#took me way longer than it should have to read the river scene because i was so fucking confused

[sunshinem0ths]

trying to read harrow the ninth after spending the whole first book in the head of a jock who actively tuned out exposition and made "that's what she said" jokes

[zorilleerrant]

Hmm. I'm going to sort mine.

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

really bad pun

“Song title (and the rest of the song title)”

A singular word that you don’t recognize, then the definition is the summary

Movie reference Non-musical media reference

Clever double-layer meaning

Help I’ve never titled anything in my life I don’t know what this is I just want it to be out of my hands and posted neither you nor I will ever be pleased with this

I currently have 115 fics on Ao3. Using the above criteria, I’ve determined by own naming predilections.

1: Fifteen. Named for what it says on the tin, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with it, or because naming it the obvious thing is just what makes sense.

(The Hogwarts Gender Union; A Cure For Ohan; Pineapple Pizza; Third Sister; Captain Marvel's Day at the Beach; Are You. You Know. Adopted?; 5 times Marcus hated superheroes and 1 time he didn't; A dog might have got blipped! NOT CLICKBAIT; Harry Potter in: The Batfam Goes To Therapy; Another Loki; Truth or Dare; Heir of Slytherin; Seventh Son; The Yule Ball; Conversations Between a Father and Son)

2: Twenty-two. This makes sense because this is what I think of as a 'normal' title and tend to aim for.

(Growth Like A Nurtured Vine; Providing for the Future; In Every Reading Room; Keep The Hearthfires Burning; The Platitude Against The Wall; A Place To Rest Your Head; To Honor A Debt; What We Learn In Chinese School; In The Mythic Tradition; Half Gay/Half Straight; Even A Broken Clock; On Loan from the Wayne Family Collection; This Changes Nothing; Just a Perfectly Normal Rabbit; Five Degrees West; Narcissus at the River's Edge; Educational Overnight; Everybody Makes Mistakes; Forever Home; Small Town Mentality; Best Hadron Collider; Father of the Year)

3: Seven. Way more than I thought, honestly. I use lyrics when I'm struggling to title because it's in the genre tradition.

(but my dreams they aren't as empty; They Call Me Her; I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon; it's a love story baby just say yes; Good Girls Stay Alive; You're gonna go far, kid; Love Will Tear Us Apart)

4: Zero. The longer a title gets the more antsy it makes me, so I tend to avoid long titles.

5: Seventeen. I used to use these a lot to get easy titles, but then I realized I had no idea what fic that was when it got a kudos, so now I only use a single word if it's unique enough that I can remember why I'd name something that.

(Faildeadly; Anabasis; Y-incision; Proprioception; Change!; Anathema; Terrible; Protest; Marathon; Frieda; Worry; Answers; Parabatai; Courage; Besties; Ferret; Babyproofing)

6: Zero. I've only got the one super long fic and it's got the more obvious song naming instead.

7: Ten. Bad puns... or really good puns? Hmm?

(Faire's Fare; Just Monkey Business; When Pigs Fly; Robin's Egg Blue; Ace Shot; The Magic Word; Gift of the Magpie; Attraction; Captain America's Gay Fling; Swearing a Red, White, and Blue Streak)

8: Zero. I just don't like the format.

9: Zero. It always feels condescending to me to assume people don't know a word, so I try not to define them.

10: Twenty-five. Referential titles are an easy go-to for me. I did notice several of them either took a quote directly from canon or used a titling/title card convention from canon, so I wonder if that should be a separate category, or two different ones. I'm also uncertain whether mythology/folklore references should be considered 'media references', or maybe grouped in with titles taken from aphorisms and sayings. Do enough people quote Shakespeare to give him his own category?

(One Face, One Voice, One Habit, and Two Persons; Tendi and T'Lyn at Their Table; Red Bean Buns of Destiny; Does Talia Have A Sister?; Who Gets To Decide Her Own Damn Fate; The Excellent Adventures of Keanu Rhesus; My Concealed Lady; Stabby the SecUnit; Rapidly Expanding Air; The Monkey or The Egg; Words, words, words; And the Mischief of Monkey; In the Museums of the Night; Auntie Yelena Saves Christmas; Dick Grayson, College Student; Meanwhile, At Gotham Grace; Animorty Cricksing: New Pants; Better Together; Don't Call Me Nymphadora; Brightest Witch of Her Age; Just Tonks; Not Always in the Same Way; No Flamz Prepz; A Fish Without A Bicycle; The Boy)

11: Eight. I'll be honest I assumed I'd have more of these because I do love multi-layered meanings. I try hard to achieve them but I'd say they're the most difficult sort of title.

(A Great Deal; Just a Moment of Peace; The Family You Build; Where There's Life There's Hope; Love Like A Sister's; Coffee or Tea?; Brain Freeze; Something that Starts with a P)

12: Eleven. Yeah. Sometimes I struggle with a title for so long I just give up and name it whatever pops into my head....

(Billy Batson in the Wrong Dimension; Incentive Structure; The Burden of the Sword; One Last Kryptonian; An Island Paradise; The Superhero Code; What Makes A Hero; Happy Year of the Tiger; The Smallest Details; Plot Armor; A Better Mousetrap)

types of fic titles

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

[wordsafterhours]

Hello! I’ve been feeling inspired since reading all my favorite fics here and I’ve been itching to write my own. Not sure where I’m going with it or anything, but I wrote this scene today. It’ll fit somewhere in the continuation,  lol. 

Apologies in advance. I am SO out of practice writing and it probably sucks. I have such high standards after reading the works of so many good writers on here.

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The bar grew quieter than Rowan would have liked as he weaved himself through the crowd towards the stage. He was used to people staring, he wasn’t easy to miss with his tall stature and silver hair, but he was especially aware of it tonight. Bars like this weren’t his usual scene, as he preferred quieter, more intimate ones like the one down the road from house. Furthermore, he stuck out because his attire—dressed in worn boots, Carhartt pants, and his favorite flannel button-down.

His anxiety was increasing with every step closer, and his only solution was calmy telling himself that he was climbing on this stage for a reason. To express his feelings in the best way he knew how.

He took a deep breath and sat down on the sole wooden stool adoring the weathered stage. His calloused fingers made fine adjustments to his guitar and when he was satisfied, Rowan placed the capo across the second fret. Gods let me do this song justice he thought before starting in on the opening notes.

The soft, acoustic sound filled the air and a hushed interest fell across the bar. Rowan’s rich lilt laid warmly across notes, embracing them like a lover’s arms:

I’m a stone’s throw from the mill And I’m a good walk to the river When my workin’ day is over We’ll go swim our cares away Put your toes down in the water And a smile across your face And tell me that you love me Lovely Lady May

Rowan took the small break in words to search through the patrons to see if the one person he came here for was even paying attention to his performance. He did two passes and tried not to let disappointment get the best of him as he didn’t see the familiar head of hair or silhouette of her body. Perhaps that’s what had him so on edge to begin with, he didn’t see her when he came in, not that he needed to see her. Rowan could be blind and still know the minute she’d entered any space.

It had been like that for a long time now. Not always, but enough to matter. Honestly, he wanted to blame the anxiety for not being more aware—he should have already known she wasn’t here, but it was a Saturday night. She loved to let go with her friends and this was a frequent haunt for the group.

Rowan was too caught up in doing a third pass over the crowd that he almost missed the start of the second verse. He couldn’t mess up his own song during its debut.

Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel That your hands have ever held But darlin’ I could love. You well Til’ the roll is called on high I’ve seen my share of trouble And I’ve held my weight in shame But I’m baptized by your name Lovely Lady May

At this point, the crowd and atmosphere no longer bothered him. Music was a godssend in life and he hadn’t found anything in his 30 years that it couldn’t soothe. He continued crooning out the lyrics, pouring his heart into it. Even if she wasn’t here to appreciate this performance, maybe the universe would and something good would come from it. Life was funny like that.

As he was nearing the end of the song, he caught sight of a familiar head hair to his left. Instantly, his heart entered its own staccato tempo, chasing away the calm he had only just settled into, and he wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to belt out the last few lines with her now here.

The gods or the universe had a cruel sense of humor because she chose that moment to turn, and he was like stag in the headlights unable to look away from gaze. Her turquoise eyes ringed with gold were taking him in and stripping him bare, leaving him no choice but to hold her gaze as he finished.

I came crashin’ through forest As you cut my roots away And I fell a good long ways For my lovely Lady May

There was a long silence before the bar erupted in loud whistles and claps. Rowan delivered a quick thank you into the mic before rushing off stage and through the crowd. He couldn’t chance her trying to talk to him—he was still trying to calm his racing heart and come to terms with the fact that the song he’d written with her on his mind, was out in the world. And that she had finally heard it.

*song in the chapter is “Lady May” by Tyler Childers. 

[separatist-apologist]

You should do a one shot of Elain letting her inner fire out and yelling at the IC about using Elain to control Lucien AND going on and on about Lucien failing Feyre in Spring. (I mean we all know Tamlin abused Lucien both mentally and physically and its a bit hard to take care of someone else when you are being abused yourself. Ya feel me? HA)

This will be done more elegantly if you're reading I Know Places. I also can't help but feel like my Elucien reputation is becoming Night Court slander. This is my preface by saying I LIKE (most) of the IC, so this isn't dunking on any one person or being an anti.

Anyway don't send me hate if you don't like this (Send me Eris X Elain brotp prompts instead!!!)

Elain stomped through the city streets of Velaris, furious. Lucien was back in the city again, and yet he hadn’t come to visit. Things had been rocky, sure, but she thought they were doing better. They’d been exchanging letters weekly, she’d made him dinner—granted, at his apartment—and they’d even had that sweet kiss she still daydreamed about to the exclusion of all else. Yet, for the fourth time in six months, Lucien had come to Velaris, met with Rhysand, with Azriel, with Feyre, but not her. She’d been quietly polite about it the first time. He was a busy man, after all and probably had somewhere to be in the morning. She’d been quiet but less polite the second and third time, allowing her self-doubt and insecurity to creep in but now she was just mad.

If he didn’t want to see her, he should just say so.After four years of yearning and avoidance to get to where they were, which was practically no where given how far away he chose to occupy his time, he at least owed her an explanation.

She pounded on the blue front door that comprised his little town house. She heard scuffling and a muffled crash before the door flung open.

“Elain,” he breathed, clearly not prepared to see her, given how disheveled he looked. “To what do I—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” She demanded, crossing her arms over the silver cloak she wore. Frigid wind whistled around them, biting at her cheeks though she hardly felt the chill over her hurt and anger. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Ah…come inside,” he urged, stepping out of the way to let her in. Elain did as he asked, mostly to prevent making a visible scene she knew would work its way back to Rhysand and his inner circle.

“I understand if you’re too busy to spend time but not even a note?” She rounded on him once they were out of the foyer and in his living room. He reached for her cloak, ever the gentleman but Elain swatted his hand away.

“I do want to see you,” he replied softly, palms raised upwards in defense. Both eyes, one gold, one russet, watched her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb that might explode at any moment. She certainly felt like one.

“Then why don’t you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Lucien licked his lips. “It’s…complicated.”

Her stomach dropped. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What?!” He panicked, taking a hasty step towards her. “No, just you. Only you, I swear.”

“Then explain. I’m not stupid, I can follow whatever is keeping you. I don’t want secrets between us I want—” She stopped herself before she could admit that what she wanted was to be in the same place for longer than a night.

“I need permission to visit with you,” he told her, dropping his hands with a sigh. Elain looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean…permission?” She demanded.

Lucien gestured for her to sit but Elain shook her head, her mind whirring. Why would Lucien need permission to see her? He’d been nothing but polite, he’d give her distance…they always had a chaperone, she realized. Save for once, right before he left to find Vassa, Lucien and Elain always had an audience unless she snuck out of the house. It was why she’d begun writing him letters in the first place. That was the only way she could speak to him without someone else in the room.

Lucien was watching her shrewdly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Do they think you’ll…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. He laughed dryly.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then why? No one cared about how much time Cassian spent with Nesta.”

“Well…I imagine it’s different when the High Lord trusts the mate in question.”

That didn’t make sense. She bit her bottom lip. “They trust you…you’re their Emissary…”

Lucien laughed again, plopping onto his cream-colored couch. “Emissary I may be, but trust me they do not.”

Elain frowned. “Because you’ll betray them?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, his every word condemnation. She could put it together now. Lucien was in Velaris for her, he’d left Spring for her, and he’d continue to be the Emissary on behalf of the Night Court for as long as Elain lived in Velaris.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” she assured him, crossing the wood floor to sit beside him. She took his hand and squeezed, looking up into his tanned, beautiful face. Lucien smiled at her sadly.

“If I quit, I’d never see you again.”

“Of course you would, we’re—”

“Do you imagine Rhysand or Feyre would just hand you over with my resignation? If that were the case, I would have taken you from here when we first met.”

“So I’m what? Bait?” She asked breathlessly. He didn’t respond but the steely look in his russet eye was answer enough. “Something to keep you in line?”

He shrugged but Elain was angry again. “I thought you were avoiding me,” she told him, pulling her hand from his. “I’ve been mad at you and all this time you were trying?”

“Elain—”

She spun on her heel and tore out of his apartment, well aware he was right behind her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t an object or a tool to be weaponized against her own mate, for cauldrons sake. She was tired of being treated like a pretty piece of furniture that couldn’t think for herself. She wanted the Nesta treatment, she decided, storming into the river house.

“You had no right!” She shrieked, storming into Rhys’ study. She’d meant to find Feyre first, but Rhys was there, sitting at his desk staring down at parchment. On the couch beside the fireplace, Azriel looked up, hazel eyes wide at the outburst.

“Hey Elain…Lucien…everything okay?” Cassian asked from a chair in the corner.

“No!” She continued, her chest heaving. If she didn’t say everything now, she’d chicken out; Elain hated confrontation. Rhys stood, his violet eyes glittering with emotion. A moment later Feyre skidded into the room, practically slamming into Lucien’s back.

“What’s wrong, Elain?” Feyre asked breathlessly, shoving past Lucien to touch Elain’s shoulder. “Did something happen, did—”

“Why does Lucien need permission to visit me?” She demanded, stepping out of Feyre’s grasp only to slam into the sold chest of her mate. “No one had a problem with Cassian breathing down Nesta’s neck, but Lucien needs advance written notice?”

“Whoa, that’s not how it went,” Cassian complained. “If anything, she was breathing down my neck—”

“Cassian,” Azriel murmured quietly, silencing his friend.

“You and Nesta are different,” Feyre tried but Elain didn’t want to hear it.

“So? I think Nesta could have healed perfectly fine without being…fucked—” she whispered the word, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Up against a wall.”

The mood of the room became immediately tense. Cassian stood; arm crossed over his broad chest.

“Elain,” Rhys warned. Lucien put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing his support. She didn’t have to do this. She could walk away, could tell them to shove it. She had to. Lucien didn’t understand, was good at sticking up for himself but she wasn’t. They needed to know.

“It’s shameful,” she told Rhys, looking him dead in the face.

“We just wanted to keep you safe,” Rhys told her, his voice very much implying she was on dangerous ground.

“From what? I thought Lucien was Feyre’s friend,” she challenged. “I thought he was your Emissary. How can you trust him with your politics but not his own mate? Why is it okay for Azriel to see me but not Lucien?”

Rhys’ took two steps forward, darkness rippling off his back. She’d overstepped, she’d openly challenged Rhys and, perhaps most damning, she’d done the one thing he’d ever asked her not to; discuss the almost events of Solstice. Azriel’s face paled for a moment as Cassian, Feyre, and Lucien all turned to look at him. “I’m not your political pawn,” she whispered, stepping closer to Lucien.

“You are my subject and you will sit down and stop talking.”

She felt the metallic tang of magic slam into her face, attempting to make her obey. Elain knew what Rhys didn’t, what she’d kept a careful secret until that moment. He couldn’t compel her; his magic had no effect. He wasn’t her subject. She never had been.

“Sit down,” he said again, his every word dripping in authority. She straightened her spine even as her hands trembled. “You can’t make me,” she replied, pressed as close to Lucien as she could get.

“Rhys,” Lucien warned, his own voice rich with that same magic. She shivered at the sound. Rhys glanced towards Feyre, exchanging some conversation silently between them.

“I want to leave,” she told them, her voice wobbling nervously.

“Elain…can we talk? Just me and you?” Feyre murmured, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Elain looked over her shoulder but Lucien was still staring at Azriel with a clenched jaw. “Fine.”

Feyre grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room. In the hall, Nesta had her back pressed to the wall. She followed behind Elain silently, spine straight, eyes cold. The three practically ran down marble floors, up the stairs, all the way to Feyre’s room. She locked the door behind her, as if that would keep anyone out.

“What happened with Azriel?” Nesta asked the second the door was shut.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Feyre interrupted, ignoring Nesta’s question. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you saying that as my sister, or High Lady?” Elain whispered.

“Where will you go, Elain?” Feyre prodded. “Spring—”

Her laughter was practically a shriek. “Did you know the last time Lucien came home from Spring he had bruises all over his ribs? Couldn’t look me in the eyes when I asked what happened? What do you think happened?” Elain demanded. Feyre flinched.

“How can you send him back there and stand here and tell me I don’t understand the situation?” Elain pressed. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, Elain, I’m sorry,” Feyre interrupted breathlessly. “I care about Lucien, too but he’s cunning and—”

“And what is Rhys?” Nesta interrupted with an imperious smile.

“You suddenly like Lucien?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips. Nesta scoffed.

“No, but I like watching Elain tell Rhys to fuck himself. And…and it meant a lot what you said about…”

Elain nodded.

“Don’t leave,” Feyre pressed, ignoring Nesta completely. “Move in with Lucien if you want just…just don’t go.”

“I want to do more than garden,” Elain whispered. “We’d still see each other…he’d still help you, if you asked because you’re his friend…and I’m your sister.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes glassy. Elain knew she was still talking to Rhys, trying to strike some sort of balance between the fight they’d just had and not making things worse. “Rhys is asking if Lucien will go to Day Court on his behalf…they have a lot of libraries…Vassa still is spelled and we haven’t been able to figure it out. Maybe you could go with him? If you want, I mean?”

Elain nodded her head. “I’d like to see the other Courts.”

“But you’ll come back?” Feyre asked, her voice small and Elain knew she needed to apologize to her sister. Feyre was trying…Feyre had been good for all those years, selfless even when she didn’t have to be. Guilt gnawed at Elain. She’d let her temper get the better of her. She crossed the room and hugged Feyre tightly.

“Of course I will. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Wrong again,” Nesta said dryly. “You should yell more often. Tell Helion if he tries anything—”

“Helion won’t try anything,” Feyre assured Nesta. “Trust me.”

Nesta frowned. “He’ll take one look at her face and fall in love just like everyone else. How can you say—” “Rhys is going to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Elain cajoled. “I can handleone High Lord calling me pretty.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “It…it’s not appropriate, you have a mate—”

“I can handle it,” Elain said firmly, determined to do something for herself. “Promise.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Rhys and Lucien in the archway. They looked tense; neither looked at the other. Elain wondered what had been said. Rhys looked from his mate to Elain before raising his palms.

“We…we worked it out,” Rhys assured her. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she told him, not sorry at all. She suspected he knew.

“Day Court?” Lucien asked, brows raised, his face very much. She smiled.

“Day Court.”

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 14 - Changes

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link) Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

Yelana caught the two boys from behind as they were telling jokes and laughing out loud instead of watching the herd. She cleared her throat audibly and the heads of both of them drove around scared. They both looked at her serious face and went white as a sheet.

Yelana's gaze wandered back and forth between them, then shrugged and said in a friendly voice, “You've got nothing to worry about, boys.” Their posture then relaxed a little. Then she pondered for a moment, swayed her head in her typical manner and finally looked at them a little arrogantly. “I need a reindeer, preferably saddled and harnessed, if possible please. I'm not that young anymore.”

The surprise reaction of the two of them was priceless for Yelana's taste, but didn't let on and grinned inside herself instead. The boys stood there frozen as if rooted to the ground and could not believe their ears.

“Come on, you two, I haven't got all day!” She made a wagging gesture and frowned apparently in annoyance.

The boys started moving and less than five minutes later a saddled reindeer was standing in front of her.

She took a closer look at the animal and the saddle and nodded contentedly at the end. Then she pushed her rod under the straps of the saddle and mounted. “Take good care of all of you,” she said to the boys standing there waiting and gave them a motherly look. Then she sighed and rode off without looking back another second.

“What did she mean by that? And why is she riding away anyway?” one of them asked.

“I haven't the faintest idea. I didn't even know she could ride,” replied the other.

Both gazed after her completely perplexed.

~~~

The wagon rumbled along and nobody spoke a word. Even Olaf remained silent and looked at the passing landscape with a transfigured look. Everyone was lost deep in their thoughts except Elsa, who had fallen asleep next to her.

How could she sleep so calmly; Anna thought, and pondered the upsetting events as she absent-mindedly watched the sunset. On any other day she would enjoy it, but today it seemed to her as if it announced a night of mischief.

What would this Kolgrimr do with the Northuldra once he realized that they were already long gone and he could no longer carry out whatever plans he had in mind. She feared for the people there and if Honeymaren was right in her suspicion, they could not defend themselves against his magical powers. They would all be helplessly at his mercy.

Slowly but constantly anger rose in her. Couldn't anything go right for once in her life? Did something terrible always have to happen to them and ended up being involved? She looked over to her sister and envied her. Elsa's face seemed completely relaxed, she even smiled slightly. Was she dreaming of Honeymaren? What was between them? Of course she would not mind if a romantic relationship developed between the two of them. She knew that Arendelle was quite open-minded about relationships of this kind, there was even a married female couple, Ada and Tuva Diaz with two adopted children. What was most important to her was Elsa's well-being and she wanted nothing more than the happiness for her sister.

And now someone thought he had the right to get revenge for something they were both not to blame for. Anna cursed and at the same moment, frightened by her behaviour, held her hand over her mouth. The next moment, she looked into Kristoff's eyes, who had turned around to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You curse? About what?” he asked curiously.

“Oh nothing, it's not that important,” she replied quickly, waving off and feeling the situation as embarrassing. Kristoff now raised his other eyebrow, too. Apparently he didn't quite believe her assertion.

“You know you can tell me anything, honey. Just say it out loud. If I don't know what it's about, I can't help you.”

Anna sat down and nodded her head a little bashfully at last. “Yes, dear, I know, and cursing isn't usually my style either. I was just thinking about this Kolgrimr and why it is always us who are in the middle of the action and risking our lives. What do you think about this whole thing? You have been quiet all the way back and don't seem particularly frightened to me.”

Kristoff shrugged his shoulders. “We made it out of the woods in time, if all this is true, and we'll be home soon.” Then he remembered the conversation with Ryder when he warned him and he said, “I'm not worried about myself, Anna, but if there's anyone I really care about, it's you, honey. If anything happens to you, that would be the end for me, I  love you.”

Anna smiled, stood up briefly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Kristoff, my love. I love you too.”

They looked at each other in love for a while, and Anna actually forgot her worries about it. Eventually, he nodded with a smile and turned around again. She herself leaned back and closed her eyes. Maybe she could get some sleep after all; she thought.

