooves in the stones.

Heidi pulled her back. “Even if that was the case, none of us can read it.”

Lady hung her head, giving up as well.

“Maybe it is the type of energy?” Kaz suggested after a moment of silence. He knelt down next to Pangu and set his hand next to him, palm up.

Pangu arched an eyebrow and set his hand over his but, because of how languid the motion was, he ended up just slapping their hands together before his fell back at his side.

Kaz chuckled and grabbed his hand so he could properly hold it. “You have been using your usual spiritual energy right?” When Pangu nodded, he continued, “Well, that is what is around this place already. So…let us think of why the spirit realm was created in the first place. What type of energy was Tiandi trying to keep the spirits away from…?”

“Miasma!” Pangu jolted up and looked to Kira. “The Great Spirits are the only spirits that I know of that come from Shakti so maybe they thrive off of miasma instead of spiritual energy…”

“Won’t using miasma here be like a beacon?” Kira worried aloud. If it was not the correct answer and they got themselves found before even making progress, things could become ugly.

“Do not let it out into the air,” Pangu said and pointed to the stone, “Just try it directly with the stone and see what happens.”

It was still a risk but they were out of options. Kira sucked in some air and then touched the middle stone, focusing on coating it and only it in miasma. The dark mist shrouded around it but, still, nothing happened. There was no change in the atmosphere and he felt nothing stirring within. He took his hand off and sighed. “Sorry.”

“Hang on…” Fujin stood up from her spot beside May and started to pace. “Kaz was onto something with the whole ‘why the spirit world was made’ bit, however…”

“What?” Her brother’s brow furrowed, wondering what he could have possibly missed.

“The Great Spirits would have been sealed away before that happened, right? So miasma alone would have broken them out by then.”

Everyone glanced around at each other. Though Fujin was making a point, it did not elucidate a better option.

“So…what do you suggest?” Heidi asked.

“Pangu, do you know when Tiandi sealed away all of the people’s crowns?” she asked and pointed at him.

“Exactly when? No. But, I imagine it would have been before the first Xiang and after sealing away the Great Spirits.”

“It would make the most sense if it happened right after dealing with the four spirits,” Kira speculated. “Get the big threat out of the way and then prevent an uprising among the mortals.”

“Right…” Fujin started to wag her finger. “So, the one thing that would have been impossible, until just now, would be someone using an element infused with miasma.”

“That will definitely get us seen,” Kira warned.

“But if we do not try something, we will be stuck here,” Pangu replied and stepped out of the way. “Fujin, do you have the strength for it?”

“I may need some help…” she glanced to her brother and he nodded without a word and joined her.

“What is the plan…?” Heidi asked, confused.

“Oh, you don’t know?” May turned her head to look at her but still did not move. “Fusing an element with miasma makes a new element. It is pretty sick.”

Heidi raised an eyebrow in confusion and looked to Pangu for clarification. He just nodded and turned his attention to the stones.

Fujin stretched her hand out and Kaz joined her, followed, lastly, by Kira. “Alright, if this does not work…” Kira said in a low voice.

“It will.” Kaz would not allow any more doubt—mostly because if this idea failed, he was certain there would be nothing else for them to do. They had no choice but to succeed.

The energy budded in front of them, first as a small vortex of wind but, as the miasma was introduced, the vortex grew brighter and brighter until a ball of pure light beamed onto the sealing stones. Even Pangu had to cover his eyes and everyone else groaned and looked away.

A huge pulse released and the light shot up into the sky before dissipating. Pangu, slowly, moved his hands away to see what had happened. The three stones were each cracked and broken but there was no sign of life.

“What’s happening?!” May asked, sounding panicked.

Pangu looked over to see her floating and he realized that he, too, was off of the floor. All of them were. The sky was also blocked by a gray wall of wind—they were inside of a massive cyclone yet they were not being tossed about violently. In fact, the rise into the air was decidedly gentle.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Lady said and started to swim in the air, amused that she was able to go further up with the motion.

“Careful,” Heidi warned and grabbed hold of her arm.

A streak of bright green entered the wall of wind around them and sparkling lights followed. The sound of giggling came next and three distinct forms began to take shape.

The tornado faded and Pangu looked around to see that they had traveled quite high and the top of the spire was just a spec beneath them. They were also being held up in the air effortlessly with some of the sparkles clinging to their feet and along their bodies.

A petite, green body whizzed past Pangu’s head and he followed it with a curious smile. Then another—both laughing with glee.

“Sylph?” Fujin called out as one flew past her head as well.

The three small bodies took a few more laps around them before floating in the center of the group. Each was different but they were all only around a foot tall and robed in translucent green cloth with condensed, emerald energy in the shape of wings floating behind their backs.

On the left, there was a blonde haired faerie with an additional pink sash around her waist. The middle one had dark green hair that blended into the wind around her and she had the longest robe out of the three of them. Then, the one on the right hand side was sporting a very short and teal hairdo while wearing a light blue sash.

“Yes, we are Sylph,” the middle faerie, the greenest one, said. “Thank you for freeing us—we have had that pent up energy for a WHILE! It feels good to let it out.”

“Yeah! I was starting to think we would never get out!” The pink one added.

“No way I could have spent another century crammed in there with these two,” Blue said and gestured to the others.

“Hey!” they both countered.

“Well you three are in a good mood for having been sealed away for thousands of years,” Heidi mentioned with an amused smile.

“Would you not be after getting to stretch your wings?” Green asked.

“I suppose?” Kaz answered.

“So, who, exactly, freed us?” Green looked between them.

“Those three,” Pangu said and pointed over at Fujin, Kaz, and Kira.

The faeries flew closer and inspected the trio, a few times even sniffing. “Hmm…well one of you is disqualified from summoning us. You are not even from our land!” Blue shouted.

Kira pointed at himself and she nodded.

“What do you mean, summoning?” Fujin asked the more important question.

“What do you mean?” Pink asked in turn, “Is that not why you freed us? To gain our power and rule the land?”

Everyone exchanged a glance. “No,” Pangu explained, “We are freeing you because you were unjustly sealed away. Shakti wishes for you to be free and, while I suppose we were hoping to borrow some of your power, we did not want it to rule the land.”

“Oh?” Blue tilted her head to the side and then she and her sisters flew closer and started to whisper to one another. Once they were done, they broke away and she cleared her throat. “Well, since you are from Mother, we have no need to perform any tests or anything.”

“Besides,” Green cut in, “You freeing us is probably proof enough or whatever.”

“Let’s pick summoners!” Pink shouted and pumped her fists into the air.

“Is this…what you would do back in the day?” Kira quirked an eyebrow.

“Yup!” Pink vibrated and more sparkles flew off of her body.

“Our blessing came with a lot of respect, you know,” Blue elaborated, “Whoever we gifted the ability to use our power was always the lord of the land. So do not take this lightly.”

“We do not,” Pangu immediately said, “We would be honored and deeply humbled.”

The three faeries all looked at him before Pink laughed and said, “Eeew—too formal! You sound like Gnome or something.”

“Are you from Terra? Or maybe Kyrie?” Green asked.

Pangu unintentionally pouted. “I am from Enlil.”

“Then act like it!” Pink shouted. “Disqualified!”

“You too,” Blue said and pointed at Kira.

“Fair.” He shrugged.

“Now, let us taste the rest of you,” Green said and flew in closer to the women and Kaz. The other two followed and flew around them like a swarm of bees before returning to their original position.

“We say…” Blue drew out her words.

“You,” Pink proclaimed and pointed to Fujin.

“And you!” Green also pointed but at Heidi.

“And YOU!” Blue picked May.

“Three of them?” Kaz asked, surprised. “How does that work for picking a lord…?”

“They can fight over it,” Blue suggested.

Then Pink cut in, “Or rule together.”

“But I am no leader,” Heidi objected and pulled Lady closer. “I am just focused on my family and my job.”

“Yeah, I protect the royal family. I am not a part of it,” Fujin said.

“I might be a princess but can you not give your blessings to my sister instead?” May gave them a sideways smile. “I sort of left the castle in her care because I did not want to be Queen.”

Sylph looked between them and each of them groaned and threw their little heads back. “Are you kidding?!” Green flew about with a fury before stopping and shaking. “We give you our blessing to rule the land and you give it up? All of you?!”

“What happened to power hungry humans?” Blue asked with a sigh. “They just do not make them like they used to.”

“We do not disrespect your gifts or the ability to summon you,” Fujin tried to remedy the situation; “We just do not think we are the best fits to rule. Or rather, we do not wish to use your abilities to force ourselves on top.”

“Ugh, you are talking like that stiff over there too.” Pink stuck out her tongue.

“I mean, I will definitely use your power if I can,” May said with a laugh, “and maybe I will help my sister after all of this is over but I crave freedom and fun. I cannot just sit around and do paperwork all day.”

Sylph seemed less agitated now and they looked at each other before asking the group, “Is that what lordship is like now?”

“Kind of,” Kaz responded.

The three had another impromptu meeting and whispered to one another. When they broke it off, Green took to the center and cleared her throat. “From this moment onward, our blessing means total freedom and lordship only if that is what the individual desires. Mostly, you will be given the power to decide your own fate. How about that?”

Fujin, May, and Heidi shared a look. “…Sure,” Heidi said first.

“That works for me,” Fujin agreed.

“So, can I summon you whenever?” May asked.

“Of course!” Pink flew closer to her and tapped her on the nose. “Just call out our name or think about us REALLY hard and we will show up!”

“Okay, bye-bye now!” Blue shouted and the three zipped to each other’s side, all forming together into a tight ball of light until the sight was too blinding to bear.

Everyone covered their eyes and, before they knew it, they were falling. They all braced for impact but, when their feet hit the floor, it was surprisingly gentle.

“Huh…? We are somewhere else?” May asked right away and Pangu opened his eyes.

Sure enough, they were no longer even in the spirit realm and, rather than being back in Tian-Badou, they were in a completely new location. The spire, or what was left of it in the mortal realm, laid around them in ruins. They were still atop a mountain but the building was all but gone.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Kaz mentioned and dusted off the front of his tunic. “We did travel in the spirit realm so we would be someplace else upon exiting.”

“But where are we?” Heidi asked as she held onto Lady’s shoulders.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Kira replied with a shrug, “I can open a portal here and take you back home.”

“Shh!” Pangu, suddenly, shushed and then ran to the front of the group and held his arms out. A barrier of wind wrapped around them and he said, under his breath, “We are not alone.”

Kira felt it immediately and he took a defensive stance while everyone else retrieved their weapons just on Pangu’s word.

From behind a dilapidated pillar stepped another older man clad in white but it was not Badou or even one of the remaining Heavenly Princes. He was a worse possibility, in Pangu’s mind, and his entire body tensed upon seeing him.

Gongji seemed just as confused as they were though, in spite of his furrowed brow, he still kept a calm demeanor. “You need not keep a barrier erect, Pangu, I have no intention of attempting to fight you all at once. I am sorely outnumbered.”

“I do not trust that for a second.” He refused to let any of his defenses slip.

“What are you doing here?” Kira asked.

Gongji raised one of his busy brows. Up until a few seconds ago, he had been alone on the mountain, meditating. “This is my home. I return here from time to time and meditate. I should be the one asking why you are here.”

“You live here?” Heidi repeated, sounding unconvinced, “In this ruin?”

“I did.” The disciple stepped back, away from them. His eyes bounced between each individual and their battle stance. Even Pangu had his hands raised, ready to switch from holding the barrier to reaching for the elements. “I must reiterate, I truly have no desire to fight right now.”

“Maybe we do,” Kaz said and jutted forward with his spear.

Gongji responded, not with any further words or an attack of his own but with a wide step to the side and then a leap backward, off the edge. His body dropped, out of sight, and the suddenness of it evoked a gasp out of both May and Lady.

Pangu lowered the barrier a little but kept his eyes trained forward. “Do not forget, he can fly too,” he reminded everyone.

“Oh. Right.” May felt a bit silly for her immediate, shocked reaction.

“I actually do think he left us alone,” Kira mentioned and set a hand on Pangu’s arm, lowering it the rest of the way. “We should leave while we still can.”

His insides shook but he nodded in agreement. The sooner they left, the sooner they took Heidi and Lady back home, and the sooner they returned to the safety of Shakti’s caves, the better.

[blahkugo]

Omakase

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+, smut, slight overstim, all characters are aged up, ofc. 

A/N: Happy birthday to the woman that literally birthed my blog, the writer of the best fics I’ve ever read-- *cough Notice, Seven Minutes, Of Love and Lemons, etc.*-- @lookslikeleese​. It’s 5 am right now and my brain cannot come up with the proper words, but just know I love you so much. Thank you for creating our entire friend group. I LOVE YOU. 

omakase (noun): 

(in a Japanese restaurant) a meal consisting of dishes selected by the chef; chef’s choice. 

Thirty minutes into supper with the Todorokis, you think your heart may actually stop beating. It’s not the awkward silence, nor the snowstorm of icy glares traveling across the table. You’ve long since made your peace with the scents of charred leather couches and melted silverware that linger in your hair whenever one of the men gets riled up. 

No, it’s an issue far more pressing than the typical family drama, a matter that needs to be resolved with stealth— immediately. 

It’s Shouto’s fingers, darting into his pocket and pressing a single button. It’s your heels digging into the cool tile beneath you. It’s every nerve standing on end, every passing second sending a wave of heat to your core. Your knuckles blanche, gripping the oak table with such ferocity that it may just snap, and your thighs shake, overwhelmed.

The issue is that there’s a little pink vibrator pressing against your clit and the bi-colored bastard chews his food as though this night is no different than any other. 

It doesn’t matter that the toy’s been placed at the lowest setting all night, doesn’t matter that your fingernails relieve a bit of the pressure every time you dig them into your exposed thighs. The only thought crossing your mind is your impending orgasm. How are you supposed to stifle euphoric pleasure when you’re barely able to hold it together now? 

“So, how’s that new job going?” Enji asks more out of courtesy than interest. While you typically humor his attempts at placid conversation, you’re too troubled to speak to the stoic man in front of you. What if your juices seep through your soaked panties right onto the chair? 

“It’s— ah- it’s really good.” 

And this has been your entire night thus far. Feeble efforts to remain coherent, whines and gasps hidden behind awkward coughs— anything and everything you can possibly do to maintain your dignity in the presence of your boyfriend’s father. 

“What was that funny story you were telling me earlier today?” Shouto doesn’t miss a beat, sending a quick slant your way before stuffing another bite of rice into his mouth. He knows precisely what he’s doing, can feel the pointed daggers you dig into the side of his head, but his relaxed smile reveals nothing to the three pairs of eyes gazing intently at you, awaiting your response.

“Oh, Mt. Lady, she— oh my god,” As soon as you begin speaking, he cranks the toy up to a new level. Though it’s only for a second, the sound that leaves your body is inhuman, a mortifying cross between a sob and a choke that has your palm slamming onto the table fiercely.

All at once, the table is bustling with concern for your safety. To their naive eyes, it seems you choked on a bite of food, and Fuyumi hurries to grab you a glass of water. Shouto simply remains seated, a slick grin plastered across his face at the sight of your heated cheeks and teary eyes. What the fuck could have possessed you to agree to this in the first place? 

“I-I’m okay,” you mumble out, embarrassment shaking you far worse than any sex toy ever could. And that fact— the way your eyebrows knead together in discomfort as you squirm in your seat— is precisely what Shouto wants. You’re no stranger to humiliation, no stranger to the tugging deep in your gut or the heated flush that darts onto your mattress and makes its home on your cheeks.

But this? This type of shame is foreign; it makes your head spin and refuses to waver no matter how much you silently gripe and plead. “Honestly, I feel a bit—” another pulse, another pained gasp from you, “ill.” The words barely make their way out before you’re gritting your teeth, thighs pressing together so tightly they may leave pretty purple marks. 

“Maybe I should take her upstairs,” Shouto sighs, faux apology slipping through his mouth with ease. When did the fucker get so good at lying? 

And then he’s helping you up from your seat, rubbing tender circles into your back, like any good boyfriend would. But every graze is unbearable, sends a tidal wave of warmth rushing through your core. The most innocent of touches has become obscene, twisted in a way only you and the cool man next to you are able to acknowledge. 

As you climb the stairs with shaky legs, you can only pray that the rest of the family doesn’t notice the slick juices trailing down your thighs. 

—

“Who knew dinner and a show could be so entertaining?” He teases, just barely dodging the fist you throw half-heartedly at his shoulder. His supple lips are glued into a smirk, one that probably won’t drop until the night is long over. 

“Please– I-” you attempt to stifle your moans, but in the comfort of his childhood bedroom you find yourself slipping into a high-pitched whine. “Turn it off.” He seems to debate the plea internally, slender fingers brushing over the buttons until you grip harshly at his bicep. You’ve endured enough misery to last you months. 

When he finally switches it off, you feel your entire body slacken and relief wash over you; however, it does nothing for the throbbing in your clit or the pool of desire still brimming in your core. What you crave is his touch, the warmth that pokes and prods at your every muscle, loosening each nerve until you’re a babbling mess— wholly at the mercy of his lithe fingers. 

“Shou,” you mewl, voice dripping with desperation. His eyes widen for a quick second, brows raised and shocked by your blatant come-on with his family only a level down. “I need you.” 

Those three simple words have him springing into action, shoving you against the mattress. Pinning you beneath him with ease, he hikes your skirt up to your hips before running a slender digit against your clothed slit. 

“You made a mess,” his words carry no weight, only amazement at the juices flowing freely through the thin panties and down your thighs. “Probably made a mess all over your chair too.” 

With that comment, your shame is back with a vengeance, tinging the tips of your ears and causing you to cry out. Before Shouto, you’d have never thought this sort of depraved commentary could have you shaking. Hell, you’re not sure he even knew what he was doing to you at first; ever oblivious, Shouto simply speaks his mind. 

Only when he noticed the effect of his words, did he begin using those passing observations against you. Now, he lives for your reactions, spurs you on if only to see how far a gruff remark can push you— and typically, your limit is reached in wanton sobs and bright red scratch marks down his back. 

He doesn’t bother with removing the lace panties, only tugs them to the side so he can brush his fingers against your naked slit. When he pushes a thumb against your clit, you can’t help the loud cry that escapes you. “Bite,” he offers up his wrist so that your moans don’t carry through the thin walls. 

Your teeth sink into his flesh, eliciting a sharp breath at the sudden pain. And he enjoys that part too— the lengths you’ll go to achieve pleasure, the stinging reminders of your desire. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?” He tests a finger, then two, knuckles deep in your doughy walls as you writhe on the bed. “Good girl.” 

“Mmph,” you feel your eyes roll back at the soft praise, thighs tensing as he begins to pump his digits in and out. “Faster, ah– please.” Your moans are muffled against his arm, but he complies nonetheless, fingers curling and hitting the spot that drums against your heartbeat, that rattles through your brain.

The second he brings his lips to your clit, you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Hair slick with sweat, your hands roam through his own wet strands, gripping and tugging him closer, closer, closer. He suckles hungrily, his last meal long forgotten as he pushes you further over the edge. 

All at once, you see stars. You’re unsure whether you’re keeping quiet like he asked or sobbing loudly, the tidal wave of pleasure consumes you whole, stomach going taut and twisting as he allows you to ride out your orgasm. With the toy slowly edging you all night, this bliss feels fully merited— is exactly what you deserve after being subjected to his teasing for so long. 

Shouto only lets up when your entire body has gone slack and you push his head away. Bringing his fingers up to your supple lips, he watches hungrily as you slurp at your own slick. 

His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pooling with eagerness and a longing for more; he brings a thumb to his chin to wipe at your juices— licks a long stripe up the digit to fully savor you. The image is immodest at the least, animalistic at most.

It reignites your own thirst immediately. 

Though you’re exhausted, core spasming from overuse, you find yourself tugging at his waistband, pulling him close so he can sheath himself inside you in one fell thrust. 

“Fuck,” his voice is husky, groan stifled in the nook of your shoulder. “Still so fucking tight for me.” The only sounds that fill the air are your joint moans, the squeaky springs of the mattress, and the headboard clanging against the wall— sweat soaked skin as his hips snap against you. 

“Ah— please, please, please,” it seems to be the only phrase that falls from your loose lips. Every jerk sends shocks across your damp flesh, vision going foggy as he sends your brain spinning. Once again, you teeter at the edge, so close. Your legs wrap across his back, digging into the globes of his ass to pull him impossibly closer. 

“What do you want?” He grunts into your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your neck and across your chest. It may leave a mark or two, but it’s something to worry about later. 

“I–”At this point, you’re just a teary, blubbering mess, “please, Shou– need your cum.” You manage the words, knowing exactly what effect they have. His movements quicken, pace faltering as he chases his own high. 

And then, you’re both seeing stars. With one final shudder, his cock twitches, and then he’s spilling into you. Your groans intertwine, his a loud sigh of your name, you sobbing helplessly. 

Once he finally stills, he collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving. His fingers smooth at your matted hair, whispers of ‘so good for me’ and ‘fuck, baby’ into the shell of your ear as he allows your body— still trembling uncontrollably— time to regain composure.  

Now you remember why you agreed to this little game of his.

–

“I hope you feel better,” Fuyumi hugs you goodbye, though your eyes are glazed over in post-coital bliss. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet your own, anyways. But they couldn’t have heard; you were quiet. Weren’t you? 

As you stumble into the passenger side of Shouto’s pristine Model S, you catch the gruff comment Enji murmurs to Shouto, 

“You two could stand to be a bit less obvious next time.” 

[ererokii]

Infinite || Izuku Midoryia

Izuku Midioryia x Fem! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: insecurities, bit of angst

Word Count: 3194

Synopsis: In a world where soulmates exist, Izuku Midoryia believes that he won’t have one on the day of his 17th birthday.

Taglist (message to be added): @pixxiesdust @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @fryingpanitachi @sugacookiies @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event and Celebrating Deku event! The prompt are Long Kisses and “Did you ever think we would be here? I mean since we were kids, I just..”

Bingo Masterlist

Soulmates were always a thing since the beginning of time. The signs were simple when you were supposed to find your soulmate. You either share the same colored iris of their right eye, or their birth date would be tattooed on your thumb in cursive. Some people got both, while others just had one. 

The signs didn’t come at birth. Some babies were born with grey eyes and wouldn’t get their soulmate’s eye color until they turned 14. It was a celebration when a child finally got their right eye color, matching with their soulmate or not. However, there were cases where someone wouldn’t receive their right eye color until they turned 17. 

