#looking for their last medallion

[hinamie]

hhmmmmm uh im dusting the cobwebs off my brain trying 2 come up w something interestinf uhh.......anything non spoiler-y you can discuss w regards to geto in the atla au perchance?

hi rin !!!!! tysm fr sending i hope u r doing well <3

atla geto lore fr u courtesy of sam:

he's a waterbender from the northern water tribe. he can bloodbend but finds it distasteful

he gave gojo the betrothal necklace/proposed to him when they were 20 (all of the adult characters are aged up in the fic vs jjk canon ages)

all of his decisions are driven by a desire to lighten the burden placed on gojo's shoulders

aaaaand atla geto draws fr u courtesy of Me :3

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[artist-issues]

Look I know Rapunzel paints and Tiana cooks, but if you guys don't think Mulan is the Most Creative Disney Princess, you're wrong.

She's literally introduced in this perfect scene that highlights her whole character, flaws and strengths:

The first time you see her she's:

Cheating, which is totally the opposite of what honor-code General Shang would do.

Undisciplined, which is what going to the army fixes.

Problem-solving—by writing the recitation she can't remember on her wrist—

BUT LISTEN. That last one is the first hint you have that she's the Most Creative Disney Princess. Because guess what? She's not the first young woman to cheat at the matchmaker test. The Matchmaker specifically checks to see if she's cheating when the test begins. But the rest of them wrote their cheat sheet on their fans.

The Matchmaker was prepared for the usual kind of tricks. But Mulan's full of her own ideas, not everyone else's.

You guys know the rest. She dresses up like a soldier—nobody suspects her because the idea that someone would do that never occurs to everyone else. She climbs the pole by tying the medallions around each other when none of the other recruits can figure it out. She lights the cannon by grabbing Mushu instead of searching for flints. She creates an avalanche instead of just taking Shan Yu out. She tricks the Huns by dressing her friends up as concubines. She defeats Shan Yu with his own sword and a bunch of fireworks.

But even beyond problem-solving, Mulan never does things like other people do. She doesn't even do things like other women do.

She doesn't just walk across a bridge, she jumps from pillar to pillar. She doesn't just bring her father tea, she puts a spare teacup in her sleeve because she knows she's clumsy.

Mulan is creative. But you know what that moment proves? That she's not just a representation of all women-versus-men. Mulan is representative of a human, who sees where she has strengths, and sees where she has weaknesses. She uses her strengths to her advantage and works to improve or make up for her weaknesses. She doesn't try to be exactly like a man. She just tries to use what she's got to do the right thing. And finding ways to use what you've got, even if it's not like what everyone else has, is creativity.

[mumms-the-word]

I like to think each of the BG3 companions makes a little change in their appearance/outfit after the game ends, if they’ve been persuaded to distance themselves from their abusers gods and masters

like Gale stops wearing the Mystra earring for something else, something he feels more connected to (something related to his partner, perhaps)

Wyll replaces his sending stone eye with a different prosthetic eye. maybe he has a collection! maybe they’re magical in different ways!

Shadowheart throws her Sharran circlet away to experiment with other jewelry (she already changes her hair to white, so why not go a teeny step further?)

Astarion doesn’t really wear any trappings of Cazador but I like to think a spawn version of him would be interested in wearing more colorful ensembles, rather than the tired black and red (even though he looks good in black and red)

Lae’zel begins incorporating more comet motifs if she’s fighting against Vlaakith, or wearing more non-gith clothing if she’s hanging out in the Sword Coast

Karlach, at last, after finally escaping the hells for good and forever, starts dressing in something other than protective/fire-resistant leather. Nothing wrong with leather, but a girl wants to wear something soft every now and again and it’s good to know she can wear something like cotton or linen without setting it on fire

Halsin finally laying down his druidic armor and…well, we know he’d just go without clothing entirely if he could, but getting comfortable with wearing casual, non-armor outfits all the time, getting comfortable with the fact that he doesn’t have to don symbols and medallions showing his leadership role and allegiance to a specific grove (and probably very relieved to finally set those down and never pick them up again)

Minthara contemplating having someone retattoo the symbol on her neck to obscure the connections to House Baenre or adding another tattoo elsewhere to memorialize her allegiance to either herself or her romanced partner

I just like the idea of the companions acknowledging the little ways they’ve reinvented or adjusted their identities by making little cosmetic changes

[latenightdaydreams]

Perhaps you have plans for things, but can you please write part 2 of Viking! Konig? I'm so curious how would reader get used to her new life and her new husband

Husband upgrade🤭

Viking!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 3

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, breastmilk

2.1k word count

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Two middle life blonde women gently help you out of the tub they were bathing you in. Small drops of water fall to the wooden ground beneath you. They speak in a soft tone, but in a language you cannot understand. They’re telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky you are to be König’s queen.

You’re seated in a wooden chair, drying off from the bath. One woman stands behind you and combs through your hair. The other leaves out of your view to grab something. You shiver slightly, being naked and wet.

“Vi varmer deg opp snart.” The woman’s voice is kind, and she stops combing your hair and caressing your arms, trying to warm you.

You don’t respond, not knowing what she said. In a weird way, her touch feels familiar and calming. With a simple nod of your head, she goes back to combing your hair.

The other woman walks in front of you, holding up a beautiful blue dress. Again, she speaks and you just gaze up at her. Her blue eyes are bright as she’s speaking. Your head pulls back slightly as the tension on your scalp grows from your hair being pulled into a long braid.

Once your hair was done, she stood you up to dress you. The indigo blue dress fits you tightly, extenuating your breasts and the curve of your waist. A woven belt placed around your waist and a necklace with a medallion of a wolf dangles for it. Leather shoes tied to your feet as you

“Hun er klar.” She exclaims as she sees you totally transformed into a queen. “La oss gå.”

You leave the small house, their arms wrapped in yours as your guild you down a pathway. Inside, you feel as though you are about to throw up. Your feet drag beneath you, dreading seeing König.

“I can’t” You try to turn but the women’s grip on you is firm.

“Du blir bra.” One speaks as she pets your arm.

König paced back and forth in his house waiting for Hilda and Thyra to finish cleaning you for him to enjoy. He walks shirtless and without a mask, exposing his sculpted body covered with battle scars, tattoos on his pecs, and scars on his face. His light blonde hair falls to his shoulder, some pushed behind his left ear.

His head turns as he sees the door open and you enter. The same worried look that has plagued your face this whole journey is still there. König walks to you and takes your hand, thanking the women and sending them on their way.

Worried or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. You look as if a goddess decided to come live amongst men. He will never understand how he got so lucky as to find you. Your breasts are full and swollen with milk, he can’t wait to taste you.

“You look beautiful, Liebling.” The door closes, and it’s just the two of you.

“Please, I can’t stay here.” You instantly plead, voice shaking. “I need to go home.”

“You are home.” He looks down at your face, studying you in the low light. “Don’t be so sad.”

“My children—”

“Are safe at home.” His hands caress your arms up and down.

“I need my children here.”

“I’ll give you new ones. Stronger ones.”

König’s hands grasp yours and bring them to his chest. You look at his body, turning your head away to gaze at the ground. He lifts your chin to face him.

“How about you come with me? I’ll help you forget about your troubles.”

There was no room to protest as he grabbed your hand and led you to the large bed in the corner of the room. He sits on the bed and keeps you standing in front of him. His hands roam over the curve of your body. On the journey back he refrained from touching you so you could mourn your last life, but now- now you’re all his.

“Are your breasts sore?” He asks as his hands feel how swollen they’ve become after days away from your child.

You don’t answer, but just look him in the eyes. It’s clear to see that you’re too full to be comfortable. His hands squeeze slightly and the indigo fabric begins to darken from the milk he expressed. Thyra and Hilda got you all dressed up only for König to ruin you.

König grabs at the woven belt around your waist and slowly undoes it, pulling it towards him, and laying it on the bed beside him.

“Please stop, I’m a married woman.” You step back.

“You are. To me.” He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer.

“In the eyes of God, you’re not my husband.”

“God? Which one?” König teases as his hand runs down to rub your plump ass. “Here, in my land, you’re mine. Unless your old family comes to my shore and fights for you back…you’re mine.”

You just stare into his eyes and nod. Realistically, your husband will never come for you. He wouldn’t even know where to look. The memories of your life with him, with your children flashes before your eyes until a tap on your ass takes you out of your own mind.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.”  His voice is a soft whisper as he stands to get you naked in front of him. The last piece he grabs is your necklace, setting it down on top of your dress.

You stand naked. Your breasts are full and round. Body soft and curvy. A small white pearly bead of milk lingers on your left nipple. Between your legs is a soft patch of hair, he can’t wait to feel it rub against his face. All you can think about is how God will smite you for infidelity, you can only hope he understands.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

König wraps his arms around you and places you gently on the bed, as if you were a delicate jewel he didn’t want to harm. He looks down at you as he finishes undressing. As he steps out of his pants, you can see his massive cock bounce, leaning down. He notices you looking at him, making him feel cocky.

“Big, ja?” He walks to you, parting your legs. “Let me show you how a real man fucks.”

Instantly, a blush forms on your face as you look at his blue eyes. His blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you. You hate to admit that, compared to Callum, König is far more attractive. Your eyes travel all over his body, inspecting his tattoos as he moves on to the bed with you. He notices your gaze and smiles.

“It’s for my family name.” He whispers as he rests his large body next to yours.

“Oh.”

König moves his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you.  You don’t kiss back at first, and that's okay. He knows you’re nervous. His lips leave yours and travel down your neck, he lightly nips at your flesh. A small whimper leaves your lips causing him to smile.

Lifting his head for a moment, he moves his hand to your breast and squeezes. A fountain of milk begins to spurt out. König moves his mouth to your other nipple and begins to suck. He continues to squeeze the other to spray himself with it.

A mixture of relief and pleasure rushes over you. Callum has not touched your breasts since the milk came in, finding it repulsive. König acts like a starved man, as if your milk is the only thing that can save you. It’s…hot.

