#I’ve seen it before but it’s been a year or two

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh—wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[fading-event-608]

Hello! I see people here are talking about Gaza again. 

I’m not one to vaguepost, nor do I usually spend time arguing with zionists and liberals online, but the amount of “pro-Palestine” liberals I’ve seen in the last day saying that Gazans “deserve genocide” because Trump won…

I’m not surprised to hear that democrats are mad at third-party voters. It’s true that even if all swing third-party votes went to Kamala she’d still have lost, but reality isn’t important to these people. Democrats want a monopoly - of course they’re upset at everyone who isn’t voting for their party. Of course they’re more upset with communists and anarchists than they are with nazis.

None of this is new. But even though we’ve seen these patterns before, I am absolutely sick to witness these people blaming Palestinians for this. I’m sick hearing them almost gleefully wishing for Gaza to be turned into a parking lot. I’m sick coming across individualistic little diatribes about how they’re “done” boycotting, “done” helping others.

Is it Palestinians’ fault that Kamala’s campaign was so poorly run?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US is now so full of nazis that the Democrats lost the popular vote for the first time since 2004, by 5 million votes?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US supplies and supports Israel in their annihilation of Gaza and other occupied Palestinian territories, as well as neighbouring countries?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the government assisting Israel’s genocidal project was, for the past four years, Biden’s administration? A Democrat’s administration? 

The crime that Palestinians have committed in the eyes of these liberals is the crime of existing where said liberals can see them - namely, on social media. The unofficial charges: not being silent, resisting, asking for help from the people best equipped to give money for their survival. So again, I’ll ask - is it the fault of Palestinians that the people best equipped to help them are those in the imperial core? That the people Palestinians must go to for help are people benefitting from both this genocide and the genocides the empires that house them are built on?

Of course the gravest offence is interrupting the liberal supply of white noise. Comfort is, after all, the biggest priority in liberalism - silence and denial is self care. Murder by proxy is the most popular of hobbies, and is best enjoyed with the sound off. But Palestinians are not quiet. You can see their faces now - and the identification of them as something other than faceless, or rather someone, begins to burrow through the insulation built up around you. 

You have the barest sense of how fragile your world is. You can either turn away from this, or continue your journey towards the truth. These liberals are examples of those violently turning away and taking up the slaughter again, desperate to dispel any reminders that they are not the only people on earth worthy of life.

You can literally buy an indulgence now by donating to a Palestinian fundraiser. Yes, even if you’re not a Democrat, or you’re from Europe (chances are your government supplies Israel too, or is at least complacent), or there’s any other facet of your identity that supplies nuance. This is up to all of us, no matter who we are. 

I’ve been spotlighting Falastin’s campaign to save her family in Gaza for more than two months now. I will continue to do so until they’re safe; but their safety will likely be a long time coming. This is in part because Falastin’s campaign must support 24 people, and in part because donations are slowing down - not only for Falastin, but for a lot of other fundraisers I keep an eye on. To be afraid for so many people while watching liberals angrily abandoning this cause is distressing and disheartening.

This is life or death. I don’t care who you are, and I care even less to hear if you’ve voted or who you voted for. All I ask is that you boost this post and, if you can, donate to Falastin. The Gofundme is in SEK and the rates are:

10$ = 107 SEK

25$ = 269 SEK

50$ = 538 SEK

100$ = 1,076 SEK

You can also donate via PayPal in USD: [LINK]

We also host a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thob [info HERE], and the first winner will be chosen in a bit less than 2 days. 

P. S. Yes, Falastin’s campaign has been vetted, several times across multiple platforms:

#282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [HERE], 

#957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [HERE]

Falastin's account: [LINK]

[aventurineswife]

I have an idea that has been in my head for a while. Kakavasha met the child reader because of his father and the reader's father and they became friends from kindergarten and their friendship continued into high school but Kakavasha/Aventurine had a kind of feeling with the reader since they were children, this feeling has increased until he confesses to the reader on a snowy winter night.(I know I wrote a lot)

On a snowy day

Summary: Kakavasha and you have been childhood friends, your bond deepening over the years. On a snowy winter night, Kakavasha finally confesses his love, revealing feelings he's held since you two were kids.

Tags: Kakavasha x Reader, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Confession, Winter Setting, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

A/N: ☹️MY BABY KAKAVASHA!!!

It was a quiet winter night, and the snow blanketed everything in a soft white, muffling the world into silence. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, your breath visible in the cold air. A gentle snow had started to fall, adding a fresh layer to the already glistening streets. Kakavasha stood beside you, gazing up at the sky with a distant expression, his usual playful demeanor softened.

You had known him for as long as you could remember, through scraped knees in kindergarten, whispered secrets, and dreams shared late at night during sleepovers. Kakavasha had always been there, like a constant you could rely on—a friend, yes, but something more had started to linger between you, subtle yet unmissable. Tonight, under the glow of streetlamps and surrounded by the peaceful silence of falling snow, that feeling seemed almost tangible.

Kakavasha's eyes caught the light as he looked at you, his gaze unusually intense. He didn’t hide behind his characteristic charm or casual smile; instead, he looked at you with a rare vulnerability, something he had always kept hidden. He took a breath, hesitating, as if he were searching for the right words.

"I... I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while," he began, his voice quieter than usual, softened by an emotion you hadn’t seen in him before. "It feels like it’s been there forever, growing with every year we spent together, every moment we shared." He looked down, almost as if embarrassed, then met your gaze again, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it.

"When we were kids, I didn’t quite understand it, but I felt something. This feeling—this... connection. And over time, it only got stronger. I tried to ignore it, push it down, telling myself it was just because you were my best friend, but..." He took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers warm despite the chill in the air.

"I don’t want to keep it hidden anymore. I don’t want to pretend it’s something it isn’t." He paused, his voice a soft whisper as he continued. "I’m in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember."

The words hung between you, delicate and vulnerable, yet filled with an undeniable weight. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of how you might feel. In that moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet snowfall.

A smile crept onto your face, small but genuine. The feelings you had kept hidden all this time, the little moments of longing and unspoken thoughts, all seemed to align, leading to this one perfect moment. You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, and gently squeezed his hand, answering him without words.

Kakavasha’s face softened as he understood, a rare and genuine smile breaking through. Together, under the softly falling snow, you stood with him, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours, sharing a silent promise of all that was yet to come.

THIS IS SO SHORTTT!!! 😭 BUT I COULDN'T COME UP WITH ANYTHING ELSE I'M SORRY!!!

[pocketsizedquasar-3]

i mean, we knew this. but the fact that i’ve seen dozens and dozens of post focusing on queer ppl and telling queer ppl to take care of themselves and queer ppl that it’ll be ok and queer ppl to not kill themselves (which, not saying not to make those posts or that those posts are bad), and not a single, single post* checking in on or showing compassion to Black people, undocumented people and other immigrants, brown people, Muslims, Jews, or other religious minorities — basically, any and all POC in general** — is truly, truly emblematic of what we have known all along: white people fundamentally do not see oppression if it is not happening to them.