~~~

They had not yet completed a third of the way home when Kristoff saw a covered wagon approaching in front of him at some distance. He turned around and pointed it out to the others.

“Wake up, folks! Look who's coming.”

Anna and Elsa startled up, then stretched their heads and looked ahead while Olaf climbed forward beside Kristoff. “Mattias is here!” he exclaimed excitedly and pointed forward.

“They were pretty fast, though,” Anna murmured and rubbed her stiff neck because she had dozed off in an uncomfortable position.

“You haven't told me much about him,” Elsa replied without looking at her. “Except that he rode back specially to get help for me.”

Anna looked at her smiling. “The General is one of the most loyal people I know, and a fine fellow too. You'll like him.”

Elsa nodded, “I'm already very curious about him.”

A few minutes later the two vehicles, standing now directly opposite each other, stopped. The two drivers sitting on the coach box looked quite surprised. Mattias rode past them and jumped briskly out of the saddle when he was next to Anna.

“Your Majesty!” he shouted joyfully and bowed to Anna, who was now standing up at the back of the wagon. “You guys are already on your way back so soon, then I presume your sister's doing well again?” He peered past Anna to have a look at Elsa. Elsa bent over, looked past Anna and waved at the General with her arm half raised. “Hello, General Mattias.” She smiled at him and mustered his appearance with quick glances without seeming immediately curious.

Trygve and Kristina rose as soon as they saw their queen, smiled and bowed to her while reciting the usual greeting. Anna nodded to them in a friendly manner, but suddenly her worries came back to her mind and her face darkened.

“I am very happy that you are feeling better, Elsa,” said Mattias and returned her smile. Then he looked up at Anna again and his smile faded when he noticed her concern in her face. “Queen Anna, are you alright? Has something happened?”

She nodded, sat down again to be largely at his eye level and said, “Unfortunately, yes, General. We were informed by Honeymaren of a serious threat and had to flee in haste. Someone is trying to kill us.”

Mattias tore open his eyes and gasped, “What? Who? Please tell me everything!” Anna explained in short words what she knew, and his face successively expressed his moods, from amazement to serious concern to clear anger.

“The Council must be informed immediately, and the garrison put on high alert. This can't be true!” He clenched his fists and turned to the covered wagon. “Turn the cart around immediately. We must return as quickly as possible. We are in imminent danger.”

Trygve's and Kristina's jaws dropped and they stared first at him and then at each other in disbelief. Kristina finally nodded and jumped off the trestle. The trail wasn't too wide here so she took the horse by the harness and pulled it slowly around to realign the cart. Then she got back on and waited for Mattias to would ride ahead of them to set the pace. She looked at Trygve with concern and he put a hand on her arm reassuring her.

“Your Majesty, if you agree, we will refrain from equipping Elsa with the camouflage clothes we brought with us, because of the hurry. We yet could also do that shortly before Arendelle.”

Anna nodded and looked briefly behind her. “I think you are right about this, Mattias. We are still near the Northuldra area, so we should hurry.” She gave her sister a quick sideways glance and squeezed her hand before looking at Mattias again. “But we are not yet returning to Arendelle. We have to make a little detour first.”

Mattias raised his eyebrows questioningly. “A detour? Where to?”

Anna bent over to him, looked at him with big eyes and replied quietly, “To the trolls, Mattias, to the trolls.”

The general's jaw dropped and he couldn't say anything more. The day had started so beautifully, and from one moment to the next, everything turned into a nightmare. Trolls ... this can't be true; he thought, and shook his head in disbelief.

~~~

He could have taken her to Gyda. Instead, he chose his hiding place by the river. He preferred not to take any risks and Honeymaren as a hostage was very valuable, even in two ways; he thought, when he recalled the scene on the beach with her and that Arendelle bitch. He grinned as he nudged the young woman in front of him to make her hurry up.

“Faster! Don't dally like that.”

She took a quick look over her shoulder, both angry and anxious. Her hands were tied behind her back and she almost tripped forward when her attention was briefly diverted. But she caught herself in time.

“Don't try any tricks,” he said in a low but threatening voice. She nodded, but didn't say a word. That's good; Kolgrimr thought, as long as she was afraid it was easier to keep her at bay. Less work and more time to make new plans.

He couldn't get that boy out of his head, that brave little guy and brother of his captive. How could it be that he had not sensed the slightest thing, not even when he had actively and intensely tried; he thought. It was almost as if a ghost apparition had stood before him. He gritted his teeth and clenched a fist. That was not good by any means. Not at all. Even with this strong-willed half breed from Arendelle, he was able to get to her spirit with a bit effort. But with him? There was absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. And that worried him immensely.

~~~

At nightfall they reached a small, well hidden kota. Light fog was in the air and a soft splash told Honeymaren that they had to be near a river. She also knew roughly in which direction they had gone, although she herself had never been in this part of the forest. Then she suddenly became aware of exactly where they were and she drew in the air sharply. The home of the earth giants!

She looked around briefly to Kolgrimr and he just nodded wordlessly in the direction of the kota. She walked to the entrance and stopped in front of it. He reached past her, pulled the flap open and pushed her in roughly, so that she fell to the bare ground inside. Then the flap closed again and she was sitting in the dark. She heard him tie the loop of the flap to the outside of the hut, then it was quiet.

She tried to spot something inside the kota, but all she saw was a pale shimmer in the opening above her. She tugged at her shackles but Kolgrimr had been very meticulous and she could not loosen them. If only she had her knife now, which she always carried hanging by her side; she thought. But he had taken it from her, of course.

She struggled herself up into a sitting position, crawled around and systematically searched the floor, hoping to find something useful. But there was nothing, not even a fur, that usually came with every good kota equipment. All right; she thought, let's try the walls. She stood up and moved along the wall with her shoulder as long until she felt like she had reached the starting point again. With her head she had also cautiously checked the wall in addition. But there was no hook and certainly not anything hanging to it to discover. She sighed unnerved and stayed stood leaning against the sloping wall for a while.

What was he up to? What would he do with her? Would he use brute force? Most likely, the way she judged him. She wasn't usually the frightened type, but she felt her eyes get wet and soon after that tears started to flow again. She sobbed softly and finally sank back to the floor. There was no escape for her, it seemed. She decided not to exchange a single word with him. She would remain mute. Even if he should slap her, he wouldn't get anything out of her.

The minutes passed in the silence of the darkness and the minutes became hours. It already had to be in the middle of the night when the rain started. At first she could only hear the soft sound the drops made as they dripped down onto the kota from the branches of the tree above. But it didn't take long and the sporadic dripping turned into a steady hissing as the sky finally opened its sluices completely.

The monotonous noise sounded very calming and soon it made her very tired. So she curled up on the uncomfortable, hard floor and fell gratefully asleep shortly afterwards.

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp @the-fifth-spirit-elsa​

[elliemarchetti]

The Most Macabre of Scenes, The Most Terrible of Nightmares

As I hope the few souls reading this have already guessed, requests are open for anything on LOTR and The Hobbit. However, in this chapter the journey of the Fellowship continues, but various shadows loom over their safety and the hearts of its members.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2643

The attack was short and violent, but fortunately no one was injured. It was about midnight on their eighth day of travel when the Orcs stroke, a raid planned down to the last detail, one might say, as they had took advantage of the current, the crescent moon that lit up the sky and the abundance of strangely bright stars, reflecting like torches on the River’s surface. Their black-feathered arrows had fallen like lethal rain upon the Fellowship, but except for a few torn cloaks, there had been no damage. Hidden among the ferns of the western shore, as awake as they could be, everyone thought about what they saw in the sky after their enemies had unexpectedly retreated, trying to give a name to the great winged creature, blacker than the pits of the night, which had emerged from the south. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water, and Elva could still feel the chills running through her and clutching at her heart, deadly cold like the memory of an old wound. She had killed it, with a single shot from the bow she had received as a gift in Lorien, but she was sure there were others, and she wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from that irreparably corrupted land. After that vision, Haldir had no longer spoken, but he was frowning and his mind was probably in Lothlorien, lost in calculating how long such a beast would take to reach the ends of the mallorn’s forest. Lying next to him, Elva wished she was able to say out loud that he could return, if he wished, that no one would’ve wanted him any harm for placing his homeland before a mission that didn’t even belonged to him, and that Galadriel herself would’ve probably been grateful for the warning, but selfishly, she couldn’t, so she hugged tighter her knees under the cloak, a reassurance and a way to fight the changing of the weather. When the day came, the mood of the world about them had become soft and sad. Slowly the dawn grew to a pale light, diffused and shadowless. There was mist on the River, and white fog swathed the shore, making the far bank impossible to see.

“I can’t abide fog,” said Sam, “but this seems to be a lucky one: now perhaps we can get away without those cursed goblins seeing us.”

“Perhaps so,” said Aragorn. “But it will be hard to find the path unless the fog lifts a little later on, and we must, if we are to pass Sarn Gebir and come to the Emyn Muil.”

“I don’t see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the River any further,” said Boromir. “If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats and strike westward and southward, until we come to the Entwash and cross into my own land.”

“We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith,” said Aragorn, “but that’s not yet agreed, and such a course may be more perilous than it sounds: the Entwash’s vale is flat and fenny, fog a deadly peril for those on foot and laden. I wouldn’t abandon our boats until we must, for the River is at least a path that cannot be missed.”

“But the Enemy holds the eastern bank,” objected Boromir, “and even if you pass the Gates of Argonath, coming unmolested to the Tindrock, what will you do then? Leap down the Falls and land in the marshes?”

The tones were heating up, and Elva thought it was time to intervene: “It’s not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need, and we’ll need your strength, if ever we are to reach the Tindrock.”

The mortal seemed satisfied with those words, and decided he would go as far as the tall isle, but no further.

“There I shall turn to my home,” he announced, “alone if my help hasn’t earned the reward of any companionship.”

Elva prayed that someone had decided to pursue that mission, but in order to keep an army as powerful as that of Boromir's father, if everyone chose to follow Aragorn, she would be the one to separate from the rest of the companions, this decided a long time ago, perhaps at the very moment Gandalf had chosen her for the Quest. That gloomy possibility, which was so far from her ideals, prompted her to wait for the mist to rise in silence, even as she and Haldir went exploring forward along the shore, while the others remained by the boats. She hoped to find some way by which they could carry everything to the smoother water beyond the Rapids, but even if the elven boats wouldn’t sink, that didn’t ensure they could come through Sarn Gebir alive, for none ever done so yet, and no road was made by the Men of Gondor in this region, for even in their great days their realm didn’t reach up Anduin beyond the Emyn Muil.

“There is a portage-way somewhere on the western shore, if I can find it,” revealed Haldir, so softly that for a moment Elva hardly noticed.

"I didn't tell the others," the elf went on, "because I was afraid they wouldn't believe me, after my miscalculations pushed us towards the Orcs attack; besides, I fought those creatures for a good part of my own adult life, and I could’ve imagined their simple but ingenious plan."

"No one was injured, that's the important thing," Elva replied, thinking that if anyone had risked being hit, it would’ve been him, as an arrow had ripped off both the cloak and the skin of the jacket from his shoulders.

"But if that had happened, the fault would’ve been mine alone, and whoever had accused me, even if only in grief, would’ve been right: you have already lost the Istar, and before I should’ve warned Aragorn it wasn’t wise to continue at night as he suggested, but I didn't, and now I don't want to deceive anyone until I’m sure that my memory doesn’t deceive me," he replied, resolute in the bitterness of someone who can't forgive himself.

"Why are you telling me, then?" Elva asked, unable to stop.

"Because I'm sure I can trust you, and I know you’ve faced the guilt, same or not, even if I still don’t know what you’re carrying it for,” he replied, with a naked and vulnerable honesty, which hit right to the point. She didn't like talking about her past, much less what she felt about it, yet he must’ve seen a difficult life in her eyes, a life that perhaps could’ve been more like his, if only she had been born in another realm. Like Lorien, Mirkwood was a wonderful but tricky place, where growing up as a half-breed wasn't easy at all, especially when you needed to do it by yourself. Getting to know Legolas, and later becoming his confidant and friend, had been a blessing, and she kept telling herself that her true life had begun the day a young prince was bewitched by the ability of a simple recruit with a bow and with words. She hadn't treated him well, weary as every orphan is, and perhaps that was precisely what had intrigued him, since at court no one spoke to him as an equal, much less had the courage to say what they really though, too busy trying to win the future king’s favours, since with the one in charge was so hard. Speaking of Thranduil, he had welcomed her as if she were his own daughter, instructing and having her instructed in the best possible way; but the king was a cold and distant father, rigid in his manner and limited in his displays of affection, not exactly what a girl without parents desires most. If loving Legolas as a brother had been simple, as natural as breathing and almost a matter of survival, the same couldn't be said of the oldest of the Greenleafs, but she had learned that too, and with it the art of concealing her heart, although with Haldir it was so difficult.

"And how can I know I should have the same trust in you?" she asked, her heart heavy. She needed to believe that he wouldn’t leave the Fellowship, even if she followed Boromir and everyone else went by water, and she needed to know if he would understand her decision, or if he would end up misinterpreting it.

"You can't, but to convince you otherwise, I'll tell you something that I'm sure should’ve remained a secret: Galadriel's Mirror showed me three visions, three possible futures, I find myself believing. I still don't want to talk about two, because it doesn't seem wise, but the most macabre of scenes, the most terrible of nightmares that I thought I could have, I feel like sharing: I don't know if the Fellowship had failed in its intent, or if it's the fate that awaits my homeland anyway, if events should take that turn, but darkness had fallen over the forest of golden trees when a flock of huge winged creatures, like the one you killed last night, swept over Calas Galadhon. The Lord and the Lady fought side by side with every common citizen, and a shower of arrows capable of obscuring the stars was sent from each talan towards the sky. I don't know how the battle could end, as my vision was limited to that, but I have seen you fight with us, and defend our young and old as if they were your own. I don't pretend to understand what those images meant, and why the Mirror decided to show them to me, but I believe it was the beginning of Lorien's Winter, the first day of a downhill road to inevitable ruin, yet you were there by our side, and I don't think you'd fight for the land of someone you don’t trust,” he concluded, just as enigmatic as his ruler. Did he meant he understood her malfidence towards the Galadhrim, or was it really just his way of assuming that she would always trust him, to the point of risking death for a place that did not belong to her? There was no way of knowing but asking, and it didn't seem appropriate, fearing that he too might ask her what the Mirror had shown her. Death, she might’ve replied, no matter it was the mallorn’s, his people’s or Haldir’s himself, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore, she just wanted to forget his pale skin in the moonlight, the dust, sweat and blood surrounding her like a sea that smelled of the Enemy's wickedness instead of salt, so she fell silent.

“It cannot yet have perished,” muttered Haldir under his breath, after a while. “Light boats used to journey out of Wilderland down to Osgiliath, and still did so until a few years ago, when the Orcs of Mordor began to multiply.”

“Even if we find the path, peril will grow with every mile we go forward, for it lies ahead on every southward road,” replied Elva

They found what they were looking for just before noon, with the head of the Rapids half a mile below them: a track leading to a good landing, a little more than a mile long, was still serviceable, not far beyond the stream clear and smooth again, though running swiftly. The hardest task was to get the boats and baggage to the old portage-way, lying well back from the water-side near which they were camped, and running under the lee of a rock-wall, a furlong or more from the shore. “I fear we must leave the River now, and make for the portage-way as best we can from here,” said Haldir, once back.

“That wouldn’t be easy, even if we were all Men,” said Boromir.

“Yet such as we are we will try it,” Aragorn replied peremptorily.

“We will!” confirmed Gimli, and although the task was difficult, it was nevertheless completed, the goods taken out of the boats and brought to the top of the bank, where there was a level space, and the boats themselves drawn out of the water and carried up, proving to be far less heavy than any had expected; at last, all was removed to be laid on the portage-way and with little further hindrance, save from sprawling briars and many fallen stones, they moved forward all together. Fog still hung in veils upon the crumbling rock-wall, and to their left mist shrouded the River: they could hear it rushing and foaming over the sharp shelves and stony teeth of Sarn Gebir, but they couldn't see it. There the portage-way, turning back to the water-side, ran gently down to the shallow edge of a little pool scooped in the river-side, not by hand, but by the water swirling down from Sarn Gebir against a low pier of rock that jutted out some way into the stream. Beyond it the shore rose sheer into a grey cliff, and there was no further passage for those on foot. Already the short afternoon was past, and a dim cloudy dusk was closing in. Sitting beside the water, they listened to the confused rush and roar of the Rapids hidden in the mist; they were tired and sleepy, and their hearts were as gloomy as the dying day at the thought of spending there another night, even if it seemed inevitable, given the general fatigue. Luckily, nothing worse than a brief drizzle of rain an hour before dawn happened, and as soon as it was fully light and the fog was thinning, they started. Keeping as close as they could to the western side, they saw the dim shapes of the low cliffs rising ever higher, shadowy walls with their feet in the hurrying river. In the mid-morning the clouds drew down lower, and it began to rain heavily, forcing them to drew the skin-covers over their boats to prevent them from being flooded and drifted on; little could be seen before or about them through the grey falling curtains but it didn’t last long, the sky above growing lighter and suddenly opening, dismissing fogs and mists too. Before the travellers lay a wide ravine, with great rocky sides to which clung, upon shelves and in narrow crevices, a few trees; as they sped along with little hope of stopping or turning, whatever might meet ahead, Elva peered forward, seeing in the distance two great rocks approaching. Like pinnacles or pillars of stone they stood, tall, sheer and ominous, creating a narrow gap among which the boats could only pass one by one. They were the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings, vast grey figures silent but threatening, shaped and fashioned as two great kings of stone with blurred eyes and crannied brows frowning upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning, while in each right hand there was an axe and upon each head there was a crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished Kingdom, instilling awe and fear in the Fellowship travelling in boats frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Numenor. Passing into the dark chasm of the Gates, sheer rose the dreadful cliffs on either side, while the black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them. What a horrible place it was, but it must’ve been even worse for Aragorn, a king in exile who was finally returning to his land only to see it filled with the noise of wind, rushing water and echoing stone.

[intomymindspace]

Are You Bored Yet? ✰ Sawamura Daichi

Are You Bored Yet? by Wallows (ft. Clairo)

sawamura daichi x gn reader

Through the Summer and the Fall // Haikyuu!! Songfic Series

a/n: Hello hello! I didn’t expect this big of a response for my series and Asahi songfic, but thank you all for the support 🥺 as promised, I have delivered a hopefully good dadchi fic featuring just deadass a scene from Monthly Girl’s Nozaki-Kun because I just want a second season 😌 I hope you all have been doing well!! The next insert I will be posting will be with Iwa-chan 🥰 I also try to make my fics as gender neutral as possible! But sometimes I slip without noticing it, so if you see a she or her in there, please just let me know kindly and I shall fix it!

Warnings: maybe like really light angst? and just Suga being his matchmaking self as per usual~

Daichi stared at you from the sidelines as the team took a small water break before their post-practice stretch. The boys had been practicing since the morning because school wasn’t in session for the summer. Not to mention, the Star Festival was tonight - so Coach Ukai decided to let them out earlier than usual in the afternoon so they could join the festivities before sunset hit. Daichi was too late to react as your eyes met his, and his cheeks reddened slightly as he was caught staring at you. Noticing how red he had gotten, you jogged over and handed him his water bottle.

“Dai-san, you’re looking a little red. Are you okay?” He heard genuine concern in your voice, and he couldn't help but smile at your kindness.

“Yeah, just a bit tired since it's so hot, that's all.” Grabbing the bottle from your hands, he thanked you as he rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly.

“Is everything okay? You seemed a bit out of it today.” Daichi’s eyes widened at your question - but he wasn’t surprised by it. You could read him like an open book, but you were completely blind to his feelings for you.

“Everything’s fine! I’m fine. I guess I’ve just been thinking about tonight.” You smiled at him, taking the answer. You could tell something was bothering him, but you decided against pushing him for the actual answer for now.

"What's wrong?" you've been askin'

But I don't have an answer

While getting ready, you couldn’t help but think about Daichi - what was going on with him? You had been close friends with him since Suga introduced the two of you in your first year - and you knew almost everything about him. If Suga didn’t take first place in being your best friend, it would’ve been Daichi. Even though the both of you had only met almost three years ago, when you’re with him, it feels like you’ve known him forever. So why couldn’t you pinpoint why he was acting strange around you?

And why didn’t he want to tell you?

Sighing, you finished fixing your face and hair, giving yourself one last look in the mirror before putting on your yukata, your mom helping you perfect the obi across your waist. Promising her that you’d take lots of photos, you walked out your door and made your way to Suga’s house - you were neighbors and childhood friends after all. During the half-an-hour walk to the festival square, you took the initiative to ask Suga about Daichi’s mood - maybe he knew.

“Daichi-san has been acting weird? What makes you say that?” He asked, a light smile on his face.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think of it as a big issue until today. The past week, I just thought that maybe he was more tired than usual… but now, I feel like he’s just trying to avoid me - or at least, avoid talking to me.” Suga hummed in response. He saw the way you tried to hide the hurt look from showing in your eyes, a frown still creeping onto your face. He smirked at the phone call he had with his friend while getting ready.

How come, I'm still thinkin'

Let's pretend to fall asleep now

“Suga-san, what do I do?” He could feel the panic in Daichi’s voice. Rolling his eyes playfully, Suga answered the captain’s question.

“Baka, we’ve been talking about this for a whole month, Daichi-san.”

“That’s not the point! What happens if they reject me? That's literally three years of friendship down the drain because of me.” If they had been having this conversation face-to-face, Suga would’ve chopped him in the side so hard.