Other babies who were born with a birthmark in the shape of a heart on their thumb got their tattoo at the age of 5. It was funny how the two worked. But that’s how the universe wanted it. 

Izuku Midoryia was always a curious child, ever since he learned how to walk. He was always up to meeting anyone with a new face. You happened to fall victim to his ways. Izuku met you when both of you were 4 years old, at a park. You were running around the playground and when he saw you, he practically begged his mom to let him go. With much reluctance, she did. 

Both of you connected rather quickly. When your mothers called for you to leave, both of you clung to each other as you sobbed, begging for another 10 minutes with each other. Seeing their children already so close despite only knowing each other for an hour, the mothers decided to talk amongst themselves as well. 

Inko and your mother got along well. This meant that you and Izuku would be seeing each other a lot more, which both of you were ecstatic about.

Both of you went to the same school. In the younger grades, the teachers would hold a small celebration for any child that received their tattoo. It happened a couple of times. A group of small kids and their teacher surrounding one of the students, a bright glowing light emitting from their thumb. It was something that always fantasized Izuku. He couldn’t wait for his own.

Yet he wasn't born with the heart birthmark. You were born with one. 

That was the only thing you could babble about. How excited you were to find out the date, to find your prince charming as you told him after watching your princess movies. 

“I think today is the day Izu-kun! I feel it!” You spoke with confidence, jutting your thumb in his direction. 

“W-what makes you think that?!” he gasped, his small brain blown away at your confidence.

“I just feel it! Today I’m going to find out about my prince charming!!” You giggled as you curtseyed, acting out the role of the princess. “And we’ll dance and dance!”

“It sounds like you have your whole life planned out! I wish I was able to get one!”

“Silly!” You pointed to his grey eyes. “You’ll get the eye remember?! That’s super-duper cool if you ask me!”

He rubbed his knuckles gently bashfully as he lowered his head.”You really think so?”

“I know so! You’ll probably get a pink! Or maybe purple!”

“Maybe yellow!” Izuku’s little body rattled with laughter alongside you. Both of you were huddled up on the carpeted floor, minding your own business from the other kids who were too busy coloring. 

“Bright!” you gasped and held your hand out, a glowing light emitting from your heart birthmark. “S-Sensei! It’s glowing!”

At the sound of your voice, your teacher and your classmates rushed to you. Izuku scooted closer, watching the heart glow brighter. “Does it hurt Y/N-Chan?” he whispered in astonishment, hand touching your arm. 

You stayed silent as you stared at the scene in front of you, the heart outlined in a gold shimmery light, it’s light blinding but also beautiful. It fully stopped as black ink formed on your hand.

“What does it say?”

You whimpered and lifted your hand up to your teacher’s bent over body. “I don’t know what it says.” You were only five years old and was still learning to read your numbers.

A chuckle left their lips as they grabbed your tiny wrist in their bigger hand, scanning over it. “July 15th!”

Gasps resonated throughout the room.

“That’s my birthday!” Izuku squeaked out as he stared at you.

You cheekily smiled and clapped your hands together. “It is! Maybe it’s you Izu-kun! Maybe you’re my prince charming!”

“You think that?!”

“I don’t know! But will we dance and dance like they do in the fairytales?!”

Izuku absentmindedly nodded as he bowed. “Yes Princess Y/N! We will dance and dance!”

You jutted out your pinkie in his direction, a serious look for a five year old displayed on your face. “You pinkie promise swear Izu-kun?”

He stared at it for a second before sticking his pinkie out as well, wrapping his small one around yours. “I pinkie promise swear Y/N-chan!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“My birthday passed and I still haven’t gotten my color! What if I’m not meant to have a soulmate?”

You scoffed and held the papers close to your chest. “That’s not true Izu! You’re going to! Don’t be so negative. Be like All Might!” You cheered and jumped up, fist raised in the air. 

He shook his head, his green hair moving in the slightest with his motion. “Yeah you’re right. He hasn’t even said anything about his soulmate! Maybe it’s kept a secret!”

You squealed like a little school girl, which you were. “How romantic!! Keeping your lover away from the spotlight! A mysterious type of love! Imagine that!”

“What’s so cute about that? Sounds like a cheap drama to me.”

An offended gasp left your lips as you spun on your heel, stopping right in front of him. “Cheap drama?!” you bent over a bit, placing your hands on your hips, one of your hands holding your papers. “It’s more than that!”

He stumbled back at your sudden movement and gulped. You were close. Close enough where he can smell the faint essence of your shampoo. His eyes were glued to your face. Over the years he definitely saw the changes throughout your body and would even say he found himself attracted to you. 

You’ve grown from the tiny toddler that always wanted to protect him, to a maturing teenager. You also noticed the changes in Izuku’s appearance. You noticed the way his face lost its baby fat and slowly shaped itself over time. Both of your moms loved seeing you walk home together. It was something that warmed both of their children staying friends after many years. They secretly hoped that your soulmates were each other, if only the universe was nice enough to grant their wishes. 

“You listen well!” you snapped with no ill intention, somehow shuffling closer to his now trembling body. “It is romantic to protect your soulmate from the horrors of this world! Imagine just fighting for them! That’s so romantic! In the dramas, their reason for fighting is always their soulmate! If someone fought for me, I would love them forever and ever!” you swooned, clasping your hands to your chest as your fingers gripped around the vest. Your papers were long gone on the floor, your eyes squeezed shut. If they were open, he could have swore he would have seen hearts in your eyes. 

“Okay I get it!” he said quickly, hands in front of his body as he shook them in defense. “If you shut your eyes any tighter you won’t see!”

A groan left your lips as a pout tugged them right after. “I was in my dream world! Always messing with it huh, Izu!” You opened your eyes to stare at him, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy when you saw his shocked expression. 

“What?” you asked, hand reaching up to your face. “Is there something on my face or something?”

His mouth opened but no words came out, only strangled noises and gasps for air. His index finger pointed at his right eye. “Y-Your eye! It’s maroon!”

A scream left your lips as you quickly took out your phone, immediately going on the camera app to stare at your reflection. “I-It’s here! It’s here!” your voice was higher pitched, clearly in shock as you felt the back of your neck heat up. 

You lowered your phone and placed it back in your bag. “Oh my..it’s here” you whispered breathlessly, slowly lifting your head to meet Izuku’s concerned gaze. “D-Do you not like it or something?” he whispered.

Your next action startled him.  A high pitch squeal filled his ears as your hands found themselves on his wrists, squeezing them as you jumped and down, excited. “It’s here Izu!” Your head bobbed up with each jump you did, your smile never faltering as you kept using his body as leverage to jump. 

He felt his heartbreak and fall in the depths of his soul. “I’m so happy for you Y/N! I bet it’s so exciting to finally get it!”

He was truly happy for you, he was. On the inside he was already hurting. He felt like his heart got chopped up and thrown away. You had a soulmate. Someone out there was already made for you. For you to love. For them to cherish and protect you like you wanted. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t hold you. He couldn’t cherish you. He couldn’t protect you like you wanted. You weren’t meant for him.

You stared into his gaze with your new eyes. The iris from your parents matched beautifully with the maroon. If possible, it made your eyes stand out more. “Do they look weird?” you whispered, suddenly self conscious of your new appearance. 

“Course not! I think they look-” he stopped himself, flustering up as he twiddled his thumbs. “Beautiful.”

“Ah..” you rubbed your arm, hand moving up and down slowly, lowering your head at his words. “T-thank you Izu..” you meekly whispered before gasping, reaching out and grabbing him by his forearms. “I have to tell my mom! I’ll catch up with you later?!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Enrolling at UA High School gave Izuku many opportunities. Before enrolling, he met with the Symbol of Peace himself. Gaining his quirk, Izuku worked hard to achieve his goal of entering. Seeing you at the entrance exam made him ecstatic.

That was until he would look into your eyes. Each time he dreaded looking into them. It left a grim reminder that he wasn’t for you. He remembered every moment of that day when you got the color. He remembered crying into his pillow for hours, leaving his mother worried sick. He couldn’t tell you how jealous he felt. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Each kid in his class had their tattoo wrapped around their thumb or mismatched eyes. He often felt left out. He could feel the pity stares sent his way. The hushed whispers of gossipers ringing in his ears. Every time you would comfort him about it, saying it was natural to feel the way he was feeling, he couldn’t feel your comfort. It didn’t feel sincere to him. Nothing did.

He despised his birthday after his 14th. He hated the thought that this coming birthday will be the same as the one before. No trace of his soulmate. He did research. He tried forcing it by thinking of his soulmate. Would spend endless nights begging that the next day a sign would appear. 

There were times where he would come into class, absolutely exhausted as his feet dragged behind him, his shoulders slouched forward, his green and grey eyes bloodshot. It worried you to no end. You often spent nights in his dorm, comforting him. He would break down into your arms, repeating the words that no one would love him. That no one was made for him. 

When you got your signs you were over the top. You ranted and bragged about how amazing your soulmate was without even knowing them. You already knew it. Deep down you could feel their presence. It was an amazing feeling. A spark exploding inside of you that had to be let out soon. You heard stories of people finding their soulmates. How time seemed to stop leaving the two of them to drown in each other’s presence. You wanted it. 

Izuku’s birthday was today. His 17th to be exact. He was holding onto the small string of hope. You hoped that this would be different. He was at the age limit where he should have gotten the sign. You didn’t want this birthday to end with him crying again. You wanted him to be happy. He deserved it. 

It was a sunny afternoon. Izuku and you walked in silence to a park—the park where both of you had first met. A small humming came from his end, a small bounce in his step as the both of you continued to follow the cement path to a nearby bench. 

He would say it was an average morning. Despite the fact that you and Ochako decided to wake him up by singing him happy birthday and practically forcing him out of bed while he was still half asleep. He got greeted by all of his classmates, even Eri said happy birthday to which brought a big smile on his face. 

All Might came down and spoke a few words to his successor. Even Aizawa, which surprised the whole class. 

“Soo..” you spoke up, hands clasped behind your back. “Did your mom call?”

He nodded and looked up at the sky, red tresses adorning the blue sky. “She did. She was the first one to call me this morning”

“I’m surprised she didn’t stop by. I mean after all, I’m sure she could have gotten a free pass or something” 

“Yeah” he mumbled, eyes averted downwards. Something was on his mind. 

“Hey, why am I getting the feeling that you aren’t okay?”

A shrug of his shoulders made him lift his head to meet your gaze. “I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“Whatcha thinking about, Izu?”

“The normal is all.”

“Oh” was all you said as you lowered your head, regretting that you even asked him. 

His elbow gently jabbed into your side. “Don’t look so down.” A gentle smile appeared on his lips, motioning to the park bench with his head. “I still got time.” 

“Yeah you’re right about that.” you followed his footsteps from behind, placing yourself down on the wooden bench. 

A comfortable silence overcame the both of you. You leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Did you ever think we would be here? I mean since we were kids, I just… When I was younger I didn’t think we would be here if I’m being honest. I thought we were just going to have playdates till we drifted off once we entered high school.” 

Izuku turned his body to face you, concern evident on his face as his grey and green eyes glossed with tears. “You thought that?”

You nodded slowly as you pointed a finger towards the playground. “Do you remember? You came up to me with that bright smile of yours, asking me if we could play together. I remember we played superheroes, played on swings, and went down the slide so many times.”

A wave of nostalgia hit his body as he relaxed, leaning into the wood of the bench. “Yeah, I remember that. t’s funny how simpler times were back then huh? Not have to worry about grades, quirk sometimes, and...” he got quiet as his leg bounced up and down. “And soulmates”

“You seem to be stressing about your soulmate a lot. Izu it’ll happen. I promise. I mean you are technically of age now.”

“Yeah but what if it doesn’t happen?” he whispered, clenching the iron bar of the armrest, a small spark of his quirk emitting from his body. “What if I’m not meant for anyone? What if I’m one of those sad cases that will never ever find someone? Those pity stares keep me up at night! Everyone always talks about me like I’m not there!”

A small sob left his lips as a hand covered his eyes, shielding the small sense of dignity he had left. 

“Izu,” you whispered breathlessly, reaching out to touch him. Your fingertips touched the top of his shoulder, his body jerking away. 

“No! I don’t want you to feel bad for me! I like you! I like you so much but I’m not for you! You aren’t for me! I cry every day because you’re the one I want yet I can’t have you!”

Your vision grew blurry as you desperately rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand to conceal your tears. “You dummy..you can’t just say stuff like that!”

He sniffled as he looked over at you. “And why is that?”

You felt your heart stop. A funny feeling running through your veins. Butterflies appeared in the pit of your stomach. “Izu...” you whispered and suddenly cradled his face, your thumbs rubbing the swell of his tinted cheeks. “You- your eye.” 

His eyes widened drastically and he immediately shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Turning on the camera he faced it toward him as he choked on air. Green and maroon eyes. “It’s maroon,” he whispered and lowered his phone onto his lap. 

You let out a shaky breath and reached for his hand. A spark of electricity ran through your veins at the touch. His presence was clear as ever. His touch was real. It was like you were able to see clearly now. 

This was the moment everyone spoke of. The warmth of their partner touching them for the first time. The newfound wave of love exploding throughout both bodies. 

“I can’t believe it.” His eyes wandered to your hands enclosing his, focusing on his birthday tattooed on your thumb. The word and numbers adorning it. 

“Neither can I,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently. 

“There are an infinite amount of soulmates you could have had...yet you got me.”

A small smile tugged your lips as you stroked the side of his face with your knuckle. “There may be infinite amounts but I wouldn’t dream of being theirs. I only want you, Izu.”

He stood up abruptly as he held his hand out. “Well Princess, are you ready to dance and dance?”

A laugh left your lips. The moment when you were both small as you made a promise to each other replayed through your head. You could have swore you imagined a smaller version of the both of you, dancing and running around the playground behind him. A sign that everything will be alright. 

You placed your smaller hand in his, using him as leverage to stand up. 

“I’m ready to dance and dance with you until the end of time, my Prince.” 

[theotherace]

Fic Recs: Taang

I’ve made two or three rec lists over the past few months, but I thought I’d make a proper, comprehensive one that’s easy to add to in the future. Not all of these are exclusively Taang, but they all feature the ship to some degree. I will only recommend one or two stories per author, but some profiles are definitely worth checking out further. So! Here goes.

Multi-Chapter, Complete

Whisper Into the Sky by damagectrl – Toph has two choices: Go home and get married or have the family fortune and her inheritance given to a stranger. Her problem: She wants to keep her ties to her family, but is quite content traveling with Aang. Her solution: Fight her way through suitors for her freedom. Literally. | General 

The Slow Path by Tazmainian Devil – Eight years after the fall of Ozai, Aang returns to the friends he left behind. | T

A Matter of Honor by Adridere – Almost 4 years after the war. Aang is engaged to Katara and is up to Zuko to teach him the facts of life. Yep, the bees and the birds. Crazy kings, bananas and the ultimate contest for the hand of a reluctant maiden. | M

Roommates by breeeliss – An unlikely tale of two unlikely people being forced to live together under unlikely circumstances.| Modern AU | T

Fall of the White Lotus by Boo-82 – Three years after the war Zuko is living a life of duty while Katara reluctantly travels the world with Aang. So, when General Iroh orders them to find Zuko’s mother and save his Order they seize the opportunity with both hands. It’s the beginning of an adventurous journey of discovery, but as time runs out a rising threat puts their bond to the test. | T

Half Asleep by The Crushinator – Five years after the Hundred-Year War, Fire Lord Zuko is hit with an assassin’s dart, and falls into a coma from which he cannot wake. A week passes, and his prognosis is grim. But Katara could swear she hears him in her dreams… | T

Yaaburnee by aviatordame – Avatars aren't meant to belong – that's as much as Aang can fathom. | M

Getting Lucky by roca-dos – Crazy things happen in college every day. | Modern AU | T 

All Fall Down by DJNS  – Aang copes with a tragic loss and finds renewed hope in an unexpected place. | M | Warning for Major Character Death

The Princess & the Badger-Cat by panaili – In a land never torn apart by the Hundred Year War, the sixteen-year-old Avatar Aang is trying his best to keep the balance between the four nations, including the increasingly antagonistic Fire Nation, which, despite his friendship with the Crown Prince Zuko, refuses to acknowledge him. Elsewhere, Sokka and Katara have been separated on their quest to find their missing father, and Sokka, pursued by the same bandits who kidnapped his sister, finds himself on the balcony of some rich girl’s house in Gaoling. Oh, and a sorcerer has turned him into a badger-cat. It’s just one of those days. | Teen and Up

Reborn by Jakia – Life. Death. Rebirth. This is the cycle that all spirits must abide to, even the Avatar. Aang and Toph face death and the reincarnation cycle. | T

New Girl by tiffaniesblews – After coming home early from a business trip, all Katara wanted to do was surprise her boyfriend, Jet. Imagine her surprise when she got home and Jet was in bed with another woman. Not wanting to live with her ex, and unable to live with her best friend, Suki, Katara takes her brother Sokka's offer to move into his loft with his two roommates. Aang is perky and sweet, the owner of a st. Bernard and a cat, who's often confused about his direction in life. Zuko, on the other hand, is a closed-off bartender, who takes some time opening up to others.The four could not be more different, and yet? They work out perfectly. Even if Katara's feelings for Zuko get a bit more complicated as time goes on. | Modern AU | Mature 

The Ties That Bind series by LdyKirin – An exploration of the ties that bind for good and ill. Toph and Zuko are both shaped by the family they were born to and the family they choose. Lots of found family feels. | T

What Happens In Kyoshi by BlackVelvetBand – Prince Zuko, and the GAang take a vacation on Kyoshi Island. Flirting, fighting, and embarrasment ensue as Sokka takes it upon himself to defend Katara's virtue...in a dress? A short,chaptered fic featuring Zutara, Sokki, and Taang. | T

Under the Night Sky by mycomfortblanket – Aang hears the chattering of teeth during a cold night. Was an AU that I found on tumblr that I made fit into this story. Orginal prompt: "We have to go camping together and share a sleeping bag even though we are complete strangers | General

On The Precipice by JoyDragon – They’re just best friends. Or maybe they’re teetering on the edge of being something more. | General

Oneshots, Complete

Air and Stone by Wolvenfire86 – A few Taang stories munched together. My first submissions. I hope everyone likes them. Please review, it makes me feel special. | K+

Taang Week 2020 series by teabagginses | Teen and Up & Mature

Our Little Secret by IrisPlumeria – Toph and Aang, sat next to one another dressed in their finest under paper lanterns and surrounded by copious amounts of food and friends, cringed at the disgusting noises coming out of Sokka’s nostrils as he blew his nose into Suki’s handkerchief. “I can’t believe two of my best friends are finally married!” Sokka sobbed, earning a supportive pat on the back from Suki, who didn’t flinch at the snot coming out of his nose. “I’m so happy for you guys!” Toph and Aang's family are happy for their nuptials, but will they be able to survive their wedding party without letting slip a big secret?Written for Taang Week 2020 - Tradition. | General 

All Roads Lead To Ba Sing Se by irisbleufic – "I was thinking," [Mai] said, tucking her last remaining dagger into her belt as she strode to meet him, "that it's about time I let Fire Lord Zuko know that I quit." When Kuei smiled at her, she could see the sunshine at which she once cringed."Notice that's six years overdue is better than none at all." "Indeed," said the Earth Queen, and grinned at him. | Teen And Up

Lady Fu’s Fortune Telling by Lady Cleo – Katara and Toph visit the local fortuneteller to get their fortunes told. Added a part two with Zuko and Aang. | T

The Perfect Companion by Morna – Aang seeks comfort outside of the arms of his wife, Katara. Taang, slightly lemony. | T

Box by JoeMerl – Written for Taang Week, one-shot. Toph ticks off Bumi, but Aang is willing to fight his old friend tooth and nail to get her out of trouble. Humor, light romance. | K+

2 am by shmulia – Whoever set off the fire alarm at 2 in the morning is on Katara's shit list. Even if he is hot and shirtless. | Modern AU | K

And its sequel, 11:45 – House parties aren't Katara's thing. Sokka's drunk, Suki's on a mission to set her up, and Toph is... well, Toph. But for every cloud there's a silver lining, and for Katara it comes in the form of a second chance with her neighbour... | Modern AU | T 

Treat by PsychEmpress – She felt the corners of her own lips quirk as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Consider this my treat,” he said and Toph allowed a smile to break out. OR In which Toph is a stressed architecture student who gets a free cup of coffee from the handsome waiter after she helps his friend. Taang. Mentions of Sukka. | Modern AU | T

Sawaru by metacognitive – This love is simple. Non-Korra compliant. | K+

Newlyweds (and basically everything else) by PandaCookie – Everyone’s a bit hopeless right after they’ve been married. | K+

Rhythms by xcgirl08– For now, though, her child’s heartbeat was hers to contemplate. | K 

Tenderness by Adridere – He wanted to keep her, even though he was not supposed to. He promised her freedom, and she promised him sanity in his own household. She kept her part of the bargain, but he found a way not to keep his. | M

Holy Matrimony by Loopy – After their marriage, Zuko and Katara deal with conflicting religious beliefs, and look to the friends for advice. Between the Zutara and the religious satire, every single person who reads this should feel offended. | General

Blind Maiden’s Grace by Adara_Rose – You can learn a lot of things from a flower… | Not Rated (I’d say General) 

Etched in the Earth by Dance_Elle_Dance – She knows the feel of Aang’s footprints better than her own, and that reality scares her. | Teen and Up

No One Asks About The Scars by voleuse – Write about how you learned to curse in order not to be cursed. | General

When in Rome by dtmars – She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she was doing and what she was getting herself into. They both did. | Modern AU. | Explicit

Like Real People Do by DerAndere – The moon is full and bright when he falls out of bed, awake, asleep, inside a dream, and starts walking, driven by the feeling he does not understand, tugging on him relentlessly, and he is Aang, and he is not, and the world is cold. | General | Full Disclosure: This is my story.

Meet Me Under The Table by avatarfan16 – A story of how Toph and Aang find love, in the most unusual of places. TAANG | K+

Aftermath by Zaram'delar – In any celebration, there's always one or two people with a habit of disappearing. Taang drabbleish series. | T

I Choose Dare by for_darkness_shows_the_stars – An ode to how Aang, under the power of a mighty temptress, was forced to grow a beard. Oh, and the birth of his first child, too, he supposes. | General Audiences

Multi-Chapter, In Progress

Heartbeat by AngelicBee – Avatar Aang's soulmate probably died 100 years before, but he can't help but feel she's closer than he thinks. | Teen and Up

a mighty ocean (or a gentle kiss) by poweradequeen – no, the title doesn’t make sense but i don’t care. i couldn’t think of one so now you’re stuck with a cheesy line from two by sleeping at last.it’s a taang fine arts university au. because i said so. | Teen and Up

Neither is Love a Cage by cali-chan – Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.