*the one or two exceptions were posts i saw before the elections, reminding Black&brown folks to stay safe (bc regardless of outcome, racist hate crimes spike around elections!), and the OPs of those were, predictably, themselves Black or brown.

**QTPOC of course exist. we exist especially at the most dangerous intersections of this violence & horrid effects to our health, mental and physical. but it is frequently clear when ppl make posts like this and consider none of the harm which we are subject to, only that which also affects them.

it does not occur to you to show compassion to us. it does not occur to you to show solidarity with us. it does not occur to you that we are in danger, and have been in far more danger than you, regardless of which color they slap on the white house. it does not occur to you that when you talk about violence against queer people, the vast majority of that violence will fall upon queer and trans POC, especially Black queer people. it does not occur to you that QTPOC exist at all, except when we can be used as a hypothetical argument.

white queer people are white before they are queer. white trans people are white before they are trans. white women are white before they are women. they are disappointed in the status quo only when it stops supporting them. they are aghast and appalled when they are treated like those people. they are shocked and disappointed when suddenly their whiteness no longer insulates them from being treated the way the rest of us are treated. baldwin of course said it first and best:

I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society. There's an element, it has always seemed to me, of bewilderment and complaint.

white queer people, white people in the imperial core, are experiencing a fraction of the dread and violence that everyone else has been subjected to for years. you are afraid, rightfully so. but in your fear and your rage and whatever else, you do not look to those of us who have been fighting this violence for years. you do not offer us compassion and care the way you do with white ppl. you, of course, fall back on your whiteness.

again, none of this is new. we know this. we’ve known this. but it is frustrating nonetheless.

it does not occur to you that we are in danger. that we are dying. that we are being killed. it does not occur to you to to offer us the same hotlines and resources and reassurances and kindness and compassion.

keeping rbs on for now but if people start being weird i’m turning them off. don’t put words in my mouth. don’t say i said something i didn’t. i meant what i said and nothing else.

[firstkanaphans]

I've noticed this (as a majorly JD fan) that most people like to complain about fixed cps when it comes to FirstKhao only! It's more apparent when there are mostly no (or less) talk about it when long term CPs keep doing shows together (I mean OG are having their 7th show as a pair coming this gmmtv 2025 and they will be very much welcomed).

There is even demand for CPs that are no longer together to come back (like MaxTul -btw I love them and would love them to so another show together although I know Tul is retired from acting and so that's not gonna happen).

In short- why is there demand for FirstKhao to do works separately and not as a pair? (They have only 2 shows as a pair til now. THK is going to be their 3rd.) Is it because The Eclipse or Only Friends were not that well received?

The Eclipse and Only Friends were both incredibly well-received and were two of the most popular BLs GMMTV has put out in years, so it’s definitely not that. I’m hesitant to tell you what I really think because I’m worried I’ll get canceled for it, but I’ve already blocked everyone who disagrees with me and I’ve now reached the anger stage of my election grief so hey, what the hell.

If you want my honest opinion about why FirstKhaotung seem to be the primary target for this War on CPs, we need to go back to the Only Friends era. It’s important to note that this particular argument against CPs seems to be entirely isolated to Tumblr. Plenty of people dislike CPs or think there should be more mixing and matching of pairs, but that’s not the argument I’m talking about. What you see people saying on Tumblr is that CPs are actively ruining the industry and that writers and directors are going so far as to obstruct themselves creatively just so CPs can end up together. The first time I ever heard rumblings of this was during Only Friends.

Here’s the thing about Only Friends. Before it aired—and even in the beginning stages of it airing—a bunch of the more, ahem, “intellectual” fans seemed to have some very grand delusions about what it was and what it wasn’t. Delusions that were never supported by the canon or anyone involved in the creative process. Throughout this, a bunch of us “fangirls” (gender neutral) tried to fight back and tell them they were misreading the text, but the general consensus was that obviously we didn’t know what we were talking about because we were just fangirls.

But then guess who turned out to have interpreted the text correctly all along?

All of our predictions came true while none of theirs did and instead of admitting that maybe they weren’t engaging with this particular piece of media the way it was meant to be engaged with, they started inventing conspiracy theories about how the series would have ended differently if only it weren’t for those meddling CPs! The FK fandom has a huge faction here on Tumblr and I fear FK took most of the brunt of their anger—and is still taking it even now.

I just…imagine thinking Jojo Tichakorn secretly hates CPs and is being forced to use them against his will. Jojo Tichakorn? The same Jojo Tichakorn that’s been tweeting about SkyNani nonstop for the past month?! This man is inventing CPs that don’t even exist yet! He is one of us.

My truth is that most of this anger at CPs is actually just thinly veiled misogyny because it revs up anytime a true romance starts getting attention (such as We Are). Romances have always been overlooked and seen as “less than” simply because it is a genre enjoyed by women, but romances have just as much value as any other genre of media and despite popular belief, fangirls are capable of critical thought.

My advice? Just go on a blocking spree before THK airs because it’s only going to get worse. People hate to see women enjoying things.

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[storiesabouteli]

Romance (Maybe it's a place) // Elijah Hewson X fem!Reader. PART 1

prompt: Eli is a vampire who falls in love with a human. The story explores the passage of time and the challenge of maintaining a relationship between two very different beings. It’s a guide on how to date a vampire/human while seeking a place of comfort in someone—and all the complexity that this longing brings.

words: 4K

(it'll probs 2 or 3 parts, it won't be long promise!)

There was nothing to expect, no prospects for the next day. Everything felt empty, his chest heavy, despite the absence of a beating heart. He wasn’t tired of the life he led; it was simply that so many years had passed, and he felt he’d experienced it all. Then, you showed up.

“Uh, she has this endearing look when she’s around me, like when you discover something new and know it’s going to be worth every moment. It’s still like that, even though we’ve been together for a while. I think I’ve gotten used to the idea that she knows who I am and isn’t afraid of me, even though I still watch my every move, thinking it might come to the surface one day. My point is, Josh, my human is kind and deserves a beautiful life. We’re not on the same page, but I can’t let her go.”

His voice cracked, eyes filling with tears, and he welcomed the feeling—it had been a long time since he’d felt anything like this. Over time, he’d grown numb to so many things. Josh sighed, understanding the weight of what Eli was going through but knowing there was little he could do.

“Eli, you’ll know what to do. You can agonize over it and delay all you want, but not making a decision right now is already making a decision.”

Josh had offered advice—he was a bit more adaptable to modern trends, though he knew how to use a phone just fine. He had tried getting Eli on board with it, considering up until recently, he still received letters, written as outdatedly as Eli sounded when he spoke on the phone. It was like he was composing his words with an old-world elegance, carefully phrasing each sentiment. But then you came along, and suddenly, he found himself adjusting to screens and adopting habits a bit more in tune with the present day.