“First of all, what makes you think they’ll reject you?”

“Well - ” Suga cut him off.

“And second of all, why are you assuming they’re going to stop being your friend even if they do reject you? I didn't know you thought they were that shallow, Dai-san.” Suga smirked after he finished talking - he knew he had Daichi in checkmate.

“I - I don’t think they’re shallow! I just… Ugh! I hate that you’re always right.” He could practically see the annoyed look on Daichi’s face, making him giggle.

“I know. So are you going to confess to them tonight?”

“I - I don’t know.” The setter’s eyes formed slits as he squinted.

“If you don’t, I will tell them.” Suga was definitely lying - he wasn’t the type person (or friend, for that matter) to do that. While he was invested in the romantic lives of his friends and teammates, his dream being the ultimate matchmaker, he hoped that Daichi wouldn’t call his bluff. Luckily, the captain didn’t.

When we get old will we regret this

Too young to think about all that shit

“Perhaps you should ask him about it tonight. It’s better to just ask instead of letting the situation fester for longer.” He advised.

“Hmm, you’re right. Thank you Suga-kun.” He nodded at you, his smile lifting your mood. Now only if that damn Daichi would take his advice -

“What has got you so worked up about Daichi’s mood anyhow, if I may ask?” Your eyes widened at his question, not expecting it.

“Well, I - to be honest, I’m not really sure why. I just don’t like that I feel like he’s avoiding me.” That idiot, Suga thought.

“Why don’t you like that?” Suga pushed, interested in questioning you further. He always had the inklings of a hunch that you returned Daichi’s feelings, but you had never expressed it. It made him wonder if you maybe just hadn’t realized it.

“I don’t really know. Wouldn’t you be a little upset if your best friend started avoiding you? I guess I just don’t want to lose him.” There it was.

“Why?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

And stallin' only goes so far

When you've got a head start

“Why are you avoiding answering them?” You rolled your eyes at the playful smirk on his lips.

“I hate when you do this.”

“I’m only trying to help ~ but why don’t you want to lose him? And don’t tell me it's just because he’s your best friend. Besides me, of course.” He sent you a wink.

“Well…” Suga brought up a good point. Why were you so upset by it? Usually when Daichi had bad weeks, he acted the same - but he always told you what was wrong. “I don’t want to lose him because I care about him.” The both of you were walking down the river, nearing your destination. Suga said nothing as you collected your thoughts, the both of you stopping for a short while to stare at the river.

“He’s always there for me, you know? Like I know that you’re always there for me, and I love you. But with Dai-san… I feel like I just can’t pinpoint it and it frustrates me so much! All I know is that I want to be by his side for as long as possible.” Much to your surprise, the setter laughed, making your eyebrows scrunch in response.

“What?”

“God, you are so blind. It’s rather endearing, really.” You just glared at the silver-haired boy. “You’re in love with him, idiot.” Suga saw the way your eyes widened, the way your cheeks reddened, and the way your jaw slacked. He took your silence as a realization, and continued.

“Why don’t you spend time with Daichi tonight?” Your wide eyes met his.

“Like… alone? But - what about you? And Azu-san? And Nishin - ” you were cut off as he flicked your forehead.

“Don’t worry about us, silly. Take your time tonight and see him in this new light - it’s not like you haven’t been alone with him before. I’m just surprised you didn’t realize it sooner.”

'Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset

But I can't help from asking are you bored yet?

When the both of you met up with the other boys, you noticed the way your breath seemed to hitch in your chest when you laid eyes on Daichi - how long had you been blind to your own feelings? The captain was wearing a navy blue yukata, white outlines of waves, koi, and scales patterning the ends of his sleeves and at bottom half of the lower portion. He looked so handsome in the afternoon sun. The boys were preoccupied with one another, giving Daichi the opportunity to speak to you without the seemingly prying eyes of his nosey children teammates.

“How are you? I know I just saw you only a few hours ago, but - ”

“I’m doing good! I - how are you feeling, Dai-san?” He blushed at your question.

“I’m doing good too. Um - I think you look really good…” As the two of you trailed into an awkward conversation for the first time in the history of your friendship, Suga rolled his eyes as he eavesdropped on the two of you.

And if you're feelin' lonely you should tell me

Before this ends up as another memory

“Suga-san, is it just me, or are the two of them acting a bit weird?” While Asahi directed the question to his setter, the rest of the boys all thought it was a good idea to shut up and look at the two of you - to find both of you with blushes on your cheeks, Daichi with his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. Before Suga could answer, Nishinoya spoke up.

“Yeah, why aren’t they over here?” He began yelling. “Oi, Dai - ” Suga immediately chopped his kouhai on the head, shushing him. The vice-captain then glared at the rest of the second and first years.

“None of you will interrupt them, understand? And I mean the whole night. I’m trying to get them to confess to one another, and I don’t need any one of you idiots to ruin their chances!” Suga heard Tsukishima tsk.

“Lame. I thought they were already dating. Yamaguchi and I won’t be in your way.” On the other hand, Hinata had resorted to hitting Kageyama in shock, the blocker’s eyes wide and mouth on the floor. Asahi laughed as Suga folded his arms, making sure the others knew what to not do.

“I guess everything all makes a little more sense now.”

Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie

Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie

While the majority of the team hung out as a group, the boys made sure to leave the two of you with as much space as possible. At an origami tent, the boys were fooling around, attempting to make impossible shapes out of the paper. While you were deeply focused on folding a crane that would be hung as decor, Daichi paid attention to a poster hanging from the tent that explained the different meanings of origami folds and the different colors.

He kept running various situations through his head - all of them ending badly. What if you just wanted to be his friend? Should he ask you how you felt first? If you said something about how reliable he was of a friend, then he could just lie about how you were just his good friend too. Then he could mope and move on. He just wished you could tell him.

As you finished your crane, you looked up to find Daichi slipping his folding into a pocket. As his eyes met yours, a blush grew on your face. Had his doe eyes always been so mesmerising?

Feels like I've known you my whole life

I can see right through your lies

“I’m still a little hungry, and the sun looks like it’s starting to set. Do you want to get something else to eat?” He asked you, standing up from his seat. Nodding your head in response, you stood up and followed in step with him, the two of you leaving the comfortability of the team, finding yourselves lined up to buy dango. As you ordered, you were about to hand the vendor the yen when Daichi interrupted.

“Make that two please. Thank you!” He handed the vendor the appropriate amount of money before turning to you, a blush on his cheeks. “My treat, okay?” Unable to form words, you nodded as you waited for the dessert to be ready.

“Thank you for the dango, Dai-san. You didn’t have to.” You couldn't help the pink tint that was staining your cheeks as the two of you began to walk away.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s walk by the river before the fireworks, come on.” Daichi wasn’t sure if it was the sweetness in the dessert that gave him the confidence and energy, but he grabbed your hand and led you to the walkway.

You felt like your hand was on fire. You didn’t even know what to say! You were so taken aback by the way Daichi’s hand enveloped yours perfectly. You had almost forgotten about the dessert he bought you - you were too focused on admiring him. He looked so good in the light - the way the last golden rays hit his face and changed his eye color from a deep mocha to a honeyed gold. As his eyes suddenly met yours, Daichi couldn’t help but smile - there was something about holding your hand that made all his worries disappear. You returned his smile before quickly averting your gaze to watch the sun meet the horizon - you tried your best to distract yourself by eating the dango and staring into the landscape.

I don't know where we're goin'

But I'd like to be by your side

Daichi couldn’t help but stare at you as you watched the sunset. He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again as he watched the way your skin seemed to glow in the fading light. He blushed as he saw you take a bite out of your dessert - thinking about how he wished he could feel your just as sweet lips on his own. Finishing your last bite, you turned to find him still looking at you - not that you knew he never stopped.

“Daichi-san, what's wrong? Is there something on my face?” Immediately, Daichi’s eyes widened as he shook his head side to side rather adamantly.

“No, no! There’s nothing wrong.” There was an awkward silence as you two stared at one another, not really understanding what to do or what to say. But finally, he spoke up again. “The fireworks are going to start soon, should we find a better spot?” All you could do was nod as he tugged your hand and led you away.

Daichi weaved between the growing crowd until the two of you reached the children’s playground, which was seemingly empty. Motioning for you to climb onto the metal jungle gym, your eyes widened. Your mom had tied your obi rather tight - and your yukata was a lot more movement-restricting than his.

“Dai-san, I don’t think I’m going to be able to climb on it. We can get on the swings, though.” Shaking his head, Daichi replied. “Nonsense, I’ll help you.” The top of the metal bars just passed your head, so you were curious as to how he could help.

You weren’t expecting Daichi to grasp your waist with his hands, gripping your hips tightly and lifting you up with ease, allowing you to sit on the small platform the bars made. You were glad the sun was just about gone by this time - you knew your face was beet red, but you found yourself immediately missing the way his hands felt on you as you looked down at him. He climbed up easily, settling down next to you. It felt like such a long time before either of you talked.

If you could tell me how you're feelin'

Maybe we'd get through this undefeated

“Daichi-san,” you started, staring down at your hands as the brunette looked over at you, “What’s wrong?” You met his eyes, and his heart panged at the hurt look in your eyes.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wr - ” you cut him off.

“Can you just tell the truth? I don’t want to lie and keep on pretending like everything’s okay.” Daichi sighed, his eyes flitting around your face before staring at the now dark sky. He wished he could wait for the fireworks, but he knew you were expecting an answer.

“Aren’t you bored yet? Of being friends?” Your eyes grew wide at his questions, and you felt your heart shatter as tears began to fill your eyes. Of course - that's why he was acting so weird. Daichi didn’t want to be your friend anymore. He wanted to spend one last happy memory with you before he shut you out of his life. You turned away immediately before he could see the tears stream down your face.

Holdin' on for so long, oh

“Oh, I see.” You tried your best to remain calm, but your voice betrayed you as it wavered. Daichi’s eyes widened - you were crying because of what he said. Gently grabbing your hand, he quickly tried to explain himself, saying your name over and over again.

“No, no, no, that's not what I meant to say - I mean, I did mean to say that, but not in that way! Not - ” you cut him off again, looking at him once again. His heart broke as he looked at the tears that slowly fell down your face.

“Then what did you mean to say?”

“I… I meant to say… Ugh!” Daichi’s hands flew up to run through his hair in frustration before he turned back to you. He had to tell you now or never.

“I’m trying to tell you that I - ” the night sky lit up with fireworks of all colors and sizes, their booms filling the air, cancelling out what he was telling you. You couldn't even understand what words his lips were forming. You stared at him in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing.

Daichi looked at you expectantly, but all you could do was ask a loud “what?” You hadn’t heard him. Sighing, a small smile coming to his lips - of course you didn’t hear him, the fireworks were so damn loud, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of you not hearing him. You looked so cute when you were confused too. 

Leaning down, Daichi moved his head right next to yours - you shivered and turned red as you felt his breath tickle your ear. You heard him this time almost loud and clear, even when he spoke your name at a normal volume right in your ear.

“I don’t want to be just your friend. I love you.” Daichi pulled away just enough to look at your face. Your lips were parted, a surprised look on your face.

'Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset

But I can't help from asking are you bored yet?

“Dai-san…” You didn't even know what to say or what to do - his eyes were so mesmerizing, and you were so shocked by his confession that you couldn’t even tell him you felt the same way. Daichi smiled, knowing you like the back of his hand. He saw the way your pupils dilated and the heavy blush that rested on your cheeks. He definitely should’ve told you sooner.

Leaning in once again, his lips hovered just centimeters from yours - seeing if you would move way or not. When you didn’t move away after a few seconds, Daichi closed the gap between your lips, kissing you as gently yet as passionately as he could convey. It only took you a second to reciprocate, and your lips moved against his as the fireworks in the sky and in your heart exploded furiously. Pulling away so you both could catch your breaths, you made your confession.

And if you're feelin' lonely you should tell me

Before this ends up as another memory

“Daichi, I love you too.” His eyes widened at your confession and he cupped your face in both his hands, his thumbs tracing your jawline as he pulled you into a desperate kiss. One hand moved to pull your waist closer and your hands moved up to rest on his chest and at the nape of his neck. As his lips moulded with yours perfectly, Daichi wished the moment would last forever.

Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie

Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie

Thank you for reading!!

~ Crystal 😌❤️

through the summer and the fall series masterlist

blog masterlist

buy me a ko-fi (but only if you can and want to)!

BONUS

The next day, the boys were surprised when you brought them freshly baked cookies as a treat for their lunch break. The excited first and second years eagerly thanked you as you each gave them two cookies. Daichi held a loving look in his eyes as he watched you from just a few meters away - and when your eyes met his, he gave you a smitten smile.

“I assume things worked out well? I never got a text from either of you last night.” Daichi turned to find Suga next to him, hand on his hip with a playful glare on his face. The captain’s smile only grew wider as his eyes wandered to look at you again.

“Yeah, they did.” But his mood immediately turned dark when Tanaka and Nishinoya started obsessing over you and the fact that you baked for them - their shouts and cries filling the gym.

“OI, TANAKA, NISHINOYA, BOKE! GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF MY LOVE!”

The captain didn’t hesitate to pull you away from the rowdy second years, everyone’s eyes wide open as Daichi held his most intimidating face. However, he immediately softened up and lost the face completely when you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“WOOOOHHHHHH! Senpai, you should kiss Daichi-san at practice more often! He’s way less scary!”

[naivesilver]

Top five Pinocchio moments, go!! Be as long winded as you want you know i’m here to listen babey

* cracks knuckles * OH BOY, HERE WE GO

Since you specified I could go on for as long as I wanted, you're going to get the the extremely detailed version of whatever opinion I discover to have while I type this, as is apparently the case every time I answer a Pinocchio ask

Let's go, then!

(Under the cut because it got EVEN LONGER than I'd expected ajsdgfg)

1) Pinocchio's first night in the world

This is the scene that stuck with me the most when I was a kid and first read the book. There's something deeply haunting about the way Collodi describes hunger, and the stormy weather and gloomy atmosphere really set the mood when it comes to picturing this kid (who is fundamentally an asshole but also a scared little boy who's been alive for less than 24 hours) trying to navigate the world on his own.

Also, I've always been intrigued by the concept of him burning his feet and what comes after. Not only because it seems a cruel way to start one's life, but because the fact that part of his body can be ruined and replaced as easily as that...It's kind of mindboggling, isn't it? Pinocchio feels pain in an on-and-off way throughout the entire way, when he's being strangled and caught in a trap and not when he's being stabbed, but I'd wager having one's feet burned should rank above all that, right? Instead he sleeps through it, and doesn't even flinch at having new limbs attached to his body. And 8yo me already wanted to know if the feet would feel foreign to him, since they came from an entirely different piece of wood.

I dunno, I really wish I could poke Carlo himself awake and demand an answer sometimes.

2) The Land of Toys and what led to it

This might sound like an obvious choice, given how vocal I am about my love for Lampwick as a character, but I have been doing some thinking about it and I have even more reasons to mention it.

Sure, Lampwick is an huge explanation of why I would pick it - jackass boy is extremely lovable from the very first second, and his relationship with Pinocchio is both sweet and tragic at the same time. They're friends! Lampwick is his closest friends despite everything! I'm tearing up just thinking about it!

But also, the Land of Toys as a whole. I recently finally put my finger on why the Disney version of it left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue, and it's because they missed the entire point of it, as they did with basically every other aspect of the movie (except Figaro, Figaro can stay).

The Land is supposed to be an eerie, Neverland-esque place where children go to escape responsibilities. Lampwick and Pinocchio spent all their time eating their fill and having parties, making friends with everyone, not breaking down stuff. Pleasure Island was all about doing "adult", forbidden things, but it's hardly believable that a XIX century boy, on the cusp of being considered grown enough to take on grown-up duties and harder labor, would want to accelerate the process - they would hope to stay children a little bit longer, and pay the price for it.

I just wish this aspect was talked about more often, alright.

3) Pinocchio throwing a hammer at the Cricket

Y'all know how it is. So cathartic - I have never reached a high level of self-satisfaction comparable to that, except maybe when the disaster that was GOT season 7 rolled in and we were blessed with the hilarious "how do you answer these charges...Lord Baelish" scene, which had me hollering for weeks.

The Cricket is an asshole. He deserved it, and he didn't even fucking die for all that trouble. Let's move on.

4) Eugene's demise (and follow-up Fairy bullshit)

Okay listen. Listen. This sequence is infuriating. Your father has been lost at sea, some kids tell you the creature who took him could be close, you end up getting framed for (presumed) murder, nearly caught by police, almost fried like a fish, and your mother leaves you half naked with a foot embedded in a door all night and tells you it's your last chance at being on your best behavior??? And nobody says shit about it??? It's frankly ridiculous.

But Pinocchio's tolerance for pain comes into the picture again, and poor Eugene gets bludgeoned over the head for character development, and once I had a discussion with someone over the fact that while Pinocchio's nose grows when he rejects the fisherman's insults over himself, it stays the same when he says that he rubbed against a wall to turn so white, so the hypothesis could be made that the lying thing only works when he's saying good things about himself. That concept still lives rent free in my head, because it opens the door to SO MANY angsty threads of thought.

Also this scene validates my need to dump the Fairy in the river near my house, so. Way to ruin a child's life, bastard.

And on this thread...

5) The Fairy blatantly lying about her health (and failing in her attempt to make me worry for her)

We're towards the end of the book, and yet this woman won't relent on her idiocy. Isn't it wonderful when a mother sends someone to tell her son that she's on the brink of death, but it's just a test for him to prove his worth? Truly heartwarming /s.

But honestly, the point of this choice is that when I first read the book, not only was I really puzzled about this scene, but also the old Italian of the original story unintentionally makes it very funny. You see, the Fairy is supposed to be lying in an hospital bed (HA, I fucking wish), but the way it's worded makes it sound like she's "at the bottom" of an hospital bed, which has always brought to my mind the picture of this woman looking very small at the bottom of a bed that's as deep as a well. Very little has stuck with me as vividly as this image has, fifteen years and counting.

+ Bonus: Japanese-German cartoon Pinocchio being an ADHD icon

This doesn't count as it's not in the book proper, but in the Piccolino No Bouken show (my beloved) Pinocchio is homeschooled by the Fairy in her house in the woods instead of going to school which has inspired my own Lampwick fic on the matter, and there is a scene where this poor idiot is trying to sit through his schoolwork and not only his brain won't cooperate, but his legs start moving on their own and forcing him to run up and down instead. When I tell you that little undiagnosed neurodivergent me had an epiphany on that day...So many adaptations could NEVER.

Also the PNB Fairy is literally one of the worst versions I have ever seen, but I digress.

[rainbowpacifiers]

Twin Kingdoms (A3! Event story) - Chapter 5

Haruto is distracted during rehearsals. Tasuku worries. Yuki pays a visit. Azami is impressed by Tsumugi’s and Juza’s passion for acting. They spotted who practicing out in the cold?!?

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

Tasuku: Morning. Tsumugi: Good morning. You've got rehearsals today too, right? Tasuku: Yeah. From morning, all day long. Tsumugi: What's practice like? Tasuku: Once again, a stimulating environment. Tasuku: The way they're unified, including those working behind the scenes, is the way it used to be, but Reni-san's influence or the atmosphere within the troupe have changed immensely. Tasuku: Discussions are livelier than in the past, and despite the nervousness towards Reni-san, everyone has come to relax and express their opinions. Tsumugi: The current top, Shift-kun, has an air of frankness too. He's a good kid with a relaxed manner, right? Tasuku: Yeah. I believe the top's personality had a certain influence too. Tasuku: (But Haruto is... Even though he's the lead this time, it feels like he's the only one not used to GOD Troupe's atmosphere.) Tsumugi: What about the lead, Haruto-kun? Tasuku: ...Sure enough, I think he's the one who understands GOD Troupe's plays better than anyone. Tasuku: Only Haruto can perfectly anticipate and grasp the points Reni-san might ask for. Tasuku: He has enough ability to play the lead.  Tsumugi: As you'd expect. Tasuku: (But maybe precisely because he understands Reni-san better than anyone else, he's also most upset about that change.) Tasuku: (It may be difficult for him to change because he's done his best just to embody Reni-san's ideals so far.) Tasuku: (It'd good if he doesn't find himself at an impasse...)

Reni: We will operate the projector video image here. Izumi: That's GOD Troupe for you. Your theatre has a variety of equipment. Reni: All sorts of things should be applicable at MANKAI Theatre too. Since it was selected rather carefully within the budget. Izumi: That's certainly helpful! Reni: This time, I was thinking of dividing the stage in two, into ice country and flame country. Izumi: I see. The ice country, pictured on top of a freezing mountain, and the flame country in the magma underground... Izumi: If it's well divided, it might be easier to visualise them. Reni: Heaven and earth, huh... Reni: An outlandish idea is similar to him. Izumi: Eh? You mean dad? Reni: Let's consider that direction for a moment. Izumi: Okay! Izumi: (I've never talked about directing with other people like this, so this is really illuminating.)

Yuki: Good work. Azami: Thank you. So you came. Yuki: They let me observe since I was already in the meeting for the costume plan. Azami: How was the meeting? Yuki: I proposed some high-cost fabric that would definitely get rejected if we were dealing with the money-grubbing yakuza, but it passed easily. Yuki: They said that it was common for GOD Troupe. I got excited for a moment, but you can just feel the gap, right? Azami: I got jealous when I saw the makeup staffs' tools too. Yuki: I want a bigger budget. Azami: That. Being poor is hard. Yuki: How is practice going? Azami: Hm, I'd heard lots of rumours about Reni-san, so I was considerably prepared, but he's not harsh and actually feels rather gentle. It was anticlimactic. Azami: Also, I've never been with Tasuku-san together for so long, so sometimes I feel disconcerted. Azami: Even during breaks, he's so into his role that he sometimes doesn't come back. Yuki: Yeah. That's the theatre idiot for you. What are the GOD Troupe members like? Azami: Seeing Shift performing all seriously in the practice room is really refreshing and fun. Totally different from his usual self. Yuki: Isn't he probably thinking the same? Azami: Maybe. The lead, Haruto-san's... Yuki: What? Azami: Nah, it's nothin'. Azami: (The way Haruto-san seems... it kind of reminds me of someone.)