Milk begins to drip from the corner of his mouth, rolling down your breast. He slowly pulls away, licking his lips. “So sweet.”

König licks in between your breasts and over the other, cleaning up the mess he’s made. His hand slowly trails down your body and touches your pussy. The feeling of your wet folds between your fat pussy lips drives him wild.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside of you.” He growls as his lips kiss up your neck.

König moves his body between your legs, running his hands from your breasts down to your hips. He brushes his hair back and out of his face with one hand as he presses his cock against your entrance. You gaze up at him before he moves his hips forward.

“Wait.”

His eyes move to your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can’t. My husband—” You were cut off by the euphoric sensation of meaty cock being shoved into your tight little cunt. A moan spills from your lips as your eyes go wide.

König grins looking at your reaction. He leans over your body to kiss the tip of your nose. “I am your husband now. Don’t forget that.” The words leave his lips as he slowly shoves the rest of his cock into you.

Your nails dig into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut. König looks at your face, your mouth hanging open and eyebrows pinched together. His hips slowly pull back before pushing back into you slowly; enjoying the look on your face as he does. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away.

“My perfect queen.”

He grabs your hips, pulling your rear up slightly off the bed as he bucks forward into your tiny cunt. Your back is arched as his fingers dig into your ass. Loud moans leave your lips, loud enough people passing the home can hear the two of you.

“König, I- it’s too much.” You feel a tingle run over your body as a heavy pressure builds in your core.

He realizes that you’re about to cum, “beg for it.”

“For what?”

“To cum.”

“I- I can’t.” You feel shameful. Shame for having sex with someone other than Callum and shame for feeling this pleasure. You’ve always been taught to not give into this type of lust.

“It’s okay to let go.” He whispers in your ear as he leans over you, his arms on either side of your head. His lips meet yours, pushing his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth accepting him in as you mewl pathetically.

You turn your head away, desperately begging. “Please…harder.”

He grabs your head and forces his tongue back into your mouth. Moans leave your lips into his mouth as your legs tremble around his waist. His kisses begin to trail to your cheek and down your jawline as he feels your walls flutter around his cock.

“There you go.” His kisses travel down to your breasts.

König pulls out and stands from the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to him. His arms wrap around you and hold you up. One arm holds you tightly to his body as the other reaches down to line himself up with you. He pushes forward while lowering you slightly. A groan leaves his lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His fingers grasping the supply flesh of your ass as his hips thrust into you; your tight little cunt squeezes his cock as he bounces you on his length. The lustful daze you’re in makes you gaze up at him as if you’re in love. The sound of your wet pussy and little pitiful sounds leaves your lips mixing. König glances down to your breasts bouncing. Everything is just perfect.

“Y/n…” He groans as his cock pulses, face scrunching with pleasure.

The next morning you take up to an empty bed. You rub your eyes and stretch, slowly stepping out of the bed. That’s when you noticed König sitting nude and watching you with a smile. Your eyes travel along his body before meeting his eyes, trying to sit in a way that conceals your body.

“Don’t try to hide your beauty, Liebling. It’s just us here.” He stands and walks over to you, caressing your face. Your braid is barely together and face flushed with an afterglow from last night’s activities.

“We have a long day ahead of us. You’re going to be introduced to my people as their new queen. They will be astonished at your beauty.”

You look into his eyes and nod. There is still a lingering sadness in your eyes, he is aware you miss your old life. It will take time for you to move on, but he knows you’ll be happier here with him. No longer are you poor and working the fields. Now you’re a queen.

Part 3

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death

Each breath cost her another second. Each step another half second. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and her vision narrowed to a point. She gripped the railing and pulled herself up another step, one hand pressed against her side. Blood oozed and soaked her blouse.

Another attempt on her life, but this time she doubted anyone would come to save her. Why would they?

She'd burned those bridges in the flames of fury and pain. Her heart, the betraying organ, still pulsed for one person, the one who had lied to her, betrayed her trust, used her. So she'd used her in turn. Lashed out in fury and pain. Each time her former best friend did something kind to "make up" for her betrayal, she ignored her traitorous heart.

She'd followed through, except now that she had Myriad. She'd screamed and yelled at Kara, unleashing all her pain and grief.

She should have stayed at the well defended bunker, but Eve-Hope hadn't finished boxing up the equipment. So she'd left Myriad in a safe and portaled back to the lab to carry some of the boxes herself. She'd tried to plan the move before she tricked Kara into taking her to the fortress, but Leviathan kept mucking up her plans.

Their attacks had accelerated everything.

But she'd badly miscalculated today. Her mind had been too focused on her fight with Kara. The look of pain and grief on Kara's face when she left haunted her, but she'd set the prison to last only long enough for her escape. Kara would be free now, recovering likely.

She took a shuddering breath. Pain clawed up her side at the muscle use, the wound searing like the sun.

She hadn't expected the attack to happen.

But then she had stole something from Leviathan. The stupid medallion which should have been hers not Andrea's. She laughs, bitterly, and her vision splinters. Darkness mocks her, but through sheer will she forces herself up another step.

Her project, her work to build a future where no one could hurt another like Kara did -- all lost because Eve-Hope had given her life to save Lena Luthor.

"Get down, Miss Luthor!" Eve-Hope had shouted. She pushed Lena against the floor, turned, and sprinted at the assassin. Bullets rained down, and the horrible thuds as they hit Eve's body echoed in Lena's mind. Just like when she'd shot her brother.

Eve-Hope swung her make-shift weapon, a piece of a chair, and clubbed the assassin. Both tumbled into the stairwell. Lena rolled herself to her knees and staggered to the door, her side burning. The assassin grunted and punched Eve-Hope. The other stumbled at the blow, which gave the assassin a clear window to Lena. She took one last shot, but again Eve-Hope stepped in front of the pistol.

She fell then, unable to stay upright, and Lena in a fit of rage slammed her body against the asassin's. They'd hit the wall, both scrambling to grab the pistol that had clattered to the floor a few feet away.

Lena had won. One shot, and her attacker was motionless.

But she'd also lost.

"Miss Luthor," Eve-Hope whispered. "It was an honor."

Lena had wept yet again that day.

No human cared for her. Only an AI who saved her, and now, like a fool, she'd staked everything on Hope's calculations. She'd gotten too cocky and forgot to hook her to the backup this past week.

She watched as her project died in a human body. She closed Eve-Hope's unseeing eyes and hunted for her phone.

The screen had cracked during the fight, and her fingers slicked with blood couldn't unlock. Her own phone was not in her pockets, fallen somewhere in the fight.

Whatever the assassin had done blocked all signals as none of the bars showed in the corner of the malfunctioning screen. She had throw Eve's phone in disgust, the screen cracking further when it hit the wall.

Eve died for Lena, and what had Lena done for her? Forced her AI Hope into Eve as punishment for her betrayal.

Today was her punishment for her hubris. She'd cheated death far too many times, mostly thanks to Supergirl. But she'd burned all bridges with Kara.

No, no one was coming. She had to save herself. So she'd started crawling up the steps, desperate to reach where she kept a spare phone.

Half the blood on Lena's clothes was from Eve, the rest from the bullet deep in her side.

She could press the button on the watch Supergirl gave her. But after what she did? Encasing her in Kryptonite?

She regrets it. Now that death laughs in her face, she regrets her actions. Regrets everything. She'd been so focused on her pain, her anger, that she'd failed to see what lay right in front of her.

She loves Kara. She had always loved Kara. She tried to remind herself of the truth: the one person she loved the most had stabbed her with her lies, and yet her mind teases her with memories of Kara's confession, her tears, and her desperation.

"I was selfish," Kara fiddled with her glasses, her tears streaming down her cheek. "I was so selfish. I'm sorry, Lena."

Tears stung Lena's eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but only succeeded in wiping blood across her cheeks.

"Selfish," she muttered with a sour laugh. She pulled herself up another step and paused at the pain.

Kara Zor El Danvers had kept her in the dark because she was a coward. She was afraid to lose Lena. She wanted to be just Kara with someone. She'd been selfish.

At the time, Lena had put Kara in the same category as her mother and Lex. People who claim to love her but used her when they needed it with no regard for how Lena felt.

But now, as death danced along her spine, she reviewed her time with Kara. All those moments of laughter, of cuddling on her sofa, the movies they watched, the lunches shared. How gently but firmly Kara hugged as if afraid Lena would vanish if she let go.

No, her selfishness differed from Lex, who used Lena like a chess piece. Dangling brotherly love only to snatch it away. Lifting up Lena and her work, only to destroy it. She couldn't escape his legacy, how everyone tied her to him. Even when she fought to repair the damage of his legacy.

Even in death he haunted her. The brother she'd killed for Kara and their friends.

Kara had acted like a jerk sometimes as Supergirl, judgmental and aloof, but she'd always shown up when Lena needed her. Like a fool, she'd done the same unable to stay away. Both of them had given and given. Kara had broken the law for Lena just because she wanted to help Lena feel better. All the times Supergirl saved her, the desperation in her expression before she schooled her features into aloofness -- how Supergirl claimed it was "Kara Danvers believes in you."

No, it had been Kara that whole time. Trying to tell her and yet not tell her.

Here at the end of everything, she finally understood why her brother kept the truth from her. It was yet another chess move. He knew she'd react with anger and pain, where she'd burn her bridges. He wanted her isolated, and even in death, he'd taken from her. Taken the one good thing in her life.

She screamed and pounded her fist against the stairs. She was so close to the lab now.

But the pain wrapped around her chest. Her memories tumbled in her mind as if caught in a spinning vortex.

Over and over Kara's face appeared with increasingly urgency.

Even as she bled to death in a stairwell, her traitorous heart couldn't let Kara go.

With slippery fingers, Lena pried open the watch's face. She had no hope that Kara would come.

No, pressing the button won't bring her relief. She was giving Kara one last chance to say goodbye.

Blood smeared across the watch. On her second try, her fingers finally pressed the button.

She collapsed in exhaustion against the stairs, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the darkness.