Operation: Zutara (REVAMPED) by dtmars – Everyone could see that those two were in love with each other. Everyone except for them. So Toph takes the initiative and fills in for Cupid to give them a little push, while Aang just tags along for the ride. | Teen and Up

Taang One Shots by stitch1830 – A collection of short stories about Toph and Aang that I've had saved in my notes for a few months. Stories are in the ATLA/LOK universe (not canon compliant), and typically revolve around their relationship and family. | Teen and Up

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Real Sound Film Department Interview with Tadokoro Azusa

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Tadokoro Azusa, Her Thoughts on the “Inuyasha” World That She Admired. Reading the Script for Episode 1 was “A Very Surreal Feeling.”

“Hanyō no Yashahime”, which depicts the next generation of the anime that is Takahashi Rumiko-sensei’s original work, “Inuyasha”, is currently being broadcasted on Yomiuri TV and Nippon TV every Saturday from 17:30 (5:30pm on the 12-hour clock).

The protagonists of this work are three half-demons who carry the blood of a demon and a human, Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha. Towa and Setsuna are Sesshōmaru’s twin daughters. Moroha is the daughter of Inuyasha and Kagome but she grew up without knowing the face of her parents. What exactly happened in the feudal world that was supposed to have become peaceful after the permanent destruction of the Shikon Jewel. The mysteries are slowly being revealed and the story is visibly becoming more exciting.

This time, the Real Sound Film Department interviewed the voice actress who plays Moroha, Tadokoro Azusa.

(There is a video comment at the end of the interview)

When I got the role, I felt like “I had ascended to heaven.”

— Tadokoro-san, you play the role of Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter, Moroha, and “Inuyasha” is what got you interested in voice acting correct.

Tadokoro Azusa (shortened to Tadokoro from here on): That’s right. It was a work that I loved, so my hands were shaking when they told me about the audition. That there was a new development in “Inuyasha” and that Inuyasha and Kagome had a child really surprised me.

— How did you feel (your) audition went?

Tadokoro: I acted with the intention that I put my all into it, but because I absolutely wanted the part, I felt nervous afterwards. That’s why when I got the part, I couldn’t believe it. I felt like had ascended to heaven.

— We heard that you jumped into a well before, thinking you might be able to go to the feudal era.

Tadokoro: The well was already buried so fortunately I wasn’t injured, but I really went for it (laughs)

— Now, you have time traveled to the modern era via the Tree of Ages’ passageway as Moroha, but were there any scenes that moved you deeply as you were acting?

Tadokoro: I don’t have a specific scene, rather it’s the episode 1 script. After watching the completed anime on screen when I was young, I was deeply moved that I was reading a script that had the lines spoken by characters from “Inuyasha”. I watched (the episode) on air in real time at home and hearing the voices of Inuyasha and the others on TV brought me be back to my younger days. Then hearing my voice afterwards. It was a very surreal feeling.

— Among them, we heard that Sesshōmaru was your favorite character. What was his appeal?

Tadokoro: First, Sesshōmaru has an overwhelmingly pretty face (laughs). At first, he seemed level-headed and hated humans, but after meeting Rin, you could see kindness slowly come through. I get wild ideas that for the few words he speaks, maybe this is what he was thinking? However periodically, he’ll say things clearly like “There’s nothing worth obtaining in exchange for Rin’s life” and I think that’s wonderful.

— Also, you decided to become a voice actress after admiring Yajima Akiko-san who did the voice of Kohaku in “Inuyasha”. Please tell us why you were taken by Yajima-san’s acting of Kohaku.

Tadokoro: Because Kohaku had to go through a lot of painful things, he came across as being absurdly prone to sacrificing himself. With Yajima-san acting as that Kohaku, it was as though there was more sorrow mixed in. It was a voice that made me go “I want to help him!” as I watched.

— Do you have any aspects that were influenced by Yajima-san?

Tadokoro: The biggest reason why I was drawn to Yajima-san’s voice and acting was because even in a normal everyday conversation, you could tell what sort of life that child went through. I thought I wanted to become that kind of a voice actress and when I met her once, I asked “How do you take on a role that has a thought process that you don’t understand?”

— What was her answer?

Tadokoro: “You know, I don’t know myself” is what she said. Because you don’t know, you continue to think about the feelings of the character you play and try to act in the same way. Actually, when Yajima-san played the role of a child from a wealthy family, she apparently stayed in a very expensive hotel for a week (laughs). Not only was I moved from seeing her acknowledge what she didn’t know and attempt to get closer to the role, I thought I should also understand the feelings of the person I’m playing without giving up.

Geeking Out During Recording

— The character you play, Moroha, is very expressive which makes her cute. If there is anything you are careful about while playing Moroha, please tell us.

Tadokoro: Thank you! Because she didn’t have an easy upbringing at all, she’s a very uncouth child. I’m conscious of that liveliness that always seems like it’s about to go off. It’s just that we purposely haven’t been told what’s going to unfold in the future actually, so it’s difficult in that sense. Not to mention Moroha’s emotions are constantly changing, so it’s hard for me to keep up (laughs). She gets interested in all sorts of things which seems hectic.

— However, it seems as though Moroha is the bridge that connects Towa and Setsuna.

Tadokoro: Yes. But in the end, those two are love dovey with each other so it’s sometimes lonely being left out (laughs). Moroha may seem like the type that acts recklessly at first glance, but she’s actually smart and surprisingly the most proficient in battle amongst the three of them. That sort of gap is charming. Plus, she has that sort of adorable idiocy like Inuyasha and Kagome’s cleverness, so I think that’s very powerful!

— Please tell us what you think of Towa who is played by Matsumoto Sara-san.

Tadokoro: While being a half-demon, Towa was separated from Setsuna when they were young and grew up in the modern era that she time travelled to. Furthermore, this time, she returns to the feudal era with Setsuna and Moroha, so I think she’s a complex character whose emotions are heavily swayed. From that Towa, I can feel Sara-san’s true sincerity or rather everything Towa says is what she truly feels without any ill-will which I think is cute.

— How about Setsuna who is played by Komatsu Mikako-san?

Tadokoro: Setsuna’s charm that Komatsu-san plays is her sharp appearance. I can slightly feel that cool face of Sesshōmaru’s after all; on the other hand, she exudes the cuteness of a girl. Through Komatsu-san’s acting, I think it’s wonderful that her cuteness of worrying about Towa, despite everything, comes through.

— What is the atmosphere like during recording?

Tadokoro: The three of us love “Inuyasha”, so we geek out! Since we also don’t know what’s to come, we speculate things on our own like “This might actually end up like that” (laughs).

— Every time an episode is broadcasted, there’s a lot of speculation that rouses social media as well. Please tell us what curious viewers should take note of going forward.

Tadokoro: If there are unexpected developments like “It’s come to that!”, then there will be developments that will make "Inuyasha” fans glad and at ease. The mysteries will slowly be revealed, so please don’t miss each episode.

— Within that, what are points to pay attention to for Moroha?

Tadokoro: Moroha’s past and the environment she grew up in will be revealed in a certain episode, and I think it will be an episode that will make her more endearing.

— Including the numerous roles you had outside of “Hanyō no Yashahime” and your singing career, I’m sure 2020 was a very busy year for you but looking back, how was it?

Tadokoro: With circumstances changing daily from the COVID crisis, I’m truly happy and blessed that I was able to expand my world in a new way. That’s why each job felt even more precious to me. I once again feel that I need to be serious about continuing (work) into next year and the year after that, so I feel pressure. It’s a feeling of “I can’t die out from here!”

— The state of the world was heavily shaken.

Tadokoro: You’re right… it would be great if we could all record together like before.

— Tadokoro-san, you turned 27 back on November 10th. What’s your goal for the new year?

Tadokoro: There’s my self-produced album, ‘Waver’ coming out on January 27th and my current goal is to become able to put into words how I think and feel.

— For example?

Tadokoro: For example, in daily life, to casually doubt something on TV or something a person says like “Is that really right?” or (say) what I was thinking. In a way, I put my current thoughts into songs which I compile into an album.

— You have stated that since the time of your debut you’ve always wanted to try playing a “young male” role, and lately you’ve been able to play a lot of young male roles, including Ryouma from “Kamisama ni Hirowareta Otoko” (By the Grace of Gods). Now once again, are there any roles you would like to try?

Tadokoro: I like foreign dramas, so I’d like to take on the challenge of dubbing a person who appears in a Western film.

— I think fans will look forward to the future development of “Hanyō no Yashahime” and your work.

Tadokoro: I would like everyone to wait while being excited. There are lot more things I want to say about “Hanyō no Yashahime” but it will get more exciting from here on, so please look forward to every episode. And I, Tadokoro Azusa, will keep pushing forward without coming complacent. Fans, please watch over me!

[wanderchyld]

Final PBIO/IOTNBO analysis and theory

This post is my final analysis and includes some questions I have as we go into the final weekend of one of the best dramas in history. It is VERY long as I consolidate and expand on my previous analysis and theories.

I also lost a big chunk of this post while I was working on the draft just a few hours before posting, resulting to this post as a little inconsistent. Excuse me if my points are messy and some points missing with some issues untouched (because I forgot 😭). I think most points can be linked back to my past theories so you can read up on them if you haven’t.

List of my theories before ep 14:

Do Heejae and the other woman

Moonyoung’s background and Go Daehwan

Head Nurse is NOT Do Heejae, she’s the previous housekeeper

Maybe Head Nurse really is Do Heejae

As usual, please note that anything I quote may be a mix of Netflix’s subs and my translation because I know Korean and Netflix tends to miss nuances sometimes.

Firstly, Park Ok Ran’s dead.

Let’s get this out of the way first. (You can read my first theory on her role in this whole saga.)

“She can’t come anymore.”

Can’t have her exposing Park Haengja. Or plot twist: she is alive and returns to save the trio from the villain 😆

No one’s memory is reliable

Not Kangtae’s as established in ep 6 that he didn’t remember his mother brought them to eat jjamppong because he’s the one who liked it, not Sangtae.

Not Sangtae’s. In spite of his good memory, it was established in ep 10 that he didn’t remember Kangtae saving him, so his memories can be flawed as well.

Therefore, not Moonyoung’s, and definitely not Go Daehwan’s.

There are few things that we can be sure because they are concurrent:

There was a female body in the basement that was disposed or disappeared.

The murderer of Taetae Bros’ mother wore Moonyoung’s mother’s a one-of-a-kind brooch.

There was a body in the reservoir.

Taetae Bros’ mother was the new housekeeper (I saw that some people disagree but here are the supporting screenshots).

There were definitely two women

My theory that there were 2 women in Moonyoung’s family still stands and I’m expanding on it.

Let’s look at the family photos first. There are multiple versions of the family photo, and I suspect they were taken at different times. Here they are in what I think is the chronological order.

1) Photo in the basement: Go Daehwan had full-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung wore a scarf and stood closer to him with his hand on her shoulder, and the lady wore a fully black high neck top with the brooch on the right.

Before the family moved in, on the day Go Daehwan showed the lady around the house, he was wearing the full-rimmed glasses, and the house looked lived in (fully furnished, fully decorated, shelves full). 

2) Go Daehwan’s photo: Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung stood right in the middle and without the scarf, and the lady wore a blazer over a straight neckline blouse with the brooch on the right.

3) Park Haengja’s photo seems to be the same as Moonyoung’s: Go Daehwan with half-rimmed glasses, can’t tell whether Moonyoung was wearing a scarf or not but she sat nearer to the lady who wore the same blazer over a straight neckline blouse without the brooch.

Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses when he realised his wife killed Taetae Bros’ mother.

Photos are evidences of relationships. In a group photo, the people who are closer would pose closer to each other. These family photos tell us that Go Daehwan and Moonyoung were actually close, and showed us the progression of Moonyoung’s relationship with the woman.

But why were multiple photos taken? If they were the same woman, why are they still hiding the woman’s face in the photos?

When Go Daehwan killed his wife, he said, “If I die, my daughter will become a monster like you.”

Why was it “my daughter” and not “our daughter?” It’s even odder for Koreans because being a very collectivist society, they don’t claim people or objects as mine. They say “our country,” “our father,” “our daughter” to show unity even when they actually mean “my country,” “my father,” “my daughter.”

Moonyoung insisted she’s an orphan. Technically, when one biological parent dies, the child is an orphan (single orphan). So perhaps Moonyoung’s not wrong. And as explored in my second theory post, she might have been referring to her biological mother. The abusive woman was probably her stepmother.

Go Daehwan told Director Oh that his wife loved Moonyoung “terribly. Very terribly,” and we have Moonyoung who doesn’t want a child to not get jealous over Kangtae’s affection. Judging by the family photos (Moonyoung posing closer to the woman each time), perhaps the stepmother was jealous of the father-daughter relationship and became obsessed with Moonyoung.

Would a child be afraid of their parent because they didn’t want to be hated? I was just afraid my mother would scold me (which was a lot). Right, we can argue that her mother was abusive, but this is something to think about.

Park Haengja: stepmother and crazy aunt

Bluebeard the French folklore, which ep 6 was based on, is about a man who married several times as he killed his disobedient wives. According to Wikipedia, his final wife had invited her sister and others over for a party before she snuck away to explore the forbidden room. Bluebeard found out and was about to kill her on the spot when her sister and brothers arrived to kill Bluebeard.

It was also in ep 6 when Taetae Bros moved in that they specifically had a shot of the dolls in Moonyoung’s old room (the brothers’ new room). I mentioned this previously: one male doll as Go Daehwan, two female dolls in similar dresses as Moonyoung’s mother and stepmother, and one small female doll.

You can see the two dolls behind little Moonyoung in her memory of her father reading her a book.

The dolls are a representation of the Go family in the house because in ep 7, only the small female doll (Moonyoung) was left, and I think there are 2 more new figurines as Taetae Bros on that cabinet but I can’t be bothered to search for a clearer shot 😁

When Go Daehwan strangled little Moonyoung, afraid she would become like her mother, they featured one of the dolls in the shot.

The point of mentioning the dolls is: Moonyoung’s mother wore a similar dress as the dolls in most of the flashbacks.

Ep 13 was based on the Korean folklore The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon and its popular movie adaptation The Tale of Two Sisters (2003). IOTNBO has more links to this story than “the bystander is worse than the abuser.”

In the movie, Moon Geunyoung’s character frequently dressed in floral patterns (like the dolls’ and Moonyoung’s mother’s dresses).

In both the folklore and the movie, the sisters were named after rose and lotus flowers. In the folklore, it’s the sister that died who was named after the rose flower. In the movie, it’s the surviving sister that was named after the rose flower. The rose is also a motif of Moonyoung’s mother.

The flower language of rose is love and passion. Personally, considering how Moonyoung always thought of her mother when she brushed her hair, and her love for a head pat, I think the rose also symbolises her mother’s "affection."

The movie is a story of two sisters who were abused by their stepmother so badly that one of them died. As it turns out, the remaining sister developed dissociative identity disorder (DID; the same disorder as the patient Yoo Sunhae) with two other personalities: her dead sister (Moon Geunyoung’s character) and her stepmother.

I take this as a lead that Moonyoung has a stepmother, who also happens to be her aunt obsessed with her sister. Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) coveted Wicked Witch of the East’s (WWOTE) ruby shoes; perhaps the aunt wanted to be in her sister’s shoes, figuratively AND literally.

Now here’s another “coincidence” from the same:

Left: Moon Geunyoung. Right: Im Soojung (sister with DID).

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he went to the castle.

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he/she went to the castle to cause trouble. 

Glinda the Good Witch of the North described WWOTW as worse than WWOTE.

Go Daehwan, who had recognition and memory impairment, said his wife has an angelic face but a devil lives within. Perhaps he remembers two persons as one.

We learnt from Sangin that 1) Do Heejae came from a prestigious family of medical professionals, 2) she dropped out of 3rd year of med school, and 3) she cut ties with everyone in her family. Could she have a sister in nursing? Could she have cut ties with her family because they cray cray (or the good old "you’ll starve with a creative career")?

Park Haengja has not claimed herself as Do Heejae, and the woman in the family photos are still covered.

Following these, we can assume that Park Haengja’s the bad witch who is neither Do Heejae nor Moonyoung’s birth mother. She’s the stepmother and crazy aunt (I cover more about the sisters in the next section).

There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle.

It’s just too easy if Park Haengja really is Do Heejae. I’d also be disappointed in the writer if she takes this route because it’s cliché villain and this is not a makjang drama with illogical plot twists. It would also be a step back from all the efforts this show has been making to dispel stigma against mental illness.

So they were sisters and...

...one of them died. In water. 

As per my first theory, the WWOTW and WWOTE are sisters in some adaptations of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. WWOTE died under a house then disappeared into thin air, and WWOTW pretended to die in contact of water but she returned disguised as a good person. Sound familiar?

The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon is a Korean folklore of a stepmother who abused two sisters to their death. She had her biological son push Janghwa the older sister into a pond and she drowned. The remaining sister couldn’t take the abuse any longer and drowned herself in the same pond.

The song “Oh My Darling Clementine” has a few variations but here’s the traditional lyrics (I removed repeated stanzas):

Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine In a cavern, in a canyon Excavating for a mine Dwelt a miner, forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine Light she was and like a fairy And her shoes were number nine Herring boxes, without topses Sandals were for Clementine Drove she ducklings to the water Ev'ry morning just at nine Hit her foot against a splinter Fell into the foaming brine Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine Ruby lips above the water Blowing bubbles, soft and fine But, alas, I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine How I missed her! How I missed her How I missed my Clementine But I kissed her little sister I forgot my Clementine

These stories are all about 2 sisters and dying in water. Whether they’re sisters or not, a woman died and she’s related to Go Daehwan somehow.

The Murder of the Witch of the West

Do Heejae’s novel hold huge clues. Here’s my translation of an excerpt from volume 9 shown in ep 10.

… __’s scalp skinned with a hunting knife without hesitation. The corpse’s lips sewed in a fence stitch. The body dismembered with a hand axe and thrown into the trunk. Yooyoung persistently as she watched the back of the West Witch leave unhurriedly after finishing the killing and leaving notes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why do you choose to kill happy people only?"

But as usual, there was no answer. Was it because of Yooyoung’s tenacity to catch the West Witch? Yooyoung always sees the West Witch at the crime scenes. A faceless woman who always observed Yooyoung work hard on finding the criminal before leaving abruptly. Yooyoung began to look at the crime scene from the criminal's perspective. Why here? Why kill by stabbing this way? As she simulates the crime, Yooyoung finds herself assimilating with the criminal. She felt a thrill from imagining that she stabbed and cut the victim. She’s getting confused. Is she a detective or a murderer?

Around the same time, a murder occurred. The West Witch mimicked a passage from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, everything was in line with the Wicked Witch of the West, right down to the signature butterfly design. However, Yooyoung somehow felt guilty.

...

The suspect was a middle-aged woman in her 40s.

Yeah.

The misunderstanding

Othello killed his wife because he mistook his wife for committing adultery.

Romeo and Juliet mistook each other’s plan. Romeo died from drinking real poison, and Juliet faked her death before realising the mistake and killed herself with Romeo’s dagger.

Janghwa was framed and wrongfully accused by her stepmother for being unchaste. Her father believed it. When Janghwa ran away, her stepmother and stepbrother chased after her, and her stepbrother (under her stepmother’s instruction) pushed her into a pond to drown to her death.

What did Go Daehwan misunderstand? What misunderstanding did his recognition and memory impairment cause? Why was his wife being crazy but looked so shocked when he turned her around?

I do not believe that his memory of killing his wife is a complete memory because it has been mentioned multiple times that his memories are corrupted. I think it’s fragments of different memories pieced together.

What’s going on with Park Haengja?

There are a few possibilities.

Park Haengja is Do Heejae’s sister who coveted her sister’s position and grew obsessed with her sister’s novel.

Do Heejae’s Moonyoung’s biological mother and Park Haengja’s her stepmother.

OR Moonyoung’s biological mother died when she was born, Do Heejae’s the stepmother (abusive but still her mother because she raised Moonyoung), and Park Haengja’s the obsessive aunt.

She got so obsessed she came to believe she’s Do Heejae.

So obsessed she was always keeping an eye on Moonyoung to fulfil the prophecy that is the novel. ("You’re my greatest creation," and volume 3, shown in episode 10 with Park Ok Ran’s copy, has passages that describes episode 3.)

Park Haengja’s the one who killed Taetae Bros’ mother (screenshots of Do Heejae vs murderer below).

She took advantage of Go Daehwan’s cognitive impairment and instigated him to kill the real Do Heejae. She’s the one who saw Go Daehwan kill the woman and hide her in the basement.

Do Heejae wore her butterfly brooch on right, the murderer wore it on the left. Do Heejae always wore red nail polish and a gold rose ring, the murderer did not (although she could have had them removed if it’s premeditated).

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Clearly Do Heejae didn’t wear her brooch all the time, so it would have been easy to steal the brooch. However, Do Heejae wore her ring all the time, so Park Haengja can only get the ring after she dies and "truly” become Do Heejae.

End.