Reni: Haruto, Cain's interpretation is shallow. That way, it appears as if he's just taking action while being swept away. Reni: Shift as well; you're still not quite conveying Lutz' feelings for Cain. Reni: Restructure the relationship between the two of them some more. Haruto: Yes. Shift: Okay. Reni: As for Tasuku and Izumida, the relation of master to servant has pretty much come to completion. Reni: I think it would be alright if you brought out more of the affable parts in one another, but that route is generally fine. Haruto: ...... Haruto: (That's right. When Tasuku was in GOD Troupe, he was always complimented, and I was the only one who got criticised...) Haruto: (Each time, I would commit everything I was told to memory and exerted myself to meet all of Reni-san's demands...) Reni: ...Haruto. Haruto? Shift: Haruto-san! Haruto: Ye, yes!? Reni: I was telling you to consult with Tasuku regarding your scene together in the 2nd act... Were you not listening? Haruto: ...I'm sorry! Haruto: (Me, doing something like failing to hear Reni-san's words--) Reni: Never mind. We will be taking a 20-minute break now. After that, we will begin with act 2. Haruto: ...Understood.

Haruto: ....Haah. Haruto: (Reni-san wasn't even mad.... Maybe that means he was completely disappointed.) Haruto: (Up until now, there were so many times where I got severely scolded... And each time, I'd practice like mad.) Haruto: (Without missing what the other troupe members were told, I'd do my best so that he wouldn't take notice of me for the same thing.) Haruto: (I don't have the physique that Tasuku was blessed with, nor the kind of focus where I'm so completely lost in my acting that I forget to sleep and eat.) Haruto: (Rather than getting into my role, I end up being more worried over how I am being seen.) Haruto: (Is my intonation alright? Or do I look like a person with the right quality for GOD Troupe? ... I have always overcome it with effort.) Haruto: (In the end, I have no choice but to do do everything in my power regardless of appearances.) Haruto: (It will work out. It's always been that way. From now on too--)

Haruto: --huh? Haruto: (It's unlocked?) Haruto: ......

Tasuku: "Tch, that pighead! His brains are fossilising with old age." Haruto: Tasuku... Tasuku: Oh, Haruto, are you here to practice on your own too? I wanted to do a bit more too, so I asked the staff to keep it open for me for a while longer. Haruto: Doesn't your troupe have their own practice room? Tasuku: But here, I can do it in the same area as the actual performance. That makes grasping the feeling easier. Haruto: Hmm. Tasuku: Since you're here, let's try that scene Reni-san wanted us to discuss today-- Haruto: I just came to get something I forgot. Tasuku: .....Come to think of it, this has happened before. Haruto: Is that right? Well, I'm leaving first. Tasuku: ......

Azami: Phew.... Azami: (I took a bath, so all that's left is sleep... ah, before I go to bed, maybe I should read the script and go over what I was told today.) Tsumugi: You don't have to put that in the fridge? Juza: 'cause I'm eatin' it right away. Tsumugi: Oh. Azami: ....Hey, show me what's in that grocery bag. Azami: It's all sweet stuff. Don't tell me you're thinking of eating this now? Tsumugi: We got caught by the person who wasn't supposed to find us. Juza: .....That reminds me, we saw that guy while on our way back. Azami: Even if you try to evade the subject-- Tsumugi: No, really. I was thinking of telling Tasuku too. Azami: Who do you mean? Juza: Was it Yamada? [1] Tsumugi: No, it's Asuka Haruto. From GOD Troupe. Juza: We only saw him from afar, but it looked like he was practicing on the river bed with the script in one hand. Azami: Why would he do that on the river bed in this cold? He's definitely going to catch a cold. When he could just use GOD Troupe's practice rooms. Juza: While on the way home, he probably had the sudden urge for individual practice? Azami: Suddenly, while walking home? Does that happen? Tsumugi: It does, usually. Juza: Yeah. Like when you want to try something that you suddenly thought of. Tsumugi: What happens often is when you think of a performance plan while you're walking, right? Azami: Seriously? Azami: (....You guys are the real deal.)

_________________

[1] If you recall, Haruto’s real name is Yamada Genta. 

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

[gra-sonas]

What do you think would have happened if pll and rnm would have cross over ( the characters) ?

I can’t speak for the other PLL characters (I’ve never actually watched the show apart from most of Tyler’s/Haleb’s scenes), but this is something I sent in as a question for Tyler for the Pretty Little Wine Moms podcast!

In Rosewood/#PLL, Caleb had to deal with some pretty bad people, in #Ravenswood he had to deal with the supernatural. How would he handle traveling to #RoswellNM and finding out 👽s are real? And how would Caleb and Alex get along?

I really hope that they’re going to ask him the question (or one like it) and we’ll get an answer from Tyler himself. 🤞

As for myself, I think Caleb coming to Roswell would be super fun. Thanks to spending time in Ravenswood, he’s experienced in handling paranormal/supernatural events. I think he wouldn’t be too surprised to find out that aliens exist. 

~*~

Caleb and Alex meet at some IT/hacker conference, both stopping in their tracks when they realize how much they look alike. Caleb manages to play it cool, but Alex is freaking out internally. What kind of fucked up alien conspiracy is this, he thinks.

It takes Caleb quite a bit convincing that he’s in fact a real person, that he’s not some weird clone, and that he wasn’t set up to meet Alex. Once Alex has performed a solid background check, he relaxes a bit. They go out for a drink that night (being hit up several times bc people would love to “fuck with the pretty twins”) and they get along splendidly. So splendidly in fact, that at the end of the conference, Alex invites Caleb to come and visit him in Roswell. 

When Caleb and Hanna (and their son Aidan) arrive in Roswell, they fit in with the pod squad crowd right away (Isobel and Hanna become best friends on the spot, and Aidan is instantly smitten with Rosa, who’s at first slightly irritated, but enjoys being “the favorite aunt” very quickly). 

Only Michael’s a bit weirded out at first. Caleb really looks so much like Alex, but after a while, he relaxes. Caleb is very much his own person, and while he’s pretty damn gorgeous, he’s no match for Alex’s good looks (in Michael’s humble opinion). He’s also ridiculously in love with his wife and kid, and Michael decides to just roll with it.

Shortly before the Rivers/Marin family is about the travel home, Caleb pulls Michael aside.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you propose to Alex?”

Michael is startled. He’s been getting along with Caleb quite well, but they haven’t talked all that much, and for sure not about something personal like his relationship with Alex.

“No offense, but I don’t think that’s any of your business, Caleb.”

“I know, Michael, and I apologize for being so blunt, but we’re leaving soon and we didn’t really have a chance to talk.”

Michael nods. “Apology accepted. Still none of your business.”

“You know, when Alex and I went out for a drink that night at the conference, we got hit on several times because people thought we were twins. You know what Alex said every time?”

“He said no, obviously, but I know that.”

“Michael, he didn’t just say no, he said ‘I’m engaged’ or ‘I have a fiancé’ every time, while I showed people my wedding ring.”

Michael is stunned and is voice a mere croak when he speaks again.

“Engaged?”

“Michael, he talked about you almost nonstop that night. How much he loves you, how happy you make him, and how he hopes that things will calm down enough one day for you two to have your happily ever after. But you know how things are, they never really calm down. So why not just ask him now and marry him? You two are amazing together.”

Caleb smiles at Michael and squeezes his hand. Michael swallows around a huge lump in his throat.

“Oh, okay, that’s interesting. I mean, that’s good to know. Not that I didn’t know. That he loves me, I mean. I just never dared to hope that marriage would be something he’s interested in.”

“Believe me, it’s something he’s definitely interested in. Talk to him. He’s told me a bit about your story, and how hard it’s been for you to start communicating. But take it from someone who almost fucked up the happily ever after with the love of their life: talk to him, and marry him. You won’t regret it. Marrying Hanna’s been the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Michael pulls Caleb in for a quick hug.

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate your advice. Guess it’s time to unearth the box with the ring from the bottom drawer at the Airstream.”

“You have a ring for him and haven’t proposed yet?”

Michael blushes and looks sheepish all of a sudden.

“I bought this ring more than a decade ago. There never seemed to be the right moment to ask him.”

Caleb’s eyes, so similar to Alex’s, are soft and Michael’s sure he spots a tear in one corner.

“Oh Michael, please go get that ring, and then get your man. I expect an invitation to the wedding!”

“I can’t promise you that, if he says yes, I’ll insist we get married right away, but you’ll be invited to our one year anniversary party I’m sure Isobel will insist on hosting next year.”

Caleb laughs.

“I really like the way you think, Michael. I wish you and Alex all the best and all the happiness.”

Michael winks at Caleb and walks back over to Alex who looks at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

“What was that about?”

“Oh, nothing, he just gave me some interesting advice. What do you think, should we bid our goodbyes, get takeout from the Crashdown and make a trip out into the desert for some stargazing?”

Alex’s smile softens and he leans forward to kiss Michael.

“I’d love that.”

An inexplicable calm washes over Michael in that moment. He’s no longer afraid to propose to Alex because he knows that Alex will say yes.

They say their goodbyes, drive by the Crashdown where Arturo hands them a large picnic basked (Alex winks at Michael when he’s about to ask “I messaged Arturo while you were busy saying goodbye to Aidan.”), and they’re on their way. They stop at the junkyard, where Michael retrieves the well worn dark green velvet box from the bottom drawer at the Airstream, and drive out into the desert.

It’s been a beautiful day, and it’ll be at least another hour before the sun will go down. Michael takes the two folding chairs from the back of the truck (Alex laughed when Michael had shown him the chairs but Michael’d been unfazed “We’re not getting any younger, Alex, they don’t take up much space and we’ll be so much more comfortable.” He’s been right, of course.), unfolds them and places them side by side, facing the sun. Then he puts the picnic basket in front of them and gestures at Alex to sit down.

Once Alex sits, Michael pulls out the velvet box from his jacket pocket and drops down on one knee in front of Alex. Alex’s eyes grow wide and there are tears glistening. 

“Alex Manes, will you do me the honor of going to the court house first thing tomorrow morning and getting married to me?”

Alex laughs (and cries a little at the same time), bends forward and throws his arms around Michael’s neck. He kisses Michael’s face over and over until their lips finally meet. “Yes, a million times yes,” Alex whispers into Michael’s mouth, and Michael feels like he’s about to burst into a million pieces, he’s so happy.

They kiss for a while, reveling in the knowledge that they’re about to take another important step together. When Alex finally pulls back, he looks so happy, Michael can barely believe that he’s the reason for it.

“Please, show me the ring, Michael.”

Michael hands Alex the box and Alex runs his fingers over it. The box looks like it’s been through a lot. Like Michael’s been holding it quite often. Alex swallows.

“Michael, for how long have you had this?”

Michael squeezes Alex’s hand.

“I bought it the day you left for basic training, right after my release from jail. You remember, Kyle’s hub caps?”

“Oh, I remember. I was furious with you because of that for way too long. But Michael, you bought me a ring. On that day. Even though I left. I had no idea.”

Michael can barely stand seeing more tears form in Alex’s eyes. He takes the box from Alex, opens it, and takes the ring out. It’s a simple silver band that reflects the sun beautifully. Alex is mesmerized. Michael lifts the ring and show’s Alex the engraving on the inside.

A + M ♡ forever

it reads. Alex swallows when he thinks back to the broken boy Michael was a decade ago. And yet he bought this ring and got it engraved with what amounts to a love confession and a vow in equal measure.

“Michael, this is the most beautiful, precious gift you could’ve made me. It took us so long to get here, but we made it. Through a thousand ups and downs, through trauma and heartbreak. And yet here we are. A bit older, a bit wiser, and even more in love than we were a decade ago. I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow and call you my husband for the rest of my life. I love you.”

Michael slips the ring on Alex’s finger and kisses it. It fits and looks endlessly perfect on Alex’s beautiful hand. They are both crying now, kissing and laughing and hugging. It takes them a while to calm down. 

They spend the evening out in the desert, they spend the night in their bed in their house, and the next morning they head over to the courthouse and get married. 

When Alex puts one of his old silver rings on Michael’s finger (no time to buy a new one before the ceremony), it looks like it was made for Michael’s hand. They decide that they won’t buy other rings, the ones they have being a perfect echo of their past, and a beautiful promise for their future.

***

Caleb’s phone beeps to notify him of a new message at 11:07am the day after they left Roswell. Hanna’s driving, so he pulls out his phone and checks his messages. It’s from Michael. A photo of two hands clasped together, silver rings reflecting the sunlight. The message is short.

Best decision I’ve ever made! Thanks again, and see you next year!

[rightsockjin]

A Little Bit of Stress

Summary: You and Namjoon haven’t had sex in God knows how long because of your mutually busy lives. Namjoon was stressed for the next comeback and you had students to motivate but how were you supposed to focus on your job when all you could think about was your boyfriend naked?

Rating: M

Genre: Smut, Fluff, tiny Angst

Word count: 14,456

Warnings: There is sex in this. Oral. Female receiving. Sexual spanking and playful spanking. Erotica…duh. BIg dick energy. And literal. You can feel it in your guts ladies and gents. Fingering, slight dirty talk. na na na na na na na na na na na na Soft DomJOON! A little angst if you squint. Very fluffy. Namjoon loves reader with all he’s got. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play-kinda. Bratty reader. Slight choking. Sensitive neck Joon. Ear eating.

Please don’t repost without permission. I worked really hard on this y’all.

`-admin OperaNickle

    Stress. It was the root of nearly all of your problems.

    Whether it was your skin breaking out in places it never did before, or his sour mood that seemed to swing from mild discomfort to full on don’t-touch-me-or-I-will-scream, it was getting to you both.

   Currently, you were sitting on the warm beige couch that Joon had insisted on buying after you complained about the white one that the apartment had come with. You dropped your coffee all over it and painstakingly scrubbed it for hours with a resulting light brown stain.

Your hands were resting on top of one of the dark brown throw pillows you’d bought soon after, triggering his own purchase of an oversized, red orange, paisley rug to match. It was never ending. He’d purchase something, then you would equal it or outdo him.

   You had pointed out one time after he’d bought the most outrageous and expensive thing yet– a dark brown mahogany wood coffee table that looked like an old time-y trunk– that he was furnishing your apartment and that it was a waste of his money. He’d merely chuckled and commented on the sheer amount of time he had been spending at your place since you two  had become more than just friends.

  “I’m just trying to repay you for all of the food I consume when I’m here. Really, you’re the one who’s losing since you have to put up with me.”

   Still, you had made up your mind to somehow repay him for all of the things he continued to buy without your consent. He may be well off –that being an understatement– but he didn’t need to be throwing his money at you. You had a job. A fairly okay one at that. You could buy your own furnishings and feed him when he was over. Another reason for your submission to his lavish, albeit over the top, gift giving was because it had clearly been established as his love language. How could you say no to the way he expressed his feelings?

   The slam of the refrigerator door alerted you from the story you had been reading on your phone. Your fingers accidentally scrolled right and closed the chapter you were on, causing the app to suddenly glitch and close. Your heart sank.

   You frantically clicked on the app to open it and when the loading screen popped up you knew it was a lost cause. You hadn’t saved the story, nor had you memorized the title or author.

   You slumped in your seat letting out an audible groan of pure frustration. You had just been getting to the good part. The part you had started reading the story for in the first place, and just like your sanity, it was robbed at the worst time possible.

   “Damn it! Pinche iPhone de la pinche fucking madre, oh my God!”

   You let the phone drop with a ringing thud on a spot on the floor. It was slightly muffled by the fibers of the rug, but your voice was loud and shrill. From his place in the kitchen, Joon looked over. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the glare on his face shift into confusion. He leaned on the bar that stood between the living room and kitchen and took two deep, calming breaths.

   You were getting on his nerves. You could tell. It wasn’t his fault or even yours. He was constantly under a lot of pressure and recently he’d hit a rut working on one of the verses of his songs. Itt seemed to travel to everything he worked on. The melody he’d been producing that had been flowing out of him like a smooth river;  stuck. The lyrics to his next solo song that had been as easy as speaking; cut short. The rap line song that had been his idea; missing only his part now.

   The frustration and dissatisfaction had bled into his personal life. To be more specific, you. He’d been at your apartment almost daily. Something about how you usually get him to relax and therefore out of any writer’s block he’d have but now it didn’t seem to be working. On the contrary, you seemed  to be making it worse.

   It was torturous. To have him in your bed and not able to touch him or sooth him in any way was the definition of your own personal hell. He showered late at night after he got in from work on most days unless it was the weekend, in which case he showered at around nine to sleep a full eight hours or more. Then he woke up on the earlier side of the morning to try and write from the comfort of his – your – “our” couch. That usually lasted until you woke up, made some sort of breakfast that he pecked at then threw away because his lack of inspiration made “food taste bland”.

   In a way, you felt inadequate. Your sole wish in this relationship was to make his life easier and you hadn’t been able to satiate him for one single second. You had always prided yourself on being able to calm him down, and this no longer seemed to be one of your strengths.

   He even wasn’t as affectionate as usual. Now, you weren’t the kind of person to let things like this get to you. It was a dip. A problem that would eventually turn into a hill. The lower you fall the higher you rise . It was just a fact of  life…so why did you suddenly feel like you were walking on eggshells and he was throwing them at your feet?

   “Are you okay? Don’t think I’ve heard you curse like that…ever,” Namjoon said, sounding apprehensive.

   Your pulse raced as the unfinished scene raced through your mind.

   Namjoon caressed your cheek, his fingers rough from working out. His voice, deep. Gruff. Like he’d just woken up.

   “Oh baby,” he whispered in your ear. His warm breath tracing the shell. A shiver ran up your spine that he pretended not to notice.

   “Do you know how much I’ve missed you,” he kissed your earlobe, letting his tongue dart out for a split second to lav at the tender skin, “Your voice,” he kissed the shell with a slightly open mouth, “ your lips…”

  He traced your ear with his tongue, strong from all the rapping and his accurate pronunciation of every single syllable. You couldn’t help but sigh as a blush tracked up your body and settled in your cheeks.

   “Joon-“

   “Shhhh,” he whispered, still working at your ear, “just relax baby. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

   “Y/N,” Joon said a little louder, snapping you out of your reverie. Your breath was coming shorter, your own mind trying frantically to fill in what you hadn’t read. Did he kiss her next? Where were his hands? Still on her cheek? Was he as turned on as she was? What did he mean by “take care” of her?

   “What,” you said, trying and failing to keep the slight bite from your voice. Regret filled you instantly. It wasn’t his fault that the app was glitchy.

   His eyes widened, taken aback by your tone. Great. Now you made it worse. You must have hurt his feelings.

   “What crawled up your ass,” he asked, succeeding in keeping his tone playful and soft but it still agitated you.

    You felt a lick of fire flicked against your chest. Anger boiled in your stomach. He didn’t mean it. You knew that. Just as you hadn’t meant the snappy way you’d answered, but the monster inside of you was ready to growl.

   You bit your lip trying to keep the retort in your throat. If you snapped again, he’d just leave. He didn’t need to be here. He had a dorm and people much nicer to be around. If you wanted to be alone for the next couple of days, it would be the perfect way to do it.

   “Is it work still,” he asked again, his features softening once again in concern.

   The monster retreated as quickly as it had come. The way he seemed to search your whole body as if it could tell him without your words what was wrong was endearing.

   “Yes.”

   It wasn’t a total lie. He’d said “still” and yes, it was a part of your major frustration. Not only was your boyfriend being uncharacteristically cold but your students seemed to be trying less and less every class. It was like no one cared to learn English or to study anymore. Perhaps it was you. Maybe it was that you just weren’t as good of a teacher as you had thought.

   It had been plaguing you. Every time you walked into class, ready to inspire someone, yet they all seemed to want to run the other way.  It was always in the back of your head. What if you lost your job? You would get kicked out of South Korea for sure. You weren’t a citizen. You weren’t married to one… not even close…

   If you were sent back to the US, your parents would never let you hear the end of it. The “I told you so” s and reprimanding glares. The way they would no longer be able to brag about how brave and smart you were. It was eating away at you.

   Of course, you hadn’t told Joon all of this. His job was enough to keep him up for days without his girlfriend adding to the pile. You knew you should tell him what was really wrong, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t tell him how crappy you’d been feeling without suddenly making the problem about you and not him and his much busier and more important life.

   It had been steadily building. The anger. The frustration. The guilt. That, coupled with Joon’s complete disdain of your touch, had your own stress going through the roof. you couldn’t even remember the last time he’d made out with you, let alone had any sort of intimate moment.

   So there you were. Frustrated. In far too many ways to count and no real way to fix it unless you wanted to do it yourself and honestly, you didn’t have enough alone time to actually try. As a result, you’d been scarfing down erotica fictions about your own boyfriend. The irony was not lost on you.

   The only problem was that now that you knew what he was like in real life, all the renditions of him were just a bit off. You found yourself rewriting the fiction as you went, trying to imagine what the real Joon would do in that situation. Some were too out there to even consider reading. Some too perverse even for you. Some were so far from the real life Namjoon that they made you laugh but this one, the one that you had been reading before your stupid phone glitched, was very close to what you would assume Namjoon would act like.

   The fake Namjoon was sweet. He was tender and called his girlfriend baby and jagi like he did to you almost exclusively in place of your name. He’d hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek multiple times softly just to remind her that he loved her.. He’d admire her hair and stared at her features as if committing them to his memory for later use. It was so purely Namjoon that it almost felt as if it was really him who had written it. Just for you. So you could have him when he was gone or unavailable. It had felt so real…

   “Too many papers to grade?”

His very much real voice jarred you once again from your thoughts. It seemed he’d been doing that a lot lately. Or maybe you were just dozing off too often.

   “Something like that,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest. His oversized hoodie curling under your arms. You brushed a long braid over your shoulder with a satisfied grunt and let yourself slide onto the floor before you. Like his hoodie, you crumpled on the rug next to your phone which lay face down. Namjoon’s face winked up at you from one of the many photo cards of him you had and you couldn’t help but smile back at the miniscule Joon. You couldn’t help it. His smile made you smile. Too bad you hadn’t seen the real one in ages.

   Gentle footsteps resonated off the white walls. You didn’t move. Your eyes glued to the ceiling as they got closer and you let your arms fall limply to your side. His face appeared directly in your line of vision, the ghost of a dimple on his left cheek as he half smiled for what felt like the first time in years. He looked down at your unmoving form.

   “It’s got you all jelly like,” he said nudging your hip with his toes. You scrunch your nose in distaste.