Eli rubbed his face with a frustrated urge to shout. He had hoped his friend would offer a practical solution, but he knew this was the truth. Many of them had been through something similar. He knew what he wanted; he’d seen both paths before. And yet, he kept overthinking it, as if that would help somehow.

...

Eli chose heavier coats when he went out with you—usually something soft, like wool, more inviting to touch. “You alright, love?” His thick accent made you glance up at him. You couldn’t answer right away; all you wanted was to stay pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. There were no steady heartbeats to listen to, but his breathing—always at the same, calming rhythm—was comforting in its own way.

“Yes, El,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your own hoodie pockets. The cold air wasn’t helping. “You’re freezing,” he said, with a hint of guilt, the words lingering like it should’ve been obvious this would happen. But you didn’t mind. You chuckled; sometimes he was quick to worry. “I’ll go grab more blankets, alright, grumpy?” You didn’t want to downplay his concern but hoped to ease the way he saw it.

You took his face in your hands, kissing his naturally flushed cheek, then pressed closer, brushing a kiss to his lips. He savored the warmth eagerly, even though he could feel the chill in your fingers and nose—areas that must’ve ached from the cold. Embarrassed, he looked away for a moment, until you returned with more blankets. Wrapping yourself in one and placing another thick layer between you and him, it wasn’t ideal, but it worked; you could hold onto him, enough to count as a hug; proper physical contact.

He took in the scent of your hair, and it was enough—these little moments that reminded him you were his human, seeing every detail about him as a feature, never a threat (which was a little worrying, if he was honest). Eli held you close between the blankets, feeling a bit better.

“You know, El,” you said, turning your face to invite him in for a soft kiss, “your body temperature is going to be really useful in the summer. It’ll be nice.” He laughed, noticing your lips were warming up again.

...

Eli was waiting for your shift to end at the bar, his usual spot reserved with that easygoing smile. You'd started a weekend night job, one that fit around your studies, and he'd made it a point to pick you up every night so you wouldn't walk home alone. There he was, leather jacket, cigarette between his fingers, his hair charmingly tousled. He leaned on the bar, a soft, inviting smile playing on his lips as he ordered a drink. "You look beautiful." He tilted his head, letting the dim light catch his gaze as he took you in. You'd put in a little extra effort tonight – waves in your hair, a cinched dress under your apron, all for the quiet thrill of seeing Eli at the end of it.

"You too," you murmured, cheeks heating up as he let out a soft chuckle. His hand met yours briefly, the contrast in temperature catching you off guard, so he held onto them a little longer than usual. You slipped off your apron, glancing around to make sure everything was in order, and turned back to him. Eli rarely smiled fully-one of those open, toothy smiles. But whenever he did, you couldn't help but imagine those sharp canines showing, a detail he'd told you only appeared at his choosing. You had never seen them before, but fairy tales made you think it would be cute. Eli wasn't the tough type.

"And you're hot," he whispered with that thick accent, words lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more. You felt his cold hands at your waist, fingers resting lightly, and wrapped one hand in his hair, pulling just enough to get that quick intake of breath, followed by the softest sound that showed he liked you being a bit bold. "I like the dress," he murmured faster, hands resting on your hips as he nudged you back against the wall at the exit, his body pressed close against yours. It was quick, a thud against the wall that didn't hurt, but he caught himself, realizing you weren't quite like him. His apologies were soft, but you just whispered, "I like that, to be honest," which made his eyebrows raise in a mix of excitement and teasing.

The hem of your dress hitched a bit as he held you close, your pulse quickening against him, and the smirk on his lips only grew. Your eyes traced the freckles across his nose, his pink lips near yours, and it left you a bit breathless. "You're dying for me to kiss you, aren't you?" And you were. He cradled your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. Your hands trailed up his arms, reaching his neck, pulling him closer. He nestled into the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "Missed me that much, El?" you asked before his eyes lifted to meet yours. He finally pressed his lips against yours, slow and deep, and you sighed into it, feeling everything melt away.

"I did. So much." His eyes had a soft gleam to them, a smile lingering, one that felt like it was just for you. Seeing your shaky breaths, he peppered your lips with little kisses until you settled, or at least got used to the fact that he wasn't about to stop. "Do... do your teeth ever show?" It slipped out before you could stop yourself. His eyes dropped for a second, awareness hitting him, and you instantly felt bad. "Sorry, you said I could ask."

"It's fine," he reassured you, fingers still gentle. His rings brushed your skin – a subtle reminder that he was there, by your side, despite whatever thoughts he kept to himself. "I won't bite you, okay?" His voice had a deep warmth, cautious but reassuring, and you let yourself believe him. He kissed you again, the same trail as before, from your cheek to your jaw, then this time letting his lips brush along your neck. You melted, fully aware of the way he held you. The kisses were soft and warm, pulling your eyes shut, and truthfully, you didn't fear much. Eli wasn't cruel, and you'd give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. You felt a faint graze, almost a scratch – it felt good. This was good. "I won't hurt you, little one." You'd talked about it before, those early questions you had about his predatory nature, and he'd told you he could handle it. He needed things but managed them.

"Maybe I'd like it if you did," you teased, part joke, part honest. He drew back, clearly content with all of it. "We should go. We're in public, miss." You groaned, laughing in playful protest.

...

The first time, you sent him a message saying you needed company, that you weren’t doing well. That way, he’d have the choice, the option to decide not to stay if he didn’t want to. But Eli called immediately—there was no time for your mind to spin into catastrophic scenarios. He briefly asked what was going on and if you needed anything (he didn’t even remember the names of medications anymore). It was clear he’d be spending the weekend by your side.

There was something about his presence that made you feel better, and knowing he’d be there in person filled you with a renewed sense of relief.

“I can turn my back, even if I’m in the

bathroom.” He said it so casually, and he was hard to read sometimes; every now and then, he seemed almost detached. You curled your toes, wrapped in a towel and seated on the edge of the toilet. He stood in the doorway, trying to figure out the best way to help. You needed a shower—your temperature was all over the place, and it would ease things a bit. But your feet ached at the slightest touch of the floor, and your shoulders were so heavy that you felt you’d collapse if you stood for too long.

“Can you?” Your voice came out low, soft, as if admitting just how much you needed him, even though you didn’t want to. Eli looked at you, and his expression softened as he came closer, kneeling down in front of you. His hands cupped your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. You looked so tired, and instinctively, your cheek pressed into his palm, despite the chill of his skin against you. He pulled back, but you held his hand there, keeping him close.