I think I recovered most of my points but they’re still feel incomplete ���

Let me know your thoughts 😊

[blanket-hole]

Im calling this the faberry files cos I feel like a spy when I'm really just very gay

This is just basically timestamps of every faberry moment I could find as I was rewatching season 1-3. I don't know if anyone wants to see it but I just put it here cos why not. I wasn't really planning on posting it but here we are so it features my gay ass commentary. Anyway there u go.

gay ass looks-

-1x04- so far I’ve seen a gay ass look Quinn gives Rachel at 35:36

-1x05-39:50-not that gay but a little bit, also long

-1x09-43:02 she looks so adoring

-1x10-during endless love

-1x11-9:37 voiceover is mean but just look at those eyes and tell me I’m wrong,34:00 she literally looks so adoringly I can’t

-1x12-10:41 pretends not to see her only to look straight (or not) at her

-1x15-35:02 they’re even talking about love at the time and sitting weirdly close for enemies

-1x16-41:30 

-1x20-43:06 I can’t really see where she’s looking under those long ass lashes but I think when Rachel does that little giggle she stares at her while smiling, might just be Faberry goggles tho

-1x22-9:05 I think thats like the cutest smile my little gay heart, 14:23 Quinn is fully checking her out rn like not even subtle they’re on stage

-2x04 16:12, 41:48 at Rachel singing

-2x07-23:19 that could in no way be regarded as a platonic look of enjoying the song, especially since its just started 

-2x09- 43:04 part of dog days but its just so cute them holding hands also weird since they are still meant to hate each other lol

-2x10-6:03 this could just be my Faberry goggles but im counting it :D, 31:20 staring at Rachel while she looks sad

-2x11-11:04 could be at puck but she was looking at Rachel before when they were further apart so imma take the w also Diana looks really cute in this bit

-2x16- 4:27 is being kinda mean but also the way she looks at her <3<3<3 :DD also 5:21 if u don’t want to wait through a bit of a scene and the look then is suuuuper gay, 43:17 she looks so proud of her girlfriend :DDDDD

-2x18-52:49 she looks like such a proud girlfriend in this bit

-2x21-1:29 its only a quick look from Quinn tho

-3x06-28:26 Quinn gives Rachel the GAYEST lingering look at the end of the song (unless my eyes deceive me but I don’t think they do cos I’ve checked like 3 times :DDD)

-3x07- 25:00 this is possible the outright gayest look from Quinn ive ever seen, its during one of the songs but I had to put it in

-3x08- 41:10 the look of joy on Quinns face when Rachel touches her shoulder is just pure gay energy

-3x14- 17:27 ‘for the rest of my life’ looks at Quinn, ffs just get married already, 24:07 she literally bites her lip like wth how is this not canon

-3x19- 39:08 kind of but Quinn looks really happy when he says Rachel Berryand its so cute

Scenes together-

-before I had this idea- the “eavesdrop much” talk, and a couple of other things e.g. the ru Paul scene and the sweetie scene. 

-1x05-41:59 during somebody to love weird foot tap thing

-1x06- 18:34 gay ass looks as well, 22:58

-1x07-21:45, 28:53 (the you obviously have a lot you need to express scene), 32:07 they just get wierdly closer for no reason

-1x09-26:09 not much but still

-1x13-3:06, 11:01

-1x15-34:18 sitting really close together next to each other when they’re meant to not like each other?

-1x20-5:42 they also sit really close and a bit of gay staring

-2x02 35:40 (on left of stage next to mike) they’re seen really close and talking, 38:55 standing unreasonably close and also in weird positions for a conversation, 31:28 Quinn looks really sad when Rachel sings to Finn (could also be a Fuinn thing tho so idk)

-2x04 28:11

-2x08-9:44

-2x13- 30:51

-2x14-8:19 its shortcut the level of gay panic on Quinns face is enough for its own spot

-2x15-0:03 how closeted is it to be the only two in the celibacy club fighting over a guy that neither of them want or need lmao I just think its really funny

-2x16-9:31 the level of gay panic on racehls face when she says she’s right is just a mood, 22:27 I think this is  a scene about miscommunication and Quinn blatantly states that she thinks Rachel is much better than Finn and that she believes in her I have a lot of feelings about this scene but ill leave it at that

-2x17-16:20

-2x18-2:38 not much tho, 10:53 they’re being civil and touchy feely also leads into pretty/unpretty, 21:50 when it pans to Quinn it makes it seem like it would be a Fuinn jealousy scene but she doesn’t look jealous at all just a bit sad i think she possibly is worried about Rachel and while she understands (which is why she’s helping) she wants her to feel beautiful in her own skin sorry if I read a bit too far in lol

-2x20-29:42, 33:12, 35:30 I love how finn last episode said Quinn was so closed off with her feelings and then this scene like maybe she can be herself around Rachel idk

-3x01-10:57 Skank Quinn fully checks Rachel out as she’s leaving in this scene also right after a scene where she said she’s not interested in the boys

-3x05-22:55 talking about finchel tho

-3x08-0:00, 21:54, 37:48

-3x11-14:28,20:00 is also a gay ass look but shes talking to Rachel so I put it here

-3x12-13:09 she only taps Rachel tho

-3x13-15:43 Quinn is acting like the stereotypical ‘gentleman’ and its very Faberry canon esque, to put it the best can

-3x14-34:28 this scene I just can’t the way Quinn lights up when she see her and her voice softens a bit and what she said this is the gayest scene no-one can explain it it a hetero way just ahh

-3x15-10:28 they’re holding hands :DD

-3x19-31:48 

-3x22-23:12 those tickets cost so much money I swear they should have been way better friends after high school pft, 40:15 Quinn looks so proud of her girlfriend

Possible scenes, could be just drama-

-1x09-29:27 could be at Rachel

-2x10-12:40 kind of about being sad about Finn but could be jealousy?

-2x16- 34:47 could be about Faberry but is framed as finchel or fuinn

-2x17- 37:28 probably just finchel drama but still Faberry jealousy

-2x18-17:16 they say how they’re ‘fighting about Rachel again’ and Im putting it in idc about finchel :DD

-2x19- 23:19 more about Fuinn like always in this category but Faberry jealousy

-2x22-2:27, 3:29, 8:25 finchel/fuinn/faberry jealousy

Sitting really close when they’re meant to not like each other-

-1x15-34:18 

-1x19-32:33 

-1x20-19:16 in the scene Quinn kinda checks her out but then they stand really close so I put it here

-2x02 23:24 sits really close to Rachel when she dresses in her Britney Spears costume and in the scene Quinn looks like she’s purposefully trying not to look at her and at 29:20 Quinn chose to sit right behind Rachel again, 39:52 seen sitting right behind her again

-2x10- 35:03 standing really close when it would make a difference if Quinn stood anywhere else (e.g. next to her friends or boyfriend) I just think its weird lol

-2x15- 6:28 (before Quinn starts plotting against Rachel, they’re in celibacy club together but all they do is argue so its still a bit weird)

-3x07- 4:54

I dont know where to put this-

-2x17- 35:10 they kinda just look a bit nervous and small interaction I just wanted to add this because I thought it was cute the way they moved around each other idk

-2x20- 14:46 Rachel knows Quinns eyes so well she knows the flower and colour of the ribbon (also gardenias are for secret love which it would surprise me if Rachel already knew)

-3x04-20:26 Rachel isn’t sitting near her boyfriend or anyone she’s even really friends with its a bit weird that shed be sitting in the corner right next to Quinn away from the other chairs

Songs- Ive probably missed a bunch of these but I tried lmao-

-somebody to love

-halo

-ride with me

-no air

-keep holding on

-bust a move

-proud Mary

-crazy in love

-imagine- there is a gay ass look

-you can’t always get what you want

-dont rain on my parade

-my life would suck without you

-gives u hell

-hello goodbye

-like a prayer

-home(kind of)

-give up the funk

-any way you want it

-faithfully

-dont stop delieving 

-Empire State of mind

-ice ice baby

-toxic

-damn it Janet

-time warp

-sweet transvestite

-start me up/living on a prayer

-hot patootie

-forget you

-umbrella/singin in the rain

-I think I wanna marry you

-just the way you are

-ive had the time of my life

-Valerie

-the Dog days are over

-the most wonderful day of the year

-welcome Christmas

-heads will roll/thriller

-fat bottomed girls

-sing

-blame it on the alcohol

-tik tok

-do you wanna touch

-afternoon delight

-get it right

-loser like me

-pretty/unpretty

-born this way

-pure imagination

-New York New York

-Fix you

-last Friday night

-hit me with your best shot/one way or another

-I cant go for that/ you make my dreams

-I kissed a girl

-feed the world

-summer nights

-we found love

-gotta be starting something

-Im sexy and I know it

-stereo hearts (not technicaly but a lot of Faberry so I’m putting it in)

-fly/I believe I can fly

-heres to us

-its not right but its okay

-its all coming back to me now

-paradise by the dashboard light

-we are the champions

-tongue tied

-you get what you give

[glowonu]

nerdy love by ph-1

here is a cute little songfic i wrote, please enjoy! 

https://youtu.be/FFkLoUwQ9a4

I wake up to the sound of the alarm It rained yesterday but the sun is out now Dress up in the outfit I picked out last night I like to look neat Don’t really care about brand names I’m in a rush to pick you up

Wonwoo rushes around his college dorm, dressed in the outfit he picked last night. The pale sweater contrasts against his black pants. He grabs his keys, wallet, phone, and glasses in a frazzled rush, he wants to see you as soon as possible. The environment looks a little brighter, a little cleaner from last night’s rain. It’s only just cleared up, the clouds quickly disappearing yet raindrops coat the leaves on the trees and the bitumen is soaked dark. 

You light up as you see him across the campus hub. Your heart squeezes as he jogs over to you. He looks incredibly soft, and a little nerdy, but you don’t mind, you wouldn’t have him any other way. You smile up at him and he swears you outshine the sun. Taking his hand, you giggle and head to the river near campus. 

I heard you like yellow sunsets I want to be a cool lover for you But I can’t stop being so damn nerdy Like the male lead in last week’s drama that we watched together I wanna show you a passionate and fiery love But I don’t really have much I’m not that manly And I’m sure sometimes You want a cool, real man

The sun is shining, and the breeze is a little chilly but it’s alright where you’re sitting, on top of your weatherproof jacket, spread across a spot on the bank of the river. You’re chatting about your favourite drama, particularly about the main character who has stolen your infatuation and Wonwoo can’t help but feel a little, well, different from what seems to be your ideal type. He’s mellow, subtle, quiet, nothing like the loud, exuberant and extravagant Ahn Minhyuk, who shows his affections passionately without a care. As you talk about him animatedly, how well he protects the main lead and how he acted on the couple’s last date, he starts to think that maybe you want someone, well, cooler than he is. 

That’s not what love is, stupid  If you can’t stop being you I’ll just be a nerd for you too You know I’m happy seeing you be yourself If you can’t stop being you I’ll just be a nerd for you too It’s not nerdy boy It’s you just sweet babe I’m happy that you’re you

The conversation quietens yet, you’re content. You look over at Wonwoo, he has a faraway look in his eye. You know this look, the one where he gets caught up in all his thoughts. You sit there for a little, just taking him in. His sharp visuals and dark hair, the elegant way his glasses sit on his face, the pink colour of his lips. You smile at him, scooching closer to take his hand. He jumps a little and you giggle at him. Kissing his cheek softly, you try to do what he does so effortlessly; expressing your adoration, so whole and so full, into simple gestures that make your heart burst. His cheeks tinge red, as his eyes widen before he smiles a small, yet very, very cute smile down at you. 

I know you’ll be compared too Your friend’s boyfriend He has a good build, he can piggyback his girl I saw you like that picture Making me feel so small When we’re in a crowded subway car I’ve never pulled you close And I don’t know how to kiss you till your head grows blank I don’t really know baby

After your block of classes, you’re sitting in the library, back with Wonwoo. You have your legs hooked over one of his legs and you’re scrolling through your phone. Wonwoo is reading quietly and unlike you, Wonwoo isn’t as chatty, but it’s okay, you’re content just spending time in his presence. 

You let out a strange half sigh, half surprised exclamation and Wonwoo peers over at you. You’ve tapped on your friend’s instagram page, and the feed is filled with her and Cheol in cute situations. You like the one where your friend is hiked up on Cheol’s back as they pose at the beach, and another one, that was an obvious candid of them held close to each other on the busy tram. Wonwoo really doesn’t like how his brain instantly compares himself to the self-confident Seungcheol. Wonwoo knows he’s shy, he can’t do all those things, and he has to admit that this isn't the first time he’s thought that you might want more from him. He blushes and tries to go back to his book, finding it difficult to focus on the words on the page. 

I’ve been feeling like a huge nerd lately But even though I’m such a loser Why are you looking at me With such a bright smile? I wish I really could change for the better Maybe your every day is a sacrifice for my pathetic self

Maybe if he wasn’t so shy, if he was a little more extraverted, maybe even stronger, maybe he’d feel like a better boyfriend. But there’s this thing about you, that whenever he gets too far into his own head, you bring him back to air, even if you are completely oblivious to his thoughts. This time, your small taps to his cheek grab his attention, and your bright smile is a breath of fresh air for his mind that is drowning in his thoughts. You look at him like a sunflower looks at the sun, but Wonwoo doesn’t understand why, when you’re the brightest entity around. 

I don’t really have much I’m not that manly And I’m sure sometimes You want a cool, real man

Wonwoo wants to give you the world, but for now he squeezes your hand back as you lead him to a surprise date location. You picked him up from his dorm at noon, knowing that he would sleep in. Greeted with a sleepy bed head at the door, you giggled as his eyes widened and rushed to finish getting ready. You’re leading Wonwoo to a surprise that you know he’ll love, and it’s probably not something you’re dying to get involved in, but it’ll make his day, and you really miss his cute little nose scrunch.

That’s not what love is, stupid If you can’t stop being you I’ll just be a nerd for you too You know I’m happy seeing you be yourself If you can’t stop being you I’ll just be a nerd for you too It’s not nerdy boy It’s you just sweet babe I’m happy that you’re you

Your heart swells at the sight of one of Wonwoo’s cutest expressions, his shocked, yet very happy face. His eyes are wide and his mouth has formed a small ‘o’ shape. You giggle, and lead him into the Internet cafe with a small exclamation of ‘Surprise!’. 

Wonwoo looks at you with a bright grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. “You really want to spend our date here?” He asks amazed. 

“Baby, you love this kinda stuff… I may not understand a lot of it but, you love it, and that just, it makes me happy,” You reply shyly, grinning up at him. 

He flusters around a little before, whispering a soft “Thank you,” as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

You really don’t understand a lot of what is going on, but it was one of the best dates that you’ve spent with the man that holds all of your affections. 

I don’t understand What’s wrong with me? I can’t sleep Every night I’ve been losing sleep for you My feelings are free for you

It’s late, and Wonwoo’s phone reads 2:01am but he can’t sleep. Thoughts of you keep him up, and nothing can stop you from overwhelming his mind. Suddenly your name pops up on his notification panel, distracting him from the void of whichever SNS feed he was scrolling through aimlessly. 

[2:03] sunflower: hey babe?

You’re never usually up this late, and Wonwoo anticipates your next message as he watches the three dots appear and disappear multiple times before he receives another message from you.

[2:04] sunflower: i cant sleep, do you wanna, idk, go to the convenience store?  [2:04] sunflower: i’ll meet you there? 

Wonwoo inhales sharply, and types out an impulsive message, sending it quickly. Your phone flashes with the alert of a new message, you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you reply. 

[2:04] nerdy loml: dont worry about it, ill come pick you up. [2:05] you: ok [2:05] you: thanks babe ❤️

I just don’t want to regret anything Cuz we’re special, you and I Can’t stop being so damn nerdy Tell me why am I so damn nerdy

The night air is crisp and fresh, its nippy and cold yet it refreshes your drowsy heads. Your fingers are intertwined with Wonwoo’s as you walk along the bank of the river, licking at the ice cream you bought at the convenience store a mere five minutes ago. The both of you are silent, and there are a lot of unsaid words floating between the both of you. Wonwoo has so much to say yet, he doesn’t want to pierce the silence, he can’t bring himself to express everything he wants to. Yet, he finds he doesn’t have to.

Once again Wonwoo finds himself floating to the surface again, yet this time, it’s almost like a bucket of cold water has been crashed over his head, waking himself up from the drowsy clouds of his mind as you start talking. “I don’t think there is any other person that was meant to be with me like this, as you are Wonwoo,” You whisper into the night, your breath condensing as it meets the cool air. The both of you are facing the river, standing against the fence under the bridge. “You, you’re nerdy, and you’re dorky, but I don’t think I could ever consider asking for someone different.” You continue, “I think I'm the happiest when you are yourself, when you’re comfortable in a hoodie and a beanie at 3 O’clock in the morning, or dressed up for a date that ends up at the PC Bang,” You take a breath and look at him, his eyes locked on you. “Jeon Wonwoo, I love you so much, I hope you know that,”

In all of a sudden, you’re pulled close to him, and he presses his lips softly to yours, kissing you slowly yet with a fervor that he has never kissed you with before. He pulls a fraction away from you, and whispers to you softly as his forehead is pressed against yours, “Thank you,” He starts, “For loving me as much as I love you, Sunflower,” He punctuates his confession with another sweet kiss. You giggle, full of love, the both of you smiling awkwardly into this kiss. 

After all, the both of you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[themagicalmysticalboy]

request: hello :) what about some hurt!John based on this photo but around 1965-66? It may be because of drugs overdosing, not eating enough after that Fat beatle comment, some illness, or anything else you want :) it can be mclennon but it doesnt have to be :) with worried and protective boys, Brian and crew. 

a/n: the 1965-66 bit made me think of the “bigger than Jesus” scandal. So here we are.

pairing: no actually, just good friends

summary: The Beatles are on lockdown after John’s Jesus comment. In his intoxicated state, John thinks it's a great idea to sneak out of the hotel for a walk and a smoke.

warnings: hurt!John, violence

time period: 1966

word count: 2,000+

The whole thing had been overblown, in John’s opinion. Americans were too sensitive about their religion and the American media was ready to twist his words- anything to stir up drama. This left the whole touring situation at a standstill until he apologized.

Apologizing had been awful but nothing was as awful as the talk with Tony and Brian. That made him see straight, alright. Traumatized him in the process.

Even after apologizing and seeing things settle down, the group was still on lockdown as they toured. It was much worse than the usual “now, stay shut up in the hotel or you’ll draw a crowd.” Brian was frightened of the American peoples' reaction. So, the band was cooped up in hotels with only each other for company. Not the worst situation, John had to admit, but he craved to have the option to leave for once.

John had let the fuss over them slide for quite some time but it was getting to be a drag. He wanted to stretch his legs.

Maybe if he wore a disguise he’d get by. He giggled at the thought through a haze of smoke as Ringo passed him the blunt. He pressed the tip to his lips and made to roll the dice. He moved his little metal game piece before handing the blunt and dice to Paul.

The four of them sat around on the floor of George’s hotel room, a game of Monopoly before them. Most of the money had stacked at Ringo’s feet, as John was too busy pondering escape to actual play. Paul had the least money left and the least clothes on. He had discarded his socks and shoes after the first blunt was finished. Beginning the second, he had lost his shirt as well.

“This ain’t strip poker,” George said, falling back onto the plush rug. 

“If it were, he’d be naked already,” Ringo mused as John took more money from Paul’s pile. 

“Could play that instead. Be more fun.” Paul yawned, passing blunt and dice to a still floor-bound George.

George threw the dice onto his stomach and tried to read the number without moving them. “Five spaces, daft git,” John said as he rose to his feet. The others looked up, asking with their eyes rather than words. “Getting me ciggies from my room. Then I’ll destroy you all in the last half of this.” He gestured to the board before dramatically turning for the door.

The high really hit him when he was upright and walking. The world was magnified in his eyes, pushing closer and further like the ocean's waves as he left the room. He traversed into the empty hallway and crossed to his room in a fit of giggles. It was in his mind to go back and finish the game but the craving for the late-night city air in his lungs was stronger. 

His cigarettes sat on the small table by the door but he passed them by and rummaged through his clothes. He pulled out a baseball cap and one of Paul’s long jackets he’d stolen ages ago. Good enough.

He popped the collar of his jacket and threw on his glasses for good measure, pocketing his cigarettes before slipping out into the hall. He knew a guard was stationed in the lift but maybe not the stairwell. He crept to the end of the hall and slid open the emergency exit door. The stairwell seemed very empty. With a shrug and triumphant grin, he descended the steps.

As he reached the lower levels of the building, something nagged at the back of his head about not going out through the lobby. He couldn’t remember why but decided to trust his instinct. Once at the bottom, he turned to the alley door without a second thought.

Some kind of pressure released from his chest as the wind whipped around him and the loud clatter from city life filled his ears. He could breathe properly for once. 

He pulled his ball cap low over his face and lit up a cigarette, walking to the mouth of the alley. As he neared the city streets, a battle of shouts and cheers raged more clearly. He peeked around the corner to see two groups outside the lobby. It was easy to tell them apart by the signs they held. The side closest to John had signs reading “Jesus Will Forgive But I Won’t” and “Jesus IS Bigger Than The Beatles”. The group a bit further down had much more normal signs that read things like “I Love You JOHN” “I Love The Beatles” and ones with all the boys' names surrounded by hearts. A showdown between the angry Christians and the Beatle People. Brian telling him of this scene raging outside the lobby doors suddenly reappeared in his memories.

John couldn’t stop from laughing aloud before turning back down the alley. That was more trouble than it was worth. He went back to the emergency exit door and pulled drags from his cig, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed. People walked by the alleyway without a glance in his direction.

He leaned his head against the rough brick wall, searching the sky for any stars. It seemed the lights of the city were hiding them all away. That was disappointing.

“Got a light, buddy?”

John jumped at the unfamiliar voice. His head snapped back down to earth and his hat fumbled to the ground. In front of him stood two men a bit older than him. The taller of the two had a cigarette between his fingers. Collecting himself, he tossed his cigarette to the side and gave a smile. They didn’t seem to recognize who he was.

“Sure.” He grabbed a small white lighter from his pocket. 

He pulled himself off the wall and a street lights glow crept over his face. The shorter man grabbed his friend's shoulder. Something like a mix of recognition and anger twisted both men’s features. John stood his ground, still smiling. 

“You still want a light, mate?”

“Your accent- You’re John Lennon, right? Or one of those other Bug Brits.” The man spat the words, looking him over in disgust and tossing the unlit cigarette to the side.

“The lights out of the question, I see.” He looked between the two men. “Guess I’ll be going in, then. Quite late and all.” John took a step backward.

The taller bloke grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. “You think you’re better than God?”

John laughed without a hint of the fear he felt peaking through, “I mean-“

The shorter man came to his side. “Probably think he is God.”

John raised his hands in surrender, shrugging the tall bloke's hand off in the process. “Look, lads, I apologized for all that misunderstanding.” Neither man looked convinced. “Not bright enough to read the papers?”

The blow struck him in the stomach before he could register it coming. He was knocked back into the wall, his focus on the taller lad as he drew his own fist back. John lurched forward, getting in a blow to the bloke's jaw before the shorter one got a hold of him. The bloke wrapped his arms under John’s, clasping his hands together behind John’s head.

John’s arms were forced out to the side. He strained against the hold as the taller man rubbed his jaw, ready to hit again.