   “Don’t poke me you dork,” you hissed, still not moving, having found a comfortable position.

   Namjoon rolled his eyes but sat down next to your head, his legs stretched out before him as he picked up the remote for the TV and went on Netflix. Within seconds you could hear the familiar music of your favorite franchise playing and you jerked unattractively to see.

   The coffee table was in the way.

   “Is that what I think it is,” you asked him, rolling your eyes to the back of your head to try to see him without moving.

   “Why don’t you move over so that you can see for yourself?”

    He patted his muscular thighs as an invitation. Did he want you to sit on him or lay your head on his legs?

   You straddled him. Your hands rested on his shoulders as his smile grew. He was getting hard. You could tell, but his face remained simply at ease.. As if you were the most gorgeous painting he had ever seen and his sole job was to admire you. The only signs of his arousal were his dilating pupils and the third leg in his pants.

   “Mmm,” you hummed looking back at the ceiling, “I’m kind of comfortable.”

   You heard him scoff and couldn’t help the slight smile that graced your lips at his disbelief that mingled with amusement.

   “Come on baby,” he groaned, “you’re going to turn down my thighs for the floor?”

   “I don’t want to move Namjoon,” you argued, breathing deep so that your chest rose high enough to see through the excess fabric on your body. You could sense his eyes on you. Or was that your own desire tainting your perception?

   “But… my thighs… and Harry Potter…” he whined. God, you loved it when he whined. Usually when you were being a huge brat and he turned into a puppy. It was delicious.  

   “But, the floor and my comfort,” you retorted, twitching your open fingers just for fun.

   “Jagiyaaaa,” he groaned, grabbing the hand you’d just moved. He pulled on it to get you to move closer. Your head hit the side of his leg that was mostly covered by his black shorts. The small trip had cleared your view to the TV and you smiled triumphantly.

   “Thanks Joon, now I can see,” you cackled as he let go of your hand and you turned on your side to see clearly. Professor Dumbledore had just started talking to a small cat with glasses.

               For a couple of minutes, you sat in silence and his annoyance seemed to return. Just as the floor was staring to get uncomfortable and you were regretting your stupid choice to stay on the floor and not his thighs, one of his hands dropped down onto your eyes, blocking your vision entirely.

   “Joon,” you said stiffly and you tried in vain to pry his… delectable… hands from your face.

   “You either lay on my lap and watch the movie with me, or not at all,” he joked as you continued to wrestle with his long fingers.

   “How am I supposed to get on your lap if you’re holding me down genius?”

   “Oh sorry,” he said, lifting his hand then used both of them to place your head on his right thigh. You begrudgingly settled yourself on his muscular leg, thought internally you were cheering, pulling your braids out from under your body and over his lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him looking at your hair with innocent desire.

   “Jagi,” he said running his fingers over one of the braids that nearly touched the floor over his muscles, “can I play with your hair?”

   Namjoon ran a hand through your hair, sniffing it.

   “Jagi, you smell so good…” he said as he scratched your scalp lightly, “can I play with your hair?”

   You choked on your own saliva for a second. You couldn’t swallow and you brought your hand up to cover your lips in case you coughed but the moment passed and your skin flushed as you imagined the short story again.

   “Uh…ye-yeah. Go for it.”

   Namjoon hesitated but pulled the hair ties off the ends of your hair and very slowly and tenderly began to undo the knots that made up your Dutch braids. It would be frizzy when he was done but you could always throw it up in a bun later. Besides, this was one of those things that you just absolutely adored about Namjoon.

   He liked to play with your hair. It was soothing.. When you had mentioned it to Joon once as an anecdote that you enjoyed this action, he’d taken it upon himself to do it when he was sleeping over to help you drift off faster. He’d told you that he had an affinity for grooming people and the fact that you had mentioned that you enjoyed such ministrations made him excited.

   His fingers drew small circles near the front of your head as he finished unbraiding one side of hair. Your eyes drooped as he stopped his small drawings and started to undo the other braid.

   His fingers were skilled–there was no doubt about it–in many, many, ways, but maybe this was your favorite. You sighed, letting him massage your scalp as the movie played. You let your eyes close as the feeling of his hand on your head lulled you.

   After a few blissful moments you realized you were falling asleep and you jumped up, throwing his hand off your head and nearly hitting his chin with your skull.

   Joon’s eyes widened with surprise and confusion as he waited for an explanation. You smiled at the man before you cleared your throat and spoke.

   “I was falling asleep.”

   Namjoon relaxed his shoulder. He had been scared he’d done something wrong,

   “That’s okay baby. I just want you to relax,” he said, pushing your head towards his lap again but you pulled his hand away and straddled his lap before stretching your legs behind him and hooking your ankles together.

   “What are you doing,” he asked, his breath hitching as you rested your hands on his chest. You leaned into him slowly and rubbed your nose on his before nuzzling against his cheek.

   “It’s not fair that I’m the only one relaxing,” you answered, bringing his hand back up to your head and he sighed, tangling his fingers once again. You did the same, running your hand from the nape of his neck and up to his scalp.

   He let out a slow breath when you clutched at the strands and buried your head in his neck, running your lips over the skin there.

   He had a sensitive neck. Whether it was sensually or just on the daily, he loved neck kisses. So you delivered without complaint.

   As you pressed your lips softly on his pulse you couldn’t help but feel elated. Finally. He was letting you help. Finally, he was holding you like he used to. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask “why” as you usually would. You were too scared to shatter the moment. If all you got from him were caresses in your hair and all you got to give were kisses on his neck, then it would all be worth it.

   One of his hands began to draw on your mid to lower back and you couldn’t help but curl around his body. Tighter. Closer. If you could suddenly melt into him and become one, you would do it  in a heartbeat. But this was enough. For now.

   You lightly bit his neck in a couple of different places, letting your tongue lick small stripes in the same place before kissing the saliva away.  His breath deepened further. His hold on your body tightened as well, like he was trying to pull you into him. Both of his hands were splayed out on your torso. His fingers dig into the fabric of his hoodie on your body and his head lulled to the side so you could have better access.

   Elation filled you to the brim. To have him so pliant under your touch was all you could ask for. Him letting you take care of him; that’s all you wanted.

   You used the hand that had a grip on his hair to maneuver his head to meet your mouth.  You kissed up the tendon in his neck slowly, taking your time to appreciate his smooth skin.

   “Oh baby,” he groaned. His mouth was so close to your ear that his breath grazed the shell. A shiver ran up your spine as you kissed his jaw. You struggled to keep yourself present. It was about him. Not about you.

   “Jagiya,” he husked trying to move his head to try to kiss you. You held him firmly in place.

   He groaned again, this time in frustration. He wasn’t used to you taking control. It was always him who took the reins but the last thing he needed at this moment was to take care of you.

   “It’s okay baby,” you mumbled against his sideburns, “just let me take care of you.”

   You planted a soft kiss on his ear. You felt his body convulse. His legs began to fidget under your body. His hips bucked and his hands grasped at your waist as if to still you. It was too late. You could feel his arousal. Slowly, he was hardening as you continued to kiss and suck at his golden skin.

   “Wait wait,” he said, ripping you from his jugular and holding you at arms length. His breath was heavy, almost as if he had been running.  His pupils were dilated and his skin was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.

   Sinful. This picture of your boyfriend clearly turned on by the simplest stroke of your lips and fingers, was sinful. And Lord were you a sinner.

   You bit your lip, keeping a growl from ripping from your mouth. You could lose control. Maybe you were the one who was riled up. Your pulse thumped against your neck, your chest… your panties… it’s been too long. Much too long for your liking.

   “Wait for what,” you complained, clenching and unclenching your fingers in his lush locks. You ground your hips once down , pushing into his lap to create friction. He grunted, squeezing your waist to stop you from moving, but you wiggled and squirmed in his grasp managing to get a couple more strokes against his rapidly hardening erection.

   “Hold on,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing you back and off his lap. The heat in your body seemed to pulsate in your veins as you watched him trying to catch his breath. His shorts were tented. His muscles flexed as if he was trying to stop his body’s reaction, his eyes lidded and his head heavy on his shoulders.

   You couldn’t understand why he had stopped you. He seemed to want it as much or maybe even a little more than you did.

   Suddenly, fear gripped you like a vice. The heat drained and in that moment, you felt stupid. How could you throw yourself at him like that? He’d asked you to stop and yet here you were pushing.

   You pushed yourself away from him a little more and hugged your legs to your chest and placed your forehead on your knees. Tears sprung into your eyes. You tried to keep them quiet but it was hard to breathe. Emotion consumed you. Just because his body reacted did not mean that he wanted what you did.

   Guilt flooded your head like a fog as you felt your body begin to shake. Maybe he just didn’t want you anymore. Maybe… maybe the couple of months that the two of you had as more than friends were enough for him. Maybe he realized that you were better as friends. That would explain his lack of affection. His lack of interest. That would explain his rut.

   “Whoa whoa, Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying,” you heard his voice ask. His hand patting your head to try to get you to look up. You could feel your hair fanned around your arms and were grateful for the extra cover. You hated crying in front of people and he was no exception. In fact, you hated it even more.

   When you gave no answer, you felt him shift closer. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail . Air hit your burning cheeks but you refused to look at him.

   “Oh baby what did I do,” he asked but it didn’t seem aimed at you. You felt him press his own forehead to the back of your head. He nuzzled into your now frizzy hair and placed a gentle kiss. you felt your shoulder shake as you struggled to breathe.

   A sob escaped your lips and like a dam, it burst forward. It was ugly, to say the least. You hadn’t realized how much emotion you had been holding back. Hadn’t realized how bottled up you had been. Now you were paying for it.

   How embarrassing.

   “Y/N no,” he said, pulling at your legs and replacing them with this body. He wrapped his arms around your torso and settled your arms onto his shoulders. He cradled your head against his neck and kept his hand on the nape of your neck

   “Shhh baby it’s okay… it’s all going to be okay. Just tell me what I did. I’m so sorry…”

     How had you gotten here? How did you end up on the floor of your apartment with tears in your eyes when all you wanted was to kiss his stress away?

   You sat together like this for what felt like forever. Eventually, he pulled you back onto his lap. You assumed because it was more comfortable for hi than squatting on his knees.

   He didn’t ask again what it was that he did. He didn’t question the tears. Instead, he stroked your hair and kissed your cheeks while you calmed down. You felt guilty. You owed him an explanation but you could feel it in your bones that you wouldn’t be able to speak if you tried.

   Finally, you were able to breathe normally but you stayed in his arms for a couple seconds more in case he pushed you off again after he realized that you were feeling ok.

   You slowly pulled your head from his neck and searched around on the floor for one of the hair ties that he’d pulled from your hair earlier. There was one near your phone.

   You quickly tied your hair up and away from your tear stained face, letting the cool air conditioning hit your skin. Joon watched you, waiting on bated breath, but you didn’t want to talk.

   You let your hands rest on your own thighs as his hoodie sleeves covered your hands entirely. You must have looked pitiful. Hopefully you weren’t too red and puffy.

   You couldn’t bring yourself to get off of him so you simply sat waiting for him to break the silence. Maybe he had the same idea because he didn’t speak either. He let his hands fall to your hips and pressed softly into the flesh soothingly.

   You took a shaky breath trying to give yourself courage but- thank God- Joon beat you to it.

   “Baby… are you upset because I pushed you away? I just needed a second to cal down.”

          Baby? Would he still call you baby if he didn’t want to date you? Maybe he didn’t know how to end it and so he was trying to keep you from finding out that he wasn’t feeling it anymore. Baby. you remember when he first called you baby and even though it hadn’t been your favorite name to be called from previous lovers, when it had come from his lips, from his heart…it was different. It was praise. It made you feel warm and like you were glowing. Yet, this time, it was like he’d stabbed you with a heated knife somewhere below your ribcage.

          “If you don’t want me anymore you should just tell me,” your mouth said. Your voice sounded foreign. As if it had come from someone else. What you said surprised you almost as much as it surprised him. His eyes widened and searched your face.

          “Not-not want you,” he stuttered, a laugh barely concealed in his surprise, “are you kidding?”

          Ignoring your fear at how you appeared after your pity party, you snapped your head up to look at him. A small smile rested on his lips and the deeper of his dimples showed slightly. While there was worry behind his gaze, there was another emotion, deep within the brown of his eyes. It was mirth. He thought this was funny.

          “Namjoon,” you raised your voice, trying to keep your own smile at bay. You swatted at his arms and he feigned hurt.

          “What,” he yelled letting uncharacteristically dashing chuckles escape his lips, “You can’t expect me to think you’re being serious.”

          “I am being serious-“

          “Ahahaha,” his loud and somewhat funny laugh was back and with it your own smile. It felt like you hadn’t heard it in so long. Sure, he laughed when he was on run episodes or when he was with the boys but it seemed like around you, he was always down. It was nice to have him laughing even if it was at you.

          “Joon! Stop laughing, I’m not kidding!”

          He laughed even harder at that. His laugh reached a level of loudness that made your ears ring but you didn’t care. He looked happier than he had in weeks. You couldn’t help but chuckle along as he laughed until they subsided into snickers. All the while you continuously poked and pushed at his shoulders playfully.

          When he was finally composed enough to make direct eye contact, he cleared his throat and widened his pretty eyes at you as he tended to do after he heard a good joke. His smile was glued to his face as he rubbed circles into the hoodie.

          “Do you really think,” he couldn’t help but cough as he tried to stop another fit of laughter from escaping, “that I would ever, and I mean ever,” he paused, his fingers slipping down almost deafly to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, “not want you?”

          You blinked at him as his eyes glittered, darkening impossibly so. It was like a switch was flicked and the small amount of lust that you’d seen before was back. Nimble fingers found their way under the oversized fabric on your body. His touch was slightly cold to the skin on your stomach. It sharply contrasted the heat that seemed to rush into your cheeks and your ears.

          “Well,” you managed with little to no effort, “it’s been weeks since I’ve so much as kissed you…” His index finger had found the lace of the bralette you were wearing. His thumb hooked under the soft edge and tugged at it slightly. Distracting. He was so distracting.

          “So-so I thought maybe it was something I had done,” you said in one breath as his thumb dug a little higher under the elastic that clung to your ribs to keep your breasts in place. Just in the nick of time too. Had he done it just one second earlier, you would have probably become mute for once in your life. A feat only Namjoon could achieve.

          “That’s on me,” he said suddenly halting his progressing fingers, his shoulders sagging, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately.”

Namjoon rested his forehead on yours. His eyes shut tight as his apology fell from his pink lips.

          He stroked the section of skin under the pad of his thumb, the tip just barely brushing the underside of your breast. You felt a wave of heat rush through your body. Was it getting hot? Should you close the curtains?

          “I’ve just been stressed and I didn’t want to blow up on you. At the same time, well… I miss you and I feel the most comfortable around you. I don’t ever feel like I have to pretend that I’m alright. I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated.”

          When had his other hand found your bare waist? Had his voice distracted you? When had the rest of his fingers ended up under the soft lace of the bralette? Had his thumb traveled further?

         “I didn’t mean to…deprive you,” He whispered, forcing you forward to catch his low words. In hindsight, it was a trap. That’s exactly what he wanted but could you fight him when he sounded so delicious?

          Your thoughts were cut short when his hand on your chest shifted completely, cupping and gently squeezing. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise. He gave another firm squeeze as his eyes squinted cutely, his high pitched giggle returning, like music to your ears as he leaned even closer and bumped his nose against yours.

          “Kim Namjoon,” you gasped but it was eaten up as he quickly connected his lips to yours in a spurt of short, chaste kisses that had you chasing after him. Frustration flooded your veins as he continued to pull away, leaving you wanting more and more the more he gave.

          Finally, having had enough, you grabbed his head with both of your hands and tilted it up slightly so you could kiss him properly. Forcing him to slow down. He would be in control soon enough. You should enjoy the power you had while you could.

          You forced your lips onto his. The kiss was soft, slow, passionate. He melted into it. He always did like when you took a hold of him in some way or another. Sinful, beautiful noises escaped his lips. His small moans seemed  to absorb into your pores. In turn you couldn’t help but answer each and every one of them. He nibbled on your bottom lip for a second, an action that you couldn’t get enough of and he knew, then went right back to sucking on your upper lip.

          “Fuck,” you could feel the arousal in your throat. He made you lose yourself. He made you forget where you were, who you were.

          “That’s right baby girl,” he groaned into your mouth as you licked his lips, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

          You moaned. It was embarrassing how easily you could come undone under his ministrations. If you could kiss him for eons, you would. His lips were your favorite bit of him. He was so. Fucking. Good.

          “Baby please,” you groaned pulling at his lip with your teeth, “I want you…”

          “Shit,” he said, a gurgle of want bubbling from his throat. You shifted, trying to remind him of his hands on your body but what it did instead was remind you of another part of him that seemed almost as excited as you were.

          “Jagi,” he hissed, shifting his hips to get the same friction you’d just created, “do that again.”

          You pulled your lips from his, a thin strand of saliva connecting you. In any other situation, this would be gross, but in that instant, it only spurred you on more.

          “Yes sir,” you joked, winking at him as you rolled your hips against his half hard erection. A melody of noises fell from his blessed tongue. Lust was over taking you. Your eyelids became heavy. Your breath, shallow and hard.

          “You know that’s not what I want you to call me,” he hissed at you, his fingers on your chest picking at the nipple that had hardened at some point while you made out. You sighed, your tongue darting out to wet your parched lips but you knew that the thirst you were feeling could not be quenched this way.

          “Say my name,” he growled, twisting his finger and pulling at the sensitive skin. You were panting now, slowing your movements on his lap to enjoy his cares.

          You whimpered, pushing your chest into his hand, arching your back as you struggled to draw any breath.

          “Come on baby girl,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your neck. When had he gotten to your neck?

          “Just once,” he begged but you knew he wasn’t asking.

          “Make me ,” you gasped as he bit and sucked at your pulse. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt him stop and tense.

          He pulled his lips from your neck, a lewd squelch resonating in the empty apartment as he brought his eyes level with you. He withdrew his hand as well without even a warning and you whined, thought you knew this would happen as soon as you started to fight him. It was worth it though. You knew he always worked better under a little pressure.

          “Just what I needed to hear.”

          He shifted under you, locking your ankles behind his back. He then locked your hands behind his neck. You weren’t stupid. You could see where this was going. Now, Namjoon was obviously very smart. It was  obvious. But sometimes, on most occasions, he lacked the common sense to make proper choices.

          This was one of those times.

          “Hold on tight baby,” he winked, kissing your lips once more before pushing himself up by doing a bench dip with his knees bent. Namjoon had a lot of thigh and arm muscle. This much was true, but was he used to lifting both his body weight and your own? No.

          So when he started to shake under the joined pressure, it wasn’t a surprise. You would have laughed but Lord were you scared that he would fall, or drop you or hurt himself. Instead, you struggled to decide if you should be holding onto him for dear life or if you should fling yourself off him to avoid any major injury to either of you.

          The decision was taken from you as his left arm bent at a slightly awkward angle and his balance was thrown. Instinctively, you let go of him to brace yourself as the swooping sensation of falling gripped you with fear.

          You couldn’t tell exactly how it happened. Your eyes fell shut as you landed heavily on your side. Your elbow hitting first as you reached out to stop your momentum.

          “Ow,” you couldn’t help but groan as sharp pain shot through your arm. You heard Namjoon gasp near you but all you could see was stars. You began to giggle uncontrollably as tears streamed down your face.

          “Oh your God, Y/N are you alright,” he said, sitting you up with his strong arms. You couldn’t stop laughing. You’d hit your damn funny bone and in all honesty, this was a funny situation. Sex with Namjoon was nothing if not eventful and filled with awkward mishaps.

          “I’m fine,” you said through laughter, “i just hit my elbow.”

          You blinked away the tears in your lashes, looking up at the dope of a man that you were in love with. Worry was evident on his brows. He looked you over before taking your arm in his hand and examining the red mark where you had landed.

          “Does it hurt a lot? Do you think it’s broken,” he asked, touching it lightly but no pain was felt on your end. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that nothing, and you meant nothing- could stop you from taking this man in this very instant, but you couldn’t care less if your arm was broken. Hell, it could have been hanging off by a thread and you’d still want to have a quickie before we went to emergency care.

          Could you blame yourself? The man was gorgeous.

          This was, in fact, what you were focusing on at the moment. The way that his hair fell into his dark eyes. The way his jaw contrasted with his round cheeks. How his lips were slightly parted as he examined your arm with utmost delicacy. His shoulders. His neck. The veins in his muscular arms. His long… nimble…fingers…

          “Joon,” you snapped a bit harsher than you had meant to. His eyes shot up to meet yours, confused and shocked.

          “Did I hurt you…” he averted his eyes shyly, “More?”

          “Oh honey no,” you laughed, though this time you cut yourself off as you caught a glimpse of his hardening member under the loose shorts he was sporting, “I’m hoping you might though.”

          You weren’t much into pain and Namjoon knew this very well, but these words were enough to pull him back at what was at stake. You.

          “Are you sure,” he asked one last time, fighting with his own concern and sky rocketing arousal.

          “Very sure,” you said, pushing yourself up to your knees to kiss his cheek then ducking your head to kiss his neck.

          A shiver ran down his whole body. His eyes closed and squinted. His bulge twitched slightly and you couldn’t stop the smirk on your face. You reached out and ran a single finger over the tented area, drawing little circles as you worked your way to the tip.

          “Oh fuck,” he whispered gruffly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling it away from his body. You giggled as he let his eyes fall open, a chastising spark in his pupils. Oh you were so going to get it.

          “Close the curtains,” he commanded and you shrugged, standing quickly and nearly yanking the curtains from the hinges.

          “Done. Now what?”

          “You seem a little eager to please,” He chuckled, standing from his place on the floor carefully. It must have been painful. He looked even harder now.

          “I always am. You know I’m a people pleaser.”

          He rolled his eyes but nodded at the stairs by your kitchen and with an excited hop, you ran towards them. Joon chased you, playfully swatting at your hips and behind every couple of steps. Your long hair bobbed with every step and your shoulders shook with every giggle. You tried to jump away from him but only half-heartedly. In truth, you loved his hands on your butt and you weren’t going to pass up some playful spanks.

          When you made it to the landing, you turned around. Namjoon was slightly shorter than usual due to him being one step behind you, so you took advantage, throwing your arms around his neck as he took the last step. As if he was on the same wavelength, he reached down, grabbing at your thighs and settling them around his hip.

