#i needed someone to spark conflict

[morganmnemonic]

I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

[vantaeries]

HOW'S THEIR FIRST KISS WITH YOU

PAC : FUTURE SPOUSE SERIES

Your lips come and take me to the place to go - NCT 127

Pile : 1 ~ 2 ~ 3

How to pick : Close your eyes, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Trust your intuition and choose a pile that you are most drawn to.

Disclaimer : This is a general reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Remember, the energies can change from time to time. So pick wisely.

Masterlist

PILE 1

Your future spouse is a reserved and low-confidence person who might struggle or fear to confess their feelings. When they see you talking and joking with another person, they feel extremely jealous. They fear they may have missed their chance with you and are tormented by the thought that you might like someone else. Unable to contain their emotions any longer, they make a bold and uncharacteristic decision. As they approach, their legs feel like jelly and their heart pounds like crazy. Acting on impulse, they pull you into a passionate kiss. The passion from truth. In that moment, time seems to stand still. The world fades away, leaving only the sensation of your lips against theirs. The kiss is filled with all the longing and fear they have kept hidden for so long. The kiss is so raw, intense and might turn into a lustful kiss. They definitely dominate the kisses so you can feel how rough and desperate they are. It's as if they are trying to say, “I was scared. Scared that you might like someone else.” How do you react to their kiss? You feel shocked but you respond to their kiss. Do you know how they feel? Oh, they feel a surge of joy and relief. They get carried away by their animalistic desire lol. I think there will be a celebration after that. I'm feel they might kiss you in front of that person or audience lol. People who had been observing the scene erupt into cheers and applause, celebrating the spontaneous and heartfelt moment. So, they actually feel relieved and can rest well after confirming their feelings.

Keyword : Jealous, Insecure, Fire sign, Capricorn sun, Libra, Scorpio, Aries Venus, Children, Party or Gathering, Music, 444

PILE 2

After a heart-wrenching breakup, they were in the midst of healing their broken heart when they met you. Something stirred within them at that first encounter, an awakening sparked by your presence. It wasn't just attraction; it was a deep, magnetic pull that they couldn’t ignore. The first kiss came about unexpectedly, rooted in a misunderstanding that led to a heated argument. Their eyes couldn’t help but fixate on your lips, watching them move with each word. The sight was tantalizing and seductive, causing them to lose focus in the middle of the argument. Without warning, the argument escalated into something entirely different. They closed the distance between you, and before you could react, they pulled you into a kiss, as if their actions were saying, "Shut your mouth, or I'm gonna kiss you." You were taken aback by the suddenness of it, but your body began to respond to their kiss instinctively. It was your first kiss, and though it was slow, it was deeply satisfying. Your hands found their way to their neck or waist, and they hugged you tightly, savoring the connection. They loved touching your body and were thrilled by the way you responded to their kiss. When the kiss finally broke, both of you were left nearly breathless, cheeks flushed red from the intensity of the moment. So cute sksksks

Keyword : Conflict, 'You are that', Summer, Manifest, Scorpio Mars, Saturnian ( Capricorn & Aquarius), Comfort, Surprise, 555

PILE 3

This experience is different from the previous two because there is no rush or urgency. It's as if your future spouse is saying, "When you're ready, we will do this together." They are willing to give you the time you need, despite the strong attraction and sexual tension between you. Once you're ready, they will kiss you with voluptuous excitement. It's a fun kiss, filled with giggles and smooching. For some of you, the kiss might lead to lovemaking because "just kissing" wouldn't be enough. It's all about passion. The kiss is so addictive and raw, taking both of your breaths away. It's hot and good, awakening the lustful desire between you two. As if they are saying, "Yes, finally, I've been waiting long enough to do this. Everything will be made right." They don't want to confuse or pressure you, so they will take it one step at a time. They want you to feel comfortable and peaceful as you explore this connection together.

Keyword : couple in ecstasy, animal within us, passion, 222, Virgo, Sagittarius, Jupiter, Venus, Moon

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

��Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[srslyblvck]

injured, five hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader

synopsis: you and five hated each other, everyone knew that. you both bickered like children. so what happens when you are in front of his house, injured?

genre: fluff

warnings: blood, injuries

word count: 0.7k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU NEVER LIKED FIVE. He was insufferable, arrogant, and always acted like he was the smartest person in the room—which, unfortunately, was often true. But that didn't make him any less intolerable. The feeling was mutual, and everyone in the Commission knew it. They watched in bewilderment as the two of you hurled insults at each other, yet when it came to missions, you both worked like a well-oiled machine. The IT duo, they called you, though you’d never admit you found some satisfaction in that title.

But the minute the mission was over, the bickering resumed. It was like you couldn't help it. He’d make a snide remark, and you’d fire back, both of you sparking a fire that never quite died down. It was exhausting, but in some twisted way, it kept you sharp.

Tonight, however, was different.

you were stumbling down a dimly lit alley, clutching your bleeding side, blood seeping through your fingers with every step. The world around you was blurring, spinning, and you couldn’t think straight. You didn’t know where to go, or who to turn to. Your mind was a fog of pain, but one name pushed through the haze—Five.