/end of part 1

[prideprejudce]

Also kind of related to the last alicent ask-- how objectively funny is it that the targaryens pulled alicent kicking and screaming into their weird blood purity incest tangle. For them, having uncle fathers and brother husbands and just generally blurring all the lines between family and romantic interest is sooooo normal. Yes its done massive damage to their psyches as we've seen with daemon in particular- but its passé to them at this point. For Alicent its breaking her BRAIN.

Like, Alicent who's deeply religious in a very westerosi faith and has classic nuclear family adjacent issues in contrast- overbearingly strict father, dead pedestalized mother to emulate, estranged sibling- is just SHOVED into the targaryen familial polycule and told to figure it out.

She keeps trying to bind herself to westerosi gender roles for comfort and safety, but bc of the targs she's now married an father/uncle figure, the girl who was supposed to be her sister growing up is now her daughter AND shes in love with her, her children are basically her siblings, and ALSO she's two of their mother in law(s?). Throw in the desperate parentification of aemond bc its not like viserys is helping her raise these kids-and its fucking her up!!! how is she supposed to have any sense of self when every role she would define herself by in a patriarchal westerosi culture has been fractured into twisted branches!!

It spiders into her other rationships too!! Her father otto has been treating her like both a daughter AND a pseudo wife, criston her lover keeps trying to assert himself over her choices in a very fatherly condescending way, and her brother gwayne is out in oldtown fathering her third son.

I sent an ask a while ago about how the tragedy of the alicent/rhaenyra/aegon triangle is that its an allegory for how targs just cant acclimate to westeros at all and end up breaking their dynasty AND the country by trying to force their culture to fit anyways, and i think you were so right in ur response that its not just rhaenyra/aegon/alicent who are the allegory but its ALL the targs in relation to alicent thats the allegory- they just cannot work with Alicent/westeros while she/its trapped in the current westerosi culture.

its hilarious bc it really is like having ONE catholic nun in an insane echo chamber hedonism cult and then being like 'why are you going insane bc of the incest and sex we're so over it it hasn't effected us whatsoever maybe if you try the kool aid you'll chill out' while she's desperately pretending none of this is happening and she's Not Involved.

this is a great point, and if you also go back to her as a child saying "you targaryens do have very queer customs" with noticeable disgust on face, and flash forward a decade later where she's marrying two of her children together in typical targaryen incest practices. I wish they had explored this more in the show and looked into how she feels about this currently, but I can't imagine she feels too great about it, and it's probably the reason why she went ULTRA religious with a five pound star medallion almost hanging from her neck. she wants at least some repentance for playing along in targaryen incest rituals, which goes against everything she was raised to believe

and like you mentioned, if you look close enough, almost EVERY relationship that alicent has is majorly twisted by either targaryen customs or her own stunted growth from being a child bride. she's now a grown woman who still has the mind of a 15 year old and is trying to navigate a civil war that she helped ignite in her rage and jealousy over her own private hell for last decade. she also swings from a protective parent role to having an almost eldest sibling like relationship with her kids who desperately crave more motherly affection from her that she is just not able to give (because she cant completely seal off her deep down resentment of them)

and to top it off, the purest relationship in her life (rhaenyra) with genuine love was also twisted into a familial one through an arranged marriage. if you also headcanon her possible romantic feelings for rhaenyra, you can times three that trauma on your score card as well

alicent literally was forced into the targaryen world of the snake eating its own tail (reduced to a bargaining chip for otto) with decades of inbreeding and family infighting for power and control and was told to play nice with them. no wonder she's out in the woods wandering around and dissociating lmao

[kidasthings]

Okay, so humor me here. Did anyone else get the sense that there was the beginning of an enemies to lovers thing between Noa and Mae?

Reasons to support this theory:

First, read this interview with the director Wes: https://screenrant.com/kingdom-of-the-planet-of-the-apes-wes-ball-interview/

The facts:

1. When Proximus Caesar was yelling at Noa to choose between a human or an ape (Soona had a knife to her throat) he couldn’t make a choice. Mae made it for him and shot the ape holding the knife.

2. Noa gives Mae his mother’s blanket and Raku’s Caesar medallion. He doesn’t give anything sentimental to Soona.

3. The scene with the observatory occurred between Mae and Noa before it happened with Noa and Soona at the end. Noa reacted way more strongly to watching Mae look through the telescope. Also, both of their faces (Noa and Mae) are transposed looking at the same sky together but apart in that last scene.

4. Despite not being entirely truthful, Noa is forgiving to Mae in a grudging way at the end of the movie and he asks if Apes and Humans can ever live together.

5. Who is saving Mae repeatedly on horseback and hauling her up a steep cliff? Noa.

6. Mae meets Soona, and then while setting up gunpowder with Noa she asks if he likes Soona. He said something about them being born close together, and she looks quickly away.

7. Throughout the movie, Soona is treated as a background character in comparison to Mae. Mae gets way more screen time and interaction with Noa, and will continue to in sequels.

Am I crazy or is this going somewhere?! To make it more interesting, there could be a potential triangle between Mae, Noa and Soona…

#maenoa #nomae #noamae #mae #noa #Kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes #soona #enemiestolovers #planetoftheapes #freyaallen #teague

[crimsonmoonlight88]

You Belong With Me

Pairing: Mae x Noa

Note: Inspired by the photo Freya shared and this gorgeous rendition by @cj-k. Thank you for letting me share this beauty!

Mae found him by the fire, sitting with his pile of books and rolls of parchment. The hut he had crafted reminded her of a scholar's study, and she supposed it was. Or as close to one as it could be. It was still a shock to her that he could read, that he was teaching the others in the clan.

She told herself she did not wish to disturb him, but the truth was that her throat had closed up. This ape...he was the first that had showed her mercy and compassion, and he had nearly died saving her life. She had later saved his in return, but it did not feel enough, somehow.

"So late," Raka observed, glancing up at her at last. "And so..." His voice trailed off as he squinted in the dim light, trying to read her expression.

Mae quickly morphed her face into neutrality. Steeling herself, she forced herself to speak, to move forward with the inevitable. "I wanted to return this to you," she said, removing the familiar medallion from around her neck. She hesitated, feeling oddly bare without it, before extending it to him. "It is yours, after all."

Raka did not take it. He merely looked at the circular symbol, then met her gaze. "It was...a gift," he said gently. "For Noa. And now...it is yours."

Mae's hand shook. "Just take it."

"It is yours," Raka repeated.

"I don't want it!" she snapped, her voice cracking in the night.

Silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. Raka closed his book, his dark eyes narrowing in a way that saw too much.

Mae let out a sound of exasperation and looked away. Her eyes wandered until they focused on the fading words of one of the tattered old books: The Words of Caesar. She knew this book. Raka read from it weekly to the others; she had listened only twice, too afraid to hear more.

With a sigh, Mae took a step forward and gently laid the necklace across the book so that the medallion rested on Caesar's name. She stared at it only briefly before finding Raka's gaze once more.

Sadness--and knowing--shone in his too-human eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She felt as stripped of voice now as she had in the wilderness. So she forced herself to turn, moving mechanically to the flap of the door. She reached for it, but then Raka halted her when he spoke.

"I finally found..." he started, "why we call them...Nova."

Mae hesitated. She did not want to know the reason, and yet she turned, angling her head slightly. Waiting. Dreading. Curious, despite herself.

But Raka only smiled gently. "A tale...for another day...I think."

"Maybe someday I could hear it," Mae whispered.

Raka bowed his head, his eyes shining. "I look forward...to that day...Mae."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She darted outside into the chilly night. The moon shone brightly in the sky, and Mae practically sprinted away, heading past the rebuilt structures and toward the small hut the apes had built for her.

Her breathing was ragged as she flung back the animal pelt that served as a door. She she stood there a moment, taking in what had, for the past few weeks--or months--been her home. A bedding of blue cloth and sack stuffed with feathers for her head. A blanket of warmth. Pelts draped over the sides like makeshift walls for privacy. A bucket. A basket of nuts and fruits.

It was not like the bunker with mild human comforts, but it was...hers.

Mae did not know how long she stood there in silence, but a hoot of an owl had her finally moving.

Her hands shook as she knelt and hastily stuffed the few items she possessed into her ragged rucksack. She swiped at her face angrily, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Going...somewhere?"

Mae whipped around in alarm, reaching for the knife in her boot on instinct. Noa stood in the makeshift doorway, watching her with a sort of calm wariness, his stance almost defensive. She hated that look, that stance--it was so frighteningly human.

His eyes tracked the knife in her hand, his nostrils flaring. In his right hand dangled the medallion. Her throat went dry.

Mae slid the knife back into her boot. "I have to leave," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

Confusion gleamed in Noa's eyes. "Why?"

"I can't stay here. I'm not..." She struggled to explain how she felt, but forced her way through. "I don't belong here."

"You..." Noa's mouth worked as he mulled over her words, as though he could find no understanding in them. "You would...disappear into the night?"

Mae swallowed thickly, but said nothing. Could say nothing.

"Where would you...go?" He took a step inside, his face incredulous. "You said...you said you had...nothing left."

He had not spoken cruelly, but the words found their mark and Mae flinched. When she had returned here with an injured and scarcely-breathing Raka, she had planned on staying only long enough to see him recover. But then she had stayed longer, and finally admitted the truth to herself, to Noa--that she could not return to the others, to the bunker. That was the agreement, the price for her mission.

He had only asked if she had delivered her book. She said yes. They had spoken no more of it.

Mae had seen the satellites rotate, and knew she had succeeded. That hope for humanity had burned so brightly in that moment, but at some point these past few weeks, she had started to feel a sense of impending doom. She didn't know when she stopped hoping to be found by more humans and when she had started to dread it.

Mae wanted humanity to regain their dominance, their strength, but she wanted this clan, these apes who had accepted and forgiven her, despite what she had done, to remain untouched. She knew it was Noa and Raka's influence that aided in that forgiveness, but she was grateful none the less.

They did not deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

"Mae," Noa said, drawing her attention back to him. "It is...not safe," he insisted. "Out there...alone."

"It's not safe if I stay either."