“You know you shouldn’t wait ‘til things get worse before calling me, don’t you?” He spoke gently. You nodded, but dealing with this on your own was second nature; it was just how things had always been. Your eyes lingered on his tank top, the small star tattoo peeking out alongside his necklace, and a few scattered freckles across his shoulder. Your warm fingers traced over them, grazing those little dots softly. He smiled, and you looked up to see his eyes crinkling at the edges, that pointed nose and unruly curls, with a few locks twisted just perfectly.

He was beautiful, maybe that was why he wasn't human. Pale, rarely a fan of sunlight, but not repelled by daylight either. He didn’t sleep in a coffin or flinch at garlic; he’d answered all your questions, even if he felt uneasy talking about it. You often avoided asking too much. He needed blood but had assured you it wasn’t as dire as the movies made it seem—he didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t kill innocents.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. The intimacy of being wrapped only in a towel didn’t faze him; he was there just to help. “It’s chronic,” you admitted, barely holding back tears. “It’ll keep happening, and I don’t want to depend on you… but I’m just, uh, so tired.” He heard the strain in your voice, the soft sniffle, and drew you closer. His hands moved gently along your back as your cheek rested against his shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck. He kissed the top of your head, feeling a deep ache he hadn’t felt in years. For a fleeting moment, he felt the exhaustion you bore—aching shoulders, tired eyes, a sudden warmth creeping into his skin.

He couldn’t take this from you, but he’d stay with you as long as you allowed. “Well, then, I’ll be here with you more often, and as often as you need,” he said, and you simply held him a little tighter, eyes meeting his. He noticed the subtle dark rings beneath them, a telltale human weariness he found beautiful, something unique to you. Morning puffiness, the way your scent changed with the seasons—these little shifts only added to your charm in his eyes.

Feeling a bit lighter, you were ready to try standing. “I won’t look, I promise, love,” he murmured, and you knew he wouldn’t. Slowly, you stepped into the shower, letting the water pour over you, hoping the fever would slip away down the drain. Through the steam, you could just make out his silhouette, back turned, his posture more relaxed with you nearby. You’d seen him tense up in public around you, but you understood.

He didn’t look, not even once. When you were done, you let him know, narrating as you dried off and dressed. When you finally said you were ready, he turned around with a soft smile, placed a gentle hand on your waist, and kissed your forehead. Then he led you out, guiding you with a steady grip.

Lying on your back, you stared up at the ceiling while he lay beside you, careful not to touch, as if he knew it might not be what you needed right now. The bed felt small with him so close. You took his hand and guided it to rest at the crook of your neck and shoulder. “The feeling of warmth happens when the fever reaches the new set point the body establishes. At that moment, blood vessels dilate to release heat, and you start sweating to cool the body down.” Your words came out so precise, almost like a textbook. Eli smiled, clearly thinking you’d looked it up somewhere for him. Still, your temperature was finally stabilizing, and his natural coolness seemed to help. “Do you still feel any pain?” he asked, his eyes growing heavy, yet relieved to see you were getting better.

“Just a little, I’m much better now. You’re like an angel,” you murmured, watching his nose wrinkle slightly. You found it curious how he felt emotions without any functional organs. His body didn’t give him trouble; he was visually healthy, able to just… live. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be like him, but something about it felt unfair. Silence settled over you both, and he turned on his side, his deep, amber eyes holding yours, drawing you in.

“Can you turn people? Just anyone?” The question tumbled out suddenly, genuine, raw. He looked away, as if bracing himself. This was bound to come up, sooner or later. “It’s like when you asked if I’d move away when you leave for college because, otherwise, I might not be here anymore,” you added, trying to ease the weight of your question. You were getting to know him better.

He nodded slowly, knowing he’d answer you honestly if you asked for it. If you wanted, he’d let you be like him. “I can,” he whispered, keeping it brief, not wanting to linger on the subject.

You hesitated, taking in the idea. He knew how much you suffered from chronic pain, how sometimes you just wanted relief, independence. And while he wouldn’t think twice about offering you this existence if you wanted it, he couldn’t shake a selfish feeling—the thought that, in giving you this choice, he’d be binding you to him and trapping you in your current form for eternity. Even so, he’d never refuse to help you if you needed him.

“So… it’s just a bite? And that’s it?” you asked, curiosity shining in your eyes without a trace of fear.

“Biting’s just for blood,” he clarified, his voice softening as he took a deep breath. “To turn someone, it takes a witness and making sure the person won't die, y’know?” He sighed, and you noticed, arching a brow.

“I thought you didn’t feel tired,” you teased, sensing his discomfort and wanting to lighten the moment.

“I don’t,” he said, brushing off the feeling with a small lie. You let it go, realizing you were also getting sleepy, even though he didn’t need sleep the way you did.

He’d once told you he’d been at this for around 300 years, adapting quickly but feeling his enthusiasm fade with time. He didn’t even remember who’d turned him, just that he’d woken one night alone, with the pain of transformation, figuring everything out by himself. That always made you think about your own fear of being alone, especially when pain flared up and made you feel trapped to someone.

“Can you… have kids?” you asked softly, eyes tracing the constellation of freckles on his nose.

“No,” he replied simply.

“I was going to say I’d have your kids if I knew they’d inherit that nose and those freckles, but I didn’t want to offend you or anything.” He chuckled, that familiar, comforting nasal laugh. Eli felt pain, but holding you like this made it melt away. He’d met thousands of people over the years, but you were the one who made him want his world to keep turning.

“Do you want kids?” he asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this just because of some unlucky genes.” He looked at you, an emotion in his eyes that made you wonder if he’d learned to mimic human reactions, replicating them when needed, though Eli had never done that with you.

“Would you have wanted them? If you were still… you know,” you asked.

He wrapped you both in the blanket, creating a cocoon. The light smell of cigarettes and mint gum surrounded you. His curls tickled your face, and you reached out to touch his lips with your fingers as he spoke, feeling the faint movement of his mouth. “I don’t know. I never thought about it when I was human, and now it doesn’t make much sense. Maybe I’d be happy, maybe I’d be sad if I’d had kids in a life that isn’t mine anymore. But I’ve stopped dwelling on what I can’t control.”

He said it with a calm acceptance that made you wonder just how long one had to live to reach that kind of peace. You liked living in the moment, but only when it was good. And you understood that Eli wasn’t always okay; he just knew how to deal with what life had given him.

“You don’t see a future with me, do you?” you whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. His arms tightened around you, but his silence broke something in you. Still, you reminded yourself to cherish the present because, as much as it hurt, you understood the complexities of it all.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his words soft and full of regret.

...

“Dear Jenkinson, this will be a brief update, yet a necessary one. I’ve bought a cellphone and shall be more present. I still prefer to avoid the daylight; perhaps it’s simply the desire to remain unseen. I enjoy a quiet life—or at least, that’s what I believed. Recently, I’ve noticed a girl at the café near my house, yes, the same place here in Dublin. She comes around midday, doing something on her little black screen, though that detail hardly matters. I simply like knowing she’s there, and that she’ll likely be there tomorrow. I don’t speak to her, and I don’t imagine I will. Is it wrong for me to want to be near her but not seen with her? I mean her no harm, yet my human bears little resemblance to me. I write to you in confidence, as I suspect you’ll advise me to approach her. In any case, it’s a curious feeling, waking with this small excitement, the uncertainty and hope that she’ll be there, sitting in her usual spot.”