It made no sense. He was the last person you’d ever willingly go to for help. But at that moment, with death breathing down your neck, his house was the only place you could think of, the only place that might be safe. Even if he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

So you forced your legs to move, one agonizing step at a time, until you found yourself at his door, barely holding on. You raised a shaky hand and knocked, the sound weak against the door. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t be home, that you’d pass out here and this whole mess would be over. But the door swung open, and there he was, staring at you with a mix of shock and disbelief.

You tried to say something, but all you could manage was a weak whisper. "I didn't know where else to go..."

Your vision blurred as you felt your knees buckle, and the world started to fade to black. Before you could hit the ground, though, you felt strong arms catch you, holding you up.

Five's heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at you, barely conscious and bleeding. He hated you—no, he loathed you—but seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, sparked something he couldn’t quite place. He muttered a curse under his breath as he picked you up, carrying you inside with surprising gentleness.

He laid you on his bed, his eyes scanning your body for the source of the blood. The sight of you like this made something twist in his gut, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. But there was no time for that. You needed help, and fast.

He grabbed a first aid kit, hands trembling slightly as he opened it. His eyes lingered on the hem of your shirt, drenched in blood. He knew he had to remove it, but he hesitated, cursing himself for feeling so conflicted. Finally, he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. If he didn’t do this, you’d die.

Carefully, he peeled the bloody shirt away, averting his eyes from anything but the wound on your side. It was bad—deep, and still bleeding heavily. He worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging it as best as he could. Every few moments, he glanced at your face, now pale and eerily still, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t want to have.

Who did this to you? Who would dare lay a hand on you?

The thought of someone else hurting you filled him with a rage he hadn’t expected, a simmering anger that only intensified with every glance at your unconscious form. If he found out who did this, they’d regret ever crossing you.

As he finished bandaging your side, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. He carefully slipped it over your head, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did. He was cautious, trying not to hurt you more than you already were.

As he finished, he sat beside you, his mind racing. The sight of you so vulnerable, so close to death, shook him more than he cared to admit. He hated you, or at least that’s what he told himself every time you exchanged sharp words or shot him a scathing glare. But seeing you like this stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite place—a protectiveness he didn’t know he had.

He clenched his fists, staring at the ground, forcing himself to remember all the reasons he couldn’t stand you. The way you challenged him, the way you never backed down, the way you always had to have the last word. But as he glanced at your pale face, a different thought crept into his mind—what if you hadn’t made it to his doorstep?

Five shook his head, pushing the thought away, refusing to let it take root. He wasn’t going to dwell on that, wasn’t going to let himself feel anything other than annoyance. You’d live, you’d recover, and then you’d go back to bickering like you always did. That’s how it had to be.

But for now, he stayed by your side, watching over you, waiting for the moment when you’d open your eyes and start another argument. And for once, he found himself looking forward to it.

[adaelines]

afab but gender neutral reader, horny as fuck smut, ada and leon competing for your attention! theyre both in love with you and wanna prove that you should be theirs.. wrote this in one night bc i wanna fuck both of them so bad lmao

To others, working with two people with as much renown as Ada and Leon might seem lucky. Missions with Leon always go easy, he's known for his strength and capability. A mission with Leon by your side is always a good mission, no matter the danger, you know he's there to protect you. Ada is the same, the few that know her naming her deadly, a woman who isn't afraid to do anything she needs to get what she wants. You know that all too well, just how stubborn she can be when she truly wants something.

You've known Leon longer, worked with him enough times to even call him a friend, but you can't deny the immediate spark you feel everytime Ada 'intrudes' on your missions, as Leon puts it. He always seems so bitter towards her, and anytime you're involved, it seems to turn almost malicious. Leon would never hurt her unless provoked to, you know that, but the way his eyes turn dark and he stands between you, almost shielding you from her, you can't help but feel like there's something more going on. 

What you don't know, don't see, is the way they both rush to be the one by your side, the one to help you up if an enemy downs you, the one to defend you. They both want you to see them as someone you can trust, someone you can rely on with anything. 

Leon is more gentle, forward. A soft smile that's reserved for only you and firm touches, a hand on your back whilst he guides you, always stood between you and anything he sees as dangerous, even the woman he currently sees himself at war with. Like a guard dog, willing to do anything if it means keeping you safe, he's always the one backing you up in any conflict and watching.

Ada, however, is more discreet. She protects you just as much, watches and never lets you come into danger that's avoidable, never lets anyone else get in the way of your mission. Defeating enemies before they can see you, before you can see them, locking doors if she thinks what's behind it is too dangerous for you. She knows you can take care of yourself, that you're strong, but she likes knowing you're safe, that she helped in keeping you safe.

Between them, you were very rarely in danger. Even when you did end up fighting someone, usually with no other choice, you saw the way Leon's eyes darkened, like a cornered, feral dog. He's dangerous, and he proves it when you're involved. Ada is the same. You don't get to see her fight as much, you're not partners with her like you are Leon, but there was a time you and her ended up together alone, and you saw just how strong she was, how far she was willing to go for you.