He looked to her rucksack, then back to her, and took another step closer. "You are safe here...with Eagle Clan. With me."

Mae felt her heart shatter. He did not realize it was he who was not safe--because of her.

"I can't stay," she forced herself to say. "I can't, Noa. And whatever this is..." She waved her hand between them, letting the silence fall.

Noa angled his head. "What is...this?"

"It's..." Words failed her. She didn't know how to explain what it was between them. All she knew was that it would not end well. It couldn't possibly end well. "It's not important."

Noa stared at her.

"Not...important?" He angled his head slightly as he prowled closer, eyes narrowed. "Not important," he repeated, testing the words and making a face, as though finding them sour.

Mae could only say nothing. Could not bring herself to speak another lie. Not to him.

He stood close now, a mere inch taller but somehow towering over her. She glanced away, unable to bear the look on his face.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached up and gently slid the medallion back around her neck. Then he leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. "You are a better liar...than that."

A tear slid down Mae's cheek. As he pulled back slightly, her eyes found his, and the intensity in his gaze took her breath away.

Against her better judgement, her right hand slid up his strong arm, curling into his fur. Her other hand found the band on his other arm, her fingers brushing against the soft feathers.

His arms went around her, angling himself almost protectively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a long moment they just stood there, locked in an embrace that seemed to stop time.

Noa's eyes seared into her soul, more human than she had ever seen. "You were...wrong," he breathed. "You belong...with me."

(This picture feels like a cliffhanger, so I ended this just so. In my mind, of course Mae stays. ;))

[alienzil]

Coffee Strong Enough to Wake the Dead (or to Summon Them) 

Prologue

“That’s it?” Tim asked.

“This is the only dangerous bit,” Constantine said while slipping the small statue into his pocket. 

Constantine had recently contacted Batman about a potentially dangerous magical artifact going up for auction. They had managed to acquire the artifact but it came as part of a rather large collection. 

“And what about the rest of it?” Tim fired back. Tim was a bit cranky, sue him. Bruce was busy with the Justice League so Tim was the only one available to attend the society auction to bid on the artifact. He’d had to spend all day yesterday smiling and making small talk at the auction, he hadn’t had a night off in almost two months and now the batcave looked like a wizard’s garage sale. 

“Use those detective skills to look up the nearest charity shop?” Constantine replied with a smirk. “Or toss them in the bin.” 

“Nothing else here is magical or potentially dangerous?”

“Ha, no. Complete fluke there was anything worth anything in there at all. The rest of the lot is just trinkets. Nothing dangerous or valuable. Anyways, now that this is taken care of, I’ve got a pint at the pub with my name on it.”

Tim looked over the various items already halfway planning to shove them in the attic for lack of a better plan. His eye caught on a beaded bracelet with a medallion charm. He picked it up and ran it through his fingers liking how it felt. “What about this?” 

Constantine sighed, annoyed at the delay. “It’s just a bauble mate.” He took it out of Tim’s hand and briefly glanced at it. “Ah, this. Some group of morons got it in their heads they could summon the King of the Infinite Realms a while back. Tried to make enchanted summoning charms to pass out to their followers. Thought if they got enough people together holding these little things they could pull the king through. Didn’t work of course. Pretty sure the head of that particular cult wound up an accountant last I heard.”

“So it doesn’t do anything?” Tim pressed as Constantine passed the bracelet back.

“King of the Infinite Realms has been locked up for centuries, kid. The worst it can do is clash with your outfit. Now I’m off.”

Tim watched Constantine go then looked down at the bracelet. He shrugged and slipped it on his wrist. Why not? It was just a bracelet and he liked it. Plus, he wasn’t exactly going to be trying to summon a deity from another dimension with it now was he?

[echo-bleu]

Deep in the Blue Mountains, in the great hall of an abandoned fortress, the memories of hundreds of witchers, the last of their kind, hang from the branches of a long-dead tree.

And among them, not in a place of honour, but of equality, as family,

A sorceress,

And a bard.

[ID: Digital painting of Geralt’s wolf medallion, Yennefer’s obsidian star necklace and Jaskier’s tuning fork pendant hanging together. The background is blurry tree bark in shades of orange and brown that look a bit like fire, and there are other medallions hanging around them, out of focus.]

[mrslankyman]

Can I Call You Mine?

Montague (fortnite) x (fem) reader

->If I chose you life could’ve been different

->2K word

TW: guns & death

——

You were untouchable like a distant diamond sky. He couldn’t understand why he was so caught up in you. It wasn’t like you gave a shit about him. 

You were one jewel he couldn't steal. 

No matter how good of a thief he was. 

The dreams of holding you in his arms and calling you his was what gave him strength to keep going everyday. 

You had chosen the other side. 

That heist changed everything. The biggest regret of his was choosing that medallion over the one thing he cherished most. 

You.

He left you behind; speeding off in that stupid silver car. 

Leaving you to rush off and fend for yourself. 

The next time he saw you was at a meeting with the other millionaires he had gathered into his Society. 

You had joined a group called the UnderGround. As one of their leaders. 

Learning that he was on top of your hit list sent shivers down his spine. 

He didn’t wanna leave you. He was just blinded by the idea of wealth. 

Pretending like you were an enemy hurt his heart. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever came face to face with you. 

The lingering reality hung in his mind. 

It’s you or him if it came to that. 

You were leader of the UnderGround and he was leader of the Society. 

One of you had to go. 

Yet he would let you pull the trigger if it came to that.

He couldn't kill you. 

He was far too caught up in you. 

Which is why the night he caught you sneaking in hurt him. He had heard the noises coming down stairs. Somewhere near the vault. The thought of him just hearing things crossed his mind yet it was too loud for him to just be hearing things. 

Heading down the stairs from his master bedroom he eyed the door to the vault. His hair was messed up, dress shirt loosely buttoned and dress pants without a belt. He looked like a mess. 

“Who’s there?” His voice came out slightly shaky, holding up his pistol. Aiming it at whoever might be down there. 

The rustling noise stopped. He headed down the steps to the vault, the shadow of a person coming into view. 

“{Y/N}?” He dropped his aim slightly. 

“Montague.” Your voice seethed as you looked up at him. 

His eyes softened and he stepped down a few steps to get a better look at you. 

Instinctively you raised your own pistol, aiming straight at his head. 

“Woah- come on.. Let’s not do this.” Montague raised his hands; pistol in one. 

“Hand over the medallion now.” Your voice was so demanding, much rougher than he remembered. “Come on.. Let’s talk.” Pleading wasn’t something he did often. He would rather be shot than anyone hear him beg. For you on the other hand. He would do anything to have just a moment with you again. 

He missed how you both could talk about anything. Sit in an abandoned building and plan out the next heist. 

Stealing was the way you both lived. You had grown to trust each other in those heists. Robbing banks, jewelry stores, and random rich people. 

Montague had become the person he swore to you he wouldn't.

“We are doing this Montague.” He couldn't see through you like he used to. You seemed so truthful. Like you were serious about blowing his head off if you had to. 

“{Y/N}... please just let’s talk. I’ve missed y-.” He had taken the last few steps to reach you; hands still in the air. 

He felt the end of your gun press to his forehead. His eyes stared into your scrunched up ones. Anger prominent in your {e/c} eyes. In that moment he knew he lost you. He just wanted you. 

“Why miss me? You were the one who left me behind. Without a second thought.” That silky voice of yours despite seething with anger was so angelic. The feeling of the gun pressing against his forehead harder snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“I know what I did.. I know.” His voice was soft and pleading. He looked you in the eyes as he spoke. 

He had missed them. 

“If you don’t give me that medallion now, I’m gonna blow your head off and take it myself.” You shoved him against the wall holding the gun to his head. He didn’t even flinch. He just liked that you were somewhat touching him. 

“I miss you.” Those words hit your ears and for a moment the grip on your pistol faltered. 

His voice was almost a whisper and his breath tingled your neck. 

“Don’t do this to me Montague.. I can’t let my group down.” The feeling of the trigger between your fingers reminds you of how you controlled the situation despite his words. 

“I miss you, I miss you more and more everyday..” He stared into your eyes so desperate to change the emotion in them. He wanted to see that smile. 

The happy look in your eyes when you’d see him. 

He missed that. 

“I’m not falling for this Montague.. Let me in the vault.” You demand voice breaking between anger and sadness. 

He tore off his medallion and held it in front of the vault's scanner. The vault unlocked as it scanned the diamond. 

Your eyes widened slightly as you watched the vault open before turning back to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you {Y/N} trust me when I say that.. I didn’t mean to leave you behind. I was stupid for it..” 

You hesitated between letting him go and getting what you needed or holding him there against the wall.  

The way his eyes pleaded for you almost made you believe him. 

If you didn’t know him so well you’d think it was an act.

“You’re right. You were stupid for it.” Was the only reply you gave before kicking him in the crotch. His low groans filled your ears. You almost wanted to say you were sorry.

Too bad you weren’t 

He fell to the floor holding his crotch, letting out foul language in his native tongue. 

You quickly stepped into the vault looking around before grabbing the map you had been searching for. Just where Hope said it would be stored. Montague really wasn’t that good at hiding things. 

Something you always knew he faltered at.

A good thief but a terrible hider. 

You walked out stepping over Montague who laid on the floor still. 

You stopped and turned around to look at him. 

“I won’t be so nice next time.” Your voice was icy cold in warning. He simply looked up at you: regret covered his face. 

“{Y/..N}” He closed his eyes tightly as tears pricked the corners. You didn’t know what to do. Leave him there or stay. He used to be your best friend. Your ride or die. Now he was just..

Nothing.

The sound of your feet coming closer gave him strength to sit up. You crouched down to his level offering a small smile gaining one in response from him. 

“You’re so beautiful.. I wish I told you that sooner. I wish I told you a lot of things before I fucked us up.” His hand reached out and cupped your cheek. Letting yourself lean into his touch made memories flood back. 

How close you two used to be. 

His touch always calmed you down. No matter the situation. It still did.

“Oh Montague..” Your voice cracked slightly as you allowed yourself to soak up his warmth. 