You scanned the first letter; they were all unsealed, unhurried in their elegance, as if they weren’t truly hidden from you—yet he kept them private all the same. You didn’t recognize the name, “Jenkinson,” but something in the writing made you imagine an old friend of his. Strange that you hadn’t heard of any friends. He knew all about your life, perhaps because you were far more open than he was. A pang of guilt hit you for reading his words. You’d picked them up from the mailbox by accident, and now you’d leave them where you found them, pretending you hadn’t seen any. Still, a gnawing question lingered in your mind. Eli cared for you, and you’d told yourself you were fine with this arrangement, just living in the moment—but you wanted something more, didn’t you? Eli seemed so sure of what he wanted from the beginning. You’d hoped maybe he’d change, but could you truly resent him? He wrote such beautiful things about you, didn’t he?

Your pulse quickened as you ran your fingers over the heavy paper, catching another letter. “Dear Jenkinson, I had forgotten that humans suffer, not just from their own mental wanderings like us, but from very real, very physical pain. My human has a condition that keeps her days limited, wrapped in intense pain. I’ve been there for her, and you’ll understand the significance of that, won’t you? It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Anyway, she’s full of a light-heartedness you’d never picture me having. She deserves so much more, you’d like her, but I don’t intend for things to reach that point—” You felt a sting behind your eyes, frustration and a sense of discomfort flaring up. How could he be so dense, filling these white spaces with beautiful words about you while being so unthinking about the future? After all, he’d have a future, regardless of what happened. His nature was certain that there was a tomorrow.

“Dear Jenkinson, I would never hurt her, truly, nor do I feel any inclination to do so, yet there’s something in her calm, gentle scent, and the eyes that makes me wonder what it would be like to bite her. Am I a bad person for thinking this? I know what it’s like—the taste and the quiet satisfaction when it’s with someone we truly appreciate. I don’t think of it as feeding, but rather as a form of cultivation.”

It was sweet, kind of sexy, in its way, yet left you with a hollow ache. Eli had a life, a very long one, yet he’d never shared any of it with you—not his past loves, this friend, or why, of all places, he still stayed in Dublin. You wanted all of him, but a part of him wasn’t there to be yours, was it? The letters lacked dates, having only found their way back to him. Why were you committing yourself to something that felt like it had an expiration date?

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

New story drop!

This one is for all you Ark Sibling fans out there, especially now that Sonic X Shadow Generations is out to the public.

This one is based off one of many artworks my friend @cosmoshard did months ago and let create a story based on it.

Summary: There’s so many things that the Ultimate lifeform can handle whenever it was thrown at him at full power to take him down. He just never took note a mere child would end up being the one to break his stoic exterior.

Just another fluff filled Ark Sibling story.

======

“Ugh….” Shadow leaned his body against the wall with his eyes closed, the cool temperature of the metal seeping through his thick quills on his shoulders and back, bringing some relief to his aching limbs. He rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger, an attempt to try to keep them from shutting close.

The professor had him do some drills to test out his ever growing chaos powers, causing quite a long session to where he pushed himself a little too much for his body to handle to which he ended up passing out due to it. All he remembered was waking up and feeling his body throbbing to where he wasn't able to move for a while.

Luckily, Gerald showed some mercy and decided that it was all they needed to do for the day.

Even then, he felt like he still couldn't fully relax due to his mind still buzzing around.

Mostly due to the other testing they did prior, trying to see if his blood can be made into a cure for Maria. They still haven't found a change in the results as far as he knew, they were just the same as always with very little to say that they made a breakthrough.

But It's been almost 2 years, longer than any of them had originally predicted to find a solution.

It was frustrating to say the least, knowing he was improving on everything except for the exact reason why he was created…

What was even his purpose-?

“Shaddy!”

His ears perked up at the sudden sound of a familiar, young voice coming from his right. He turned to see the source of the voice running at him at full speed, the girl’s pigtailed hair flew out wildly behind her while her sock covered feet nearly caused her to slip on the newly polished floor. That didn't seem to faze her as she kept coming right towards him.

“Shaddy, Shaddy!”

Shadow smiled widely at her and held out his arms expectantly, to which she launched herself into his arms. He caught her with ease as she wrapped her arms and legs around him like a koala, hearing her signature twinkle-like giggles as he tightly returned the hug. Despite the girl barely coming up to his chest in height, she was barely a struggle to hold due to his natural strength.

“Oh man, you're getting heavy.” Shadow groaned feignedly, shifting both of his arms to support her small body better. “You gotta tell your grandpa to stop feeding you so much.”

The girl merely giggled, pulling her head back and giving him a wide smile. “You keep saying that, I’ve seen you lift heavy stuff before.”

“Yeah, but you're a different kind of heavy. The type where your arms can hold something one minute then the next they just give out- WHOA!” He suddenly released his arms, making Maria drop before quickly catching her before she hit the ground, causing her to scream out.

“Hehey!”

“See? I don't know why that happens.”

“You did that on purpose!” She laughed out, trying to keep a mad look on her face, breaking immediately when Shadow narrowed his eyes and smirked at her.

“That's not true,” he bounced her in his arms slightly. “I told you that sometimes my arms just give out-HA!” He fake drops her again, making the girl squeal out. “Tried to warn you.”

Maria laughs breathlessly, trying to lightly pat her hands on Shadow's face in a form of retaliation, with him moving his head back to block from the “attacks”.

“Maria!” The two were then interrupted by a shrill, panicked voice and saw that it was Allison, Maria's tutor during the day, looking stressed beyond belief. Shadow also saw that she was holding a small pair of shoes in her hand as she came near them panting with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “Ah, there you are.”

“Allison.” Shadow, slightly amused at her flustered state but fought against teasing her since she did look a bit distressed. “What happened to you?”

The woman took a sharp inhale, her gaze fixed upon the pre-schooler, who was currently distracted by playing with some of the quills on the side of Shadow’s head and paying her no mind. Immediately he knew that Maria had been the main reason, the discarded shoes being one thing, but the fact the kid was probably running around before she even saw him was too much of a coincidence.

“I was trying to keep up with her. As soon as we left the nursery, she took off like a bat outta hell-, uh heck.” She quickly corrects herself seeing Shadow raise a brow at her and Maria looking towards her with curious eyes. “I think she just wanted to see you, but I almost had to leave the other kids alone if Paula didn’t offer to watch them.”