The unfounded, in your opinion, rivalry is how you ended up where you were, practically sitting on Leon's lap as you leant back against him, Ada knelt between your legs with her arms wrapped under your thighs, her grip firm. You were meant to be focused on a mission, but a situation that left you a little too close to danger for their liking ended up with them needing to punish you, as they put it. 

Your shirt was bunched above your chest, shoved up by Leon's hands, currently groping your chest harshly, pinching your nipples and holding the fat of your chest tight. His grip was so rough it left you whining, head thrown back against his shoulder, which gave him the perfect angle to kiss along your jaw, your neck. His affection made Ada hum against your cunt, a noise that told you she was less than pleased. Her nose was buried in the wiry hair, mouth altering between your clit and hole. 

Ada's gaze was overwhelming, her eyes full of fire and utter need. From her place between your thighs, she could see everything Leon was doing to you, and it only caused her to work harder. She wanted to be the one to make you feel good, it was going to be her name you moaned, not some dumb puppy's who didn't know how to treat you properly. 

"C'mon, won't you be good for me, sweet thing?" Ada's voice was sultry, and when you opened your eyes to look to at her, you couldn't help the moan you let out. Her touch, her words, the utter love and affection in her eyes… It was almost too much, and if it wasn't for Leon's sharp pinch of your nipples, you could have gotten lost in her. 

"For you? As if," Leon's voice was gruff in return, teeth gently resting on your pulse, "You still think too much of yourself, it's not going to be you they're good for." 

The whine you let out in response was loud, one hand coming up to tangle in Ada's hair, the other placed on Leon's forearm. Your grip on both of them was tight, tight enough that you knew it would hurt, but you were too distracted, too out of it to even notice, not that they complained about your nails digging into them. 

In response, Leon bit down on your neck, harsh enough to hurt, to leave a mark of his teeth that'll last a while, a reminder of who left it there and the position you were currently in. Ada simply chuckled, a low noise that vibrated against you, and flattened her tongue to lick from your hole up to your clit. She may have been on her knees before you, but she was completely in control over you, owned you, as she would put it. 

Between them like this, the overwhelming attention from both of them, it was so much. You wanted to close your eyes, hide away from them, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Leon's large hands on your chest, his mouth on your neck and shoulders, all while Ada ate you out like a woman starved, like she was lost in a desert and you were the only respite.

"C'mon, stop looking at her," Leon's voice was low in your ear, quiet enough that Ada wouldn't hear, "You're mine, right? I own you and this cunt. No one could ever make you feel as good as i can. Prove it." 

"C-an't! 's too much…!" 

Your voice was shaky, an octave higher than usual thanks to the attention you were receiving.

"It's okay, sweetheart, moan my name and I'll stuff you full, you just need my cock, huh? Such a sweet thing, I'll ruin you.."

Ada let out a low hum against your clit, bringing one hand from your thigh to gently press against your hole. Her gaze went to Leon, almost glaring and full of malice, before returning to you, returning to the loving, affectionate focus for you. She couldn't hear Leon, but she could tell he was trying to get your attention away from her, away from her touch and tongue against you. 

Just as Leon moved in to kiss you, Ada pushed her fingers inside of you, harsh and quick enough for you to let out a loud whine and jolt. She quickly cooed an apology, voice almost mocking.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. Was that too much? Just can't help myself, it's not my fault you're just too cute… I just want to make you feel good, make you all mine…"

Leon didn't react well to that, not by the tight pinch he gave your nipple, the low noise he made against your neck was almost a growl. Calling him possessive would be an understatement, covering you in hickies and bruises that marked you as his and his, even with the woman between your thighs. To him, she wasn't there, she wasn't the one making you feel good, he was, and that's all he cared about. 

Even as you got closer to release, as your pleasure climbed and all you could focus on was humping against Ada's face, holding Leon's arm as tight as you could, you could feel the competition between them, feel that they each wanted to prove to you just who could make you feel best.

Leon's lips were right against your ear, whispering how good you were being for him, even looking so slutty you were so gorgeous, won't you be mine? I'll take care of you, make you feel good, you'll never have to raise a finger again. I'll do anything for you, y'know? all you have to do is cum for me, only for me, you'll be so happy together… be a good whore and cum. I'll fuck you hard, fast, rough, anything you want. You'll be so dumb off of my cock you won't even be able to think about anything else, only how deep inside of you I can reach.

His words, mixed with Ada's attention to your clit, her fingers pressing into you harshly, filling you as much as she could, promises of more, of what she can do for you, to you, quickly finished your off, your back arching against Leon's chest, both hands gripping tightly, one still in Ada's hair, the other still on Leon's arm. Both of them let out their own noises as you came. Leon a quiet groan, eyes closing as he gently pressed kisses against your jaw, whilst Ada moaned against you, eyes closed tight as she drank everything you offered, holding you as close to her face as she could, even when you tried to jolt away in overstimulation.

Ada pulled away, the grim on her face proud, still full of desire.

"What a good little thing for me, you taste so delicious too…"

"Excuse me? For you? No, that was all for me…"

They weren't done with you, with their competition for your affection. It was going to be a very long night.