“Please.. Don’t go.” He begged as he pulled you closer to him. His arms wrapping around you. 

“I have to.. I can’t let my group down.. I’m sorry Montague. It’s you or me. I can’t let it be me who gets left again.” Your words slowly soaked into him. Before he could react your pistol was back at his head. Tears streaming down your face.

It was a hard life now. No more fun and games of stealing stupid things no one would notice. 

Stealing a life would always be noticed. 

A heinous crime. 

Something that could not be undone once done. 

You knew that. 

You had to do this.

You had to win this battle. 

Jonsey, Hope, the whole organization was counting on you. 

“I love you.” 

Those three words made your whole body shake. How could you kill him after that? 

“I know you have to do this. I know that only one side is going to make it out of this thing alive.” It was his turn to start truly crying. But not from the fact he was going to die. 

No.

He was crying because at least even in his last few moments he gets to see you again. 

It was all he could ask for in this cruel world. 

“I love you too..” Your confession was all he needed to die happy. To know that he wasn’t chasing some dumb dream every night. You did like him back.. 

“Can I call you mine.. Once?” His question made your tears flow harder.

“Yes.. you can.” You sobbed harder as he leaned closer.

“I’m so glad you’re mine, mon amour.” His lips pressed against yours. For a moment you almost let your gun fall. 

Wouldn’t it be so easy to leave and run off with him? 

Possibly in your dreams. 

You would be hunted down and never forgiven for that act. 

You had picked your side to stay loyal to.

As did he.

So as you kissed him and lived in this moment of bliss you let it be the last thing he remembered. 

Before you pulled the trigger.

Leaving him with his last dying wish.

To call you his.

[little-pondhead]

Clockwork sneezed.

Then he paused. He never sneezes. He’s a ghost; ghosts don’t get sick. Not since he locked up the last Ghost Virus in his vaults. Why did he sneeze?

He sneezed again. Oh no, was that a headache coming on? His eyes felt tired and his skin was itchy. Was that a tickle in his throat?? Were those spots on his arm?? Shit, time to go check on his vaults to make sure nothing escaped. All hell would break loose if there was a ghost epidemic again.

Clockwork turns to leave the room, and in his haste, his scepter taps the very edge of a tall and thin grandfather clock he’d just been working on. The clock was made from a red-stained cottonwood he’d procured from the heart of Kansas many years ago, and it was gilded in delicate gold that shone with age and looked well-loved. Despite its height, the clock was a strong one, and didn’t tip over when the Ghost of Time bumped it.

It did, however, shift a few of the loose cogwheels inside. A few of them dropped out of the clock, and one even fell to the floor and rolled away. The ones that stayed inside rattled ominously for a moment before settling into their new spots. The clock kept ticking, but the time was off now. It skipped a few seconds, just enough for a listener to notice, before suddenly reversing the hour and minute hands.

Too bad there was nobody nearby to pay attention to the now-broken clock.

—

Danny was a strange boy. He knew that. Everyone in Amity knew that. Even his mentor, Clockwork, called him strange every once in a while. He liked being strange. It was fun being unpredictable. Having a Time Medallion stuck in his chest certainly helped in his shenanigans, since it meant he was technically separate from the time streams. He had pulled off more than one prank on his pseudo-grandfather by using this to his advantage.

Sometimes, however, Danny’s freedom from the time stream caused him more trouble than he thought it was worth. Like right now, for example.

He was simply at home, battling dinner with his sister while his parents were making a batch of fudge. Suddenly, Danny felt the time stream shift and writhe in a way he’d never felt before. He shivered and sneezed, thinking nothing of it. Clockwork made tiny adjustments all the time, there was nothing to worry about.

Except there was. When he opened his eyes, there was now a baby in his house.

One minute it was just him and Jazz at the table, the next, a baby in a red high chair was giggling and clapping along with Jazz as she tried to cut up the double-dead hotdogs into smaller bits for the child to eat.

The baby wasn’t a ghost, Danny knew. But when he looked around, evidence of a baby living in the Fenton house laid everywhere. The rocking chair in the living room now had a side table with two empty bottles on it. Pictures hanging in the hall had been changed to include the child. Toys were scattered around every corner, just waiting to be stepped on. Neither Jazz nor his parents had blinked at the sudden change.

In fact, Danny discovered, everyone in Amity Park seemed to think that this baby had always been with them. Even his best friends and rogues didn’t bat an eye! Danny was now a middle child, while everything else stayed the same.

But Danny knew. He knew something was wrong. This baby didn’t belong here.

He had to talk to Clockwork. He had to find out who this child was.

The child named Clark K. Fenton.

[heritagebrowser]

The pulpit at the Saint- Bavon's Cathedral (Sint-Baafskathedraal) in Ghent, Belgium.

Rococo pulpit made by Laurent Delvaux in 1741. The statues represent the blessing of the truth over error. Made of (white and black) Carrara marble and Danish oak, with gilded wood and wrought iron fence, made by J. Arens. The pulpit could be realized with money from Bishop Triest's fund. Laurent was commissioned by the Chapter of Sint-Baafs. The contract between both parties was signed on March 6, 1741.

As early as 1719-1720, the cathedral's clergy had a plan to replace the old pulpit, previously donated by Viglius Aytta, with a new work of art. In 1738-1739 and later, Van der Brugghen from Antwerp, Theodoor Verhaeghen from Mechelen and Laurent Delvaux from Nivelles made a design for a new pulpit. The latter's model was accepted for execution by the Ghent chapter, which concluded a written agreement with the sculptor on March 6, 1741. It precisely described which materials should be used, namely Danish oak and white Italian marble, and what the artwork should look like. In 1745 Delvaux had completed his work.

That pulpit, rightly regarded as a very representative piece of rococo church furniture in Flanders, has been elaborated on a rather large scale. The viewer's gaze is immediately drawn to the allegorical marble sculpture group under the tub, depicting Truth and Time. The Truth, in the form of a beautiful young woman in a graceful pose, holds a bulky, open book in her hands. Her beautifully arranged robe, which the artist managed to portray in a striking way, captures the movement of her long flowing hair. The globe under her right foot means that truth is higher and worthier than all other goods. The sun, shining on her breast, wants to show that Truth is a friend of light and that she looks up to God, without whose light there is no truth. The woman is crowned with a laurel wreath, the sign of victory. The book in her hands contains the following sentence from a speech by Paul to the inhabitants of Ephesus: 'Awake, you sleeper; rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light” (V, 14).

With her graceful body, slightly turned towards him, Truth turns towards a winged man, who foretells Time. He is winged because the proverb says: time flies. The old man sits on some blocks of stone and leans against a tree that supports the pulpit. He is awakened from his sleep by a putto blowing a trumpet, and lifts the veil that hid the Truth from him. People noticed his expressive head with striking play of light and shadow in the spirit of the late Baroque. For centuries, humanity was ignorant of Christ's message of salvation. She didn't see the Truth. Now Time throws off the veil that hindered his 'insight'. Instructed by the Truth, he is inspired by the divine Word, which is symbolized by the putto with the trumpet.

The entire group, inspired by an unfinished work by the Italian sculptor Bernini, is very balanced. The successful contrast between the youthful and lovely woman and the muscular old man, their posture and their draping testify to the artist's talent.

The branches of the tree swing smoothly around the pulpit, which is decorated with numerous rococo motifs and four medallions in relief. Three of these are explicative representations of the victory of Truth over Time and are therefore closely related to the group of images at the bottom. At the front we get the birth of Christ surrounded by angels and cherubim. This represents the Light among people. On the right the conversion of Paul is depicted, who was struck blind on the way to Damascus.

On the left is the conversion of St. Bavo. His eyes opened and he saw. After all, he was moved by the preaching of Saint Amandus and withdrew into a hollow tree in prayer. The last medallion on the back features the bust of Bishop Antoon Triest. The draped sounding board with a dove in a halo at the bottom is supported by two apple trees. On the sounding board, two angels hold a large cross, whose sleek surfaces contrast sharply with the playful branches of the tree. A third angel takes the apple from the mouth of a serpent that is writhing in the tree. At the entrance to each staircase there is a life-size angel on the inside with the coat of arms of Bishop Triest, thanks to whose fund it was possible to have this sculpture executed. The banister with its graceful curves and its lush and playful shells on the parapet is a beautiful piece of rococo in itself. The entire pulpit should not necessarily be viewed from any one point. It is conceived as an image that can be admired from all sides, without the composition losing value. (Source: Erik Duverger)

[schleiereule-94]

A Bard and a Witcher – Part 2

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier x aFab!Reader

Summary: The morning after an eventful evening spent with Geralt and Jaskier you start exactly where you stopped the night before.

Warning(s): SMUT MINORS DNI, porn w/o much plot, fingering, penetrative sex (lots of it), unprotected p in v, threesome, dirty talk (both degrading and some praise, cursing), rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, oral (m receiving), she is not talking much but enjoys being used. A very slight hint of feelings.

Author’s Note: Not beta read and not an english native, so be kind if you find mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 here

You fell asleep quickly after the two men had tucked you under the covers. Your body feeling limp and warm, you happily drifted off into dreamland. You only wake up hours later, when a sunray hits your forehead. You squint your eyes open, still feeling dozy and at first you don’t know exactly where you are. A bulky figure lays in front of you, blocking out most of the sun. Yellow eyes watch you intently. And they immediately bring back the memories from last night. You also register a body pressed into you from behind and an arm around your waist. Jaskier’s breath is deep and regular at your neck, he is still asleep. 