“Ah, I see now.” He places the squirming girl down on the floor, loosely crossing his arms. Maria merely smiled up at him until she noticed his change in demeanor and pauses, slightly curling in on herself under his look of disappointment.

“Maria, you know you’re always supposed to stay with Ms. Allison whenever you’re leaving the nursery, right?” He scolded lightly, watching the girl’s shoulders hunch up at the tone of his voice.

She nodded her head slowly, finding the buttons on her shirt more interesting than looking at him. “So, why did you run off like that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and mumbled under her breath that even his ears couldn’t pick up. Sighing, Shadow got on a knee and gently raised her head up with his finger so she was looking at him. “Say that again?”

“I just wanted to see you…” She muttered, tucking her chin into the collar of her shirt.

Shadow’s sharp gaze then softened. He was still getting used to the way a child’s mind worked in comparison to an adult’s since he was around the latter majority of the time, but he was aware of how Maria’s personality functioned unlike the other kids and that was she can be stubborn as hell, which could also be mixed with determination whenever she had a goal in mind and did whatever it took to get it.

She was only four, but a quick-witted four year old at that.

And for her, it was to see him again since it had been a day or two since they last saw each other; which can feel like a lifetime for a kid her age.

“I understand that you wanted to see me, but you have to understand that you can’t run off like that without telling anyone, especially if you didn’t know where I was and was searching for me randomly.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, reassuring that he wasn’t mad at her when her face started to scrunch up and lip was quivering. “Hey, hey I’m not mad. You just got to think about that next time, okay?”

Maria nodded, wiping at her nose with her sleeve. Shadow fought back a grimace of disgust as she did and decided to help by wiping at the tears in her eyes. Seeing that she was about seconds away from actually crying her eyes out, he gently pulled her into a side hug, to which she immediately melted into, allowing her to release her emotions if she needed to.

Shadow then shifts his eye up towards Allison, who is watching the two of them with a look of adoration, as well as any of the other adults passing by and seeing the whole event, making his face flush red from the attention.

“Could you do me one more little favor?” He patted her arm, pulling back from the hug and waited for Maria to focus on him. “Can you apologize to Ms. Allison for worrying her?”

She glances over at Allison and bows her head towards her. “Sorry, Ms. Ally.” She quickly looks away bashfully, hiding her face in the crook of Shadow’s neck again.

He gave Allison an apologetic smile. “Sorry again about that.”

Allison shook her head. “No worries, I'm just glad nothing worse had happened.” She handed him Maria's previously discarded shoes. “Since you're with her, I’ll release her to you for the rest of the day, if that's alright.”

“Of course.” Even though he was allowing it due to him being trusted well enough to watch over her, he could honestly tell that she was done with watching Maria for the day.

“Thanks.” Allison said in what sounded like pure relief. Giving them both a wave, she started in a small jog down the hallway back towards the direction of the nursery.

Once she was out of sight, Shadow felt a light jostling on his hand, seeing Maria look at him, worryingly. “What's wrong?”

“Am I going to get into trouble with grandpa?” Her voice was small and in a whisper. “He told me to behave when he's not here.”

“He's not going to be mad at you.” He said reassuringly. “He may be surprised that it happened, but it'll take more than that to get him mad.”

Her eyes lit up, relief masking her face. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He motioned to give him her foot, putting on the shoes. “Although, I think he will be very amused hearing that you were running like a wild rabbit with no shoes on.”

Maria let out a giggle as she balanced herself against his shoulder as he helped her put on the other shoe. “I'm not a rabbit!”

“I know that, I said that you ran around like one.” He joked, quickly running his fingers under the arch of her foot, causing the girl to let out a squeal and fall back against him as she lost her balance. “You can be hyper as one too.”

“Well, you look like a hegie-hog.” She said in an attempt of sass, making Shadow huff out a laugh in response.

“It’s pronounced hedge-hog, and I know that already. Even though I’m something else entirely.” He murmured the last part to himself as he managed to get the last shoe on.

Maria happily tapped the heels of her shoes against the floor, starting to move her arms around and hum to herself, getting lost in her thoughts as she did a small uncoordinated dance.

Shadow motioned his hand out to her, to which she grabbed onto while the two walked together. She began to run in small circles while simultaneously grabbing each of Shadow’s hands as she did, who stopped her abruptly by grabbing onto her shoulders.

“And you need to be careful about running around like that, I noticed you were panting pretty hard when you saw me.” He definitely noticed her panting deeply once he held her in his arms, as if she couldn't catch her breath.

Due to her condition making her body have to work twice as hard, it made her become exhausted quicker than most kids around her age group, even if the low gravity helped with her condition to a minimum.

She gave him a sheepish smile and nodded. They continued to walk in a comfortable silence for a while, with Maria breaking it by singing a random song she made up on the spot or asking Shadow random questions, it was mostly stuff he could recall telling her in previous conversations but still answered them to satisfy her curiosity.

=======

Continuation on Ao3

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

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Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend

Part .2 • Part .4

Part 3

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You all walked into the club you’ve been going to since you can remember. It was your favorite because it played primarily 80s and 90s music, the whole club was also 80s themed.

The floor tiles were black and white, disco balls adorned the ceiling and casted beautiful lights all around the place.

You squeezed your eyes shut a few times from the bright colour lights emanating from above you as you made your way through the crowd with your friends.

Squeezed between people you danced to the music that was already ending, Izuku was next to you and Himiko and Ochaco right in front of you.

The next music played, and you jumped onto what you thought was Izuku’s arm and yelled “Oh I love that song!”

You turned your head and were met by Mina with a smile on her face and wide open eyes.

”Y/n! What are you doing here” she screamed, her hands going to your shoulders excitedly.

”The same as you, I would say, I’ve never seen you around here before” you chuckled, happy to see a familiar face.

”I figured I would try something new this time and I absolutely love it here!! Even more now that I know you also go here” she smiled, nudging your shoulder.

You took her hand and led her to your friends after she said she came here alone and you offered to spend the night together.

And as the song played, A forest by The Cure, you locked your eyes with her, and you both began dancing together. Her, in front of you, both shaking your shoulders from left to right in rhythm. Throwing your heads back, hands dancing in the air as you breathe in the alcohol fuelled air.

Come closer and see. See into the trees.

You all chant the lyrics and whirl around on the dance floor, moving your bodies from side to side.

After an hour or two of dancing, Mina led you all to the bar and ordered 5 blue lagoons.

”That’s on me you guys” she grinned at you, twirling around on her chair.

You all looked at her with disbelief, trying to insist on paying for your own drinks, but she declined and said it was nothing. You took your drinks when they were ready and went to sit around a table a bit further away.

She was so easy to get along with, like you all already knew each other. The conversation was going smoothly and you spent god knows how long talking about anything and everything.

Getting up from time to time to dance when a song you liked played.

You didn’t even order more drinks after that, too lost in the conversation to think about anything else.