[leon-on-the-froggy-chair]

rambling in the tags like a madman

Leon stans be like "Leon Kennedy would never🥰" "Leon Kennedy would treat me right🥰🥰" when this man's average lines are "women🙄" and "following a lady's lead just isn't my style" and "maybe you're not heartless after all" to a woman who's saved his life 27473 times

[assriels]

here i go again

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: your half of the bond snaps and you’re faced with a choice.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: more of cass’s inner monologue speckled with az and reader’s thoughts as well, some brief mentions of sexual content!, angst angst angst

a/n: i truly was not planning on writing a part two but the love that everyone has shown me on the first part has inspired me :’) ty everyone for making my first fic posting so memorable; ALSO because i’m a sucker for happy endings, i will be writing an alternate ending for this story that is not as angsty i promise

(banners by @/cafekitsune!)

part one

When the bond first snapped, Cassian had initially tried to continue on as normal, engaging in his usual banter and friendly affection that your relationship ordinarily dictated. But as the days stretched into weeks and then months, he wasn’t sure he could keep a lid on his emotions for any longer.

Six months, normally a small blip of time in a near-immortal’s life, felt like an eternity. Six months of picking up the scraps of his broken heart was torture of the purest kind. Six months of clinging to every ounce of affection you offered him, playing it over and over in his mind to placate the urges the mating bond so desperately wanted satisfied.

Occasionally, he’d gently tug on that golden string tethering him to you, but he’d be met with an endless, empty void; the bond hadn’t snapped for you. And maybe it never would, Cassian caught himself thinking more times than he’d like. Maybe your love for Azriel was so powerful it overshadowed anything that the mating bond could offer you.

Azriel was your chosen mate and maybe no Cauldron-born matchmaking could override your unyielding loyalty and dedication to the male you spent the last twelve years loving.

Maybe Cassian was destined for loneliness in perpetuity, forced to watch his mate – the one person he loved more than life itself – live in immortality with someone who was not him.

The night of Starfall, Cassian had taken your advice and met Feyre’s friend, a beautiful high fae female who had become a regular at Feyre’s studio. They’d hit it off that night, and eventually spent the night tangled beneath the sheets of Cassian’s massive bed.

And while Cassian couldn’t deny the charming allure and beauty of this female, she wasn’t you. He wanted her, absolutely he did, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with others in the past while his heart belonged truly to you. But it was like the mating bond had imprisoned his desire, reserving it for the one person who could satiate it.

He couldn’t even finish that night, and an ugly mix of humiliation, guilt, and disappointment swirled in his gut for the next few days, even as his one time lover graciously accepted his onslaught of apologies and assured him it was alright, that it happens, that she wasn’t offended. Through it all the bond was screaming at him.

Wrong, wrong, this was all wrong.

Cassian quickly disposed of the notion that he could just ignore the bond after that night. If sex and distraction were going to do nothing to keep his desperate need for you at bay, Cassian was forced to find alternative means for managing this newfound revelation.

And so, despite the brief moments of hope the snapping of the mating bond sparked in him, Cassian resolved to continue his journey of getting over you. Admittedly, though, it was becoming increasingly more difficult, as if the bond was becoming impatient and was spurring him to make bolder and bolder moves towards you.

But Cassian was nothing if not respectful and he couldn’t ever imagine telling you of the bond and forcing your hand to choose between him and his brother. So, he slowly titrated his daily dosage of you, gradually spending less time with and around you in an effort to relieve himself of the aching pain of his longing. He was mindful of his words and actions, not wanting to clue you in to the raging conflict between his mind and his heart; he disguised his purposeful avoidance of you with excuses that he had suddenly become overwhelmingly busy.

It was a tactic he knew wouldn’t last for long, but it might give him enough time to figure out what he should do next.

But ever the keen observer – having picked up a thing or two from spending so much time with the Spymaster of the Night Court – you noticed the change, however slight, in Cassian’s behavior. At first, you had fallen for his ploy; with newborn fatherhood forcing Rhys to be partially out of commission, it made sense that Azriel and Cassian had been busier than usual.

As Nyx grew, however, and both Feyre and Rhys were more adjusted to life with a child, Rhys had resumed his usual duties – but Cassian was still busy as ever.

It only took one passing comment from Azriel for you to begin perseverating on the idea that maybe Cassian was avoiding you. Az had confided in you once about Cassian’s constant denial of his invitations to spend some time together despite the arsenal of ideas that Azriel threw at him.

Drinks at Rita’s? No... A flight around Velaris? No. Lunch with Rhys? No. Training? No.

Azriel lamented that every conversation ended with Cassian hastily making an excuse to exit; it wasn’t like him, and it was beginning to get concerning.

So, you decided to test the theory yourself.

It was a lot more difficult getting Cassian alone than you thought it would be, which was strange in and of itself. Your past with him had lent itself to many occasions where you’d find yourself alone with Cassian on an errand, training, eating meals. But lately, it was like Cassian was a ghost, disappearing as soon as you had your sights on him, seemingly vanishing out of existence before you could even mutter a greeting. It seemed like everywhere you were, Cassian had pressing business elsewhere.

(Once you had walked into the kitchen, and Cassian had left in the middle of making himself a meal, mumbling something about Rhys needing his help, his half cut vegetables abandoned on the counter.)