The facade of smiles dropped as he struggled to escape. “Wait-wait-hold- !“

With a twisted smirk, the bloke pulled his arm back, giving a full swing into John’s stomach. He let out a loud groan, straining to buckle over against the human restraint. 

Another blow to the stomach and another. 

John finally cried out as the man's fist drove into his side. It was a hit that required the man to bend down just enough for John to quickly bring up his feet for a kick to the face. The pain from the awkward restraint erupted through his back but his shoes had found their mark. 

The bloke stumbled back, falling flat on his ass. The man holding John suddenly released him and he fell too. The pain in his stomach was crippling. He coughed as stomach acid stung the back of his throat, one palm flat on the damp concrete, the other wrapped around his stomach.

A kick landed square to the side of his face, the metal of his glasses digging into his skin, stinging at his nose. He toppled to the side, the world falling into a daze. Another kick struck his chest and another into his stomach. He curled as tightly into a ball as he could, his eyes squeezed shut. His head was reeling and he couldn’t get in a second to recover. The kicks only stopped coming as he heard a door slam open.

“Wha- Stop it! Stop!” A familiar voice rung out. “John!”

“Get the fuck off him!” And another. “I’ll cripple ya!” There was a general shuffling of feet around his head.

“Get Brian out here!” And another.

“Johnny! John, come on…” A hand moved the hair from his eyes and rolled him on his back. But he couldn’t manage to force his eyes open.

“Wake up, son.”

Someone was tugging at him until his head was no longer resting on concrete. He stirred, his eyes opening to see Paul and Ringo knelt over him. Paul’s eyes were darting up and down John’s body, his thumb rubbing at John’s cheek. John realized Paul had brought him up into his lap. 

Ringo’s full attention was on John's face, smiling down at him with relief glittering in his eyes. “Not looking too well, mate.”

John lifted his hand up to Paul. He grabbed the lads open jacket, hardly noticing there was no shirt underneath it. “I think I was winning, wasn’t I?” He tried to smile but winced at a sudden spark of pain in his face and ribs. A metallic taste coated his mouth and he coughed.

Paul smiled with sad eyes, “Yeah. Could’ve destroyed them in the last half.”

George ran up behind the lot of them, panting like mad as he knelt over John. “You’re mad, you know? Absolutely.” He took in a deep breath. “That one bloke was huge.”

“Seems they weren’t that opposing if you could chase ‘em off.” John groaned, trying to sit up. Paul supported his back to help him as the door beside them came crashing open. 

“John. Good, God!” Brian rushed out, his trench coat trailing behind. He knelt down, patting over John as if to make sure he was all there. “What happened? Can you stand? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” His eyes were wet with tears, his hair and clothes disheveled.

John wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, coming away with a bloodstained sleeve and hand. He groaned, pulling himself to his feet with much of Ringo’s assistance. “Later, yes, no.” His face twisted in pain, clutching at his stomach. “In that order.” He gave a curt nod, throwing his arm over Ringo’s shoulder.

It was an ordeal to walk back to the room but at least he could take the lift up. Paul had volunteered to help John get changed and settled into bed. It was a slow affair. With many stops for Paul to curse him for his stupidity before grabbing at him to hug or fuss over.

“They could’ve killed you, y’know? Then what?” Paul was shaking his head and biting his lip as John slowly got into bed, propped up against the headboard.

John rolled his eyes. “Then I’d be dead, Macca. But I’m no-.”

Paul crossed his arms. “Then you’d be dead and we’d be here!  Without you...” He looked almost angry. “You do realize that- Nevermind.” Paul huffed and pulled the covers up over John, swallowing back a lump in his throat.

John was too frightened of what he lacked realization of to question Paul further.

After a while, the others trickled into the room one by one until they were all around John’s bed. Brian stood at the foot of the bed, looking sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry, boys- John. I should have looked out for you better.” Brian looked at each boy as he said this, eye glistening.

All four of the boys looked absolutely shocked by this, with a choir of what’s and no’s all around. But John took the lead. “Brian, I’m the one who snuck out. You did grand. Security was grand. It’s on me.”

“Anything that happens to you, any of you, is on me as well.” He straightened his back, taking in a deep breath. “I should have accounted for your disobedient tendencies.”

“No, John’s just daft,” George remarked. John gave an incredulous look but let it slide. “Don’t go putting this on yourself. You can’t see the future.”

Brian shook his head, “This isn’t about me, though, is it?” He pulled up a smile but it quickly fell to a frown. “What happened to get you in that fight?”

The attention turned back on John. He could see the pain still lingering in Brian’s face as he recounted the events of the night. He felt so stupid for going out like he did. Not even telling anyone. He put everyone through the wringer just for a smoke in a dirty alley.

With his explanation through, he was met with flustered criticism. It was all cut off by a knock at the door.

“Ah,” all eyes went to Brian. “That would be the police. Here for your statement.”

John straightened too quickly, grabbing at his sore stomach. “I’m not talking to no fucking cops.” He moved out of the bed, suddenly feeling like he was being far too babied.

“Say it loud enough for ‘em to hear, why don’t you,” George chided.

Brian’s brow furrowed, seeming confused by the aversion. “You have to talk to them so they can catch the men who attacked you.” 

“Was a stupid fight in an alley. Nothing life or death.” He looked to the boys for support but no one was talking. “Paul, we were in worse fights in Liverpool. Tell Bri it’s nothing to get the cops for.”

Paul’s eyes danced around the room. “He ain’t wrong. He’s been worse off after a fight.”

“Can’t say that that makes it all gear and fab, can we?”

“That’s not even-“

There was an outbreak of arguing over semantics that John wasn’t having. In the chaos, Brian went to get the door, unnoticed by the others. He ushered in a police officer and everyone quieted. John leaned against the side of the bed, his face set in a stone of frustration. He just wanted them all to leave him be. 

He eyed the police officer. “No autographs today, sorry.”

“John, just tell the man what happened.” Brian’s voice was desperate and exhausted.

The look in Brian’s teary eyes in the alley flashed in John’s mind. The look on all their faces, really. The amount they all cared made John unreasonably frustrated. He didn’t feel he deserved it. They shouldn’t care about him as much as they do. But they do and that's that. They care and he cares about them. 

He ran a hand down his face. Being considerate was tiring. “Get out then.” He looked around at his friends. “You all’ve already heard it. Wouldn’t want to bore you with a second round.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph, you wonderful person!! Thank you so much for all the work you put into your blog. It’s such an amazing resource for the fandom! I was wondering if you knew any fics where either John or Sherlock are super!BAMF specifically under the circumstances when the other is threatened. I’d love to read some kind of scenario where one of them is threatened and the other says something along the lines of “if you touch one hair on his head...” Thank you for any suggestions on this theme!

Hi Nonny!

AHHHH I love those kinds of fics! I think I classify those ones under “Protective Johnlock” so it’s sort of… shoved into those ones? LOL. I’ve recently posted a Protective Sherlock list, so you can check out that one, and see these others below! I know I have a tonne more but I am still sorting through all my fics, LOL. So I hope what I have sorted for you, hope that these are what you’re looking for!!

PROTECTIVE JOHNLOCK (BOTH)

See also: 

Protective Sherlock

BAMF! But Insecure John

New World, Old Words by thedeafwriter (G, 641 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Always John) – It was disconcerting to experience. One second, he was laying on the table, breathing in the gas that would make him sleep, the next, he was dragging his eyes open to look around the bright room, trying to wake up.

Idiot by Anesthesiologist (T, 1,229 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Alternate TGG / Explosion, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Inner Monologue, John Saves Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – What the heck happened? He remembered the pool and Moriarty, but then what? Had he been dying?

29 January 2017 by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) (E, 1,765 w. || Anniversary, First Time, Insecure Sherlock, Love Confessions, Post-S4) – “That,” John says, “should have happened years ago. Maybe even the first time.”

Loudly Unspoken by Mount_Seleya (M, 1,871 w. || Post-TAB, Love Confessions, Vulnerable Sherlock, Frottage) – John confronts Sherlock about the words he left unsaid on the tarmac. Set immediately after TAB

The Rational Machine by Solstice Zero (K, 2,924 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Malnourishment / Fainting, Doctor / Minder John) – Sherlock passes out. John muses on the reasons why. Containing an absorbing case, two bags of shopping, and a few apples.

It Was All Right There In Front of Him (A Five Times Plus One Story) by bees_stories (T, 3,191 w. || 5+1, Protective Idiots, Grooming, Bed Sharing, Lestrade POV) – DI Greg Lestrade is a good detective. But sometimes he doesn’t trust the evidence in front of him, until there’s a compelling reason to do so.

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John’s conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

Unforgiven by 221b_hound (M, 4,721 w. || Marriage Proposal, Victor Trevor, Jealous / Protective John, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past) – Sherlock’s latest case is for his ex boyfriend, the brilliant and handsome Professor Victor Trevor. John is not too happy about that. But things aren’t what they seem, an old friend of John’s is involved in the case, and John has a few surprises up his sleeve. Also - a proposal! Part 16 of Unkissed

The Refining Fire by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 5,451 w. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Friendship, Alternating POV (Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock), Worried Sherlock, Hospital Recovery) – Fire can burn things to ashes, but it can also burn things together.

Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (E, 3,790 w. || Cuddling & Snuggling, Body Heat, New Year’s Eve, PWP, Bedsharing, Frottage) – The inn is booked up on New Year’s Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing. You know where this is going. Part 1 of New Year’s Kiss

And Here We Are by J_Baillier (T, 12,416 w. || ASiP Fic, Alternating First Person POV, Drama, Friendship, Mild Case Fic, Autism Spectrum Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Protective John, Pining, Homophobia, Loneliness, Angst, Humour, Domestics, Morbid Fluff, Kidnapping) – All the little things we never got to see when an army doctor and a consulting detective were adjusting to sharing a flat. And a life.

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn’t count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

First Response by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 13,516 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Whump / Injury) – Five times John had to perform first aid on Sherlock and one time Sherlock had to perform it on John.

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C, Bottomlock) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case … and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

[blooming-inthedark]

the younger one.

Derek

I was in the drama department in high school, and being in drama was everything to me. It was the most fun I had in all my schooling. One of the main reasons I enjoyed this time was because of my drama peers. They were my closest friends and we did basically everything together, in and out of school. There was one class for each grade (9-12), but we would all have to come together during the schoolyear, so all four years were like a big family. We looked up to the older students and would feel abandoned once they graduated, but we would also fawn over how adorable or annoying each freshman class got each year that we inched closer to becoming seniors. Though we loved them, we of course carried this false sense of superiority over them since we were older. Like, play parents. So, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me when senior year started that I would be in a relationship with one of those ‘kids’ by the time graduation rolled around.

His name was Derek. He was in the sophomore class, and he was also the younger brother of Shawna, a drama student who graduated the year before we did. Derek was cutie, man. And for a 15 year old, he had a really deep voice. I was attracted to him, yes. Our early *platonic* text conversations consisted of random things, and him telling me how fine he thought all the senior girls were in drama, and how much he wanted to kiss them, or whatever else. I would just kind of laugh about it and agree, but then one day he started talking about the things he wanted to do to me. And his young ass had me intrigued. So we started flirting and whatnot.

We kept it secret, because of the age gap. Only 2 years – but in high school that somehow seemed like a lot. The only person who knew we liked each other was my friend Teresa, because she talked to both me and Derek on a daily basis. Derek and I didn’t see each other much during the day because we didn’t want to seem obvious (lol) but we would hang out after school a lot because he was best friends with Larry. Larry was also in the sophomore class and he was my baby – again, that whole play parent thing. He had lupus, and he was so sweet. I was one of the few people with a car in our class, and I remember doing a lot of aimless riding around after school, sometimes to take friends home, sometimes to go eat or to another friend’s house. Derek and Larry might ride with me, along with Teresa, or one of my other friends, Sasha. I remember one night, Sasha, Derek, Larry and I were in my car and we played truth or dare. Derek and I were dared to kiss, so we did. That night, him and I were texting about all the dares and how we felt about them. He told me “Just so you know, I didn’t feel anything when we kissed.” I told him I didn’t either.

I’d say about 2 or 3 nights later, he texted me and said “Remember when I said I didn’t feel anything when we kissed? I was lying.” Eventually we decided to make it official. It was the start of my last semester, and I felt like I had earned Derek, because he was telling me about cutting ties with the 2 other girls that liked him, and how disappointed they were. I remember jokingly saying, “Oh well, I didn’t mean to upset anybody, maybe we should break up.” We were in the parking lot and he was putting something in my trunk. When I said that he stopped and had this horrified look on his face “No!” he said with panic and slight confusion. I told him it was a joke, regretting my words immediately. I worried that he would look at me as crazy for saying something like that, but he didn’t.

And we were the cutest couple, according to everyone in drama. Derek was the first boyfriend, at this point, that I wasn’t ashamed of. I liked holding his hand in public. I would sit on his lap in front of everyone we knew. I was so into him, and felt no reservations about PDA like I usually would. Even though Derek was younger than me, I felt like I had a good catch. He was cute, and many other girls thought so too. All my friends joked and called me a cradle robber, but I didn’t care. I was sprung off this boy. We got caught making out and feeling each other up in the black box theater by the new drama teacher one day after school because we just could not stay off each other. Derek was even my date to the senior prom.

Sometimes though, it felt like the adults around us didn’t like that we were together. Maybe because he was essentially a kid? I always got the vibe that his mother and sisters didn’t like me, because they were never very friendly towards me. And my mom just didn’t expect us to last very long, I guess. I remember having Derek over to our house once. We were watching TV in the den and my mom was back in her room. It was storming, and that moment I was secretly hoping for had finally happened - the power went out. So, there we were, in the dark, and it was a flash of privacy that we hadn’t been able to have anywhere else. It was finally time for Derek to do something he had always told me he wanted to do - give me head. But no sooner than he started, my mom yelled my name. “You taste like air,” he texted me later. It was all good, even up until graduation. But I was going off to college that fall and I had a feeling we wouldn’t last until then.

Somewhere in the first part of the summer, things changed. When we hung out, Derek would always be really focused on his phone. I found myself repeating questions and giving up on conversations because he was paying more attention to his text thread than me. One night, I went to his house and the whole time he sat on the couch texting someone. It was me, him, his older sister, and another girl from drama. We were all talking, interacting with each other, but Derek wasn’t all over me like usual. I sat on one couch, he sat on the other. I had to go and sit next to him for us to be close, and even then he didn’t acknowledge me. There was a really odd vibe that night. It was obvious Derek was acting different, and it felt like everyone in the room knew why except me. Periodically he would chuckle, but showed no excitement or enthusiasm when interacting with me. I finally got a glance in over his shoulder and realized he was texting one of the girls in his drama class. That was all I needed to see.

He didn’t like me anymore. His actions had shown this for a couple of weeks, and seeing him text the other girl was when it really hit. He had found something new and shiny, and I was the older, old news. Because I could sense it, I brought it up over the phone to him one night. I told him he seemed different and uninterested - like he was interested in someone new. After some time he finally said that yes, it was someone else. I didn’t bother asking who, because I knew. A couple months later, they were together.

My feelings were hurt. Of course. Derek was the first boyfriend that all of my friends knew about and saw me with often. He was the first cute guy that actually liked me and dated me. There was a mutual interest and attraction, unlike the other guys I talked to that I ended up getting tired of a few months later. After we broke up, Derek told me he wanted to still remain friends. We would text every now and then and it was cool. Present day we’re definitely cordial, but we don’t really talk. I’m not really sure what exactly he’s doing now, but if I really wanted to know, he’s only a Snapchat or IG DM away from me asking. No ill feelings on my end. Just one of those things you go through as a teen.

The reason I remember Derek is because though I felt special to him in the beginning, I always felt like I was possibly competing with other girls for his attention. I noticed how many female friends he had, and it made me nervous. I remember for Valentine’s Day, Derek got me a small stuffed dog and wrote me a letter, but got his ‘best friend’ Alicia a huge ass teddy bear and some chocolate. My whole body might as well have turned green, I was so jealous. I knew most of his female friends liked him, and I felt that at any given moment he would see that they could probably offer him something better than I could. I didn’t feel like I was attractive, I didn’t have curves, and I wasn’t having sex. Another girl could easily come and win him over; I was no competition. And eventually my fear came true. Now that I’m writing this out, I realize that I still carry this irrational fear with me as an adult. Whenever I’m talking to a guy, I wonder how long it will be before he loses interest, if he’ll think I’m boring, is he comparing me or my body to other women he’s dated, or if the fact that I’m a virgin will run him off. It’s ridiculous - many days, I wonder why I’m single because I’m honestly the best thing smokin. Other days I look back over my life and conclude that men who are truly interested in me only come along every few years, so it must be that I’m not the best. My confidence is a beautiful, soft bright rose with small thorns and dirt smudges. I know that I’m the only one responsible for picking it up to carefully pluck those thorns and dust it off, but sometimes I still hope that a nice man walks by and knows how to delicately do it for me. But I’m working on that.

Peace to you for reading.

[sunshinewhale]

selfless [complete work]

fallen hearts are bound together just to break

pairing: onesided hyungwon x reader, kihyun x reader   pov: unnamed reader, hyungwon-centric, third person

genre: angst lol  words: ~6200 

*optional* follow-up to [ selfish ], but can be read standalone

warnings: slowburn? self-insecurities, unhappy open-ending, romanticism about insecurities, you may need a tissue

notes: was i uploading this in parts? yes. did I give up finish the rest in one go and post it as a whole work? yes. give me some love guys, i need validation for subsistence. 

(writing gets worse as it goes fyi, bc i gave up lol)

Hyungwon realizes, she must be special somehow, because Kihyun brings her home.

He’s not exactly surprised. They all have some loves, some secretive, fleeting, some lost. The thing is, it’s Kihyun, and the ones that Kihyun brings home are few and even farther in between. 

There is nothing particularly distinctive about her. She’s pretty in her own way, a little shy, but pleasant in her politeness and perfectly amiable. At second glance, she’s not really the type Kihyun usually goes for, either.

Albeit a little wary, he is neutral. Relationships for people like them were always a tough ocean to weather, intricately complicated, too often ending in sunken shipwreck. For Hyungwon, fallen hearts are just too difficult, bound together just to break and he has no qualms about breaking others to keep his own safe.

But that’s no fault of hers, and the one she beats for is not him but Kihyun, so he has no reason for animosity.

When Kihyun leaves to prepare dinner, she doesn’t follow him into the kitchen. She settles a careful distance next to him on the wrinkled leather couch, away from the chattering noise of Minhyuk and Changkyun at war in the game room. A seeker of silence, he observes as he raises his head and her eyes meet his. The contact has her taken aback, her pupils rounded and wide with innocent alarm. He gives a nonchalant, non-committal nod, and she slowly blinks back, owlish.

It’s so oddly adorable, he’s secretly charmed.

He leans back and lets his eyelids lower.

The silence isn’t awkward at all. In the most unexpected way, her quiet presence is comforting. There’s a slight crick in his neck, but his consciousness drifts off as he listens the faint rhythm of her breathing. A blissful haze creeps over his mind, he’s about to dip into the sweet nothingness of sleep when a hand presses against his cheek gently. Without thinking, he nuzzles into the warm skin.

Still gentle, the hand shifts his position. He grunts in drowsy protest, nudging his face against the direction of the guided push. It refuses to let up, and he squints open in quick irritation, attack ready on his tongue.

All he can see is her.

A small pull is at the corner of her lips, and amusement gleams in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but it’s bad for your neck if you sleep like that,” she says softly, and Hyungwon only hears kindness.

His irritation vanishes into thin air, as quick as it came, and he allows her to move his head to lie on the cushioned armrest. She’ll be good for Kihyun, he thinks.

His eyelids close heavy. His muddled consciousness melts a crack in his guarded armour, and his lips are too loose. He finds himself mumbling out loud, look after him, Kihyun can be difficult, he means well, he’s usually too busy looking after us to look after himself.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to look after him for long,” she whispers. It’s almost inaudible in the silence. 

He knows she’s telling herself rather than answering him.

Hyungwon doesn’t really understand, but he recognizes sadness and he thinks he feels a dull stirring in his chest—

Then, his unconsciousness takes him completely.

.

.

.

“Why are you here alone?”

His voice comes out raspy and it makes him sound cranky and ill-tempered. It’s well past noon, but he had just rolled out of bed. He’s still bleary eyed with the hangover of sleep, and a sleepy Hyungwon is never a happy Hyungwon.

Startled, like a deer in the headlights, she meets his gaze from her spot at the kitchen table. 

“Kihyun is out on a schedule with Minhyuk and Hyunwoo. He asked me to wait for him to come back,” she pauses in meek hesitance. Her lips part again as if she had more to say, but she purses them and looks away instead.

Hyungwon too, turns away without replying. The silence that floods the room is awkward enough that he feels some sort of internal cringe, but he does nothing to alleviate it. Everything is making his head hurt. He rubs out an oncoming migraine, and scuffing of wood against tile fills the soundlessness.

She’s out of her seat and rummaging around the kitchen cabinets. Tension is knitted between the blades of her shoulders, caution in every movement.

Distance. 

He's all too aware. He sees the signs, the weight of reservation within, will withering at the pressure of possibly being unwanted.

A part of him gives way, and he sighs through his softness. He doesn’t intend to regularly involve her in his life (like Minhyuk) or instant acceptance into a blossoming friendship (like Jooheon) just because she’s dating one of his members, but he (admittedly) loves and respects Kihyun. He would like to be on good terms with her, something along the lines of the closer side of close acquaintances, and Hyungwon definitely doesn’t want her to feel unwelcome.

“You don’t have to be so formal, and you don’t have to explain to me why you’re here. Relax, you’re with Kihyun.”

She stiffens completely, arm frozen midair and hand disappeared in the depths of a cupboard. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him.

“You don’t need to distance yourself,” Hyungwon continues, “we’re all glad that you’re here. Kihyun’s been really happy these weeks.” 

He hears her inhale deeply, a little shaky and unsteady, but she still doesn’t turn around. Maybe he overstepped his bounds.  

Unbidden, he walks out of the kitchen. He plops himself onto the leather couch, and he groans in frustration as he buries his face into his hands. He thinks of her back, her shoulders curled in, on guard and awaiting hostility. You’ve just made things worse. Why can’t you just get along— 

“Hyungwon.” 

He spreads his fingers and peeks at her between the gaps.

“Hyungwon,” she says again, somewhat shy. Her voice has always been soothing to his ears, but hearing his name was another experience. It’s not quite a smile yet, but her mouth lifts slightly upwards.