When the witcher realises you are awake a small smile lightens up his features. He extends his arm to put a string of hair that has fallen into your face behind your ear and rest his hand gently on your cheek. It is warm and big, extending from your jaw up to your temple. “Morning darling. How are you feeling?” he asks quietly. He is very close and even though his eyes and gestures are very soft and relaxed you are still intimidated. “I’m…, I’m great actually”. You sound sleepy and your voice is hoarse. From taking too much cock down your throat probably, your brain provides a reason. The thought makes you grin and a slight shiver of excitation runs down your body. The witcher is still looking at you. “You are very pretty” he states softly and his hand travels from your face down to your shoulders. He slowly slides down your arm, taking the blanket off your upper body and leaving behind a trace of goosebumps. You hum under his gaze and get more awake by the second. As he uncovers your bare breasts you try to cover yourself up by reflex, but he catches your hands and decisively puts them back down. “Relax”. You feel your cheeks redden a bit, but you loosen up. The witcher leans in closer, your faces just centimetres apart. You feel his breath on your skin and shudder slightly. You feel like you are laying next to a big wild wolf. He’s tranquil for now, but you know he could devour you any second. “What is your name”, he asks while interlacing his fingers in some strands of your hair. “Y/n”, you say, mouth dry and hypnotised by the yellow eyes examining your face. You feel like he sees directly into your soul. 

Geralt leans forward over your head and inhales deeply in your hair. “Mhh you smell as delicious as you taste sweet girl”. His eyes have a faint animalistic glint to them when he turns them back to you. You don’t know what to say. He looks so perfect, the sun lighting up his white hair. Mesmerized, and before you think more about it, you grab a strand and let it slide through your fingers. It feels like silk. Geralt looks amused. “I’ve never met a man like you”, you tell him without looking into his eyes. His broad chest is lightly covered in hair, adorned with his witcher medallion. You feel the urge to touch him, feel his heart beating to make sure he is real. He looks more like an angel in the morning sun, even though you are very aware that he is everything but. “They say that witchers can’t feel anything. That you don’t have emotions.” You shyly look back up into his face, looking for an answer. “Do you believe them?” he asks. You hesitate. “I don’t know.” You lean forward and rest your hand on Geralt’s hot chest feeling it rise and fall. He lets you caress him, watching your hand wander up to his collarbone and down his muscular arms. You trace a vein on his bicep. “I want to find out” you whisper. 

Geralt puts his hand under your chin, lifting you head up. For a moment you are trapped in his gaze, but you free yourself by closing the short distance and kissing his perfect lips. He tastes of wood and danger, deep and bittersweet. His teeth brush your lower lip and his tongue licks into your mouth, slowly but determined. Suddenly you don’t feel relaxed and cosy anymore, but restless and turned on. His hand comes up behind your head to hold you onto the deepening kiss. He has you breathless in no time and you moan softly into Gerald’s mouth. 

As you pull back to catch your breath, Jaskier, woken up from the stirring next to him, nuzzles his head into your neck. “Good morning sweetheart” he hums into your ear. “Can I get a good morning kiss too?”  You smile and turn your head to kiss the bards much finer lips. He tastes like wine and smoke, light and fun. You can feel his naked body pressed into your curves and his morning hard-on on your lower back. You grind your hips back into him. “Morning bard. Had sweet dreams about me?” you tease him. Jaskier chuckles. “You really want to start over where we stopped yesterday, hm”. His hand wanders from your hip where he had placed it, upwards to grab one of your boobs. “Mh so warm and cosy” he mutters. He looks over to Geralt who is still laying on his side silently watching the two of you. “Mind if I interrupt your make-out session?” Geralt makes an assertive gesture with his head. “Go ahead.” His voice has dropped, and heat is radiating from his body, you feel like bathing in it. “You look at me”, he orders you and takes your chin between two of his fingers. Naturally, you nod your head at the commanding tone.

All your senses are absorbed by Gerald’s yellow eyes and Jaskier’s talented fingers massaging and lightly twisting your sensitive nipples. You feel them hardening under his touch and start to pant, your mouth agape. The tingly feeling of arousal travels down your body and directly into your core. You feel wetness starting to pool between your legs and you wiggle your hips again into Jaskier’s cock, hot and flush against your lower back. The bard starts to move downwards, head nested at your neck, kissing and licking stripes up to your ear that make you shiver. Geralt’s eyes are fixed on the goosebumps appearing all over your skin. Jaskier pushes against your butt, and you angle your pelvis back so the head of his hot cock enters between your legs. With a light thrust Jaskier slips between your thighs that are slick from sweat and your excitation. “Mh look at you, all wet for us again” he licks at a very sensitive spot behind your ear making you shudder and your breath hitch. You close your eyes, but Gerald makes you open them again quickly. “I said, look at me” he growls, while yanking the blanket off your body completely. The cold air hits your sensitive skin and you suddenly feel very exposed. Jaskier is lazily thrusting between your thighs, holding your breasts in both hands. You can hear him panting and purring sweet praises into your ear. “Such a beautiful girl, could play with you all morning, baby.” He pinches your nipples and the pain shoots directly between your legs. You need friction, but Jaskier’s thrusts are just missing the one spot where you need it most. You clench your thighs together, which makes the bard hiss, but it is not really helping you. You look up at Gerald. “Please” you beg him. “Please what sweetheart? Do you need help?” The witcher has not moved from his sideways position from where he is studying your every move, all expressions, all your sounds. “Yes, please sir, I need to be touched”. “Where do you need to be touched, little lady?” He puts his big hot hand square on your lower belly, slowly travelling over your navel down towards the spot between your legs where the head of Jaskier’s red and swollen cock appears rhythmically. “Yes, down, please” you breath weakly. The witcher extends his long middle finger, caressing over the little curly hairs covering your vulva. He is agonizingly slow, enjoying the pained and eager expressions crossing your face. Finally, he enters between your folds, rubbing lightly over your most sensitive spot. “Here? Do you need to be touched here?” “Yes, ah yes sir” you moan between your teeth. Geralt looks deeply into your eyes as he starts drawing little circles on your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling fast. The combination of Jaskier’s hot dick pulsating between your legs, fingers playing with your nipples and Gerald’s warm hand on your lower belly, massaging just the right spot between your clenched thighs, all under his watchful gaze, turns you on immensely. You start bucking your hips into Gerald’s hand, needing more friction, more pressure. 

“Let me have her”, Jaskier pants and grabs at your hipbone, dragging your ass backwards and changing the angle between your bodies. And with one quick thrust he is in you. The feeling of fullness is so sudden that you cry out loud. The bard pulls out almost completely just to slam back into you. Your moans mix with the slapping sound of naked bodies meeting with force. Geralt’s hand is still there on your clit, pressing down and drawing ever faster circles. The pressure on your bladder makes you feel like peeing. “I am, I am going to come” you announce just moments before your belly convulses and you clench your eyes close, seeing stars. You hear Jaskier gasp as he fucks you through your orgasm, hitting this sweet spot deep inside you with perfect accuracy. You moan and let the fire rip though you.

Two fingers on your jaw bring you back down to earth. Jaskier’s hand digs into your hips and your body is shaken every time he enters your soaked pussy. Gerald is staring at you, his own arousal now clearly visible in his face, lips tight and pupils blown. “Open your mouth” he commands and you follow obediently. With his middle finger he spreads your own juices on your lower lip before entering your mouth. “Now suck”. You do as your told, without taking your eyes away from his, seeing his gaze darken as you lick around his fingertip.

Your body is still rocked back and forth as Jaskier is chasing his own release. “Hold her still” he asks of his friend. Gerald withdraws his finger from your mouth with a plop to grip your hips in a stronghold as his friend starts pounding for good. You close your eyes and just give yourself to the feeling of being opened up again and again until you hear Jaskier start to breath irregularly and feel him twitch inside you. You try to grind your hips deeper into him, but Gerald’s grip on you makes any movement impossible. Every single one of his fingers will leave a bruise in your flesh. He is staring at your trembling breasts with heat in his eyes. Jaskier enters you one, two, three more times before he stalls, pelvis flush with your ass, and with a guttural grunt you feel his balls empty themselves. It feels so dirty and arousing at the same time, you moan loudly. After a few moments Jaskier collapses next to you, his now half-hard dick slipping out of you with an almost obscene squelching sound. You hiss from the loss as semen runs down your thigh. 

You are aware how Geralt is looking at you, his gaze burning your skin. “You like this, hm, getting fucked by this bard? Getting pounded properly?” “Yes”, you mutter, “like to be fucked by good dick.” You grin at him. “I can take some more.” “Is that right? You haven’t had enough yet?” In an instant Geralt is on top of you, weighing you down heavily and taking the air out of your lungs. You try to touch his bare chest but he pins both your hands down at your sides before licking a strip from your throat up to your ear. You can feel his huge bulge and try to buck your hips up into him. Fuck, you want him so badly. Geralt moves his mouth down to your breasts and takes one of your pesky nipples between his teeth. You cry out, the sensation almost too much. The witcher brings up a knee between your legs. His thigh presses into your mound as he grinds into you. The juices coming out of you soak through his thin clothing. “Dirty little whore hasn’t even dried up and already wants to fuck again” Geralt mutters, sending shivers down your spine. He sits up onto his knees and looks over you. The wild wolf is ready to devour you now. 

Geralt kneels between your legs, clearly enjoying the view of you squirming under him. With one of his long fingers he catches a stream of Jaskiers semen slowly dripping out of your cunt. He looks at it closely, then holds it in front of your face. “Taste”. You stick out your tongue to lick the glistening white from his finger. It tastes salty and tangy. “Good girl” the witcher growls and finally moves to undo his pants. As he shoves them down his thighs his erect member springs free, big and prodding. Precum has gathered on the tip and long veins run along it. You want to trace them with your tongue. Your mouth feels dry and your stomach flutters from anticipation. Geralt lowers himself down and very slowly drags his member through your wet folds. “Mh please, Geralt” you try to entice him. But he just lubes up his dick and sits up again. He starts pumping himself lazily with one hand while eyeing you from above. You are so turned on, your skin feels like it is set on fire and it takes all your resolve to not grab at the witcher to try to pull him down towards him.