You had every intention of cornering him with Azriel’s help, but before you could execute your sneaky plan to ambush him during training, you quite literally bumped into him on your way from the library to the dining room; clearly, he hadn’t anticipated that you’d interrupt your usual perusal of the House’s libraries to make yourself a snack.

Cassian fumbled for words, flustered and taken aback at the suddenness of your presence, still unused to the heightened feeling of his emotions around you.

You were about to interrupt his awkward stumbling, but a feeling so visceral, so outrageously all-consuming flooded every nerve in your body and you felt like you would collapse onto the floor. It was like the world had suddenly decided to start spinning in the other direction, scrambling your sensibilities, and the only thing tethering you to your reality was a thin golden string that led you directly to Cassian.

Cassian was your mate? And by the feel of it, the bond had already snapped for him who knows how long ago. Why did he not say anything? How long had he known? What the fuck?

The questions repeated themselves incessantly in your mind before you had the wherewithal to erect the strongest mental shields you could as you made flimsy excuses for why you needed to leave. Funny how, as soon as you had the opportunity to speak to Cassian alone, you were the one spinning white lies to explain your sudden departure.

If Cassian had felt your awareness on his side of the bond, he didn’t let on, only stared bemused after your retreating figure.

You wound through the maze of hallways in the House with such precision that you had to have set a record for how quickly you made your way from the dining room to Azriel’s study; you hadn’t even meant to go there, body habitually routing its way to your lover in moments of distress.

Azriel.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, and you contemplated not telling him or Cassian that you had felt a bond whip into place. But you knew that would be a disservice to all parties involved in this sadistic twist of events.

You would talk to Cassian, have a discussion, figure out what this meant for your friendship and his and Azriel’s brotherhood, but you needed to collect yourself and unscramble the tangled web of thoughts knotted in your mind before you did any of that. You needed to talk to Azriel.

You stood outside his study with your forehead pressed to the door, not yet having the courage to open it.

In the past twelve years you’d been in a relationship with the Shadowsinger, you had many conversations exploring the what if’s of your future. The notion of the mating bond snapping between you and someone else – or him and someone else – had been something you both considered. Neither of you were naive enough to assume that it would be as simple as just choosing each other – what with the intensity of the mating bond – but neither of you really thought that it would happen either, often just assuming that it would snap between the two of you in due time.

You had been so incredibly enamored with each other since the day you met; everything had fallen so beautifully into place that it had been easy to throw all caution to the wind and fall helplessly in love. Mating bond be damned.

You knew that if a bond had snapped between you and anyone else, the choice would be simple. You and Azriel prepared for something like this — the swirling lines of complementary ink on both of your torsos had been proof of that — but never did either of you consider that it would involve the one other person that you both loved almost as much as you loved each other.

You had a long history with Cassian, and though nothing romantic had ever occurred between you, somehow the choice was now infinitely more impossible. It wasn’t difficult to admit that you loved Cassian, you knew him and cherished him for as long as you could remember. But could you love him in the way that the mating bond demanded? Could you love him in the way that he deserved?

Those were questions that you couldn’t answer, too confused as you contemplated the implications of your mate being someone you loved in an entirely different way than you loved Azriel.

So you opened the door to Azriel’s study, seeking safety and refuge with the one person who could help you make sense of this impossible predicament.

One look at you standing in the doorway told Azriel all he needed to know. The time he prayed would never come was finally here. The knit of your eyebrows and the quiver in your lip shattered his usually calm countenance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of dark uncertainty settling in his chest.

The sad, resigned smile that he gave you as he sat at his desk made tears well up in your eyes. You felt guilty and confused and so, so horrible, wondering what must be running through his mind as he looked at you, understanding intuitively that you had found your mate.

And that it wasn’t him.

You wanted to soothe the fears that were so clearly written all over his face, but you couldn’t find the words, afraid that if you opened your mouth nothing but nonsensical blubbering would come out. But you needed to say something, to explain the overly complicated cocktail of emotions roiling in your gut.

However, before you could even begin to string together a coherent sentence, he crossed the room in three long strides, resting his palm against your cheek as his thumb ran a soothing path back and forth across your skin. Azriel leaned down to kiss away the tears that had escaped before pulling your head into his chest.

The comforting warmth of the body you knew so well worked wonders on your nerves, your mind already clearing itself enough to tame some of the turmoil that had overtaken your consciousness. You allowed yourself to focus only on the feel of the strong planes of his body against yours, losing yourself in the luxury of his embrace.

“It’s Cassian,” you said after a few long minutes.

Though your words were muffled into the fabric of his shirt, Azriel had heard them loud and clear. He almost laughed at the sheer atrocity of it all; how could the Cauldron be so spiteful? You — the greatest love he’s ever known — and Cassian — his brother in all but blood — were mates.

He felt as though the Mother had taken Truthteller and carved a path through his chest, leaving him to piece together the vestiges of his heart after she had stolen you from it. But he wouldn’t let himself fall apart, not when you were so clearly in need of his unwavering stability.

“Does he know?” Azriel cursed the way his voice betrayed him; it sounded so small as it broke over each syllable of his question.