          You giggled again, excitement and something a little purer flooded your system. His lips met yours unceremoniously, nipping and sucking light heartedly while you smiled into him. The scent of something flowery hit your nose and you realized he must have used some of his Chanel number five lotion. It strangely suited him well.

          Finally, you reached your bed. He climbed on carefully, setting you on your back. He pulled away and blinked at you. Your stomach fluttered at his expression. There was a softness on his features that you never saw with anyone else. A love that you couldn’t quite describe but couldn’t ignore.

          He let go of your leg to stroke at your cheek with the back of his hand. Pure, undeniable warmth surged through you at his touch. Your smiles match in intensity and adoration. It was weird. Maybe no one could understand it. How intimate sex truly was to you. Especially with the reputation that your boyfriend had of being a sexual deviant, but the truth was that while he was naturally very attracted to the human body, sex had a special meaning to him. It wasn’t something that he gave away easily. It was an expression of his trust and love. It was nearly never self-serving, and almost always to focus on you and your needs. He was a giver, contrary to popular belief.

          You buried your hand in his hair and pulled him to your lips, savoring the taste of strawberry Chapstick as if it would be the last time that you could ever do so. Not even for a breath of air did you pull away as he hooked his thumbs over the edge of the hoodie and slowly began to bunch it up around your chest.

          Cool air hit your warming skin, his touch only furthering the experience. Every nerve in your torso was in flames, the pulse between your legs growing stronger by the second. Like it was yelling at you to give it the attention it searched for. Namjoon angled his pelvis up so you could feel his own pulse against your own. His member twitched as he shifted his hips from side to side ever so slight, your legs still wrapped tightly around him. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being any farther from you than a couple of centimeters.

          Just as the thought crossed your mind, he pulled away from the kiss, his hands both at the lace edge of your bra now. His gaze darkened as you whined, chasing his sweet lips but he kept himself out of reach with a pleased smirk.

          “Joonie,” you groaned trying to pull his head back to you but he only rolled his eyes before prying a hand from his hair almost reluctantly, entwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand softly. He smiled and placed it over his chest, where you could feel his speeding heart. It pounded against his ribs at the same speed as your own. In sync, in one harmonious song.

          You relaxed a bit at the gesture. His heartbeat always had that effect and he never failed to use it to control you in the sweetest way possible. Your chest rose and fell dramatically as he memorized your features.

          “Can this come off,” he asked, tugging once more at the fabric of the sweater you stole. You smiled at him knowingly and nodded.

          “If you take it back after we’re done, I’m going to be upset,” you half joked as he placed tiny pecks on each knuckle and one last kiss on the back of your hand before he dropped it next to your head and took the hem of the hoodie with both hands.

          “Hands over your head,” he said, the slightest bit of authority in his command. Obediently, or maybe it was because you were so keen to please, you shimmed your hands over your ponytail and arched your back to make it easier for him to pull it off.

          He was cautious not to get it stuck on your ears, or to pull on your hair. Too many times had he accidentally snagged an article of clothing on an earring or accidentally tangled your hair into the fabric. He’d learned that lesson, as he more than likely learned not to try to stand up with you in his lap earlier.

          Once you were free of the fabric, he balled it up, smirked at you, then tossed it over to a pile of stuffed animals that you had set up on a small table. You had one from each tour he had gone to from every country they visited. In case you missed him he’d send you one from wherever he was so you could imagine being with him. It was such a sweet thought and a tradition you looked forward to.

          Namjoon kissed your nose faintly, bringing your attention back to him. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, his hands not dilly dallying any further. Instead he rested them directly on top of your breasts, squeezing, just enough to remind you what you were doing. What you were craving.

          “ Y/N,” he groaned, looking at the way his hands engulfed the hills on your chest. It was a reminder. You didn’t have huge breasts but neither were they tiny, and the way that his hands seemed to be the perfect size to hold each, only served to recap how big his pretty hands were.

          “I love you in lace,” he gasped, thrusting his hips against the heart of your femininity. You choked on a moan. He was so stiff, and the combined warmth of your bodies seemed to radiate into the air.

          “You’re blushing, beautiful,” He said against your neck. There was no denying it. Not only could he clearly see the tint of red on your skin, but he could also feel it against his lips.

          “Shut up,” you complained, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers as he nibbled on your burning skin. He  let a hand trace up to your chin. His thumb parting your swollen lips and pressing against your tongue. He wasn’t fond of you telling him what to do.

          “It’s pretty, baby,” he kissed a hickey into your neck loudly, “You know I love it when your skin flushes under my touch.”

          There was a hidden question in this statement. He was asking you if this is what you wanted out of this encounter. To turn pink under his hand. It wasn’t new. He’d done it to you on many an occasion and it was as enjoyable to you as it was to him.

          “You know I like it too,” you said shyly, glad that he couldn’t see how much blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of what could happen next.

          His manhood twitched against your core, his breath hitched. He could read you like a book, or maybe he had you memorized. Either way, he pulled your legs from his body and pulled you to sit up. In a matter of seconds he had pushed you to the edge of the bed, stood you up and sat you on his toned thighs. Confusion clouded your mind. The other times that something of this sort happened in the bed room, you were across his lap not on it. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how this would work with the way he had positioned you.

          Namjoon was a man with a plan. He wasted no time in scooting you back until his shoulders were pressed against the wall.

          “Joon, what are you-“

          “Lay down,” he said, pushing you forward as he parted his legs. Your head facing towards his feet, your face in the comforter. You put your arms under your head to support yourself as Namjoon pulled your legs around his hips once more.

          That’s when it became all clear. Before you could process what was happening, he tugged at your leggings, pulling them down to about your midthigh. Cool air hit your behind and you couldn’t help the shiver that traveled up your spine.

          “Pink panties ,” he whispered so hoarsely that it was almost unintelligible, “My favorite color on you, did you wear this for me?”

   You took a deep breath, forcing courage into yourself before you said, “No, it’s for my other boyfriend .”

         He stiffened at the sarcasm but quickly relaxed knowing that you were just trying to rile him up. One, slender finger drew a small heart on your right butt cheek. You could almost hear his smile as he inhaled. His brain whirling with possibility.

          “Cheeky,” he joked, patting the spot he’d just traced on. The sound of skin on skin making your mind blurry with desire.

          You snorted, because, come on. That’s a good joke and he chuckled.

          “You know what happens when my baby gets mouthy…don’t you baby?”

          You hummed, loving your little banter. It was lucky that your face was firmly between your arms or maybe he’d see your mind working to sass him.

          “I don’t think that was mouthy,” you shrugged. His index finger found its way under the elastic of the panties on your body. You licked your lips in anticipation but nothing happened. Disappointment began to settle in right before you felt him tug it up then without warning, released it.

          The sharp snap of pain panged through the skin on your butt and lower back. You hissed as he pushed into the place the elastic dug. It was a start. A damn good one at that.

          “Maybe not, but I get to be the judge of that,” he said plucking the elastic up on the opposite side of your hip, “and I think that you’re mouthy.”

          Snap.  

           You groaned but adrenaline had started to kick in and arousal was pooling between your legs.

          “Turn me around,” you mumbled, enjoying the sting against your skin as he pressed into the area your underwear hit, “I’ll show you just how mouthy I can be.”

          “Fuck,” he spat, smacking your right butt cheek and yanking your hair just for his own added pleasure. The noise resonated in the large, partially empty, apartment. A gasp escaped your lips.

          “Maybe later,” he reasoned, hitting the left one this time a little harder than the last, “first, i want to see my handprint on your ass.”

          Two more fast slaps to your right cheek followed by one to your left. You clenched around nothing feeling the burn start to take over. His hand delivered delicious blows each time.

          “What-“ spank, “happened to-“ spank, spank, “pink?”

          “I’ve decided that you deserve more than just pink. What with that filthy mouth of yours.”

          “Filthy,” you mock gasped as he slapped one side multiple times quickly. So quickly, you couldn’t even count and your skin was starting to get numb.

          “You didn’t seem to have a problem with my mouth last time it was around your-” three more slaps and then a snap of the elastic of your underwear was enough to shut you up. A moan gurgled into your mouth that you barely held back. Namjoon rubbed the sting into the panging skin. His finger now felt cold against you and you knew you must be peachy at the very least. Cherry red at the worst. Judging by his giggle, you were somewhere in between.

          “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk,” you groaned, feeling your face flush as he ran a finger over your clothed slits. You shuddered in anticipation.

          “I love how you react to the simplest touches,” he mumbled, running his finger over and over the damp underwear, “You’re a little wet baby.”

          You could tell he wanted you to say something but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice a single thing. When you said nothing he continued.

          “Maybe we should get rid of these,” he slipped a finger under the side for a second, before pulling it out and grabbing your hips.

          “Or maybe,” he shifted himself pushing his manhood against your center, “we could just push these aside…”

          He pulled you back onto him, the friction heavenly to you both. A sinful, melodious moan left his lips. He was getting desperate but if you knew your boyfriend, he could draw this out for much, much longer and you…you were in no rush.

          “Or maybe,” you countered pushing yourself up and away from the bed sheets, “you could put my ‘filthy’ mouth to some use,” you threw a cautious look over your shoulder only to see his mouth hanging open in surprise and his fluffy cheeks flushing a pale pink.

          “What’s wrong baby,” you asked with a smirk looking down at your touching centers then back at his eyes, your lip between your teeth, “cat got your tongue?”

          His eyes sparkled as he looked between you where you connected through fabric. You could almost see him salivate. You’d heard of this before your relationship with Namjoon. You’d heard of men loving to please a woman. You had heard of the way some men drooled at the thought but never had you experienced it. That is, unti the first time Namjoon disrobed you and he’d licked his lips and buried his face between your legs.

          And here it was again. That look. Feral. Primal. Thirsty. It was, so absolutely sexy. But this was not what you had in mind.

          In an instant, Namjoon rolled you off of him, shifting himself on his hands and knees. You adjusted yourself against the pillows of the bed, your chest heaving as he tore his shirt from his body as if it was burning him. He threw it on the floor next to the bed then turned his attention back to you, “Take it off.”

          “Take what off,” you asked genuinely not sure but his quirked eyebrow made you swallow the little saliva in your mouth and strip your bralette and underwear in a matter of seconds. You weren’t in the mood to be deprived of an orgasm after a couple of weeks hiatus.

          You propped yourself up a bit higher, your legs squeezed shut in slight embarrassment. You crossed your arms under and slightly over your breasts to cover your pert nipples. It had been a while, and it kind of felt like it was the first time he’d seen you naked even though, in the back of your mind, you knew he’d seen it plenty before.

          Namjoon’s chest rippled in the dim light, his arms, so toned and silky, flexed as he held himself up, devouring every inch of skin he could see. His tongue darted out to lick his plush lips. A shock of thrill went directly to your core. You had memories of that tongue in other places.

          “i’ve missed you baby girl,” he said, grabbing your ankles and pushing them apart so he could take a look at what lay in between. When his eyes landed on your slit, it was like he’d been sedated. His shoulders relaxed, his jaw slacked and his elbows buckled slightly.

          “Finally,” he grumbled, jumping at your body. He kissed your lips passionately, ripping your arms from your chest and entwining his fingers with yours to pin them to the bed on either side of you. You spread your legs even wider to accommodate his torso.

          He pressed his hips into your sex. The texture fabric of his shorts rubbed up against the little nub that was begging to be touched.

          You moaned into the kiss as his tongue found its way into your mouth. You were hot. So hot. You were burning up. Maybe it was the way that you could feel his erection so firmly between your legs. You couldn’t tell. But you were so freaking hot.

          “Fuck baby,” he groaned against your chin, kissing down your neck sloppily. Trails of saliva  followed as he made it to your chest. He wasted no time in taking one of your eagerly awaiting nipples in his mouth. He lightly nibbled and sucked on the sensitive flesh. His tongue was weirdly talented, even though he hadn’t had many girlfriends before you.

           You usually attributed it to his rapping skills as he had so eloquently put it one time when you, in the heat of the moment, asked him how he could possibly be this good.

          “You’ve heard of what guitarists can do with their hands? This is what rappers do with their tongues.”

          He pulled away from your chest, kissed the nipple, before he blew on it just a tiny bit. He drove you crazy and he knew it. Your eyes rolled into your head. God, you missed him.

          “Joon…if you don’t touch me, I swear-”

          “Baby,” he cut you off again, “I think it’s been too long. You’re forgetting who,” you looked down as his hands grabbed onto the inside of your thighs, “is in charge.”

          You opened your mouth to protest but his own mouth dove right into the folds between your legs kissing with an open mouth and you shut your lips instantly.

          “Fuck,” you said, trying to close your legs but his strong arms kept you open, vulnerable before him.

He lapped at your clitoris with just the very tip of his tongue. He drew shapes and letters. He must have spelled words even, in hangul by the way that his tongue was moving and you just lay there, shivering under his touch.. He really was a talented rapper if what he was doing was any indication.

          He mumbled something against your core, and it sent a vibration of pure delight through your body. You clenched around nothing and let a whine escape your lips. This was not supposed to be about you, but were you a horrible person for suddenly not caring?

          “Wh-what,” you asked, as waves of pleasure surged through your body, his plush lips clamping around the little nub between your legs and sucking gently.

          He withdrew his lips with a lewd squelch and you wrinkled your nose at it. Disappointment surged through you before his voice did.

          “I said,” he licked a long, wide stripe from bottom to top, his eyes firmly on your shocked and blissed out face, “so good.”

          You had no words. You floundered for any semblance of coherent sounds but nothing came to mind. How did sentences work again? Did your voice come from your lips?

          You bit the corner of your bottom lip as he gently kissed around your labia. He let go of your thighs, and used his index finger and thumb on both hands to spread you open. His eyes were greedy, excited. It was like someone had offered him some cotton candy or made him some of that expensive drip coffee he liked. He looked, hungry.

          Without your response, he once again kissed the now very visible and pulsating nub that was filled with blood from arousal. The sensation made your shoulders both relax and tense at the same time. Noticing your reaction, he chuckled, and stuck his tongue out sharply. Without hesitation, he licked back and forward a couple of times. Your legs shook and you had the instinct to clamp them closed but you forced yourself to keep them apart and bent.

          Within seconds, you felt your climax nearing. After a few rounds in this same position, he’d figured out exactly what to do to make you finish. You could still remember telling him when he had first suggested trying this particular act that no one had ever made you finish from just eating you out and not to feel bad if you didn’t climax, but he was determined and after a first time “failure”  -which was relative because what he had done felt great but he felt it wasn’t a success until you came- he set himself to research and was eventually, the first man to make you come in this way.

          It was safe to say that it had gone to his pretty little head. Maybe this was why he liked to do this so much. It was something purely his. Something he could proudly call himself a pioneer of and he was so damn good at it.

          “Joonie,” you whimpered, pulling on his hair tightly so he would slow down, but it was like he knew, and he probably did know, that you were close.

          He doubled his efforts, holding you apart, vulnerable to his talented tongue. You threw your head back. The pleasure was almost too much. Too powerful. The thought that it was Namjoon between your legs making you see stars was almost enough to push you over the edge.

          “Come on gorgeous. i know you want to cum,” he mumbled quickly, going back to the motion he had before with a slight bit more pressure.

          Maybe it was because he pointed it out, or maybe it was because you really were needy, but you did. You felt your body tense almost to the point of discomfort then like a dam filled with water, the pleasure burst, leaving you moaning his name as he lapped at the wetness that still coated your womanhood.

          “Namjoon please oh God,” you whined, trying to pull him off but he wasn’t slowing down.

          Overstimulation was quickly taking over. Your body shivered violently. This time, your legs did snap closed on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He let go of your labia and pried your thighs apart, sucking your clitoris into his mouth harshly.

          Tiny whimpers escaped your lips. It was like you were watching it happen rather than having it done to you. You couldn’t think. Your body acted of its own accord, reacting to every lick and slurp of your boyfriend’s perfect mouth as if on autopilot.

          “Namjoon, it’s too much ,” you begged but he only chuckled and brought a hand closer to your center.

          “I can’t have my sexy girlfriend thinking that I don’t want her anymore,” he said against your skin, “gotta show you how much I need you, baby girl.”

          You gasped, as a finger circled your entrance. The pads of his fingers were a little rough and the texture felt amazing against your sensitive middle. Without warning, he dipped the finger in. You were so wet at that point that his finger met no resistance and he instantly plunged a second finger after it.

          As if he had been trained his whole life for pleasing just you, he found your g-spot near instantly. A small scream of gratification left your swollen lips as he pressed against it over and over and over.

          It wasn’t long before you were at the edge again. Delirious. Desperate for release once more. The pain of over stimulation, long gone and replaced by hyper awareness and desire.

          “I think I’m going to-“

          Stolen from your lips were the words as you clenched around his finger and twitched under his touch. This time, he helped you ride it until goosebumps decorated your skin and when you tugged at his hair once more, he withdrew his head and his hand from your abused core.

          It was a couple of minutes before you were able to properly breathe. Your chest heaved. You could have just ran a mile in six minutes flat with the exhaustion that filled your bones to the brim. When you could finally think clearly, you pushed yourself up and looked for your boyfriend.

          He was waiting patiently on his knees between your own. His face, from his nose to his chin, glistened with the wetness that could only come from between your legs. His chest was bare, and a light sheen of sweat seemed to coat it. He too was breathing heavily but you could tell buy a single glance at his shorts, that he was nowhere near done.

          “Nam-mjoon,” you said, your voice wavering, earning you a giggle from the cute boy before you, “I was  supposed to suck you off. Not have you eat me out…”

          Your arms felt heavy as well as your legs. If you let yourself, you could fall asleep right then but you forced the tiredness away as you looked at Namjoon’s puppy eyes.

          “Do you want me to,” you asked, bracing yourself for his answer. This might be the worst blow job you ever give but if he wanted your lips around him, you would happily oblige.

          “Y/N, you look like you could fall over at any second. i think having you fall asleep around your co-“

          “Joon!”

          He rolled his eyes at your outburst. you always felt a bit strange about him being vulgar when it came to certain body parts but he usually ignored your please and said what he wanted. Today was no different.

          “…cock…would be a blow to my confidence not to my dick.”

          You giggled at his joke and sat up a little straighter. Usually, you would fight him. you hated not reciprocating and especially now that it had been so long since you had a proper night together but there was a real possibility that you could hurt him so you didn’t push on the blow job and made a mental note to award him one at a later date.

          “Okay, fine…but can we at least…” you paused, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks at what you were going to ask.

          “At least?”

          “Don’t make you say it,” you begged, getting on your hands and knees and crawling over to sit on his still, annoyingly clothed lap.

          He helped you settle on his legs and held onto your thighs to keep you close. you could feel his erection as hard as ever. It must be painful at this point. You ground your hips just once and he winced. Yeah, he was far too gone.

          You reached up to his lips and wiped some of your own slick from his skin with your thumb. You felt a bit bad at how covered he was. You wiped the thumb on his shorts at which he frowned before you reached up and kissed him softly. The taste of you on his lips was strange. You could never really tell how you felt about it but if one thing was for sure, you were lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

          You managed to lick and kiss most of the moisture from his mouth before he spoke again.

          “Can I make love to you?”

          You blinked up at him, surprised. At this point, maybe you shouldn’t have been. He knew you like the back of his hand, or maybe even better than that. You mentally thanked him for saving you the awkwardness of asking for it and nodded your head vigorously.

          His dimples made an appearance as he very suddenly pulled you towards him and on to your back. You squealed, giddy to finally feel him inside you after so long. He let go of your legs and quickly, and might you add, very ungracefully, pushed his shorts and underwear off in one swoop.

          His shaft sprung up. The tip was a deep red and it leaked precum. You couldn’t help but lick your lips. It was thick and long. The kind of thing that you would expect to see in art or in paintings. It was ethereal. Delectable. How could you have let yourself be deprived of this view for so long?

          In an instant, you remembered the feeling of him inside you and your head reeled. If you remembered correctly, this was going to be a stretch.

          Namjoon climbed over you in the blink of an eye. You could tell he was excited because, well it was just something you knew. It was radiating from his body like an aura.

          “Do you think you’re ready,” he asked, kissing your forehead, then your hairline, ever so gently. He peppered kisses all over your face as a smile graced it. You grabbed a hold of his face in both hands and forced him to kiss your lips, which he did without argument.

          “You are too cute Joonie baby,” you mumbled against his lips before you let a hand trail down his toned chest, over his muscular but undefined abs and finally wrapped around his hardened member.

          His smile faltered for an instant, his erection twitched in your hand. You gave it a couple of slow and lavish pumps. You could see the fine hairs on his body stand on end at the sensation and you couldn’t help but giggle.

          “You’re killing me here,” he choked out through gritted teeth.

          “I’m sorry Joonie,” you lied, keeping your pace slow, “I just want to make sure that you’re ready as well.”

          You took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked at it as you squeezed a little tighter around his rod still at the unbearable pace you had set. His body reacted accordingly. Shiver after shiver ran down his spine and his chest convulsed. Had he not jerked off either? He was so wound up.

          “Baby girl, please just let me get in there… I can’t take much more of this,” he whispered against your jaw, leaving a wet kiss before connecting his eyes to yours. you smiled kindly and aligned him with your entrance.

          As soon as you touched his tip to your middle, his shoulders seemed to tense further and you let go, letting him take over.  As if he had read your mind, he gently began to push himself deeper. Was it payback for jerking him off so slowly, or was he scared to hurt you? He was inching his way in so incredibly slow. you could feel every vein in his member, every stroke against your walls. It was both horrible, and amazing all at once.

          Finally, he bottomed out and despite how wet you were from your two orgasms, you felt tears prick your eyes. It had definitely been too long and you weren’t just talking about his member.

          You could feel it in your stomach and he pushed down your lower abdomen just so you could feel it better. This was another thing he was proud of. No one had gone as deep as him. He was by far, the longest and girthiest you had ever had and he always made sure you remembered it.

          A groan left his lips as he shifted his hips so you could feel him move inside of you. He wiped a tear away from your cheek and kissed the trail it had left behind.

          “You feel that baby girl,” he asked gently, “that’s all for you. Only for you.’

          He began to pull out at the same pace that he had impaled you and you whimpered, wanting…no needing more. He was almost fully pulled out before he slowly began to push back in.