Jaskier, who had been recovering on the other side of the bed has turned his attention to the action again. “Get behind her” the witcher says over your head in his direction. A naked Jaskier climbs behind you, his hair still moist from sweat, with a grin on his face. Your head comes to rest on his chest as he sits against the bedframe. The bard immediately takes both of your breasts into his hands. Grabbing from below he brings them up to squeeze them together. “Such fantastic tits, m’lady” he whispers into your ear and kisses your neck. You cannot respond as your mind is caught up in watching Gerlat slowly fucking into his big hand while his dick somehow grows even larger and redder. Your pussy clenches in anticipation. “Please” you try your best puppy eyes on him, “I need to feel you inside. Need to be stretched and used. I need you to use me”. Your begging seems strike a cord in the witcher. Gerald leaps down onto both of you, grips your ankles and puts them up onto his shoulders, your lower back now elevated and just Jaskier holding you in place. Geralt’s pulsating member prods at your entrance. “I will show you what a perfect toy you are, whore” the witcher growls and finally, finally enters you. He still doesn’t slam, but it’s forcible enough for you to feel an almost painful stretch. Your mind goes blank, and you only realize that you have been crying out as you gasp for air. 

You are pressed into the bards torso as Geralt truly starts pounding into you. You hear him grunting and his face has lost any semblance of being human. He more than ever looks like a wild, furious animal. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes your palm onto your lower belly. “Do you feel me filling you up? Hmm, feel how I fill you all the way to your gut” “Yes sir, I can feel you” you answer weakly. Geralt grunts and presses your hand down hard onto where your belly bulges as he slides in and out of you. You wine from the extra stimulation, your head is spinning ever faster. You feel Jaskier’s hardening cock against your backside while the witcher is over you fucking the air out of your lungs. Jaskier snakes his hand down your body and finds your clit. Your whines become ever louder as the searing heat starts building in you. You come within seconds, crying out loudly. Your stomach visibly clenches, your whole body shakes as the fire spreads from your lower belly into every corner of your being. You feel your pussy flooding and it washing over Geralts cock and drip down over your ass. Sweat makes your body glide against the one below you as you are rocked up and down by Geralts thrusts. Jaskier is desperately rutting up into you while holding you tight against his frame. You see stars and your ears are ringing when you feel first Jaskier and then Geralt finding their releases. Hot cum shoots both into and onto you. Jaskier moans into your ear and you can feel Gerald’s cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into you. The aftershock spasms in your lower belly make you moan his name for what feels like an eternity. 

Your back is wet and sticky, but you couldn’t care less. Jaskier holds you in a tight but soft embrace while your breath and heart rate are coming down to normal. Geralt has collapsed forward above you, but is holding himself up on his arms, head down and white hair spreading around your midsection. His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. Nobody moves, only heavy breathing can be heard for a while. You never want to move again.

Geralt lifts his head to look into your eyes asking a silent question. You smile weakly back at him. Yes, you are ok. In fact you are great. Just perfect. Afterglow spasms of the hardest orgasm of your life are still running through your body. You clench down onto Geralt and he glides out of you. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Geralt cups your face and leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Well done little lady”. You heart and body are warm and a big wide, drunken smile is plastered over your face. 

Jaskier stirs below you and you slide down his right side. “I guess these bedsheets are ruined anyway” the bard states as he starts to dry his chest and belly off all the fluids that made their way between your bodies using the blanket. It takes another 5min of you colleting yourself before you sit up onto the bedside. A half-clothed Geralt helps you up on shaky legs to walk you to the fire where the men had put a pot of water to heat. They help you clean yourself with a hot towel. You smile at them. It is nice being cared for so gently. Geralt caresses your hair and cheeks. His sweet gesture at odds with the intimidating armour and sword he is putting on. “Thank you” he says finally after he made sure you were string enough to stand on your own again. “We have to leave now, heading up north. But we might come back in a few weeks.” You grasp his strong arm. “I will make sure to get word of your arrival” you say leaning your head into Geralt’s big palm. Jaskier, hugs you from behind. “We wouldn’t want to miss you!” He places a big hearty kiss on your cheek. “I might compose a song about you!” With this he lifts up the packed bags and makes his way downstairs to saddle the horses. 

Geralt still kneels before you. His thumb caresses over your lips as he gets up. He places a kiss on your hair. As he turns around to leave you hold his arm back. “You know, I think they are wrong.” Geralt turns his head with a questioning face. “I think witchers do have feelings. At least one does.” Geralt nods slowly, turns around and leaves with what you think might be a little smile.

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

~

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

~

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

“That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

~

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @thelvnternskeeper @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 5]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

You all returned for dinner service. Like this morning, Yunho and his friends were not there yet, still resting from their mid day break. You made yourself a large container of iced coffee, tying your apron around your waist.

"Do eateries really benefit from a mid day break though?" Wooyoung asked as he washed his hands.

"Well, in this case, they sold out all that we made so I guess Yunho wasn't confident in continuing to stay open." You shrugged.

"They could still serve drinks." Seonghwa reasoned.

"But staying open with drinks only and no food might hurt the revenue. How much you make from drinks compared to food and drinks is so much lesser. It would be smarter for them to rest."

"That's true. Since they are the wait staff for the dinner service and they'll be cleaning up after." Jongho said.

"Don't they have someone to clean?" Wooyoung scoffed.

"They seem to only have someone that washes the dishes and then he leaves. Looks like the cleaning for the front of the house is all reliant on themselves." You informed. After some light conversations, you all began to get into preparing for dinner. As the prep chef, Jongho did all the slicing and vegetable prep.

"I should start prepping the seafood for the cioppino." Seonghwa went to get all the seafood. While Jongho sliced the vegetables, you made the compound gochujang butter for the chicken.

"The vegetables are done. How are we cutting the chicken for roasting? Halves or quarters?" Jongho asked.

"Let's do halves. They're quite small." You replied.

"Since we're searing the pork medallions towards service, I'll make the cherry sauce to get it ready to go." Wooyoung spoke. You hummed and crossed it off the list.

"I'll start with the chickens." You stood beside Jongho. As he butchered the chickens, you stuffed the compound butter under the skin.

"What fish were we using for the cioppino again?" Seonghwa asked.

"Monkfish." You reminded.

"That's the last chicken. I'm going to remove the silver skin of the pork tenderloin and portion it. Are you good here?" Jongho asked you. You gave him a thumbs up and he went to wipe down his station since he was handling the raw chicken.

Although Jongho was a prep chef, as he says, he usually handled whole dishes on his own. You were fine with it, the sous chef, prep chef titles didn't matter much to you.

"Oh when you're done washing up, help me preheat the oven?" You requested. He nodded and went to turn on the ovens for you.

"Ah, where is the madeira?" Wooyoung whined, walking out of the walk in fridge.

"It should be in the pantry instead of the walk in, Woo." Seonghwa informed. Wooyoung went to the dry pantry to look for the alcohol while Jongho tended to his sauce for him momentarily.

"Okay, that's the last chicken." You said, going to wash your hands and getting all the components together.

You laid the vegetables Jongho prepped at the bottom of the trays and seasoned them then you placed racks on top for the chicken to sit.

"Hwa, help me bring the trays into the oven?" You asked. Seonghwa nodded, lowering the fire on his stew before helping you carrying the remaining trays. You slid them into the preheated oven and closed the door. You set a timer and clipped it to your apron before moving onto the next dish.

"Cherry sauce for the pork is done. Shall I start on the dessert?" Wooyoung came up to you.

"Yes. Do the panna cotta now so it can set in time. But don't forget to make the parsnip puree for the pork dish." You told him.

"I won't. I'll do the panna cottas now." He went back into the walk in to get what he needed. When Jongho was done portioning out the pork and setting that aside, he did the raspberry coolis.

"Cioppino is simmering. We'll have to fire the bread during service." Seonghwa helped you with the Korean dessert.

"Oh! I forgot the makeolli ice cream needs to be churned. Let's get it done now?" You remembered.

"On it." Seonghwa took the ice cream machine out.

"I think the last time I made bukkumi was with my grandfather." You laughed as you made the red bean paste that will go inside the glutinous rice dough and pan fried.

"Actually, we haven't done much Korean desserts in a while. Our recent desserts are all Western or Japanese, we did our wagashi workshop together. We should start doing more of those." Wooyoung said. You all nodded in agreement.

"Thinking of using these for the mushrooms that will go into the pasta dish." Jongho showed the metal bowl with the mix of different mushroom types.

"Looks good. Maybe not shitake since it might overpower. And soak the dried porcinis." You looked through the bowl.

"Okay. I'll mix the dried porcinis and the dried black trumpets." Jongho went to the pantry.

"It smells so good in here!" Yunho came in with a big smile. Wooyoung and Seonghwa gave friendly smiles back. You and Jongho were so focused, you just blocked everything else out.

"Hi, (y/n). Did you get some rest?" Yunho asked, standing beside you. You looked up at him, taking a small step to the side but nodded.

Not that you had anything against Yunho but you valued your personal space, especially around people you were not very close with.

"Do you need help?" He grinned.

"Do you not need to help the others prepare for dinner?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho shook his head, he really enjoyed being in the kitchen with you the other night. And he was never really one that stuck around the kitchen. The only time he was ever in there was when he was with his grandmother.

"Go wash get an apron and wash your hands." You nodded over to the sink. Yunho let out a small 'yes!' in cheer and went over to get an apron. Once he tied it around his waist, he washed his hands.

"What should I do?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Jongho is preparing the glutinous rice dough for me. For now, let's split these red bean balls and weigh them." You instructed.

"Like this." You demonstrated, taking a spoon of red bean paste and rolling it into a ball with your hands, weighing it to the exact weight then setting it in the tray.

"I can do that!" He nodded. But the moment he spooned the bean paste onto his hand, he dropped it.

"I didn't know it would be hot." He pouted.

"It's only slightly warm. You can wear the gloves there." You pointed with your elbow and Yunho trudged over to get them. Again, imagining Yunho's puppy ears pressed to his head in disappointment made you let out a small chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho's eyes were wide. You didn't think he heard you.

"No." You shook your head. To be honest, he wasn't the only one surprised, Wooyoung, Jongho and Seonghwa were a little surprised too.

Yunho resumed his spot next to you and began to do the task. Good thing he was meticulous, wanting to be as accurate as possible when weighing each ball of red bean paste.

"Dough kneaded and done. I'll let it rest." Jongho said, placing the big bowl with the dough beside you.