You tightened your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself to the steady thrum of his familiar heartbeat, “Sort of. It’s snapped for him, but I don’t think he’s realized that I know yet.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and somber. Neither of you said anything, only holding each other as a gentle breeze wafted through Azriel’s open windows. You wondered again what must have been going through his mind, wondered if he was as scared and sad and torn as you were. By the way his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as his hand ran up and down the length of your spine, you concluded that he was.

Azriel wanted to stay like this forever, savor the moments before either of you had to make a decision. Infinite possibilities raced through his mind, and his heart warred with itself.

He loved you — gods, did he love you — but he also loved Cassian. Knew that Cassian was an honorable male, had a suspicion for years that Cassian loved you the same way that he did. But even then, Azriel wanted to be selfish. Wanted to beg you to choose him because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.

You had been his lifeline since the day he met you; he didn’t think it was possible to love and be loved the way you had shown him, and he greedily didn’t want to live a life without it.

But he loved you so fiercely that your happiness was paramount, your decision to choose for yourself was of utmost importance and, arguably, was the only thing that mattered in this moment. Azriel couldn’t help but think, though, that you deserved the love and connection of a mate, deserved the love he’d seen blossom beautifully between Rhys and Feyre, and if that meant you’d leave him, then he was glad it would be for Cassian.

���I don’t know what to do,” came your small, rasped confession. You pulled your head away from his chest to look up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “Tell me what to do, Az.”

He gave you that sad smile again (and you quickly decided you hated that you were the cause of this forlorn look of his), his scarred hand coming up to tame the wisps of hair that had clung to your forehead, “I can’t, love.”

After a beat he added, “I think you should tell him, though. Soon. He deserves to know, and you both deserve the chance to…talk about it.”

You knew what he was dancing around saying, knew that he meant he would let you go if you decided that you wanted this mateship with Cassian rather than what you had with him. That it was all in your hands, and entirely your decision. Your heart twisted painfully as you were confronted with the bottomless depth of Azriel’s love for you; he would sacrifice his love and happiness for yours without contest.

“Az…”

“You have me,” he started again, his hazel eyes burning into yours with such unwavering loving conviction you were glad his arms were around you to keep your knees from buckling. “No matter what you choose, you have me. Mating bond or not, I’m yours. If you want to see where things go with Cassian, you should. I’d wait for you…even if you decided you’d never come back to me, I'd wait.”

His heartfelt confession made another round of tears burn your eyes as you nodded. You cradled his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. Both of you savored the familiar feel of your lips moving together in a practiced dance.

“I love you.”

Azriel knew you meant it; even if you chose to explore your newfound mating bond, knew that nothing could ever take from him the parts of yourself you allowed him the privilege of loving. And so he said it back, insistently ignoring the gnawing worry that it would be the last time.

It wasn’t that much of a shock when Cassian felt you tug oh-so-tentatively on the bond the week after he ran into you in the dining room. He had immediately noticed your shift in demeanor, the heat creeping up your cheeks as you made a beeline out of the room despite having just entered. He had felt something change on his end of the bond the moment your skirts brushed past him in your rush to exit. The bond had finally snapped for you, but he couldn’t reach you, your consciousness locked behind steel-reinforced shields.

A rush of conflicting emotion had erupted in Cassian���s chest at the realization, and it took every ounce of self discipline he had to not chase you down. He knew you would need time, would probably want to tell Azriel before anything else, so he waited and ignored the incessant nagging of the bond to seek you out. He would do this right, would leave the decision entirely up to you despite his overwhelming desire for you to choose him.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t think that you’d open up on your end so soon after it had snapped, and he tried not to read too much into what that could mean. Instead, when he felt that gentle pulse from you beneath his ribcage, he tugged back in acknowledgement.

Cass…?

Your voice flooded every inch of his head and it was sheer bliss to feel you so intimately intertwined with his mind.

Hey, you.

He replied, heart thundering so loudly he worried that you’d hear it.

Can we talk? Meet on the balcony near the library? Maybe in an hour?

Cassian had never been so anxious, had never been so uncertain and nervous and excited in his life. Regardless of what happened — of what you said — he just wanted to see you. His avoidance of you these past few months was nothing short of torture, and just the thought of being near you again in a way that meant something sent Cassian’s entire being into a new plane of happiness.

Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.

You didn’t reply, but he felt you send a wave of fondness and appreciation towards him; Cassian felt like a starved man who had just been offered a loaf of bread.

He had intended on getting at least a little bit of work done in the hour before he was set to meet you, but Cassian found his mind drifting to thoughts of you as he flew around the perimeter of Velaris, running through scenario after scenario that could happen. His excitement was overshadowed by the looming possibility that you would reject the bond, and just the thought of it sent bile churning in his gut.

Cassian knew how much love existed between you and Azriel, had seen firsthand how much you both had committed yourselves to each other. Part of him felt guilty; Azriel was his brother and he didn’t want to be the thing that stood in Az’s way of keeping the love that everyone knew he deserved and that you so willingly provided. Cassian’s mind was twisting circles around itself as he thought about how this would end. Because while Azriel loved you, so did Cassian. And he would be a fool to give up so easily on the opportunity to show you just how much you meant to him, how much he adored you.