          Namjoon grabbed the hand that had been jerking him off and replaced his hand on your stomach with it. Then that hand came up and gently gripped around your neck. Your heart skipped a beat.

          “How does that feel baby? Does it hurt?”

          “Yeah,” you nearly screamed and he stopped mid thrust. You could see the fear in his eyes as he looked all over your face for some sign of what he had done wrong.

          “It hurts because you’re going way too slow you doof,” you clarified, and he instantly relaxed.

          “You scared me, Y/N.”

          “Joonie please move faster,” you begged, ignoring his previous statement.

          He sighed which shook a little as your walls contracted around his length. His grip on your neck tightened with your muscles and a shock of pleasure ran through your stomach. You let an unsteady moan escape your lips which was swallowed up as he leaned down, his sex still only about a quarter of the way in, and traced your lips with his tongue.

          You clenched around him once again. He bit your upper lip roughly, then kissed it and your nose lightly. It was so confusing. The way he could be sickeningly sweet and at the same time be torturing you with his hands and his length. The mix of emotion made a fog in your head that kept you from seeing what was coming next.

          “I’ll move my love,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted all over your body. You let your eyes shut to better appreciate all of the pleasure you were receiving , intoxicated with the scent of his skin, and the way that his voice floated into your ear.

          “If you say my name,” he whispered, licking the cartilage nearest his lips.

          You knew it would come to this. You’d been too mouthy. Too self-righteous. It had been a long time since we’d shared a bed this way and you let your eagerness and desperation get the best of you. Now, you were truly going to have to pay for it. That is, if you kept up your refusal to give him what he wanted. Would you really want to risk getting denied an orgasm just to keep up your brat routine?

          An mortified blush covered your cheeks up to your forehead. It wasn’t that it made you uncomfortable. It was a turn on to you too, but there was something embarrassing about calling him something so deeply fetishized. It sounded strange coming out of your mouth and made you cringe, but you knew that if you just gave him what he wanted, we would both be satisfied.

          “Yes daddy,” you whimpered.

          It happened in a millisecond. His hand squeezed around your windpipe, he bit down on your ear and he thrust his hip hard against your core.

          A muted cry was ripped from your vocal cords. His tip hit just as deep as it had the first time. You could feel it in your stomach. You never really thought that could be possible but here you were, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

          Like a switch was flipped, he pounded into the wet mouth of your arousal, the slickness helping to keep it mostly painless. Still, the burn couldn’t be stopped as he stretched you farther than any fingers could. Moans fell from your lips like prayers. Namjoon grunted every time his hips met yours. A lewd clapping bounced off the walls.

          There was no stopping him now. It was like a magic word and you knew that as soon as you’d said it, there was no going back.

          Namjoon used the hand not around your neck to hold himself up and over you. Beads of sweat had started to form on his hair line with the effort he was exerting. A sexy wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths were coming out hard, and loud. He sounded like he was running a race and he was pushing himself to the end. It was music to your ears. Sounds more appealing than any symphony or singer you had ever heard.

          Maybe you had zoned out, because when you zoned back in, your voice was mixed in with his. His real name was mixed in with shouts of “more” and “don’t stop”. You knew that later, after it was all said and done, the noises you were making would haunt you, but in the moment, you pushed away your insecurities and focused on the feeling of being full.

          “Yes,” you gasped as he hit your g-spot, repeatedly on the way in and out. Gratification was flowing through you like a river.

          “Yes what Jagi,” Namjoon asked, readjusting himself onto his knees so he didn’t have to hold himself up.

          He grabbed onto one of your breasts and gave it a light squeeze before he flicked the nipple. Question forgotten, your breath caught in your throat but he abandoned your chest in favor of something lower. He traced lines into your stomach. Designs he’d come up on the spot that you’d have to remaster into a design of some sort if you still remembered them after you were done. It was beautiful. The way that you made love.

          Beautiful, how you  mixed together. A beautiful color that couldn’t be store bought or mass produced. It was you. Purely, and unequivocally you.

          You choked as his wandering hand found your clit once more, rubbing tight and precise circles. It was too much, and he knew this. His fingers on your pulse point, his index on your sensitive bud, and his member inside you. It was everything you could ask for, and when your body froze, tense from his caress, it was no surprise to either of you.

          “Namjoon,” you gasped as your walls convulsed around him, his speed even. It was getting harder to breath and it wasn’t because of the pressure on your windpipes but because once again, over stimulation was setting in. You winced as he pumped in and out at an inhumane speed. It was crazy. How could he hold himself off this long.

          “I’m almost there baby, where do you want me,” he asked, his voice hoarse and deep and gravely.

          “In-in me… I want you in me Joonie,” you panted.

          Was it slightly inconvenient to have his ejaculation inside you? Yes. Was it nice to be so wet after we had sex? No. Did you give a single crap in that moment? No. No,you didn’t. All you knew was that you needed him. You needed to feel like you were his and like before, this was something that only he had ever done to you and it made it special.

          As if that was all that he was waiting for, Namjoon stilled. His erection twitched inside you and then he came. He spilled into you. Hot and thick. you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll back into your head as his ejaculation dripped from your entrance. You squeezed around him just to try and help and were rewarded with a grunt of satisfaction.

          “Fuck Y/N,” he huffed, removing his hand from your neck and your core to help steady him. His length had started to soften and you could tell that, much like you, he was exhausted.

          He pulled out, wincing as the cold air hit his member.You, in turn, grimaced as his cum dripped down your thighs. You’d have to wash the bed sheets today.

          Namjoon laid down beside you. Your body bounced as he adjusted his body. He draped an arm around your waist, cuddling into your side. Your bodies stuck together. Sweat, and well…other liquids clung to your skin.

          You allowed yourself to relax into him for a couple of minutes. Your breathing pattern evened before you sighed happily and pushed him off of you. Namjoon whimpered as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of your bed. The uncomfortable feel of something flowing out  of you made you shiver.

          “Where are you going,” he asked in Korean. His tone whiney and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him over your bare shoulder. His eyes were big and a small frown decorated his lips. He was too cute to handle.

          You planted a kiss on his frown before you turned back to the edge of the bed to press your legs together. Maybe it would stop the ejaculate.

          “I need to shower,” you reasoned, bracing yourself, knowing you would have to run to the restroom if you wanted to avoid having to mop the floor again.

          “Can’t we cuddle for a little while,” Namjoon begged but you just shook your head dreading what you knew was to come.

          “After we shower, yeah.”

          You felt him sit up behind you. He gently kissed your shoulder and wrapped his strong…muscular…arms…

          You blinked at his muscles around you like a deer in headlights but shook your head. You could still feel how tired your muscles were from what you had just done. You couldn’t do it this soon again.

          “Can I at least shower with you,” he asked, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

          “Yes, of course,” you said, reaching behind yourself and scratching his head. You felt him, rather than saw him, relax against your back and you smiled.

          “Are you less stressed,” he asked you and you sighed.

          “I feel alright, Joonie. Could you tell I was really stressed?”

          You turned to look at him. He had a knowing smirk on his face that made your blood boil and embarrassment pool in your belly. He grazed his lips over the damp skin that spanned under his finger and when he spoke, it was against the nerves on your body that stood on end for him.

          “You talk in your sleep sometimes,” he said matter-of-factly. You sighed. Given away by your subconscious.

          “Oh.”

          “Besides, I have been watching you grade papers. You get this cute little fold between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” he rested a finger against your forehead where he indicated and massaged it in little circles. You let your shoulders fall. Who did you think you were kidding?

          “I see… well I’m feeling a little better. Hopefully I can get some ideas to get my students to be more interested now that I’m not so wound up.”

          “You’re a fantastic teacher,” Namjoon reasoned stroking your slightly messy hair, “you’ll figure it out.”

          “Yeah… I know you’re right,” you sighed letting a comfortable silence fall between you. Your brain was buzzing once again but this time it wasn’t stressful. It was with ideas for your classroom. You smiled, feeling a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

          “I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” you shifted the conversation, “what about you? Any sudden inspiration for your lyrics?”

          He didn’t speak and his chest tensed behind you. You felt like you had popped the bubble you were in. you should have kept your mouth shut.

          “Yes actually,” he said but it didn’t feel directed at you. Within seconds, he’d let go of your body and was up, pulling on his boxers and looking for his phone. He frantically pulled up the notes app on it and typed furiously.

          The shock quickly melted into amusement. You giggled at how his fingers slid over the glass screen. His focus on his cell.

          “Well I’m glad I could help,” you said, finally standing up. you felt the liquid inside you shift and with a panicked last look at your inspired boyfriend, you ran to the restroom on the first floor.

          “I’ll be in the shower. Have fun writing,” you yelled.

           You thought you heard him say something but it was too muffled for you to understand. You didn’t wait for him to meet you in the bathroom. Instead, you jumped in,washing between your legs thoroughly and scrubbing your skin. When you were done, Namjoon was sitting on the floor of the living room. His laptop, journal and phone spread out on the coffee table. He had his airpods in and he was bobbing his head to something you couldn’t hear.

          You didn’t interrupt. Instead you looked over his makeshift workstation and smiled.  His journal was turned to one of the pages of lyrics that he’d been stuck on for months. Fresh ink rested on the browning lines and my heart soared. Turned out that our bad moods and mutual slumps were directly related to our lack of sexual life. Duly noting that fact, I kissed the top of his head and made my way back upstairs to get my bed sheets to wash, a smile plastered on my lips.

[atc74]

Hi, Again

Warnings: Fluff, angst (if you squint), Jensen being smooth, but the reader being smoother...

Summary: Jensen arrives to pick Y/N up for their date. She surely expected a fancy restaurant with overpriced tiny portions, but what she gets is something entirely different. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1610

Written for: @evansrogerskitten

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, my enabler for life

A/N: This is the long awaited sequel to Hi (read this first!), which was written as a request for @evansrogerskitten for a follower contest. This is a very special birthday gift, for a very special lady and very special friend. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH! I hope you have an amazing day! I love you lady!

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

Like Jensen’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Previously in “Hi” 

A tall gentleman in a black suit approached me with a sign that had my name on it. “Miss Y/N? I’m Philip and I will be your driver tonight. Please, follow me.” He led me to a large black SUV and held the back door open. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was Jensen’s face smiling at me. He held his hand out for me and smiled as I stepped inside, sliding into the seat next to him. 

“Hi.”

Now...

“Hi,” I smiled back, my hand still in his. 

“Hi,” Jensen said. “And, I already said that. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous, if you couldn’t tell.” 

I laughed. I was sitting with Jensen Ackles in the back of a black SUV with heavily tinted windows in Vegas, after a Supernatural convention. Then I realized I was laughing and attempted to pull myself together. “Jensen, I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at this. It’s all a little surreal for me. What am I doing here?” 

“What I said to you during the photo was the truth. For nearly a year, I have looked at every woman with even the slightest hint of red hair, just waiting for you to come through the line again, but it was never you. I had finally convinced myself I would never see you again, and then you were there, right in front of me. It was coincidence that brought you through my photos in Seattle, but I think it was serendipity that brought us together today.” Jensen clamped his mouth shut when he realized he was rambling. 

“Serendipity?” I giggled, a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just not a word one hears in everyday conversation. Then again, this isn’t every day, is it?”

“But I feel it just...it fits,” Jensen chuckled, shrugging. “Even if it does sound a bit silly. I’m sorry if I caught you off guard. I don’t do this, like ever. But, I think Jared was sick of listening to me go on and on about you and he made me promise to ask you out if I ever saw you again. So you are here for two reasons; one, because I am a man of my word and two, you said yes.” 

“I’d be a fool to say no. Or, I might be a fool for saying yes,” I said quietly, turning to look out the window at the desert flying by. 

A warm hand landed on my arm and I turned back, regarding Jensen’s touch on my heated skin. “I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re brave for taking a chance like this. On me.” 

I’d seen plenty of interviews and convention footage, but this might be the first time I’ve witnessed Jensen channel Dean Winchester. It was no secret that he’d been single for some time now, but at this very moment, he didn’t think he deserved a chance. 

“Don’t do that, Jensen. Let’s have dinner and play it by ear. Who knows, by the end of the night, you might be changing your mind,” I winked, laying my hand over his. 

“You’re wrong, but I think that sounds like a solid plan. We’re almost there,” he smiled, looking out the window. 

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying desperately to figure out where we were. I didn’t think Jensen was a serial killer, but we were out in the middle of the desert. 

“It’s a surprise, okay? Just a little bit longer, Y/N,” Jensen replied.

“You’re not taking me out to the desert to kill me, are you? I’ve watched enough television to know what happens out here at night,” I giggled nervously. 

“Now that you’ve figured out my plan, I might as well get on with it,” Jensen scoffed, pulling my hand towards him quickly. 

I was startled but the only sound I managed was a tiny squeak. I looked up and was met with the kindest smile and prettiest green eyes. His touch traveled the length of my arm until our fingers were entwined. He raised our joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to the back of my hand. 

“It was indeed my plan to kill you...with kindness, and wow you with a really romantic dinner. Is that not okay with you?” And there it was, the patented Dean Winchester smirk, followed by a wink. 

“Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m ruining it!” I covered my face with my free hand, shaking my head. I took a deep breath before daring to meet his eyes. “That is actually really sweet and sounds like a great idea.” 

“Awesome.” 

We came to a stop, but as I reached for the door, Jensen stopped me, his hand still holding mine. “Just a few minutes longer. I’ll be right back. Please don’t get out. Or peek.” The look on his face told me he was serious, but there was an underlying twinkle in those green eyes, and I found myself nodding my promise to stay put. 

As Jensen and Philip exited the vehicle, I took the opportunity to calm my nerves. I gave myself a quick pep talk and tried to remember what the volunteer had told me, more than once. “Don’t be nervous; he is a nice handsome boy, but he is still just a person.”

“He’s just a man, Y/N. This is just a date. You can do this. You are not going to f-” my pep talk was interrupted when my door swung open to reveal Jensen and his smiling, stupidly handsome face. My thoughts got the better of me. Yeah right. He’s just a man. He’s just the most beautiful human ever created.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.” 

Jensen took my hand once more in his, helping me step down from the vehicle. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes and I was mesmerized. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t know why, but I did. I had absolutely no reason to trust this man, but I did. “I trust you, Jensen.” 

He smiled wider than the Grand Canyon and turned my body away from him. It was then that I felt his hands covering my eyes. “No peeking, Y/N.” 

We walked several feet, me shuffling carefully in front of him until he slowed his pace and I felt his hands slip from my eyes. “Keep your eyes closed for me, sugar.” 

My skin tingled from his touch, my heart from his endearment. I nodded, feeling him slide around my body. “We’re going to sit down, right here. I got you, easy now.” 

My body lowered to the ground, something soft covering it, a blanket maybe? “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” 

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking and taking in the surrounding area. It was breathtaking, and I stared in silence at the scene before me. We were sitting on a mountain side, high above the desert plains, and looking down at the Hoover Dam. It was lit up from the base in a cool blue light. With Lake Mead an inky midnight blue behind it, I’d never seen it look more beautiful, more ethereal. 

“This is remarkable, Jensen.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m also hoping that this doesn’t outshine the rest of the evening I have planned,” he chuckled slightly, reaching behind him and revealing a honest to goodness picnic basket. 

“Look at you, playing the romantic-picnic-overlooking-a-national-landmark-card,” I mentioned casually. 

“Is it working?” Jensen winked. There was enough moonlight to see each other as it highlighted Black Canyon and the Colorado River below us. 

“Hmmmm,” I coyly toyed with him, tapping my index finger against my lips. “Whatchya got in there?”

“Oh do I have stuff,” Jensen announced excitedly as he opened the basket, laying everything out in front of us. “We have a taco buffet with all the fixings, like five different types of salsa, chips, fresh guacamole and, wait for it...a pitcher of margaritas!”

“How did you do all this?” I was stunned. “And, have you been spying on me? Who told you I love Mexican?” 

“I knew it!” Jensen pumped his fist victoriously. “Really it was a long shot, but I was craving Mexican and thought, what psycho doesn’t love tacos?” 

“Holy crap! You just quoted Dean Winchester, but swapped waffles for tacos!” I laughed so hard I think I may have snorted. 

“That was honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jensen laughed, pulling me into his arms. 

We had a peaceful dinner overlooking the dam and the surrounding mountains, playing twenty questions about our lives. Jensen reached into the basket and pulled out yet another container. “And the piece de resistance.” 

“Did you bring chocolate cake?” I eyed the decadence filled container with lustful eyes. 

“Damn girl. Forget the way Dean Winchester looks at pie. I want you to look at me like you’re eying up this cake!” Jensen laughed, pulling the cover off and waving it in front of my mouth. 

“Jensen, do not tease me. I will eat that with my fingers!” I warned him, but he didn’t give up. I reached up with two fingers, dipping into the cake and sliding them into my mouth, feeling bold.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, almost indiscernible over the sounds I was making. I noticed he seemed uncomfortable, but he teased me with cake, I could tease him back. I dipped my fingers back into the cake and held them in front of Jensen’s mouth. He took the bait. He grabbed my wrist with one large hand and halted my movements. His tongue snaked out, licking a bit of the sweet dessert from my fingers, before he dipped his head, sucking both of my fingers into his mouth. 

The sounds coming from his mouth were purely pornographic, to say the least. I felt my nether regions tingle at the sight and sounds of Jensen Ackles licking chocolate cake from my fingers. Feeling even bolder, I leaned in, licking the rements from his lower lip. “Fuck, that’s delicious.” 

“You took the words right out of my mouth, sugar.” 

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7 @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie​ @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @manawhaat @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​  @imaginationisgrowth​

Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @maddiepants  @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @deanwanddamons​

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Misplaced trust pt. 2|2 [Jensen Ackles x Reader]

Title: Misplaced trust pt.2 ➔ Misplaced trust pt.1, Here! Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader Word count: 2.6k Published: 27 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Jensen meets you in a hotel’s bar and you immediately get along. Getting closer to each other is inevitable, until Jensen realises that you knew him all along, but kept it a secret. 

Supernatural Masterlist | Masterlists

Real People Masterlist

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

It's been a months since you have last seen Jensen. You have tried to message him once again, a week after you arrived back home, but it bounced back just as the first one. After that, you never attempted it again.

You were still hurting. His effects on you were beyond what you could have understood and each night you went to sleep, rethinking what you could have done differently.

You were wrong to lie to him, but you also knew that he would have never showed that gentle, funny personality of his, the real him, if he knew you were a fan. You were wrong to lie, you should have come clean straight away, maybe at lunch, maybe in the park. But you didn't.

However you didn't feel guilty anymore for keeping it a secret at the beginning. You got to know a side of him, that others didn't, which meant more to you than you could comprehend. Even if it meant he was to be only a memory in your future, you were to always treasure it.

There was another Supernatural convention, this time in New Jersey. Your friends were politely asking you to join them, if that could be called polite in anyway. They were harassing you more like to attend to the convention. First you kept denying them, but soon you gave in. You didn't want to think about him, let alone see him. It was hard enough anyway. But you gave into your friends' harassment.

At the convention you watched as they played around on the stage. Jensen, Jared and Misha were sharing behind the scenes secrets with the audience. Your heart clenched as you watched him happily chuckle at his friends and your eyes filled up with tears, the painful lump appearing in your throat once again. You were happy that he was in a good place, you were glad he was cheerful. But you just couldn't listen to him anymore, you couldn't watch him any longer. You whispered to your friends that you needed to leave and understanding what you meant, they let you go. You stood up from your seat and walked across the aisle, trying to avoid stepping on people's feet.

When you arrived to the entrance of the room, you looked behind you to take a last look at the man you were holding dear in your heart and your eyes met his wide, green eyes, clearly startled at your presence. You could read off his lips as he mouthed your name, but noone else noticed. You turned away, feeling the tears begin to run down your cheeks and left the dumbfounded man behind.

You stood at bar, waiting for the end of their session, while you sent a message to let your friends know where you were. People slowly started leaving the room and you saw Jensen trying to sneak out at the back, away from the fans. You felt a sudden determination came over you, so you followed him to the back of the building, leading to an alley, where he sat down on the stairs.

You walked up to his seated form and stood in front of him. His eyes grew wide as he studied you, running his eyes up and down on your body. You heaved a deep sigh and decided to speak first.

"Hi." You greeted him. However he didn't reply. He shot up and started walking back into the building. "Really? Stop acting like you are the only one hurting in this situation." You raised your voice. He halted abruptly and turned around to look at you. "You know what? I accept, that it was my fault. Yes, I might have been wrong to keep lying to you, but I started to like you, even if it was just a couple days. I am sorry that I wanted to get to know the real you, not the magazine boy who has to smile at everyone, because a paparazzi could capture him being a mean celebrity." You huffed in annoyance, seeing barely any change in his demeanour.

"You know what? I made a mistake and I didn't come clean about knowing of you. But I do not feel guilty for not telling you that I was a fan of yours, because at least I got to see the real you. If anything, I am guilty of wanting to get to know you, not the facade that you are wearing to please others." You huffed out of frustration. It slowly downed on you that you have just let out all that has been bothering you without him wanting to hear a word from you. You gently rubbed your temple, calming yourself down. "Whatever." You whispered just about for him to hear you, but he didn't reply. You heaved a deep sigh and left him on the stairs, still staring at the spot you have been standing at, just a couple of seconds ago.

You sent a quick message to your friends telling them that you have left and headed home.

You barely arrived to your apartment when you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of your jacket repeatedly. You took it out and looked at the screen. Your eyes widened at the sight of the name flashing on it.

It was Jensen.

Your phone kept ringing and you didn't know what to do about it. You wanted to talk to him, but you were hurt. He acted as if he was the only one suffering from your dumb mistake. You heaved a deep sigh and made one of the hardest decisions in your life, when you pushed the red decline button on the screen of your phone. It quickly turned black. You kept starring at the blank phone as if you waited for him to call you again, but he didn't. You slid the phone into the pocket of your jeans and walked to kitchen to get something to drink.

As you headed back to the living room, your phone buzzed again. Looking at the screen, Jensen's name appeared in a new message notification. You opened the application, being curious about what he wanted. It was a simple message.

"Y/N, I'm still in New Jersey for a couple of nights. Please, let us meet and talk." The message said. He wanted to talk to you and in normal circumstances you would have been the happiest person, but you felt bitter. You decided to reply to his message.