She holds out a mug to him. It’s his mug, sleek black with C.H.W. engraved on the handle that had been gifted to him for his birthday. 

He’s a little perplexed. “Why are you making me coffee?” he can’t help but ask, but he easily accepts the mug from her, touched by the detail.

She’s nowhere near as bright as the afternoon sun, but he thinks her eyes twinkle. 

“You’re with Kihyun, too. Shouldn’t I look after you the way he will?”

She smiles, cheeky. It’s a small smile, but it’s a start. 

He blinks. He’s not sure if its the aroma of coffee or if Kihyun had cleaned yesterday, but the light from the glass windows seem to sparkle gently.

He brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip.

Strange.

It’s black coffee. It’s black coffee, but it tastes somehow sweet. 

Even stranger, Hyungwon doesn’t mind the sweetness.

.

.

Hyungwon is at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He’s a simple man, really. All he wants is his daily dose of caffeine in tranquility and peace, accompanied by the quiet buzz of city life. As fate would have it, a cruel mistress indeed, he ends up at the same cafe as her and Kihyun. They don’t notice him, but drama finds him wherever he goes.

He watches as a girl saunters up to her, shoulders squared with arrogance, her perfect manicure tipped with cruelty. Dread dips down his spine as he recognizes her as one of Kihyun’s past loves, one of the ill-fated that ended messy and met death with spite.

“I still can’t believe it, but word has it someone like you is Yoo Kihyun’s new other,” the girl bites to maim, voice sharp and steel-bladed. “Are you?”

He grits his teeth.

Where on earth did Kihyun go?

He’s not involved but he doesn’t exactly feel uninvolved. He wants to embrace the bliss of ignorance, blind his eyes and deafen his ears, to pass her off as another stranger. He doesn’t know her well enough, he has no right to be involved, so it has nothing to do with him.

(He ignores the Kihyun would expect you to be involved lurking in the depths of his mind.)

He’s always been passive in nature, unbothered by conflict, ready to run to keep the comfort of his status quo. A prey in a predator’s disguise. 

But Hyunwon’s body refuses to obey him, and his sight can’t seem to focus anywhere else.

She looks up from her hot chocolate, bewildered at the hostility. Her pupils shake for a second, two, and then her expression shifts into an impasse, neutral without any trace of any emotion.

“I am.” 

“What makes you think you’re good enough for him?” The girl snarls, clearly airing out her disdain with no sense of misplaced blame.

It has nothing to do with me, don’t get involved, nothing to do with me, repeats in his head but the anger is thrumming through his veins and his blood screams at him to do something. He pushes his chair back before he knows it, feet firm on wooden ground as he strides a long step forward—

“I don’t,” she says quietly, but it rings loud against the noisy silence of the cafe business, “I never thought I was.”

—and he stops.

Her level gaze never falters, but the softness of her words don’t match how hard and deep they strike him to the core. "Why do you think I'll meet a different end than you?" She shakes her head offers a bittersweet smile, more bitter than sweet, “I can assure you our endings won’t be much different.”

“Kihyun isn’t the type to change.”

The girl looks a little taken aback, but her tongue is tied and her malice breathing its last, dying breath.

The tension fizzles out like that.

.

.

.

“I’m so sorry, I left you alone in such a common place with so much traffic,” comes Kihyun’s worried, worried voice, warm and filled to the brim with genuine concern. “I saw her on my way back, did she talk to you? Did she give you any trouble?”

“No, Kihyun. She didn’t mean it. She’s was hurt, that’s all, still not over her heartbreak.”

Kihyun scoffs, “Hurt? Not over her heartbreak? She gave me the dirtiest stink eye earlier, if eyes had lasers I would be nothing but ashes.”

She sighs, but it’s fond.

Hyungwon can physically hear the way she folds and tucks away her raw ruefulness underneath a smile. “We just talked a little, she reminded me how lucky I am for being with you.”

Kihyun laughs in love, amused and overflowing with happiness. Hyungwon wonders how Kihyun fails to pinpoint the uncertainty weighing her shoulders and the missing beats of her heart. 

Why do you think I’ll meet a different end than you?

But it has nothing to do with him, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

Our endings won’t be much different.

Cold.

Hyungwon finds it difficult to swallow.

.

.

.

In his carelessness, he drops a glass. 

Hyungwon sees the way the glass shatters onto the white tile floor in slow motion. Completeness, a whole, then imperfect, unmatched fragments, breaking into pieces and parts, parts and pieces— 

In a million diamond pieces, it glitters with breathtaking beauty and hidden cruelty, and in that beautiful cruelness, he cuts himself on the shattered shards. 

Don’t broken pieces combine into completeness? Aren’t shattered shards an imperfect piece of perfection?  

Rich redness dribbles down his palm, and he follows the blood flow, but his mind, lost, wandering in wonder.

A whole is a sum of its parts. How are parts summed together to make a whole? 

A gasp.

“Hyungwon!” 

He turns to the kitchen doorway, and she stands, struck, face colourless with concern.

How can you fix broken perfection when you’re missing shattered parts?

.

.

.

“You need to be careful, Hyungwon.”

“It’s just a small wound,” he protests, indignation sparking alive, “it’ll heal in no time.”

She huffs, blown up and adorably miffed as she blots liquid redness away from the bleeding cut on his palm. It’s not like he wants an injury on his hand either, but Hyungwon can’t help the upwards curl of his mouth as he watches her administer first aid.

“It will heal,” she sighs, “you don’t need to get stitches, at least. But why were you letting yourself bleed out all over the glass?”

He laughs a little nervously. Well.

“I got lost in thought for a second...maybe?”

...

“Maybe you need to wean off your coffee addiction. On the contrary to popular belief, I think too much caffeine makes you lag.” 

In mid scoff, an involuntary hiss escapes him as she dabs alcohol over the open skin. She looks up with a playful frown on her face, “Does it hurt, you big baby?”

“You’re being mean,” he jokes, “my heart hurts.”

But she agrees, humming nonchalantly, almost too nonchalant for the sudden depth to her voice. “The worst wounds are the ones you can’t see. The ones that hurt the most are the wounds that hurt the heart.”

“And wounds that hurt the heart,” she says, final, cradling his hand gently, “are the ones that others can’t help you heal.”

He falls quiet, because he’s not quite sure how to respond. There’s too many secrets hidden among too many doors, and Hyungwon doesn’t want to knock too hard and suddenly find himself an intruder. She finishes the wrapping of white bandages with a clean knot, tucking loose ends neatly into place, “Well, that’s that.”

Nodding, Hyungwon rises to clean up the mess still on the floor, but she scrunches her nose and huffs at him, a silent bid to sit back down. He’s too tired to argue, so he does, and swallows the little bit of guilt that lingers. He watches her pick up the glass, one cautious shard by shard, and he thinks she looks like she’s collecting broken pieces of herself. His heart squeezes, he takes a deep breath, and—

“The gossip. Those rumors. You don’t have to take that kind of behaviour from his exes, strangers, staff, whatever.”

She hums in true nonchalance, “I’m fine, really. They’re not asking the wrong questions, either.”

She sweeps up the remaining minuscule cuts on the floor, invisible to the eye but still shimmering, glinting with subdued beauty in the passover of light. 

Then softer, like a little secret told out loud, “They’re asking the same questions I ask myself.”

It’s the fact that Hyungwon knows she fully means every single word she says that makes his simmering emotions bubble over and burst.

“Why? Why are you letting them hurt you? Why don’t you tell Kihyun?”

“It doesn’t hurt me—”

“You should tell Kihyun anyways, he would want to know!”

If I were Kihyun, I would want to know. I would need to know.

“I don’t want to worry him when it doesn't bother me, and,” she stops, blinks once, and exhales the tiniest quiver in her voice away to calmness—

“I’ll just be another goodbye in the end, anyway.”

It’s absolutely absurd to Hyungwon. He doesn’t know much about relationships, sure, he doesn’t know much about love, but he knows Yoo Kihyun.

“I’ve never seen him love anyone like he loves you,” he confesses, “you have nothing to be afraid of.”

She looks at him, and his breath loses itself to the glint of soft tragedy in her eyes. He sees hopelessness at peace, he thinks she’s too restrained for a heart that Kihyun’s so careful not to shatter—

Hyungwon realizes she’s been shattered all along, by her own hands.

Like broken glass pieces, sadness sparkling on cold tile floors.

“I’m not afraid he’ll leave me,” she whispers, barely, and it’s the only thing that falls from her lips with complete certainty, “I’m waiting for when he will.”

Something stirs in his chest again.

This time, it aches. 

.

.

.

The sun dips lower into the horizon, and the sunset stars flicker. Something about the dying light and the golden glow caught in the tangles of her hair pulls him in too deep and under the edge, the sky a thousand novas for a thousand old wounds gasping to resurface, and Hyungwon is just so tired of toeing lines.

Do you hate yourself?

The question leaves his lips before he realizes, four rogue little words escaping without a destination to cross an invisible boundary, but forever searching, searching and searching.

Her eyes lower to secrets and unspoken wisdom, and the corners of her lips pull up. Hyungwon holds his breath because, for a moment, he can’t see starlight reflected in the glassy distance of her pupils. It’s a complex blend of bittersweetness, the smile that she forms; a little amusement, a little morbidness, and his chest aches as he can’t even begin to unravel everything in between. Then, she’s so unbearably soft, almost unheard in the wind but piercing through the confines of his heart.

“Why did you hate yourself, Hyungwon?”

He freezes. The orange afterglow of setting sunlight is still warm, but a tentative chill settles in icy pricks along his skin.

He remembers long nights, hard nights, sleepless nights, when exhaustion of the body and mind rooted so far into his soul that he just couldn’t rest. He remembers moonlight misery reflecting off his glass windows, ghost whispers of not being good enough, not measuring up, never ever catching the trailing threads of success. Fake it until you make it, was what he was taught, but some part of him screamed he would never make it, and all his efforts, futile. He still doesn’t know how he managed to pretend he glittered gold for so long while he believed he was dirt. She eyes him in his memories, all too knowing for someone that has not been through those experiences, and Hyungwon can’t help but shudder.

“You have that look, too. That look of someone who is going through or have gone through it. It’s an almost crippling uncertainty, but it’s also not baseless insecurity, isn’t it? The uneasiness can dull to almost nothing, but it never quite leaves—”

She breathes out into dusk, and shifts her head to hold his sight. He almost flinches, almost shys away from her eyes. For once, she’s holding nothing back, and the bareness makes him feel too exposed, his steel armours overturned and vulnerabilities unearthed. 

“You have it, Hoseok has it, Minhyuk has it too, but Kihyun’s not one of you,” she says, dead center bullseye and an arrow straight through his heart. The way her voice floods with unconditional love and acceptance wants to bring Hyungwon on his knees. “You know this better than I do as Kihyun’s longtime friend, don’t you? This little something Kihyun can’t understand, never will understand. He knows he’s someone the universe made to shine.”

She laughs lightly, fond but a bit dry, and stars are lost in the crescents of her eyes.

“I’m not as extreme as you seem to think, though. I don’t hate myself, not at all. I wouldn’t have said yes to Kihyun if it was like that.”

Confusion bursts, because Hyungwon just knows there’s something more. His forehead wrinkles, concern flooding in his voice as he starts, “But you...you’re not okay—”

His thoughts fade out into white noise as she raises her hand towards him and tiptoes. His pulse quickens seeing her so close, and he blinks in subtle panic. Then, he feels the warmth of her fingertips gently smoothing the tension folded between his brows away, and he just stares.

“It’s not so bad, Hyungwon, don’t waste your worries on me,” she says, all quiet and tender, as if that could soften the hard blow to the hard truth—

”I just don’t know how to love myself.”

That’s even more awful, not knowing how, Hyunwon wants to argue, anger alive on her behalf, but he sees her sorrow and her unshed tears and the words die on his tongue. Instead, he reaches up and takes her hand into his. 

Hyungwon gives her a gentle squeeze. Hating would be easier. There’s a thin line between love and hate. Love can bloom into hate and hate can grow into love, but what can be molded when it comes to an I don’t know? 

She gives him another bittersweet smile, understanding, and slips her hand away. The memory of warmth lingers on his skin with the sudden emptiness.

He watches her turn back out to the sky, but when he follows her gaze, the sky has already darkened several shades of night, the stars are not brighter but bleaker, and it feels like he’s falling.

.

.

.

Hyungwon dreams of broken glass, of gentle hands, of a beating heart that loves bravely without loving itself. 

He collects the pieces of glittering glass into his hands, and it glows with injured iridescence in the mild lull of sunlight at dusk. Then, there’s a heart in his hands, beating bare and bleeding. 

It won’t stop beating even though it bleeds. 

It bleeds through angry out-of-place stitches, too clean and disturbingly artificial. The thin threads do nothing but wound the heart more, tearing the flesh in uneven gashes at the seams.

With docile fingers, Hyungwon removes the stitches and lets it bleed, and the blood flow begins to lessen, from a rough river to a gentle trickle. His hands stain wet red, but soft pulses flutter against the skin of his palm and for a moment, he thinks the heart is beating for him.

He almost forgets how to breathe. His own heartbeat skips four times, and with each missed beat, he yearns harder and he falls deeper.

He thinks he would give his own to keep the heart beating.

I love you. I love you, I love you—

I   l o v e   y o u.

He dreams.

It’s just a dream.

.

.

.

Bad days come and bad days go. His bad days catch up to him to seize him at gunpoint, and Hyungwon surrenders without a fight. A dejavu to his silly teenage years, again, he’s a self-caged captive with invisible chains and no one else to blame.

Pathetic.

There’s a pit in his stomach, a void in his chest, darker than black and an endless hole. He wants to cry but his veins are bloodless, his emotions in overdrive and he feels too much and nothing all at once.

 He curls into himself more and he wishes everything would just stop and go away—

He groans inwardly when he hears the unmistakable click of the apartment door. A quick mental count of schedules tells him it has to be Minhyuk or Kihyun or both, and he really does not feel like humouring either in his current state. Then, he hears distinctly feminine footsteps and for some reason, relief stirs in the numbness of his core.

“Hyungwon…?”

She’s peering at him from the doorway. Her brows are furrowed, lips twisted into a frowning pout and Hyungwon knows she can tell something is wrong. She disappears down the hallway, and returns with a pillow and a blanket. 

Hyungwon lets her maneuver him around, obediently lifting his head so she can slide the pillow underneath. She tucks the blanket up to his chin and makes sure his head properly supported by the pillow, and her easy acceptance already makes something in him more grounded.

“Do you need some time alone?” 

He shakes his head, “Can you stay?” 

He only needs to ask once. Without question, she settles on the floor next to him. Normally, Hyungwon would be a little unnerved at the way she was watching him so carefully, but he knows her now and her kindness, so he finds himself relaxing in her air of concern and comfort instead. 

In a smaller voice, he admits, “I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

Hyungwon thinks he’s a grown man and he still can’t handle the width of his emotions, can’t hide them or mask them long enough without cracking miserably at the edges. 

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I,” he turns to her and his eyes water.

“Oh Hyungwon,” she coos with a sigh, leaning closer, she brushes wisps of his hair out of his face, “of course not. It's okay not to be okay.”

Her fingers kiss his eyelids so he lets his eyes falls shut and listens to her over the beat of his pulse.

“You’re more than what anything thinks of you, Hyungwon,” her touch trails the curve of his nose, “You’re more and what you think of you.”

“You’re doing your best, and that’s enough.”

At that, he opens his eyes to look at her, pointedly.

“You should tell that to yourself, too. Take your own advice,” he huffs.

She smiles back, amused but a little sullen. She presses a finger against the thickness of his lips. “That’s the secret, isn’t it? The fight between what you know and what you feel. It’s a losing war for my knows, though.”

His lips tingle at the phantom touch of her fingertips.

Her eyes are clear and deep with untold insecurities that he thinks he could drown in them. He wants to drown in them. He doesn’t understand why Kihyun can’t see them, even if he doesn’t understand them.

His heart skips, falling, and he’s not sure if he’s anchoring himself or his heart when he reaches out and grasps at the soft knit of her sweater. She gently pats his arm in a soothing gesture, “It’s okay, I’ll stay, Hyungwon.”

He closes his eyes again. He doesn’t let go and he seals his fate, fallen.

I love you.

It’s not just a dream.

.

.

.

When he wakes, she’s still on the floor next to him, but her fingers are slotted in-between his. She’s asleep and her cheek is nestled close by his side; Hyungwon can’t help but smile at the soft little exhales of her breathing. He keeps their fingers entwined while he collects his consciousness, then, he notes, there’s a blanket carefully draped over her.

He hears Kihyun singing from the kitchen, the faint sizzling of stir-fry, along with muffled clatters of pots and pans. Hyungwon slips his hand away.

Later, he realizes they cancelled their date. She waves him off and just asks if he’s feeling better. Kihyun too, is not bothered at all, tells him to take care of himself and never asks for an explanation.

Love fills him, and Hyungwon knows he matters to both of them, but reality checks and remorse quickly follows.

He can’t do this to Kihyun.

.

.

.

Kihyun doesn’t understand, but he does. 

Uncertainty. Uneasiness. Insecurity. The cycle of having doubt constantly clawing at your insides, stitching invisible wounds, then waking up next to anxiety and bringing misery to bed. 

He’s past that. He’s supposed to be past that. It’s been years since he had last seen the stranger of insecurity and self-hate, but he still remembers the struggle as vividly as yesterday.

It’s been a long time since Hyungwon had truly hated himself.

The clock turns three am and he thinks of her. He thinks of gentleness and unconditional acceptance, of her eyes and her smile. He thinks of the way she’s broken without bleeding, of how she’s so capable of holding herself so sturdy in her uncertainty. 

And hate crawls out of his grave, his familiar stranger. His ears ring to the trembling noise thrumming in his veins, his heart flutters painfully, and there’s something he’s been denying for far too long.

Hyungwon realizes, he knows why he’s been hating, why hate has slithered out of his slumbering shadows to strangle him blue.

He hates himself—

He hates himself for falling in love with a heart that belongs to someone else.

He hates himself for falling in love so completely, so irreversibly, that he would be okay with anything as long as that someone else learns how to love happily.

Maybe, most of all, he hates himself for loving so selflessly.

.

.

.

Fallen hearts are bound together just to break, he believed.

He was wrong.

Hyungwon isn’t bounded, but he would still break his fallen heart and hand it over on a golden platter if his broken pieces could fix hers.

.

.

.

The walls in their home are too thin. 

“I don’t know, Kihyun. I can’t, not yet.”

“Why not? You get along fine with my members. My family isn’t much different.”

“It’s not that. It’s just. I. I don’t know if I’m confident enough.” 

The adoration in Kihyun’s chuckles are hardly filtered out by the walls.

“It’s fine, I'm confident one. I have enough confidence for the both of us. It’s like how I love you and how I’m loving enough for the both of us.”

No, Hyungwon thinks, that’s not helping her at all.

“You’ll be fine because I’m by your side. For now, just think about it, okay?”

He hears her breathe out, long and winded. 

“Okay, I’ll think about it, but give me a little more time.”

He doesn’t find the embrace of sleep, that night.

.

.

.

What is love when you love something broken?

Is it love for what is was before it became shattered parts and pieces? The memories of when it was whole?

Is it love for what it could be if it was built back together whole? The potential of being fixed?

Or is it love because it’s broken? 

Love for it being broken, love because the brokenness is in your hands to break further or to fix.

Kihyun, Hyungwon wants to plead, wants to ask, wants to beg, don’t just love her for being broken.

.

.

.

She looks like she wants to cry. 

Her eyes are dry, but something about the way she blinks and squeezes her eyes shut gives her away. 

His heart hurts, seeing her like this. He wishes he could cradle her face in his hands and tenderly rub the exhaustion out of her eyes. Instead, he takes a seat next to her and purses his lips.

“Are you okay?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I don't think I am.”

Hyungwon frowns. He spreads his arms and pats his chest, an open invitation. She takes it, leaning in, tucking herself under his chin and resting her forehead on his shoulder. She inhales, shaky and unsteady.

“Kihyun tells that I’ll be okay because he’s with me, because he loves me. Does that mean I won’t be okay if it’s just me? That’s not right, isn’t it? But then, without him, what am I?”

“You’re just you,” he says, and he wishes he was wiser, with more words to give, “that’s already more than enough.”

He feels her eyes close against his collarbone, a brief flutter of lashes and she admits, “I don’t think I can learn how to love myself.”

“Why? I was worse than you, I hated myself. I’m past it now, and you can too.”

Against him, she shakes, and her voice rises a pitch higher, a touch more frantic, “It seems like such a faraway never and I don’t believe in myself. How can I believe he loves me when I don’t love myself? I know he does. It’s not about him, I’m not insecure about him loving me.” 

And Hyungwon knows. When it came to Kihyun’s love, for her, it was never insecurity. 

“I know Kihyun and I can’t go on like this. He doesn’t understand and I thought it was okay but it’s not. I don’t expect anything of him, but I’ll still hurt when it ends. But it can’t hurt any worse than now, can it?”

She shudders, hands clutching at his shirt as she buries her face in it. Even muffled, the way her voice breaks off is strikingly clear.

“I love him, Hyungwon. But loving him is hurting me.”

His heart throbs in waves of unadulterated pain, a dagger’s gash through muscle.

She’s close to tears. A dry sob leaves her lips, and he hates the sound of her giving up. 

“I can’t do this, Hyungwon.”

“You can,” he says, patting her back. Because I love you, he wants to say, because I can see the whole picture from your broken parts. A different sort of beauty, shattered but complete like a stained glass mosaic, lit up in colour at sunset. I will wait while you piece them together, a puzzle, one step at a time. 

“It would be so much easier if I could believe you,” she whispers.

Hyungwon wishes he could hold her forever, chase away her demons and make her believe.

.

.

.

Hyungwon finds himself at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He’s entering the key pin when the door pushes open with a resounding click. Kihyun doesn’t see him, his sharp profile facing straight ahead and somewhat in a trance. He’s one feet out the door, but the other foot lags behind, hesitant, as if he can’t bear to exit. He stays like that for a few minutes, and Hyungwon can’t bring himself to move.

Then, Kihyun sees him, but he squints as if he’s not sure he’s really there. Hyungwon can see wet complication glistening against the redness of his eyes, and the shorter man quickly blinks a few times.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he says, thickly, and he swallows and stops as if each word caused him torment, “please.”