Before Cassian could make any headway in finding a solution for this impossible situation, it was time for him to meet you. So, Cassian fluttered his wings and made his way towards the House.

You were already standing on the balcony when he landed, pacing as you alternated between worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and biting your nails. Even with confusion marring your features, the golden hour light of the sun encased you in such warmth, that you glowed luminescent, and he wanted to freeze this moment and remember it forever.

Cassian tamed the urge to kiss the worry away from your raw, swollen lips and massage the crease out from between your brows, and instead said, “Hey.”

You looked up at him and stole the breath straight from his lungs with the radiance of your smile, though dimmed no doubt by the anxiety that plagued you.

“Cass,” you started, soft and the slightest bit hesitant. “Hi.”

An awkward silence that never existed between you two settled in the air now, neither of you wanting to be the one to broach the subject you knew tormented you both day and night. You had almost backed out of having this conversation three times within the past hour, but you knew that it needed to be done. For all of your sakes.

“We’re mates,” you said, and Cassian didn’t miss the way your statement sounded half like a question, as if you still couldn’t wrap your head around the notion. He nodded, stating more definitively, “We’re mates.”

Again, another silence permeated the too large space between you and Cassian thought he’d hurl himself off the ledge of the balcony to avoid the palpable awkwardness of it all. This certainly wasn’t what he pictured in his mind when you both finally had the conversation about your mateship.

You cleared your throat stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as a cute blush betrayed your serious countenance, “I’m not really sure what to do, Cass. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop for the past week and…I just don’t– I don’t know what to do. I really just–”

Cassian aptly noted the way your emotions showed so clearly on your face. Maybe it was because he could also feel you unwittingly sending them down the bond, but he could tell that your stuttering and frantic fumbling for words was wrought from a week’s worth of anxiety and spinning your thoughts over and over in your mind, probably similar to the way that he had been doing for the past six months. He hated thinking that you felt even a fraction of the confusion and pain that he had endured for the past half a year.

Slowly, in the face of your pain stricken confusion, Cassian's resolve to fight for your affections was crumbling.

Your eyes finally met his, and the glassy sheen of tears that marred their usual clarity made Cassian’s heart lurch; how he wished you would never look at him with such an anguished expression on your face.

“I care about you, Cassian. I care about you so, so much,” you said, and he knew you meant it. He saw it in the way your brows twisted together in earnest and the way your fists clenched at your sides determinedly. He could feel the conflict storming beneath your ribs and wanted to do everything he could to chase it away, make it so that you never faced uncertainty for the rest of your days. But he let you continue, his pulse thundering so loudly he almost couldn’t hear you over the rush of his own blood.

“I just–” you trailed off then, unable to voice your thoughts as they were a tangled mess roiling around in your head, ricocheting off the walls of your skull.

What were you even going to say? You thought you had made a decision, thought you would tell him that you couldn’t accept the bond, that you could never leave Azriel like this. But one look at Cassian and the hope he so desperately tried to mask in his eyes left you floundering, the mating bond begging you not to sever it, not to hurt Cassian. You didn’t expect to be at such an impasse; how were you supposed to choose between instinct and desire? Love and connection? Weren’t they all one in the same anyway? But if they were, how could they be split between the two most important people in your life? What a cruel, cruel fate you all had been subjected to.

Cassian watched as you puzzled through your thoughts, and his desire to ease your worry spurred him to action. He knew the decision would tear you apart, would obliterate not only your relationship with Azriel, but his too, even though he knew Azriel would never hold something like this against either of you. But Cassian loved you both too much to tip the scales in his favor at the cost of ruining his family, of hurting you, of forcing you to make an impossible decision and living with the regret of hurting them both.

So, he chose for you. Despite the way that his heart screamed at him, begged him not to reject the bond, he did anyway. He used every ounce of self control he had to hold himself together and remind himself over and over again that this was the right decision. The future with you that Cassian so desperately wanted was a hair’s breadth away, and for a few precious seconds he allowed himself to sit in the bliss of the in-between, pretending that his next words would be I love you instead of—

“I don’t think we should do this, Y/N,” he said, forcing his voice not to shake, his eyes not to water with the pain of pushing you away. “Maybe…maybe the Cauldron got it wrong.”

He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. Because how could the Cauldron get it wrong when being near you, loving you felt so right?

The look you gave him at his words was a mixture of relief and…something else that he couldn’t place. Was it disappointment? Regret?

Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it further because if he did, and if he convinced himself that he saw even a glimmer of disappointment at his rejection in your eyes, he’d take everything back and say fuck it, I love you, give me a chance. So he averted his gaze as you took his hand, iron willpower crumbling at the sweet euphoria that filled his chest at your touch.

“Cassian,” you rarely used his full name, but you did now and he looked up at you and into your eyes. When he finally met your gaze again, you pulled him into a wonderfully tight hug, “Thank you. I– thank you.”

Despite the searing sting your words left on his heart, Cassian let himself pretend that you were his for the last time as he reveled in your embrace, holding you so steadily, so delicately that if you didn’t know he loved you before, you must have known now.