"This sounds awfully familiar. As if I have asked you the same thing back then. Still you didn't even give me a second to explain why I did that. I'm over it, Jensen." You wrote and hit the send button. You knew you were being petty, after all you caused this mess, but you were beyond pissed as if the last month of pain decided to leave you all at once. You were lying once again. You were nowhere near over him or the situation, but you didn't want to give him the upper hand. Your phone soon flashed in your hand again as his name appeared on your screen. You opened the message to see his reply.

"I know, I didn't handle it well, but please, let's talk." He asked you and once again you didn't know what to say. Of course you wanted to see him, but he didn't give you a chance to explain yourself either. Why would you? Your phone vibrated in your hand again and you read his next message. "I will be at the entrance of the Hamilton Park by 9pm tonight. I will be waiting there. Please come and see me." He wrote and you just threw your phone at the end of your couch out of frustration. You didn't have a clue what you wanted.

Time flew by quickly. You sat on your couch, dressed up into a pair of black jeans, a black hoodie and a leather jacket, still debating if you wanted to go. It was past 9pm already and the park was about half an hour from your house. You knew he wouldn't wait for you all night, he wasn't dumb enough to do that.

You didn't even realise the time. It was already 10pm when you looked at the clock on the wall, silently ticking away as if it was telling you, you were already running out of time. You quickly shot up from your couch, picked up your bag and phone and ran downstairs, catching the first taxi you could find.

As you arrived to the park, you paid the driver in a rush and jumped out of the car. You took a deep breath and collected yourself, before you headed to the entrance. It was already in view, the blue Welcome to Hamilton Park sign lit by the public lights across the fence. Arriving to the entrance, you looked around, but he was nowhere to be found.

You heaved a deep sigh as you tried to keep your tears from falling. You had all kinds of thoughts running through your head from him leaving already as you were almost 2 hours late, to thinking he was never even there and it was some kind of a revenge, which you just shook off as that wasn't the person you got to know in him.

You sighed as you looked around once again, before you headed back to the same way you came from.

"I didn't think you would come." His familiar rusty voice hit your ears, making you slowly turn around. He was standing there with an expression you couldn't recognise. He let out a deep breath as he walked closer to your still standing frame. "I'm glad you are here though." He spoke truthfully. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He asked and you just nodded. You started walking by the fence, separating you from the Hudson River. The lights of the gigantic buildings of New York, lit the surface of the water, making it shine in a colourful rainbow. Silence fell up on you, but before you could have thought about saying anything, you were interrupted. "I'm sorry." He breathed quietly, breaking the silence between you. You shook your head almost invisibly.

"That should be my line." You smiled softly, knowing it was a good enough start.

"I guess, both of us screwed up." He stated and you nodded along.

"I lied to you though and I'm sorry for that. I really just wanted to see your real personality, not the one that's kind out of politeness for his fans." You tried to explain yourself, more calmly than your earlier monologue was at the convention.

"I know. And I didn't understand it until you decided to tell me off today. I didn't understand, I didn't consider that it had any effect on you." His tone was clearly apologetic. "I thought this through when you left and started to see your side as well. I guess I was just blinded by the fact that I have misplaced my trust so many times and I thought you were just one of those people who wanted to use me for their own greed." You quickly shook your head and interrupted him.

"I would never do that. I understand it might have come across that way, but I really didn't intend to use you. I wanted you to be just normal, not the famous celebrity, girls are drooling over. I wanted to know the real you. I knew all along that it was bad and I wanted to tell you, but I was selfish and I thought this way maybe I could spend time with you, without you having second thoughts on my intentions." You poured your heart out, placing it into his hand and you were just hoping he wasn't about to crash it viciously.

"I understand now and while I was pissed at not being able to get over you, now I'm glad I couldn't." He smiled gently.

"The news papers showed differently." You scoffed with a mischievous tone to your voice.

"Are you jealous?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider.

"No." You pouted, but he just chuckled at your reaction.

"You shouldn't believe everything the newspapers say." He replied with a soft tone.

"I guess, you are right." You nodded, your smile slowly returning.

"What do you say about starting over?" He asked as he stopped and turned to you.

"I would love that." Your smile curved up even higher and you reached for his hand to shake it and introduce yourself once again, as if you have never met before, just like you have seen in the romantic movies, numerous times before. However he had different intentions. He reached for your hand, but got hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest. His sudden actions forced a silent squeaking sound to leave your lungs in surprise. He chuckled at your startled face and cupped your cheeks in his big, manly hands. Before you had time to process what was going on, his lips were on yours, this time not even bothering to ask for permission. Your eyes widened in shock, before they finally flattered close involuntarily and you gave into the kiss, placing your hands around his waist.

It was nowhere near similar to your first kiss. It wasn't slow or exploring with a slight need in addition. It was passionate and lustful as if he was trying to tell you that he has been craving you for the past month.

You kissed back with just as much need, wanting to feel him even more. You couldn't have physically gotten closer to him, or so you thought, still you felt the distance was too big for your liking. He let his hands wonder down to your waist, managing to pull you into his body and you lifted yours to link them behind his neck, deepening the kiss, giving you more satisfaction as you felt him even closer now.

Air was much needed and you finally parted, but none of you planned to leave the other's embrace. Your bodies were still linked together, his lips hinting a quick peck on your forehead, before turning to look into your eyes.

"That's not really how a restart works." You giggled happily, which earned a playful eye-roll from him.

"Maybe we could start a bit further than the very beginning." He smirked at you, with an almost smug-like feature. But you didn't mind his confidence, it boosted yours too.

"I don't think I would mind." You chuckled and kissed him once again, enjoying the feel of his lips against yours.

Although there were loads of hurdles that you had to get through even at the beginning of your relationship, you knew that if you stayed honest and truthful with each other, your relationship would be anything, but ordinary. After all he wasn't an average person. He was perfect for you.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the fic. Thank you :)

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

[hmgfanfic]

Talk about all the Fillory worldbuilding in LQoF, please :)

THIS IS INEXCUSABLY LATE. I’m so sorry!

And I wish I could say it was just my scatterbrainedness, which is definitely a constant factor, but it was also that when you sent this, I was deeeeeeeep into writing the final few chapters of Little Quirks of Fate and I was kind of... in my head about it. It took a lot longer to finish than I had planned (a cardinal sin to my particular combo of severe ADHD and Type-A personality) and I was spending excessive amounts of time making sure I figured out a satisfying ending by my own exacting standards, so I just didn’t have the headspace to think through my early process yet. Very sorry about that :( But now that I’m finally done, I’m excited to look back! So if you’ll indulge me a very late answer, I’d be tickled. 💗

Long ramblings and major fic spoilers under the cut.

The truth is a lot the world building came down to character stuff foremost, followed closely by my preferences as a writer. I adapted the world to the story I wanted to tell, while using the little bits of information we’re given in canon as a baseline, rather than building the story around the world. And that was a lot more fulfilling for me, since I only really love worldbuilding through the lens of character, rather than as an exercise unto itself (though it’s super fun once you get rolling.)

To explain what I mean by that, you need to know that Little Quirks of Fate was originally going to be a oneshot. My plan was about 25-30k (lol) of a pure S2 retelling, only with Quentin in the role of Fen. It was also going to take a much more traditional enemies-to-lovers’ path—with Quentin as an active member of the FU Fighters—and the whole thing was going to be in his POV. Also, they weren’t even going to kiss until after the bank heist (which, yes, was going to be a thing here), but that got abandoned the fastest in favor of trying my hand at smut. But two things made me realize I needed to significantly shift course:

1) I was struggling to make Quentin actually feel like Quentin. I wrote this very atmospheric early scene at the FU Fighters encampment, with lots of description of the bonfires and the way their shirts dyed in Fillorian red looked like blood (you get it.) It took place in the black of night, shrouded in secrecy, and when Bayler questioned Quentin about his new husband, Quentin said something like, “He’s a drunk idiot, we have the advantage.” It was all very lush and dramatic, but it really, really, really didn’t feel like Q in any recognizable way to me. Now, I’m not someone who thinks Q needs to be a precious sweetheart all the time, but what I was writing didn’t have his idiosyncrasies or a motivation that felt true to who I feel he is.

2) The draft was DEFINITELY missing Eliot’s story and his perspective. I certainly don’t think Eliot’s POV is always necessary (sometimes not having his direct thoughts heightens tension in romance especially), but it felt really necessary here, to fill in the gaps of what Quentin was assuming and also—more importantly—because the events were just as impactful on him, but in a very different way. So I knew I was missing half the narrative, but that meant I would need to deal more explicitly with the Beast (i.e., Mike, the most devastating storyline to me, personally) and I really, really didn’t want to do that.

My first step in making a more recognizable Quentin was figuring out a way he could more or less use the same syntax that he does on the show. Voice is the first way I connect with a character, so while many writers in this fandom thrive at modifying speech patterns and keeping the heart of a character alive, keeping close to Quentin’s canon speech was an easy fix for me in a story I was excited to get rolling. Sort of like the old adage of uplifting your strengths before putting outsize energy into things you struggle with.

The easiest way I could think to give him the same syntax was to figure out a way Quentin spent some significant time on Earth during his formative years. And once I rewatched 2x06 and was reminded that Ess went to Phillips Exeter Academy for high school, I lost my damn mind. I started sketching out ways that Quentin could get there too and that’s how I built out the idea of Umber brokering a marriage deal with the actual landmass of Coldwater Cove, which included an education opportunity for the boys (in a nod to Fillory’s patriarchal nature), and also the reason why Umber did that, which was to take advantage of his brother’s orgy mistake with the first Children of Earth to usher in a more productive and orderly Fillory. So that created a whole new set of rules and essentially a whole new world for me to play with... all for the sake of Quentin getting to say “fuck.” It was that important to me. :p

And as I worked through all that, I realized I also wanted to give Q magic, since Quentin’s relationship with magic is something I’m interested in. But I had read on ye olde Tumblr that the reason Illario uses a wand in 2x06 is a nod to the books, where Fillorians specifically aren’t Magicians and that’s the rationale for the Children of Earth royalty. And while I generally see the books as interesting supplemental material with zero bearing on the television show canon, I still said to myself, “Self, wouldn’t it be kind of funny if Quentin was the only native born Fillorian who had magic and so the FU Fighters believe he’s the chosen true High King, but instead of it being because he’s ~special~, it’s because Umber made a clerical error? Lol! Hilarious!”

So while all my questions for how to explain all THAT spun out into more and more detail, at the same time...

I caved to the idea that this story was going to be a No Beast AU, just like my last two stories, mostly because I really couldn’t bring myself to deal with the Mike of it all, even tangentially. I could have just changed that single element, but I’m not a half-measure gal! But I still wanted to stick with the vague background theme of Fillory = adulthood from a questing perspective and I wanted Julia leading the charge this time, but without the sexual assault that occurs in canon. So obviously, the answer was avenging all of the murdered and cannibalized “grown-ups,” i.e., master Magicians, by seeking out help from the gods in a balanced Fillory free from the devastation of the Beast. Duh! ;)

So then, like anyone would do, I rewatched every episode up to 4x11 that makes a mention of Fillory and took about twenty pages of notes on the canon worldbuilding, along with an analysis of how much a particular piece of information would be impacted or not by balance in the realm. For instance, the existence of geraniums (per The Fillorian Candidate and Tick’s misunderstanding of “power plants”) and the lack of diamonds as a precious stone (per the River Watcher not knowing the value of Margo’s earrings in Knight of Crowns) struck me as static facts unaffected by Ember’s reign of chaos. But I shifted the overall feel of Fillory to one that’s more functional and a lot more bureaucratic, leaning on things like the existence of socialized health/vision/dental insurance (the idea of which is canonical, per a petition from the beavers requesting dental coverage from acting High King Josh in Ramifications), strict taxation plans, and an overall sense of thriving Ceremony to show Umber’s influence.

Basically, I wanted Eliot to inherit a much, much easier Fillory to rule—especially with the highly educated Quentin as a built-in and passionate advisor—mostly so it wouldn’t completely strain credulity when a lot of his energy goes toward his love life rather than the intricacies of ruling (though Margo would say he still favored his personal life more than he should have, and she wasn’t... wrong. He wants to be a husband more than a king!) But I specifically made it so most of the chaotic elements were played as whimsical (sorry) quirky shit or smaller hints of greater injustice (see: Ember getting rid of STDs, but still letting magic-poor citizens die of sepsis because that’s too boring to deal with), all while a cataclysmic danger lurked under the surface.

After that, I just filled in details as they worked with character stuff and plot stuff, and I tried to make sure they didn’t contradict each other in a way that couldn’t be chalked up to “chaos.” I basically lived with the Fillory map open all the time and also took screenshots of Benedict’s map of Loria, which gave me alternate ideas for the overall feel of the landmass rather than just the kingdom. And pretty much that’s the basic process I used to create the world! It was extremely fun, and I learned a lot, though I’m *definitely* focusing on some pure relationship kind of stuff for a while because... oof, sometimes it was a lot.

Annnnnnnd if you’re still with me, here’s some stray observations, for funsies:

I wanted Quentin and Eliot’s starting points to be more mature than in the show. Quentin when we’re introduced to him as an adult in LQoF is a lot more jaded and cautious than S1 Q, which is because in this world, his S1 mentality happened while he was on Earth and came to a head during the throes of his fucked up relationship with Bayler. Similarly, Eliot had already gone through a lot of shit too, and was much more self-actualized by the time he agreed to be High King here than in the show. It was still out of desperation for purpose, but not coming out of a direct trauma spiral. I think if they had been younger, both in age and mentality, the story wouldn’t have worked because they would’ve blown it up day two. They’re both still disasters, as we like to say, which is why the... everything happens, but they’re not disasters in the exact same way as in early canon. I thought of them as closer to their S3 selves, pre-Mosaic.

While I mostly kept Quentin’s syntax the same as on the show, I did change it up in some ways to reflect his Fillorian upbringing. The most obvious was replacing “goddamn” with “godsdamned” and “Jesus” with “Hades,” but I also made him slow on the Earth idiomatic uptake and slightly more likely to use passive voice and less likely to use contractions, especially early on and especially when speaking with Fen. He also said slightly out of date things even for someone who last remembered 1999, since Earth was still overwhelming despite his immersion. E.g.: In the epilogue, he asks Eliot if he can spend some time “Googling the World Wide Web” instead of watching Gossip Girl together, even though by 1999 most people were saying “on-line” or “the internet” by a pretty wide margin. But in my mind, the first term he learned was World Wide Web and he stuck to it like glue.

I originally had a full-blown coronation scene, where Quentin helped Eliot with the answers to the 90s questions via subtle charades, such as flapping his hands at his sides to give him the answer “Wings” (and Eliot was eventually going to Eliot-Logically use that moment to argue to Quentin that maybe Q really is the true High King since he was the one who actually answered the Knight’s questions, etc.), but I cut it and only showed bits and pieces in flashbacks because it didn’t really matter. They had to treat it seriously because it was An Event in this version of balanced/un-Beasted Fillory, with a full audience bearing witness, but the whole thrust of the external plot was about dismantling that moment and the concept of monarchy in general, so giving it too much weight outside of the Eliot and Julia friendship felt disingenuous to the story I was telling.

This is also why it was important to me that Margo hated the title High King Eliot the Kind, even though I only brought it up textually once or twice. But in my view, she fucking hated it and never came around to it. Which isn’t because she doesn’t think Eliot is kind, it’s that it felt like a simplification of all that he is, and the coronation ceremony in general felt similarly shallow. It wasn’t just the four of them working out their shit on the beach; it was true ceremony after a year of questing toil and a lot lingering uncertainty/resentments (especially regarding Julia), so it was too Big Shiny Happy Bow to her.

Yet on the same theme, my greatest regret was not being able to work in the fact that Margo’s title for Penny (King Penny the Persistent) was supposed to be half-sincere and half-sex joke. She did genuinely admire that he stuck it out even through his initial heartbreak because he gives a shit about his people underneath it all, but—and this is a very important headcanon to me—she admired his dedication to the art of the female orgasm even more.

I was originally also going to include the One Day More sequence with way more details—such as Umber taking the Javert lines, Ember taking the Thenardier lines, Bayler taking the Enjolras lines, and Penny taking the Marius lines, but... uh... writing a musical number is apparently not in my skill set. Also, honestly, the weirdness of the original is its whole charm and so I didn’t want to improve upon perfection. See also, in a more serious way: Eliot bowing to High King Margo on the Muntjac, the events of Plan B, and Quentin & Penny in the Flying Forest. Would not touch it!

My favorite Fillorian detail was either the guy who sent a citizen petition requesting a “smidgen” of Eliot’s earwax for an undisclosed purpose, or the use of the verb “to peg” to describe a Pegasus flock greeting an outsider with honor. They encapsulate the obscene yet pristine feel I always tried to give Fillory.

My favorite subtle(-ish?) ironic moment is Ess, the heir to a hereditary monarchy, taking Quentin to task for not honoring the anarchy patch on his high school backpack. In general, I don’t like everything being neatly resolved, including on an overarching world level. And I very strongly felt they had ZERO business meddling in Loria, so it left some fun-to-me unanswered questions. Will Ess usher in democracy for Loria based on his experiences on Earth? Maybe! Maybe not, since tradition’s a hell of a drug and Loria has its own history and complexities. Who knows?

I misread the town name Sutton as Sultan on the map the first time I referenced Bayler’s hometown (Sultan’s Ridge), but instead of going back to fix it, I just made it a sister town. Whatever!

I do not know how Quentin got a full bookshelf of Earth literature back to Fillory with him. Magic, I guess. (That’s the answer to anything I didn’t totally think through.)

I occasionally get asked whether Quentin and Fen were physically related. The answer is no, though it doesn’t totally matter. But I intended heart-cousins to be more like close family friends. (Though I actually originally had a joke where Eliot still wasn’t sure by the epilogue, but it didn’t land/feel realistic so I cut it.)

The details of the magic frequency poisoning were DEFINITELY what I thought through the least. My main goal was to have something catastrophic happen to Fillory based in part from the historical actions of the Children of Earth and Ember, patently ridiculously but with lasting consequences. Hence, god orgy that took away Fillorian human magic and sent out a slow poisoning of the overall magic “frequency.” It sounds all well and good, but it’s definitely something that would fall apart with even the lightest bit of prodding. It serves it’s purpose though, so I figured the gaps could be filled in or politely ignored. ;)

This question was way too much fun and a helpful retrospective for me! Thank you so much for indulging me, many moons ago. 💗

[kinetic-elaboration]

100 Days of Writing: Day Eighty

Only took a couple days off this time, not two weeks--pretty good!

This project is courtesy of @the-wip-project and I’m also tagging my fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @hopskipaway, @thelittlefanpire, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22. 

Day 78: Fanfic or original, which fandoms/genres do you like to write?

I think I’m pretty diverse in my genre preferences, at least in terms of “fanfic genres.” I’ve written fluff, angst, canon-verse, modern AU (adult/college/high school). I’ve written horror. The nature of the fandoms I’ve been in means that I’ve written sci fi. I’ve tried a little bit of adventure-type stories (at least if you define ‘adventure’ broadly enough lol) and some supernatural-type stories, also. I even wrote a Western (thanks Troped), which was a lot of fun!

I have been trying to expand myself more the last couple years. I’ve been in my current fandom for a LONG time, and I’ve written a lot of fairly typical romance-centric stories within it. That was starting to bore me. Funnily enough, my creative goal for 2020 was “be weirder”—but then…everything happened… and I could barely write at all, so the goal switched to ‘write whatever you can and whatever feels good.’ Then at some point I adjusted course to wanting to finish my WIPs and old projects, not specifically with an intent to settle my accounts before leaving the fandom but… just for the clarity of it. That goal aside, though, I am trying to push myself to write things I haven’t written before and to make more unusual and bolder choices.

I know that the total number of genres out there is way greater than the number of genres I’ve even dabbled in. But I think I’m pretty varied, again, as far as the styles/genres/plot-types that tend to be common in fandom spaces go.

(The way I answered this makes Day 79 impossible to answer, so I’ll just be skipping that one. Also if you haven’t noticed I’ve been skipping all the ‘homework’ questions. My to-do list is long enough already!)

*

Day 80: How do you feel about your old works? And bonus homework: say something nice about past-writer-you.

I feel pretty good about them! Roughly speaking, I’m generally proudest of my recent works, or at least my recent faves, and also proud of my older work, the stories I don’t feel much attachment to anymore. About those I can at least say ‘wow, this is really good for someone X age,’ and even sometimes ‘yeah, this is just really nice!’ without any qualifiers. The works that fall in between those two categories I am harsher on. By that I mean, those stories that were written long enough ago that I can see how I’ve improved, but not so long ago that I don’t feel attached to that person anymore, where I still feel responsible, as it were, for the errors or rough spots in them. I’m especially harsh on stories that USED to be my favorites, for whatever reason. Even then, I’m talking about being more nitpicky, not about despising the stories or wishing I hadn’t written them or wanting to take them down.

All of this is just the general pattern of my thoughts. I have specific works that I think are bad, or at least kind of embarrassing or silly, works I can’t personally stand to re-read. But it’s a question of scale. I’ve been posting online since 2006 and have over 200 works on AO3. About the ones I don’t personally like, I think, ‘well if someone else reads it and likes it, it’s worth the story existing and existing in public.’

Plus the super-SUPER embarrassing stuff, the late elementary/early middle school original novellas, the early fandom stuff, almost everything I wrote in high school even (I’m the class of ’07) is only on my computer and on various back up drives.

I guess the tl;dr of it is that I’m proud of my writing overall, even if my exact opinions about specific stories, fandom experiences, or eras might vary. I think I’ve always had some kinda talent! It’s good that I’ve changed and grown, and hopefully improved, but I still feel fondness for my early writing experiences.

*

A Writing Update

Since I haven’t done one of these in a while…

I’ve finished my Troped fic, which took over my brain for longer than intended, and done a first editing read-through. There’s one scene with some VERY rough bits that will need to be worked on more, and since some of my read-through was a bit… quick, because I just got excited to read ahead and didn’t think as critically as I should, I think I should do another full start-to-finish read. I don’t want to forecast too specifically when it might be up, which would just make it even LESS anonymous, but I can say pretty confidently that it WILL be eligible for the competition.

So I’m pretty excited for that. I’m not sure what I’ll turn to next. What I probably should do is switch to autumn mode—I have a pretty big list of stuff I want to write this fall, although so far I’m not inspired at all because it’s still way too hot! So I think my first task this weekend is going to be to figure out where my focus should turn next.