Down Under by Men at Work was playing in the background as people still danced on the dance floor, the mix of sweat and alcohol slowly filling the air.

”I can’t believe that, how didn’t you tell us, my heart is breaking” Ochaco fake tries, clenching her chest.

Izuku hides his face and laughs “I couldn’t. It was a way too embarrassing moment to share with anyone.”

Mina throws her head back and laughs, and we all follow after her. She wipes a tear from her eye before continuing.

”I think it was the hardest i've ever laughed, I will never forget that scene” Izuku nudged her shoulder playfully and chuckled.

”So I heard from Kacchan you’re looking for a new place?” Izuku suddenly says.

We all turn our heads to them with a questioning look.

“Oh right that! Yeah my roommates are kicking me out for no reason” she leans back in her chair with an annoyed look.

”Seriously— What the hell is wrong with them?” you say revolted. What kind of roommates just kick you out like that you thought.

“The not so nice ones” she laughs “They’ve always been assholes but since it was a big house and they went out a lot, I thought it would be easy to avoid them and mind my own business.”

You sit here bewildered, wondering how she even managed to live more than a few days with these kinds of people. Living in a house where you always checked if there was someone home, not leaving your room when you wanted or needed to. Absolutely insane.

The girls and you quickly look at each other and nod with a small grin.

”You know me and the girls live together, and there's actually one bedroom we don’t use. Well, mostly, we only put random boxes in it or stuff we’re too lazy to put in the cave.” you say with a slight laugh.

Mina looks between you, Ochaco, and Himiko.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? “ Mina leans forward, hands gripping the seat she was in.

You nod. “Come live with us!”

She gets up almost immediately and goes in for a big group hug, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Jumping in circles screaming.

”Oh I can’t thank you guys enough. You genuinely just saved my life” she hugs you again, one by one this time.

It was an impulsive decision but you didn’t regret it one bit. Mina was a sweet and funny person and you knew she would bring even more wonderful energy in your shared apartment. You couldn’t wait until she was living with you all.

Two weeks later, she was ready to move in. All the papers were finally done after long days of waiting. For god knows what reason, the whole thing was a pain to do, and your landlord took an absurd amount of time to get everything done.

You just helped her put the last of her boxes into the room you had emptied and cleaned. Izuku also came and helped lift the heavier things she had brought with her.

”Your apartment looks so lovely, this is going to be amazing” she lifts her arms in the air in excitement.

You open your mouth to say something but are interrupted by the sound of your ringtone.

”Sorry let me take this” you smile leaving the girls to chat and making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed before answering.

”Hi Hanta” you grin.

”Hi hermosa” you can hear the smirk on his face as he speaks.

”Stop calling me that” you chuckle.

”Why would I if it’s true”

You roll your eyes and scoff.

”I can feel you rolling your eyes. Are you rolling your eyes?”

”No…”

”Liar.” he chuckles. “I was calling to ask if you were free today?”

”Today? Sorry Mina just moved in and we want to spend the evening together” you reply a bit sad about not getting to see him.

During these two weeks, you two grew closer, now eating lunch together every day, seeing him and the boys at practice when you were free and just hanging out around the campus or taking walks in the city.

You’ve now had your designed places when you hung out, sketching him out when he wasn’t looking.

It would be a lie to say that his little nicknames didn’t get to you and made you feel warm inside every time he spoke.

“Oh right! How about tomorrow?” He brought you out of your thoughts.

”Eager to see me huh” you tease.

”What can I say, I may like spending time with you” You can hear him slightly move on his bed.

”Tomorrow’s perfect. See you at?”

”Three. I’ll pick you up at three.”

”See you at three then Hanta” you smile while hanging up.

You let out a sight and continue smiling to yourself.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and music as all four of you sat on the couch. Watching movies and playing board games for hours before you all pass out from exhaustion.

You were convinced it was a good idea to offer Mina to move in and you were absolutely right.

The next morning you woke up before everyone else at around 11am. You get up slowly, careful as to not wake up the girls who were still sleeping. Ochaco had her head pressed on Himiko’s chest, one leg over her waist and Mina was using Ochaco’s back as a pillow.

You chuckled quietly at their weird position and made your way to the bathroom. Taking off your clothes you take a quick shower and make your way to your room to pick out an outfit for the day.

You scan through your closet and decide on a short white sweater, a black skirt and a large dark brown jacket. You put them on and add tights underneath with long white socks.

You went back to the bathroom and did a simple makeup, putting your hair in a hair clip.

Quietly, you go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea while waiting for Hanta.

After some time, you hear the doorbell and quickly put your boots on before grabbing your bag and opening the front door.

”Hi” you say slightly looking up at him.

”Hi” he smiles at you, looking you up and down, admiring your outfit.

“You look…very pretty.” he says as he tilts his head.

”So do you” I compliment him back.

Closing the door, you both make your way down to his car. You had no idea where he wanted to bring you. You kept asking him during the ride, but his mouth was sealed shut. You settled on turning on the radio and waiting until you arrived at his mysterious destination.

a/n a longer chapter for you guys this time ☝🏻

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[fallenbutterfly-nemesis]

Love & Hate, Part 2

Grimmjow x reader

---

Weeks passed without a trace of him, and while you swore it was a relief, a strange sense of irritation gnawed at you. Every rustle, every hollow lurking in the shadows, every shift in the air—your first thought was Grimmjow. You told yourself it was because he was a threat, not because of… anything else. Still, no amount of convincing could shake the feeling that something was missing.

Then, one evening, just as you were wrapping up a mission, you felt that unmistakable, wild spiritual pressure flood the air. Grimmjow. And like clockwork, your pulse quickened, that familiar blend of frustration and thrill surging through you. You’d barely turned around before he appeared right in front of you, arms crossed, smirk locked and loaded.

“Miss me?” he asked, sounding all too pleased with himself.

You sighed dramatically, giving him a deadpan look. “I forgot you even existed.”

“Really?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, testing. “'Cause from the way you’re glaring at me right now, I’d say you missed me a lot.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. “In your dreams. But sure, Grimmjow, if it helps your fragile ego, go ahead and think that.”

He laughed, the kind of laugh that was equal parts genuine and infuriating. “You talk a big game for someone who’s clearly happy to see me.”

You scoffed, your cheeks heating up in betrayal. “What are you even doing here?”

He shrugged, casual as always. “Just passing through. Thought I’d check on my favorite punching bag.” He leaned in, his voice lowering, that smirk daring you to react. “Wouldn’t want you getting soft without me around to keep you sharp.”

“Please. You’re the one who’s gonna get soft if you keep spending all your time lurking in shadows,” you shot back, but your pulse betrayed you, racing as he closed the distance, a touch too close for comfort. “Why don’t you find some other idiot to annoy?”

Grimmjow chuckled, looking at you with an intense, almost unreadable expression. “Nah. None of them are as fun as you.”