Oh.

Even if it had to happen, he didn’t think it would happen this soon.

Hyungwon can only nod.

Kihyun turns and leaves, and he looks like he’s leaving something for eternity, as if he was going somewhere he could never return. He can see the shorter man’s shoulders heave, but he never looks back.

Hyungwon knows.

If Kihyun looked back, he would stay.

Hyungwon has never seen prideful Kihyun look so small, so defeated, so wounded.

.

.

.

He finds her fading into the dim glow of the kitchen. Her face is passive, blank eyes unfocused. She’s staring off into glazed memories, lost in newfound nothingness. His searching gaze zeros in to her hands, her fingers pressured white from their grip on the marble counter, clutching the edge for life as if she would fall forever, a bottomless drop.

He hears her breathing quiver, and dread builds heavy in the pit of his stomach, queasy.

He clears his throat hesitantly, swallowing some uneasiness.

At his cue, she turns towards him, and all he can see are defeated eyes, bleary but glossy, glistening with heartbreak. His chest squeezes, tight and with worry.

“Hyungwon,” her voice is so drenched, trembling with weakness but still feebly trying to hold herself together. She takes another breath, and he can physically see something in her break. “Hyungwon,” she whispers his name in a small, wobbly breath, and he hates the way it sounds.

In haste, he approaches her and places an unsteady arm around her shoulders.

It’s the final straw that breaks her completely.

She curls into him, as if seeking comfort to ease the chaos in her mind and the war in her heart. He can almost hear her shattering, and her already shattered pieces grinding into dust.

“Hyungwon,” she tries again, “Kihyun—” 

Her voice breaks with wetness. He hugs her closer to him.

“I know, it’s okay,” he soothes, “You don’t have to say it. I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

He tucks her head under his chin, his hand a supporting pillar against a crumbling building at her back. She’s shaking, unbearably tiny and he wonders how he can keep her from falling apart in his arms, from whole to pieces and from pieces to scattered ashes.

A whimper escapes her, then a sob, another, louder, and it escalates into hysteria.

He purses his lips, the beat of his pulse pounding with second-hand pain. The saltine wetness that seeps through his shirt burns hot acid on his skin. Each sob is a poisoned dart aimed straight at his vitals, and he keens and keens. His own eyes sting and he lowers his eyelids with heavy exhale.

It hurts.

Even if it meant his heart breaking on the sidelines, he wishes they ended with a happily ever after. He knows it’s out of his hands, but he wishes he could’ve done more for her and Kihyun.

Still, a stupidly selfless fool.

She chokes on her own tears and her hand fists into the fabric of his jacket. Her grief trembles right into his chest, right next to his heart, and his heart palpitates with torment. He wonders if it is possible for his heart explode from the anguish.

This hurts so much more.

His stupid heart, fallen and still falling, bleeding with cupid’s poisoned arrow shot through his pulsing flesh. 

Hyungwon realizes, he would rather have his heart breaking over a million times than watch hers break once.

[wroteclassicaly]

Fiercely Vigilant

Michael Langdon / Reader

A/N : Requested by an anon was a jealous Michael. I made him jealous of the emotional friendship the reader has with Mr. Gallant. Hope you all like this! Feedback is welcomed! Let me know how my writing of Michael is, cause’ I’m quite nervous about it. Hope you enjoy, Anon! Keep the requests coming, folks! ;) - Kristen

Warnings : Smut, nasty language, some violence, Michael being a cruel asshole Anti-Christ. I think that about covers it. 

You have to laugh at yourself for seeking out a dictionary, of all things to read. Another reason hand in hand with your status of sizzling gray to be ridiculed for. But really, you need to extend your vocabulary on describing this place that stretched beyond basic "This is bullshit. I'm bored. I'm hungry. I'm horny." pleas of exasperation. You were all starting to get on your own nerves. Even the purples were drained on energy most evenings.

Except Coco. That woman never shuts the fuck up. Whatever is in her cube must be a higher dosage. Perhaps Meade is sneaking in tranquilizers? Sleep deprived, wiping your blurry eyes you find yourself laughing at images containing everyone in the compound combusting into trunks and tails, humps and Dumbo ears.

Jocular. This is the word you're currently stuck on, fingernail pressed tightly into worn paper.

"And then she cut my credit card off like it was my dick, which, by the way, she wanted to suck. I'm like, honey, you're not a Hemsworth brother." A deep voice butters into your absurdly caught giggles. He raises a manicured chocolate brown brow, peering first at the thesaurus in your lap, then you. "Should've known that's what you were laughing about. You're such a fucking weirdo." Gallant pouts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You snort with a mildly affectionate pat to his strong hand, that is resting across your ankle.

"You know I could ask you to wipe my ass instead of talking to you, right?"

Though his tone is meant to be more dignified, you know he's not serious, just being sour. You understand him though, oddly enough. Which is something most people don't here. He's not purple through and through. Coco might be Barney though, jury still has its vote out on that one. If there was a jury alive.

"I'd rather manscape you," You say tiredly, closing your words up, holding tightly to your new nightly read.

Relaxing, a sigh to accompany, Gallant's posture goes slack beneath his velvet smoking jacket, his fingers back to caressing the overworked heels of your stocking clad feet. It's rare. So fucking rare for this deep of a companionship to have formed between two more opposite people. The grays work for elites and leaders here, they do nothing but serve and take what little they are permitted. They don't have night long conversations, sneak down into the library after the fires are put out to search the library together for soft core porn or even poetry, and they don't share secrets they'd never dare tell anyone else, and they sure as hell wouldn't be caught together so casually, a gray looking as if she's an elite's queen, feet in his lap, being pampered to, when she is supposed to be kissing the radiation soaked ground for the chance to serve here, to live what life she can.

Yet here you both are, closer than Gallant's friendship with Coco, closest thing you've ever felt for another human being since years before the bombs fell. It's an unexplainable thing, you feel compelled towards Gallant's company and he to yours. Beneath all his shallow and hyper - vibrant exterior is someone in pain, angry. So you soothe him, you listen. You two be. You two are.

"Ugh, I can't believe you touch her more than a straight man would. If you wanted to touch a woman then you know you have me. This is so idiotic." Comes a slouchy whine to your left on the couch across from you two. Her dress fans around her the moment that she hits the cushions and your eyes roll, feet tensing in Gallant's lap with a tight flex as they also slide out.

His exterior is changing, fighting a gapped bridge where he's more settled, to his stuck up and snotty attitude that comes so natural to him that he breathes insults over air. You don't give him the chance to decide which persona he's taking on, for you've got your book tucked away, all too aware as you stand, knowing how much time it has taken to get you relaxed enough that your chores are way behind. A plummet frolics inside your muscles, all melted things hardening like ice, shocking, spilling sharp through your veins in spreads. Tucking away your yellow treasure into your apron, you go about fluffing pillows in chairs, checking candles, making sure things are in perfect order. Doesn't matter how clean things are, they can always be knuckle raw, fingernail bed bleeding - cleaner.

They're talking now, a secret smile cracking into the corners of your mouth at Gallant still directing his part from the conversation your way. "Wish I at least had Fifty Shades in these hands. With the right lighting and a little Christian Grey, it makes one happy man."

"Nora Roberts sounds pretty good. What I wouldn't give for a solid insta feed though, holy shit in Louboutin heels. " Coco agrees, sighing into a melancholy trail off.

"You know what I think?" Gallant has you both looking his way again. When he sees in special delight that he's got your attention, he edges on his seat before continuing, fingers tightly clasped together, licking his lips in thought. "I think Langdon has some kinky shit he brought with him around here somewhere."

"Like what?" Coco is damn near exploding now, bunching her knuckles white against the rustling fabric of her dress.

And you, your feet forget what the floor is and they sink as they still to hold you up. The mention of the man that's been combing your subconscious, your consciousness, your dreams, your fucking nightmares and your nerves, automatically hatches a slash through any calm serenity you've previously picked up. Everyone here has been obsessed or occupied with thoughts of and about this cooperative man. He claims salvation by test, paradise promised by sanctuary. While others are starved for stars, your last hopes are seeing their final hours.

There's no way someone is just going to come here, make this much of an impact, promise such things, then use hideous humiliation to gain a dangerous upper-hand without a flaming hellfire catch. It doesn't help you that in your previous life you were too scared to start drama when McDonalds messed up your order. Forget keeping your calm around Langdon, especially in your interviews. You feel stupid, guilty you even let yourself ease off knowing he's still very much present. Gallant has these looks he shares with Langdon, ones that baffle you, irritate you, worry you.

Guess he's handsome's favorite. Like you have a chance no matter what orientation Langdon is.

"Chains, leather, lots of fucking leather." Gallant damn near moans himself into the floor, snapping your reverie, your ears rearing back zone impact into their conversation.

In this moment you want to simply blend in with these people for the sake of solitude. Despite your weariness to whisper Langdon's name, let alone what you're about to say, you can't help a hot excitement prickling your flesh. "Like maybe a sex swing he hangs from like Tarzan?"

Coco looks more intrigued than you've ever seen her, Gallant is sliding his tongue over his lips more than necessary. Yep, you've succeeded in getting your naughty point across.

"Gray girl has a nasty ass mind. Gotta say that I'm impressed I wasn't the only one besides Gallant, looking at his dick. What you can see of it through that designer coat. I bet he has a studio of things back at the sanctuary. I can't wait for him to take me there." She babbles on, back resting into the plush couch, coasting on her own fantasy.

~*~

You didn't say goodnight to either elite after your little sexy pillow talk and wishes session. Gallant escorted Coco off to her room, the two of them gossiping about sex swings and fresh air, as you tried to lug your large mop bucket up the winding staircase. The heat from the candles is dizzying, your vision blotching out around your thirsting lips. You'd kill Venable for a drink of water right now but you're already behind. Thanking your newly acquired upper arm strength, you heave the heavy tin onto the landing, safely tucked away for you to start your last night time task.

By the time you've scrambled back down to pick up your propped mop, an electricity seems to charge the air, candles swaying without breeze. You know he's here before you actually know. Your body bows in his direction like a violent tornadic spin-up, your dingy boot paused cautiously on the final top step, your fingernails biting into the wood of the mop handle. Langdon is doing what he does best : observing you like a wild beast, something even predators are afraid to speak of. You don't tell yourself to calm down, you know it's ill advised and won't work with him.

"Working late tonight?" He pesters, Cheshire smirk pressing his beautiful features, though his eyes this playful mood does not reach.  

You shut off your brain that's screaming alarms at you head on fractured, blurting out whatever you come up with.

"I am, Sir. Which is my fault. I got caught up, I was -"

"Talking to Billy Idol?" He cuts you off, your jaw snapping shut.

"Billy Idol?...." You give yourself a second to leap the reference, shaking your head. So Langdon is pop cultured.

"I was talking to him, yes. And trying to finish my work. I didn't know if he or Miss Coco would require my services, so I stayed around the area."

You think you're coming out strong, halfway truthful but you believe in your words, your grip loosening slightly. That strength is shattered within moments. It's as if you can taste fire on the air, its nasty breath singing your neck. You rear back to see Langdon's polished boot kick your tin bucket to the front of the stairs and over, sending it crashing to its side, soapy water drenching your skirts and flooding the stairwell. There's a red hot heat to match your fearful shock, French kissing your disgusting embarrassment, rolling right into the sheets with your unbalanced temper.

You catch your upper lip wobbling, much to Langdon's unguarded pleasure. He sloshes his shoe to splash some water up at you, laughing, like he got what he wanted in some sick form of vengeance. You didn't think he noticed, nor cared enough to try to upset you this way. Guess that's not how things truly work with him. Your silence halts his laughter, forcing your curiosity to face him.

He's watching you watch him, but this time it's as if you're on equal footing. You're seeing through one another. He tilts his head, his hair casting brief shadows across his sharp face. He's fucking undeniably breath taking. You're trembling, he's recharging, no, he's surging on your emotions.

"Maybe you'd like to have Mr. Gallant assist you? Somehow though, I don't think he'd be pleased with this line of work, nor your presence in this state. Which is why it's difficult to understand why he puts himself in your pathway when he's walking on marble and you're the mud stained earth."

"I-" You suddenly fight for the air Langdon is invisibly holding vice, hostage max.

"Though if you promised to fill his hole with Venable's cane, then hold him after, maybe he'd indulge you."

There's a spark he recognizes with astonishment, not blocking, not surprised to get you, but for the first time powerless to bewilderment. You aren't thinking, you're feeling. Feeling your way through every damned patch of thorns, of bullshit, using your hands to battle your way. Your palm connects with a warm, muscular-bone shaped flesh, fingertips brushing slight into plump, soft lips. The echo your hit on Langdon causes is haunting, an eerie flush dusting across your skin.

You would swear on everyone's lives here that you saw nothing human in his eyes moments after he gets his bearings. Your pride is short lived, arm suddenly branded by his painful grip, hot like an iron, banishing your bones to dust, muscles twisting in being drug to his room, his office, whatever it is. Your body is seemingly everywhere at once, the room flying violently past your vision. Your legs crumble at the same time your back collides-tailbone first into the heavy double doors, locks sounding, making you itch. Langdon is tossing you by your wrist into his desk, your hip jutting into its sharp edge.

Scrambling back you decide it's fight or flight. He's already circling you, unyielding, so you need to do this. Propelling backwards behind his chair you reach for something glass, a stupid paper weight, holding it tightly. "I'll smash your fucking skull into your brains, Langdon, and I don't care what will happen to me after. It'll be worth it to see you die if you fucking touch me!"

You don't want him to meet death's door, though, you are startling to realize you've felt this way since you laid eyes on him, and that sets off a powerful lurch in your step, paperweight slipping, forgotten, rolling around his approaching feet. You let him grab you, let him seal your fate, permission all granted. If someone is going to die then it will be you, you just can't hurt him. He grips your apron strap, your book clattering in a thump, and then you're one with the cold floor below you, inches from the confines of the area rug. When he straddles you, you forget how to breathe, choking.

Bowing up, then down again, your arms fold to your sides, body holding. Langdon descends above you like an angel forged out of dark, enriching blood, whispering things like wings to his shadow, his coat black feathers you hunger to stroke. His leather clad legs have you caged in, his chest eases atop yours, his hair cascading a private curtain to enclose you in fate. His nose nudges yours, not giving in, changed, in synch with this newly slow dance tempo. You're gliding, gliding somewhere where only you two can walk on the dance floor, where the music exists solely for your ears.

This is more terrifying than you had felt before with him. Suddenly you're unsure of anything you've ever done in your entire life, questioning every waking decision. Hitting him is all you can be proud of, because it led to this. And this.... this scares you, being moved by violence towards a dangerous soul, it binds you. Langdon's ring clad finger strokes down your chin, across your jaw, up to your cheekbone to smear around dried tears of humiliation that you never knew you had cried.

He's got a red patch wound across his mouth from your imprint, an urge to lick at the skin, taste your hot hit on him tempting enough you feel your pelvis jolt off the floor, directly colliding with his.

You shiver into motions you can't control, gasping on cans of air that reach Langdon's lips. He tastes them, drawing his fingers back down the path they came, working to cup your breast through your apron and your overshirt. If you thought his presence fucked your nervous system up, then you know you're going to hell in a handbasket now. But you don't have time to question it, no. Langdon easily brings you up onto your shaky footing, holding you around your waist, fingertips skimming your breast, whilst he lets his other hand grip your tightly worn and issued twist at the top of your head, pulling until it releases your hair.

You sigh into a pregnant tremble, your head lighter, everything spinning, spinning to stillness. For an unusual amount of moments Langdon is quiet, observant in concern, defeating his voices to silence. He won't hurt you, not really. He can't.

The fact that that wasn't what actually upset him stirred his demon, spoke to his soul. You were guarded around him, shielding yourself by sheer emotion. No magics, no seduction, no wit. You didn't want him to see, but you let that idiot Gallant inside. The one that was so desperate for love Langdon was honest to Satan scared he'd try to find something with you.

Physical or not, he couldn't bare it.

"Why did you do this? I don't understand what happened," You whisper gently, seeking.

"You're an obstacle I did not expect to find here, nor do I want you. Gallant is a fucking problem. I should end you both, drive a fucking stake through your hearts as you're embracing. What a sweet little death for two insatiable romantics." And he's mocking you again, only this is tipping over into the bottom of the ocean cruel.

You scoot from his grip, appalled at what he's implying. Is the male ego that thick? Even now?

"Then you're not who you claim to be, because if you were, you'd know that Mr. Gallant would carry you over this buildings' threshold, ride off in your god forsaken carriage with you and leave us here to fry feed the cannibals." You finish, ignoring the sting in your eyes at him stating clearly what you already know.

He doesn't want you. But you shouldn't care beyond lust and competing for affections, having him when no one else does, that should be all you want. Not hurt that runs so damn deep you want to carve your heart out and demand he step on it, finish you. What's this otherworldly reason for wanting someone you don't even know, a sociopathic egomaniac - to love you? If love were to catch you, wrap itself around you like poison-why is it running so ahead of you that an abyss can't even capture its rapture, with a.... a man like this?

Langdon can read you so well again, continuing his monologue, spoken tongue to mouth, yours.

"Given the right environment, deprivation of human contact until the body cries out for something, any-fucking-thing, emotional stimulation, anyone can become more than they should, or ever knew that they could be together, Y/N." His voice is speaking to you, not down on you. And he's moving closer again, forward.

You don't know anything but this man on this earth. Who is everyone? Who the fuck are you? You just want to be in him, he in you. Together. No separation. You don't fight Langdon's touch, his forehead softly propping against yours. "I want every single part of you that you cling to, so I can shatter you, then put you back together. I want you to let me in the way you let him in."

Fucking breathe, don't forget that. No, you can't use Langdon's air. Not yet.

"I may not want you, but I need you. I shouldn't, but I ache for you. And I've eaten, but I could ravish you until there is nothing left but what I desire to be." He's crowning your chin in a gentle touch, feather-like, almost as if you can share the drumming pulse right from his fingertips through you. He too is a little more shaky, something you are too slack-jawed to comprehend.

It settles like snowfall, quiet enough for live clouds to form above your heads. Langdon guides your cold and sweaty palm to wipe off on his shirt, taking note to your nerves, not entirely objecting. He still likes you squirming. You're swung by a force so inhuman, you believe it has prayed over you in hisses, forever winding into your skin. There's no turning back, but you knew that from the moment he got here.

You're moving, like ghosts, fast paced, not quick enough. There's orange and yellow blurs pattering across your vision in fuzzy shapes, candlelight. This place is leaving you flabbergasted. It's like any other room but it's his. His sanctuary.

Your body is laid back across some sheets, stretched out like an art exhibit on the mend, striving for greatness. Langdon's coat is off, his scarf following, drifting into the chair you were unaware is here. You don't know exactly what you should do, your animalistic instincts trying to snap their violent jaws through leashes of your thinly held self-control. There's a wisp that snaps an air so warm you bite into your cheek, fisting the covers beside you, head lolling to the side, a moan vibrating throughout your entire body. You arch to it like a willing prisoner on the verge of her freedom.

What are you doing to me?  You don't voice it, all stomping surround sound guides it. You sense cosmic connection, fucking space extended, mother nature pumping your blood. You wither around like a fish on dry land, thirsting for a stream of whatever Langdon offers you. Maybe you can hear music, anything you wish.

Are you dreaming? Did you fall on those stairs? What is this?

"Don't restrain it, don't hold back, don't let the human reservations consume what your body wants. I can smell you," Langdon breathes, giving you his supply, knees pressing into his bed. "How openly ripe your heart is, how I want it bared to me, unguarded, the way Mr. Gallant takes you to try and make his pathetic existence matter."

"I'm not, I'm just," Fuck, it's like he's controlling the weather in here, executing your every attempt at a clear breath. " We talk, that is it, Sir. I'm just here to be whatever it is they deem me-"

"Bullshit!" Langdon roars, arms wildly flailing out, posture still staying perched nearer to your knees. "You're spouting a previously written verse. How dare you think you can lie to me, even now? Even after you struck me and I never slit your weak, little throat?"

His temper doesn't level quickly, not like you're used to seeing if he's irritated. The changing movement coaxes you to be bold once more, tears nearing your lash line, shame dripping past your slick thighs. "If you know I'm so weak then why are you getting off on trying to keep proving I am, Langdon? That seems below you, doesn't it? Like me, like I am to Gallant outside these walls. Hell, in them if he could have a shot at something more, a shot at you."

His brow raises, chest shapes his ribs visible beneath his black undershirt at your usage of his last name. He notices your acidic hiss as you spit out the last part of your sentence, zeroing in on him. It's clear. So you dislike your friend's adoration, yearning for him? So many complicated layers between human beings.

He wasn't aware he clouds his own knowledge. This further proves that you're unhinging him to a sway he can't fathom. A sturdy hand filters above, up, to lay beside your knee, your body still locked in place. "You envy one another in ways, then you act as if you care for each other, despite everyone here thinking you belong outside, or that you should be licking the very floors they fantasize were built for them."

"It's not that way all the time. Better than nothing, knowing him more than they do," You softly respond.

"And this is why you continue to let him in? Because his presence feels good enough to make you forget the loneliness?" Langdon questions, seemingly so very interesting now he's tilting his head, making his hair fall over his eyes. You want to object to those beautiful things being covered, but you remain mum. He's got it and he lets it click.

"We share the most degrading human emotion," says Langdon, this time dropping a knee to your right, lifting himself above you slowly.

"Is that the answer to why you're interested in me and Gallant, Sir?" You rasp, wanting to scoot away, brain warning you, everything else unraveling fast.

"Michael." Another knee that presses, bringing him atop you like your dark angel. For a moment you think he knows Gallant's first name, then it sweeps you into a magnetic design, your thighs hitting his kneecaps.

"Use my name however you see fit, Y/N. Let me break this lonesome disposition inside you. Give it all to me, not to a worthless attention seeking man. I don't care what he wants, I don't care if he doesn't pine for what's between your legs. He'll overtake you before either of you know it."

"He's doesn't want me like that," You stutter. "You're mad because I won't fold into you like the rest?"

"You won't let anyone in but him, when I should be already inside you." Michael confirms, as if this is so obvious a rat could figure it out.

"So just your ego. To conquer. Okay then, I'm out." Your body does start to move this time, salty tears spilling, bypassing your wishes, before Michael completely wipes himself from your space. You have to blink a few times to make sure you can still see him, far away, like he can move without even walking. He's not close enough, you want to hit him, take him, taste him, give all he wants even if you're terrified. How can he mess with you like this? It must be in this air, polluting, veiling.