"Thanks." You momentarily stepped aside to see the progress with the others.

"How's it looking?" You looked into the ice cream churner.

"It should be good to go into the freezer in 45 minutes. The ratios should be correct that it still freezes despite the alcohol in it." Seonghwa nodded. With alcohol in ice creams, there can only be a certain percentage you put in or else the alcohol will prevent the ice cream from properly freezing.

"Panna cotta is going into the chiller!" Wooyoung announced with a tray in his hands. Jongho helped him with carrying the other trays with all the white ramekins.

"Jong, you can start the prep for garnishes. Woo, you can start on your parsnip puree. Hwa, can you help me make a chicken jus?"

"Sure." The three replied and split up. Once the glutinous rice dough was done, you began to portion those out too.

"Done. Shall I move onto that?" Yunho asked excitedly, putting the last ball of red bean paste onto the tray. You nodded and let him assist you in weighing the glutinous rice dough.

"Good evening." San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong came in after preparing the restaurant for dinner.

"Evening."

"Wow, you guys look so fancy." Wooyoung chuckled. While there was no waiter or staff uniform, the boys all wore button up shirts and dress pants.

"Wow, it's looking good. Anything we can help with?" Yeosang came over to look at what you were doing alongside Yunho.

"You can help Yunho portion these out. Then I'll start wrapping them." You said. After washing their hands, they came to help where they could with their limited kitchen skills. You placed a red bean ball in the middle of a circle of dough and wrapped it.

"So you're going to fry these after?" Hongjoong asked.

"Pan fry it to get the outside a little crispy. Then we're serving it with makgeolli ice cream." You told him.

"We have 1 hour. Can we make 1 of each dish that is prepared for service for tasting?" You called out. The 3 immediately fell into the rhythm of things.

"Chicken is in the warming oven so let's dish that." You said and Jongho brought the components to you for plating.

"Bread for cioppino going on the grill."

"Pork medallions going on the pan."

"I need a sous at the pass." You said. Seonghwa stepped up and you took over to make the miso butter pasta with mushrooms. The 5 other boys huddled closer to not be in the way.

"Woah." They watched in awe at how all of you worked together, handing components to Seonghwa to plate and put together to be served. Since it wasn't Michelin restaurant, Seonghwa got the plating done quickly. There was no need to micro garnishes but it still looked pretty and well put together.

"Desserts are not ready." Wooyoung informed after checking if the panna cottas were set.

"It's fine. Can we just monitor them and make sure they're ready towards the start of actual service?" You asked and he nodded.

"Watch your back." You cautioned as you placed the hot pan with the miso butter pasta. Seonghwa took a carving fork to twirl it into pretty cylinder. He then spooned the sauce over with the mushrooms.

"Can we sprinkle some chives over?" You said, looking over at the dish. Jongho sliced the chives.

"Better." Seonghwa hummed as he grated the bottarga over then sprinkled the chives over to give it flecks of green.

"Service." Seonghwa said, lining the dishes up. All 5 boys had sparkles in their eyes, their jaws slacked, as they looked over all the dishes in front of them.

"Appetisers, we went a little simple. Bruschetta, mini ham cheese croquetas, crispy brussel sprouts with lemon gochugaru dressing."

"Mains. This is miso butter pasta with mushroom medley and bottarga, we have pork medallions with parsnip puree and cherry madeira sauce, gochujang butter roast chicken with roast vegetables and a chicken jus. Lastly, cioppino with grilled ciabatta." Seonghwa introduced.

"We'll definitely look into exploring a bigger variety of appetisers after tonight." You added. Yunho nodded and they all dug into the dishes to taste.

"The chicken is so good. How did you get all the flavour in?" Yeosang was in disbelief.

"So we made a gochujang butter and we put it under the skin to roast. Then we let all that drip onto the vegetables." You explained.

"The pork dish is my favourite. I love that sauce." San pointed to the dish with his spoon and gave a thumbs up. You gestured to Wooyoung, who was responsible for the dish.

"Hmm..." Wooyoung deliberated after taking a taste of the dish. San blinked in confusion.

"Do you not think it's good?" San asked.

"I mean, it's good. But it is missing something." Wooyoung replied. You took a taste and Wooyoung looked at you for confirmation. You nodded in agreement.

"We have fennel. I'll grill it?" Wooyoung suggested. You hummed and Wooyoung left to go to the walk in to get the fennel. Without anyone else noticing, Hongjoong was finishing the pasta on his own. When the others noticed, it was too late, making them yell at the older male for not leaving them any.

"You snooze you lose?" Hongjoong shrugged. You noticed Yunho had not said anything.

"Any comments? Changes?" You turned to him. Yunho blinked, shaking his head to break his train of thought when he noticed that you were asking him directly.

"It's all really, really good." He said, the tip of his fork still in his mouth. You waited, feeling like he still had something else to say.

"I'm not sure if the food is too fancy..." He confessed. You paused for a while to let his words sink in.

"Would you prefer more homey dishes then?" Jongho asked.

"Let's see how the dinner service plays out before we decide for sure." Yunho said. You nodded in agreement, there wasn't much for you to say since he was the owner, not you.

There was now an awkwardness that hung in the air. Yunho was nervous, he hoped he didn't let his nerves throw you off your game.

"Let's take 5." You said. Wooyoung, Jongho, Seonghwa and yourself stepped out to relax before dinner service. The remaining boys went out to where Yunho was. Mingi looked at his best friend, who was spacing out behind the counter.

"Yunho ah. What was that? You okay?" Mingi tapped Yunho on the shoulder.

"Did I sound too arrogant? Too demanding? They put in all that effort and I just... should I not have said that? I just want the customers to like the place." Yunho panicked.

"It's fine, Yunho. I'm sure they didn't take it to heart. You have to be honest as the restaurant owner." San assured.

"Yes, compared to what I see on television, you were very nice in your reaction." Yeosang said.

"You're too nice, Yunho ah." Hongjoong chuckled, patting his tall friend on the shoulder. Yunho pouted, he didn't like telling people bad news or anything remotely negative.

"And like you said, you didn't say the food was bad. It just might not suit what customers are looking for." Mingi comforted.

"Let's focus on dinner service now." San massaged Yunho's shoulders to relieve the tension.

"This is the list of reservations. If there are still tables available, the online system will add the reservation as it comes in." Yeosang gave the iPad to Hongjoong to refer to the guest list, showing him the online booking sytem. Hongjoong hummed, nodding as he scrolled through and got familiar with it.

"For us, let's split the dining area this way. Into 3. So we don't get any mix ups or repeats, it is easier to keep track of which tables you are responsible for." San said to Yeosang and Mingi.

"Good idea." Mingi nodded.

Meanwhile, your team was back in the kitchen cooking, unaware of Yunho's 'almost' meltdown that was happening outside.

"Too fancy..." You drummed your fingers against the work top. Maybe you needed to go home and research more on what kind of fare and flavours you should be utilising.

"Don't think too hard." Seonghwa chuckled, coming over to kiss the top of your head.

"Don't mock me, Park." You rolled your eyes, shoving him away.

"Let's finish this service then go out. Drinks on Jongho!" Wooyoung said, slinging his arms over yours and Seonghwa's shoulders. Jongho slapped the back of Wooyoung's neck.

"Don't go volunteering my wallet." Jongho glared.

"Yah! I'm your hyung! Show some respect." Wooyoung whined, stomping his feet while Jongho made a face at him, sticking his tongue out. You let out a soft sigh and shook your head, going back to your station, letting Seonghwa mediate their bickering.

Yunho's feedback didn't negatively affect you, it made you want to work harder. You were glad that he was objective and honest, not just saying the food was good.

"We're opening the doors for dinner in 5 minutes." Yunho said through the small pick up window and disappeared.

"I forgot we have that service window." Jongho laughed.

"We've just been talking and serving through the door, which can be dangerous. We should use the window that's actually for passing food and tickets." You reminded.

"Let's do this." You gave each other pats on the shoulder and waited for the first tickets to come in.

"First customers walked in." Seonghwa informed, observing through the window.

Once the orders were taken, the waiters will key it in and the ticket will come through on the machine that's in the kitchen. It cuts the time the waiters have to come and handover tickets, it also makes it easier for whoever is at the window to sort out the orders and give out instructions to the rest of the team.

"First tickets coming in." Seonghwa announced.

Dinner service went by smoothly, there wasn't a manic rush but things weren't slow as well, which was good for Yunho. You were all able to take little 5 minute breaks in between.

"Last ticket going out. Service." Seonghwa rang the bell for pick up at the window. You let out a tired sigh, hearing Seonghwa's words.

"First day done." Wooyoung came, slinging his arm around you. You tiredly leaned against him.

"Let's clean up and prep for tomorrow before going home." You stood up. You, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Jongho gave each other side hugs to commend one another.

"Good work today, everyone." You smiled.

"Of course, we have our leader to guide us." Seonghwa smiled softly, making you look away.

"Do your dishes." You cleared your throat. You washed the big pots, pans and trays that you used. For the bowls, you all left them on the counter neatly to dry overnight, except for the ones you were going to use now.

"Before we clean the stove and the grill, let's cook some dinner." Jongho suggested. There wasn't much but the 4 of you used whatever leftovers you could find to whip something up.

"I wish we had some of that roast chicken leftover. It was seriously good." Wooyoung pouted.

"Luckily we had some piece of the pork medallions left that we could cube up." Seonghwa said, taking a portion of pasta for himself.

The dish was a pasta with garlic, onions, basil fresh tomatoes, cubed pork pieces. Jongho sauteed the leftover mushrooms, serving that alongside the leftover roast vegetables.

"Hwa, call the front team in. I'm stepping out for a bit. You guys start eating first." You told them.

"Sure." The 3 nodded, not protesting or asking any questions.

"Hey, we made a simple dinner before we start tomorrow's prep. Would you guys like some?" Seonghwa asked. The 5 nodded their heads and entered the kitchen. Just like this morning, Yunho noticed that you were not around. Did you leave after service? Did you eat dinner before you left?

~

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