For a split second, the air between you shifted, the tension stretching so thick you could practically feel it. You hated how he always had that effect on you, how he knew exactly which buttons to press, how he made it impossible to think straight. But before you could respond, Grimmjow’s expression darkened, his gaze shifting past you.

“Get down,” he muttered, pushing you aside as a blast of energy whizzed by, leaving a scorched mark on the ground. You barely had time to react before a swarm of hollows closed in around you both, their claws and teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Without missing a beat, the two of you fell into a brutal rhythm, fending off the attackers side-by-side. For all his arrogance, Grimmjow fought like no one you’d ever seen—raw, ruthless, and fierce. You found yourself matching his intensity, both of you moving in sync like you’d trained together for years.

“Watch your left!” he shouted, blocking a hollow from blindsiding you.

“I had it covered,” you shot back, slashing through the creature with ease.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he replied with a grin, tearing through another with his bare hands. Blood spattered across his face, and he looked back at you with a wild, almost feral look in his eyes. “Try to keep up.”

When the last hollow fell, you were both left breathing hard, surrounded by the aftermath of the fight. Grimmjow stood there, looking completely in his element, a hint of admiration mixed into his usual cocky stare.

“Not bad, Y/N,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “You might actually be getting stronger.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat in your chest. “I’ve always been strong, Grimmjow. Maybe it’s you who needs to keep up.”

For once, he didn’t fire back. Instead, he looked at you with a curious expression, almost like he was seeing you for the first time. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

And then, before you knew what was happening, he stepped forward, closing the space between you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t say a word, just looked at you with that intense, piercing gaze that had always driven you crazy. There was no snide remark, no mocking laugh. Just a silence that seemed to pull you in, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite name.

You were about to say something—anything to break the tension—when he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both fierce and soft, as if he was testing the waters but daring you to pull away. You should have pushed him back, should have told him off, but somehow, you found yourself kissing him back, caught up in the heat and fire of it all.

When he finally pulled away, he looked down at you with that infuriating smirk back in place, but there was something different behind it this time, a softness that surprised you.

“Guess I missed you after all,” he murmured, before stepping back, that cocky grin once again firmly in place.

You glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as you both walked away from the battlefield, side-by-side, you knew you were both tangled up in something neither of you could quite escape. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate it as much as you pretended to.

I wrote these last night ✋🏻😔

[ukiiseikou]

the start of something new.

thoma x gn! reader. figure skating au

synposis: thoma's really nervous ever since he spotted you: skating prodigy, at the local rink he's volunteering at as the zamboni driver. a/n: this is part of a series called complementary figures, which is a figure skating au with the hyv characters!

"hi! sorry, this might be really weird, but can i get your autograph?" 

you look up at the voice from your phone, and you see a cute blonde guy giving you an awkward smile. there would be nothing weird about it, except for the fact he was just climbing down from the zamboni that was making it's rounds around your local rink a few minutes ago.

"oh, hey," you give him your best dazzling smile, "no problem! you got anything i can write with?"

"seriously? um, here!" he manages to scramble and produce a sharpie and a printed out picture of you at one of your competitions, a gold medal slung around your neck.

"aw, this was from two seasons ago! when i won the world champion gold for the first time."

you make small talk as you uncap the sharpie, finishing your signature with a flourish.

"what's your name?" you smile at him again.

"uh, thoma - t. h. o. m. a.," you laugh at how bright red he is as you scribble down a quick TO: THOMA above your signature.

"oh my god, thank you so much," he says, almost breathlessly as you hand the sharpie and photo back to him, "my parents used to watch your parents on TV. we used to be from mondstadt as well."

"mom and dad? haha, that's so sweet. when did you move here?”

“a few years ago,” he scratches the back of his neck, “maybe when i was, like, twelve? anyways, i never managed to get the same ice time as you, but i’ve been watching you a lot. archons, that sounds weird, right? sorry.”

“oh, it’s okay. actually, thanks for the support,” you let out another laugh as he frantically apologises, “i’ve been skating here since forever, i think everyone in this town has seen me fall once or twice.”

"thoma! the ice!" the both of you wince as the rink manager yells at him, gesturing to the buckets of ice used to patch up the surface of the rink.

"right, that," he mumbles. you watch as he troops over to the buckets of ice, picking up one with a spatula. turning to survey the ice, you see the various divots and holes that dot the ice, thanks to you and the other skaters, no doubt.

“here, let me help,” you watch as he pulls on his rental skates and go to grab your own bucket, taking off your guards as you step onto ice. he awkwardly follows behind, legs scrambling to keep up.

“haven’t - haven’t skated in a long time,” he says, after straightening up.

“you don’t skate often?” you’re scared he’s going to splat straight onto his face with the way he’s moving, so you move in closer, just in case he falls.

he shakes his head, “winter sports and me? not a great match. more of a track runner, actually. just here to earn some extra cash during the holidays. my friend skates here, uh, ayaka?”

“ayaka kamisato? i know her, the one who skates with her brother, right? i see her sometimes.”

you blink and suddenly thoma’s feet nearly slide out from under him as he bends to patch up a spot. he wobbles before regaining his balance.

you breathe out a sigh of relief as you round up on him, “here, bend at the waist, not the knees.”

“like this?” you cringe as he does exactly the opposite as what you just said.

“not quite… actually, just grab onto me,” you take his hands in yours, at which he sputters at. you laugh as you take him into the middle of rink, letting go of his hands to scoop some ice to patch up the surface of the ice beneath you.

“like this,” you demonstrate, and when he finally nails the pose you turn around with a self-satisfied grin to focus on the far end of the rink.

thoma short-circuits, but as he watches you busy yourself with inspecting the ice, he turns and does the same thing, wishing that a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him whole. the extra cash thing was true, but he’s had a major crush on you for years - but he swears its not for that reason alone. ayaka and ayato are here, so he gets to hang out with them in his free time and not worry about being bored out of his mind all day; and he likes helping out the neighbourhood whenever he can, and when he heard the rink manager fretting about not getting enough volunteers this summer, he naturally signed up.

“hey.”

he nearly slips and falls when he hears your voice next to his ear, and you laugh - which sounds like wedding bells.

“i finished my end of the rink, you done with your’s?”

“uh, yeah,” he stares down at the nearly empty bucket in his hands, guess he works fast when spaced out and imagining things.

“great!” you take his hands again, and he has no choice but to allow himself to be pulled back and forth by you.

“thoma, do you wanna get dinner together? maybe my parents can meet your’s someday, and give them an autograph, too.”

he doesn’t reply, but you’re plenty amused by his ums and ahs and shaky okays.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

That opening scene of Obi-Wan Kenobi is… really upsetting.

[wildguarneres]

not the Logan documentary making me cry 😭

[starcrossedandstupid]

Is that fucking Kai Ninjago

[samuraisharkie]

*homer simpson voice* Marge I think I have brain damage