"We share jealousy, you and I. But together we can cure it, rid ourselves of unsatisfaction." His back is firm against the heavy wooden door, candlelight curving out every space you can see from your placing. "If you let me in, let me be the one to break those walls down and build mine around you."

"Michael, please.... Just." You choke on your stretching gasp, a fist to your throat, arm holding across your lungs. What more can you say? He wants you to stop being guarded, stop letting what little you let out with someone that isn't him. Some man that reeks power, god-like, is chewing on his lip, wetting it, unbuttoning his shirt to smooth his fingers across his glowing flesh, what he lets you see of it.

"Open your fucking legs." Michael barks out, striding quickly, meeting in front of you.

A searing heat releases your leashes, uncaring. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to draw blood, needing to taste something soon. You throb even more than you have been, tumbling, spinning, stumbling into Michael Langdon. Doubt is trying to wave itself in there, more warnings. Michael cuts them away, peeling back his shirt without eye contact faltering, muscles in his neck moving.

"You could have anyone here. This is too easy. There's better people for you." You try one more time. Denying yourself, this is insanity at its finest.

"I don't want anyone else this way, I never really have had the use for it beyond release. These morons here, they don't count for that kind of time. I want this endeavor to be...worth it." The fabric of his shirt drops at his booted feet, his entire chest expanded to your line of sight. He's taut, not overly so. Skin slightly tanned, creamy to blend. His muscles are strong, but they're not overpowering, no, that is elsewhere.

He radiates everything your mother warned you wasn't good, but you can't let this be wrong when it feels so fucking right. You attempt for your final-failed try.

"I can't please you, you're judging me as if I'm some key you've finally gotten. I'll disappoint you, Michael, I will." You berate yourself in shameful truth, already petrified of shedding your clothing, your skin, warped against his hard body, all the while you're pussy is growing more damp, threatening more tears if it's not attended to.

He gives a sigh so loud it could be a beasts' rumble. It lets him give his body to you, pressing over you, so hot you're sharing his heartbeat, breasts straining to be freed, to feel his delicious skin that houses whatever he is. He dips, rolls his hips like a snake dancing for its helpless prey, knees working against you, pelvis thrusting in tilting circles. Your apron, your skirt goes up your body, over your knees, his leather covered legs nudging it, commanding it around your hipbones. His knuckle moves so fast that it's not until you hear fabric rip, a shining glint off his ring that vanishes between your thighs, its sharp body slicing the fabric of your stockings apart down the middle, leaving a gateway to your panties, closer to you.

He's not talking, he's performing. His ringed finger circles your navel, brushes back and forth across your abdomen, spelling, shaping, mapping the elastic of your underwear, causing you to shake away, not getting anywhere. It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. Just him testing you, stroking, getting your body slick with perspiration that sparkles like jewels in the rooms' lighting. And when you think he's done talking for tonight, planning to take, he startles your glazed over gaze at his working fingers - that pause on you.

"I'm not judging you by your cunt," Michael unravels on a long brush with a deep breath, inhaling you at the same instance he cups you warm, firm, fingers slipping between your sticky folds, kept covered by your sopping cotton panties. "Although, if I were.... yours would be filled with my cock, womb drowning in my seed. And that's something I'm not willing to give to just anyone, Y/N."

This time you do get closer to him on your own accord, hands finding purchase by nails biting painfully into your palms, pumping to push against his chest. He hums, a genuine grin pleasuring his features. Easing, you're sharing a way into you, he's finding you, you're coming together. He's denying you now that he sees you want it, teasing you, however. You bite off painful insults, he's chuckling, swiping a finger in circles, pushing down so hard you cry out.

Michael is saying something that you try to wake up for in your swollen state. He's showing you his damp finger, commenting how your juices coated him through a layer of fabric. You're halted, stamped to his watchful eye, the pop of his finger sucking your taste off. "You want to touch me more than you want my fingers to spread you apart, don't you?"

You're whimpering, nodding yes, trying to keep a hold of being here, but you're slipping, losing yourself in him, damn near begging.

"Don't hold back. Tell me what you want and then we'll take it, Y/N, together."

"Break me down and be with me, Michael." You find yourself answering immediately, right away, throwing yourself off this precipice.

Hefty arms draw around you and they drag you close, hands working to free you of your apron, buttons ripping, scraps, meaningless clothing everywhere. You need to get back to what Adam and Eve were. Bared, nature covering them barely, concealing enough to birth their story. You and Michael. You want nothing to stand between you two.

Concept of time isn't meaning anything anymore, it's rare and stops for you. Your clothing piles beside the bed, Michael's boots thump to hardwood, your hearing swerving in and out, sensitive to each sound you hear past your roaring heartbeat churning blood through your ears. You engulf tightly, parting your legs further like he called for, heels of your feet pressing into the backs of his strongly moving knees. Your hands are shoving themselves to the button on his pants, impatient, maniacal. He can't stop to assist you, too caught in pressing his lips to your collar bone, leveling a reward to your breasts in stride.

Firm planes of muscular structure drag across your nipples that harden with temperature, the promise of temptation full-filled. You have his zipper down by the time he's taking a neglected peak into his mouth, a gasp thrust into the air from you. His hair trickles across your chest, soft and sweeping. You maneuver a scoop into each side of his leather, noting he's simply wearing thin boxer briefs that cling to him like a wet t-shirt would. It lights you like no other.

Desperation doesn't cover what possesses you in this instance, so close to having this, taking this with him. Exerting yourself to extract this specimen form his too tight for any one person - bottoms, causes you to grit your teeth to challenge. Michael sucks, kisses, prods his tongue at your nipple, paddling the pumping throb your cunt is beating into you. A willing dance partner you sway in his steps, swallowed by his shadow, his solid golden fresh skin glued to your heaving body. You want to cry wantonly that you're coming, yet Michael hasn't touched you enough for it to peak.

Then again.... he doesn't need to, he.... he just. Can. You can't explain how the wheels in your head are turning as your bodies meet over and repeat. You're spinning in suspense, hung out to float, cunt clenching around nothing, recognizing him already, as if its been made to house him. Patting yourself on the back is what you want to do, a giggle tossing over your bare shoulder, Michael's pearly whites grinning into your skin.

You've gotten his leather pants down below his ass, eager fingers measuring bravely. It's there, it's thick, silk with slick, straining deliciously that you're salivating, not shy like you'd pictured you be in all your fantasies. Drawing your nails like claws protruded, your rake them down his shoulder blades which work to hold him up, streaming his back, resting purchase on his ass, then you give it your all, both of you swirled into a gusting gasp. Your sense of smell is stronger, alive, heady to the copper you know you've set free tearing into Michael's skin. It pleases you.

This King reigns in his self-control, eyes damn near black, blowing out all that icy blue. His lips red and wet, inviting you to taste your own salty sweat off his mouth. A kiss, an offering. You launch at it, granting yourself permission to tangle your fingers into his air, wrapping around your wrists, yanking in your fist. Each movement you make glides his heavy cock through your slit, rudely scattering what is overflowing from your pussy.

He's getting huffy, you're abruptly impatient.  Michael finally frees back, lingering his look on you, fighting for his own oxygen. He's flushed, soaked, needing. And it's you whose to give it to him. You're to surrender.

It's what this whole thing was about. Letting him in.

Dropping your legs from around his lower waist, you watch him, unsteady breaths trampling your chest cavity into pathetic particles, then you slosh two fingers in voyage all across your dripping sex. Your thighs shake, knees struggle to frame this. His eyes are nearly growing impossibly black, almost hollowing him out. If it hurts then oh well, but you can't keep going on like this. You have to have him before the next second passes.

"Come here," You whisper, using your hands to separate your folds for him.

Alight, mischievous with a given gift, Michael takes his cock through your lips and gives no formal warning. Only foul, filthy, fitting, and desirable.

"You're going to let me push my cock into you now, aren't you? Fuck you until I'm emptying myself inside you, hiding." He dribbles to his knees, holding you by your thighs, keeping you shown. "Do you want me to hurt you? I can make it hurt, oh how I can make it hurt." He's dropping by your ear in a bend, lips letting you in on this choice.

"Michael just take it all, you can have it all. It's yours, it's been waiting for you," You belt out, whimpering like a frightened animal, spooking Michael into a fast thrust.

It's brutal, it stretches you beyond your means, bouncing your body up the bed. Those razor claws sink to Michael's wrists, your ass trying to meet his experimental rhythm, fast and punishing. You can hear everything full blast again, like a roaring train louder than the bombs were, the destruction, the night noises, the loneliness. Michael walks his fingers down your ankle and drags your leg over his shoulder.

You turn to press your face into the bedsheets beside you, a searing pain locking your muscles around him so hard you can feel your sticky wetness seep out from around where you're joined. He strikes a hand out and forcefully cups your chin in his hand, moving up and down in front of you, like he's gliding. Your mouth is shaped to form an O, not able to look away, pinpoint.

"I want you to look down and watch me fuck your selfish, greedy cunt." Is Michael's demand, wrought out iron to steal and every other damned thing you can think of that holds structure.

Who are you to refuse? Intrigued, ride hitched, you hang onto him, dash into his painful thrusts and moan loud enough to wake whatever is left of the world's population. You're swollen around him, your thick and creamy arousal pooling all over the sheets, noisily mashing at his cock, against his balls with each slam they make against your ass.

"That's it, Y/N. Let me in, let me deep inside. I'll never leave you."

"Michael, fuck, more, let me kiss you."

He surprises you both by answering without pause, biting into your plump lip, licking his tongue into your mouth, letting his lips workout the breaths he tries to inhale -into your shared airspace. You release his wrists, moon marks a bracelet of markings to him. He nuzzles your breast, hips slamming into the bed just as you grab his neck's nape, cradling. And then it happens faster than either of you knew you needed it to. He gives a little more into you, focused, discovering.

Piles of debris could've fallen on you both, unbeknownst to you. Michael barely grazes your clit on an upstroke that hits a slick spot you didn't know exists, sending your cunt to sheathe him tightly, your warmth milking his cock, raining down on him that he curls into you, crying out. You're overheated all too much, shivering, panting, an explosive shake clasping your pussy, pulling until you're boneless,  Michael's body lax to keep atop you. You feel like your ears are hearing static. Only white noise and Michael Langdon.

It's a deep-set fascination watching his cum spill back down your thighs, white and hot. You lick your lips, already starving for so much more. It's there, it has to be. Michael doesn't put himself away yet, instead hums looking over you, settling in front of you on his knees. He's gotten the key and this door is sealed behind you both.

[angrylizardjacket]

time’s arrow {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Hi, I love your roger/ben imagines so much and was wondering if you could do some angst with Roger x female, maybe they are good friends and she sees him with another. Whatever you would like! Thank you x :)

A/N: 2727 words. A story told through Seasons. I took a little bit of liberties with the prompt, if that’s okay? This hit me like a lightning bolt and I had to write it. Angst with a happy ending. (I’m just trying to show I’ve got versatility in writing, okay?)

Warnings: Implied sex.

You meet him in Spring, before it all begins, he sits up the back of your Intro to Head and Neck Anatomy lectures, the only class with open spots available by the time you were looking for a science credit. You find out he’s in a band three weeks into the first class, finally going to the local bar, sick of cramming your brain full of information you’re not even sure is necessary for your degree. He grins at you and wow okay, you didn’t even think he’d recognise you.

“You’re in, um,” he’s leaning against the bar next to you in this dimly lit pub, grabbing a drink between sets. Faltering for a moment, his eyes travel down before you clear your throat, angry at yourself for blushing, but his smile widens, “my class.” He finishes, taking a sip of his beer. You agree, rolling your eyes at him, but even that seems to amuse him. He asks your name. The guitarist is calling him over, setting up for the next set, but you tell him before he leaves. Something tightens in your chest when, later that night, he catches your eyes mid-song, his look of intense focus shifting for a moment as he grins, giving you a wink.

He takes to sitting next to you in lectures, chewing the end of his pencil and taking occasional notes in a falling apart notebook that looks as though he uses it for every class. You catch lyrics in the margins and at the bottom of some pages, but he’s cagey about that in a strange way, just says you’ll have to come to a gig to find out what they’re about. So you do.

Gigs become a regular for you, and you start to become friends with the girls who frequent the shows, often hosting predrinks in your dorm room for Mary and her friends on a Friday night. You learn on one of those nights that at least two of the girls have hooked up with him, and there’s a strange, sinking sensation in your chest. You’re not sad, or at least, you tell yourself you shouldn’t be. You and Roger are just friends, it’s not like there’s anything going on there, sure, sometimes after a really good show he’ll give you a pash, but it’s- that’s just him. 

It’s not like you’ve never thought about it, but you also know his reputation, and that it’ll do more harm than good to get involved with that. He’s the one mistake you don’t think you want to make.

It’s Summer, a few years later, when they trade in the van to get money to hire the recording studio. Roger had really loved that van, and he lay on your sofa for a solid hour grumbling about it, about how Freddie had some kind of nerve. You roll your eyes at him, call him a drama queen, which he takes offence to, but moves obligingly when you sit down, letting him rest his head in your lap.

When you raise the point that it might be worth it, he looks frankly aghast, griping about how he has to catch lifts everywhere now. He calms down somewhat when you start carding your fingers through his hair, though he still pouts.

“If it comes to it, I’ll buy you a car, you baby.” You snort, despite the fact that you’re currently barely making a living wage on some retail job, it’s not where you’d thought you’d be after university, but sometimes that’s just how it is. He looks up at you, and when you look down at him, he’s looking very intense. Perhaps he might say something poignant about your offer, you think, but instead he reaches up and pokes your nose.

“I can see up your nostrils.” He tells you, and you smack his hand away, scowling. You stand abruptly, ignoring his complaints, smoothing your pants out against your thighs.

“Come on,” you offer your hand, which he regards with both confusion and a bit of disdain, “you can’t mope around my apartment and complain about the band again. We’re going out.” That gets his interest.

You’ve been to bars with him before, and usually you go home alone while he gets the pick of the prettiest girls of the night, or he decides to wingman you, which hurts your heart a little, but you won’t decline. You were attractive in your own right, you won’t deny that, you didn’t technically need his help, but a selfish part of you likes the way the attention to you, even if it’s to help you get with other people.

Tonight is different, tonight he doesn’t leave your side, he slings an arm around you as the two of you stand by the bar watching the truly mediocre band they had on that night. 

“You know why they aren’t recording an album?” You ask as the set ends.

“Because they didn’t sell their van?” Roger mused, vaguely bitter, but not melancholy as he swirled the last of his drink in his free hand.

“No, it’s because they’re terrible.” Turning, you smile at your own blunt remark, and when he looks back at you, he’s grinning with a little disbelief. There’s very little space between the two of you, but that doesn’t make your heart race anymore, he’s your best friend, close contact was part of the bargain. But he kissed you, quickly, without warning, and when he pulls back, he turns away to order another drink like nothing had happened.

Your mind is spiralling, this isn’t post-gig excitement, this wasn’t something you were expecting. The selfish creature in your chest that you tried to deny for so long was crowing with victory. Taking a quick look around the bar, you don’t recognise anyone, though there are a few girls who look like they’d be his type- but his hand is moving to wrap around your waist as he turns back.

“What was that?” Voice quiet, you take his drink and have a sip of it yourself, the movement done from muscle memory alone. He raises his eyebrows at you, not regarding the drink, that was a usual occurrence, but at the question. He doesn’t seem to know how to answer, baffled at the question. Dropping you gaze, you take a sip of your own drink. “Why me? Why tonight?” You asked. Looking incredulous, he stepped back, looking you over.

“Have you seen yourself tonight, love? Couldn’t help myself.” You’ve heard him talk like this before, to other girls, not as blunt, but with you he can get away with it. The creature in your chest is elated, and you find yourself smiling, actually blushing. He moves closer once more, his arm around you, voice low as he spoke into your ear. “Trust me, you look very fit tonight, any man would be lucky to have a crack at you.” Heart in your throat, you hope you’re reading the situation right, at the same time ignoring the part of you that knew this was a bad idea.

“Even you?” You turned to face him, watching the way his smile shifted to a smirk, and he pulled you a little closer.

“You know I’m always feeling lucky.” 

You kiss him, feeling your blood thumping in your veins, selfish and excited in equal measure, but with his hands on you, you can’t find the focus to care about the former. 

Once the bad starts up again, Roger pulls away, making a face at them, asking if you wanted to get out of there. You do, and the two of you are elated on the quick walk back to his apartment, stopping only when he pressed you up against the wall of an closed shop to suck a hickey into the skin of your neck. You catch sight of it in his bedroom mirror, but he’s pulling off your jacket and you have better things to worry about.

It’s not weird, like you thought it would be, when you wake the next morning and he’s curled up, fast asleep with his back to you, but your chest aches just a little. He avoids eye contact over breakfast, though you chat like normal. The gripes about his van have died down, though he makes an offhand comment about things are changing that you read enough into to realise what had happened.

“You’ll always have me, Rog.” You reach across the table to take his hand, and he finally looks you in the eye, he looks so relieved, not that he’d ever say it. Afraid of losing another thing he cared about, he had panicked last night and tried to keep you close in the only way he knew how. He certainly loved you, but not in the way you wanted him to. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not his fault.

Bohemian Rhapsody airs in Autumn, you’re regional manager now, and you’re sitting in your office when you hear for the first time; you almost scream when the first harmony comes in after the radio host introduces the song.

“You’re a star, Rog!” You gush over the phone on your break, unable to wait until that night when the band was having a celebratory get-together to talk to him.

“Of course, I am, you think I sing that high to be paid in peanuts?” You can hear the smile in his words without even seeing him, and being able to hear his voice warms your heart.

“That was you?” You laugh, the ‘Galileo's playing back in your head, and you try to picture him singing it, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oi,” he bristled, indignant at your laughter, “I’m the only one with the range to execute Freddie’s vision.” You could see him in your mind now, proud and stubborn, standing tall to defend the decision.

“I’m proud of you.” Suddenly sincere, you find your smile turning to something more genuine as you think back on far he’s come.

“Thank you.” His own voice has become less animated, more sincere, though you can still hear him smiling.

“Love you, Rog.” You tell him, just as you always did when you parted ways.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

He’s grinning, draped with casual confidence in an armchair in Freddie’s living room when you arrive, and you feel like you’ve been taken back five years, the casual enthusiasm he’s exerting. Smile brightening, he stands when he sees you, striding across the room to enfold you in a hug.

“Good to see you!” He practically beams at you, holding your shoulders as he looks over you, as if assessing you, seeing if anything has changed.

“Of course, you’ve been holed up for weeks, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Though he’s in front of you, you’re words address the room as a whole, and when he steps back, Brian moves in to hug you as well, asking how you’ve been.

The boys are your friends, all of them, you’ve been around for most of their big band moments, and it eases something in your chest to be here for this one too. But then the ease sharply tightens as a woman you’ve never seen before sits on the arm of Roger’s chair, and he rests a hand on her thigh, smiling up at her.

Mary follows your gaze, and her smile is sad as she pulls you down to sit beside her, asking you about your thoughts on the single. You answer, though your heart’s not in it, and the selfish creature in your chest rears it’s ugly head after such a long slumber. 

The monster has shifted, changed and grown, it hadn’t cared about him running around with any pretty girl he could find for the past few years, but this was different. Roger had made it clear that he was far from sacred, but this was the band, this was Freddie’s home, this was the place of some of your happiest memories; this was yours. 

You stay well into the early hours of the following morning, despite the interloper, but Roger still stopped you at the door.

“I’m really glad you could make it, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He’s smiling at you, but you don’t smile back. It’s been a long night of being kind and pretending that you’re heart didn’t hurt.

“Well, you’ve very busy.” You shrug, punctuating it with a yawn. His expression turns confused, and you open the door.

“Y/N.” He tried to get your attention, but you left, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder to him. “Love you.” He calls through the door, but you stay quiet, refuse to say it back, just keep walking. You’re too tired to be upset, but maybe you’ll get there tomorrow.

Things change, and you’ve grown to accept that, but sometimes old aches don’t heal like they should. Or at all.

“I’m getting married.” He calls you at the end of Winter.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” 

Your relationship’s been on the mend in the years since the Bohemian Rhapsody launch night. You two smile and laugh like you had when you were younger, and you’ve learned to listen to his exploits and his gripes about women, offering your own about your partners, though they’re few and far between. He’s still your best friend, and you learn to act like it. 

“Congratulations.” Your voice is flat. It had been a shock, you’d heard about his latest on-again off-again girlfriend, and had even offered advice in certain situations, actual advice, no malice at all.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t seem to know where to go from here, and silence stretches out between the two of you.

“I should go.” You finally murmur.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, and you sighed deeply.

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against the wall.

“I- no, but I want you to be there.” He paused. “And I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Clenching your jaw, you make a snap decision.

“I can’t-”

“Why not?” He actually sounded angry, which was perhaps warranted, though your next words shut him up.

“Because it hurts, Roger.” After a beat, your voice is quiet. “Because I love you.” Taking a breath, you let yourself relax. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t watch you marry someone else.” There’s silence for a very long moment, but you hang up before he can respond. You take the phone off the hook. You need to be alone, just for now.

“After everything, you still-?” It’s the first day of Spring, and he’s on your doorstep, seemingly unable to say the word love. You’re wearing your pyjamas and he looks like he’s just walked out of a Rolling Stone cover shoot, though he just sort of looks like that now, you supposed.

“Don’t worry about it.” You try not to betray how much his visit shocked you, or the way his very presence after your recent conversation hurt you.

“You’re my best friend! Of course I’m gonna worry about it!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward. “I thought I fucked everything up when we hooked up, I’m sorry, I panicked.” He was looking at his fidgeting hands, rather than your surprised expression. “And then... I thought I fucked it up again when I chose the band over you.”

“You never-” You tried to protest, but he smiled self-deprecatingly.

“No, I did. I loved you, and I thought that would get in the way of the band.” Clenching his jaw, he looked up and you could see the regret in his eyes. “It was easier to fuck around that tell you I love you.” Your breath stopped in your throat as he finally walked closer. “And I thought after everything, that you deserved better; you know what I’m like, why would you-?” But you cut him off with a kiss.

“You’ll always have me.” You murmured, finally letting yourself smile. Nothing about it felt selfish, in fact, it felt as though the sun was finally shining on you, warming you from the inside out.

“I know,” he agreed quietly, wrapping you up in a hug.