You pulled away after a few moments but kept him close, holding his face in your hands as your thumbs brushed the apples of his cheeks, eyes searching his face in earnest, “You know I’ll always love you right, Cass?”

You knew it was a cruel and selfish thing to say to him, especially because you could feel the echo of his true feelings down the bond that was slowly, painfully weakening at Cassian’s unwanted rejection. But you needed him to know, needed him to understand more than anything that your love for him transcended the romantic and was existing in a plane reserved solely for him. You wanted him to know that you couldn’t ever thank him or repay him for his sacrifice born out of pure unadulterated love for you; you only wished you could do the same for him.

Briefly, you concluded that — in an alternate universe, another life — Cassian would have loved you with a ferocity that put the heat of the sun to shame. But in this life, you couldn’t tear your heart away from Azriel; your love for him was built on the foundational elements of trust and choice, and you would pick him time and time again.

In this life, you would be greedy and accept Cassian’s sacrifice of his own love for yours, and you would damn well make sure it was worth it.

As if he could read your thoughts — and maybe he could now — he nodded and pulled you in again with a parting kiss to your forehead.

“I know," he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to your touch, savoring the fleeting moments that you had been so close to being his, telling himself that he was grateful for the love that you would offer him, even if it wasn't in the way he so desperately desired. "I know."

[unboundprompts]

How do I make something happen in my story? I’m writing a murder mystery where they are all stuck in a theater. all the characters have been just sitting around talking for two chapters now and it’s getting boring. How do I add action or movement without derailing the story?

How to Add Movement to a Murder Mystery without Derailing the Story

Here are some ideas for you to consider!

1. Introduce a New Clue or Discovery

Unexpected Evidence: Have a character stumble upon a crucial piece of evidence. This could be a hidden note, a strange item, or an overlooked detail that propels the investigation forward.

Surprising Revelation: Perhaps someone finds a hidden compartment in the theater with items related to the murder. This could spark new theories and discussions among the characters.

2. Create a Disruption

Theatrical Effect: Use the theater setting to your advantage. For example, the lights could suddenly go out, or there could be an unexpected sound or event (like a prop falling) that causes chaos and forces the characters to act quickly.

Power Outage: A sudden blackout could create confusion and force the characters to rely on each other, which could reveal new dynamics and secrets.

3. Introduce Conflict

Accusations and Tension: Allow tensions to rise by having characters confront each other with accusations or suspicions. This could lead to heated arguments or confrontations that reveal more about each character's motives.

Personal Conflicts: Bring underlying personal conflicts or grudges to the surface. This could create drama and reveal new aspects of the characters that influence their behavior and decisions.

4. Add a Time Crunch

Imminent Threat: Introduce a sense of urgency by suggesting that the murderer might strike again or that there’s a time limit for solving the crime before a more severe consequence occurs (e.g., a ticking clock or a scheduled event).

Urgent Action: Characters could discover that they need to find a specific clue or solve a puzzle before the theater is locked down or before someone else arrives.

5. Dynamic Character Actions

Shifting Alliances: Characters might decide to split up to search the theater more effectively. This could lead to new discoveries and interactions.

Personal Goals: Characters could pursue personal objectives or hidden agendas that complicate the investigation and create movement in the story.

6. Revelatory Dialogue

New Information: Characters could reveal previously hidden motives or secrets in their conversations, adding new layers to the mystery and prompting action.

Unexpected Accusation: A character might make a surprising accusation that causes everyone to reevaluate their theories and actions.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 2

Part 1

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

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

Y/n POV

My boots clicked against the cobbled pathways as I trailed slightly behind Enid and Wednesday. The cold seeped into my skin, but it was a welcome chill—reminding me that I was awake, alive, and in the midst of something new and dangerous. 

Enid chattered on about classes, the cafeteria’s dubious offerings, and the school’s annual Poe Cup race. She walked between me and Wednesday, trying desperately to bridge the chasm of our conflicting energies. Her voice, warm and bright, seemed to wrap itself around us, a shield against the gloom. I tried to listen, but my senses were sharper than usual, picking up every rustle of the wind, every whisper of movement around the stone parapets.

And then I felt it—a shift in the air, like static before a storm. My eyes flicked upward, catching sight of a massive stone gargoyle teetering precariously on the edge of the nearest building. Time slowed. In that instant, I saw it lean, its shadow stretching long and ominous across the courtyard.

“Wednesday!” I shouted, already moving.

I didn’t think. My body reacted, faster than I’d ever needed to move before. In a blur, I lunged, tackling her to the ground. We hit the cold stone hard; I cushioned her fall, but it was far from graceful. The gargoyle crashed to the spot she’d been standing, splintering into jagged shards. Dust filled the air, mingling with the scent of crushed stone.

I was on my feet in an instant, senses searching for the threat. My eyes, now blazing, scanned for movement in the shadows above. Whoever had done this was either very bold or very stupid. When I felt no immediate danger, I turned my attention back to Wednesday, still on the ground.

Her dark eyes were locked on me, a mix of shock, rage, and—dare I say it—a hint of something else. She quickly masked it, but I’d seen it. Vulnerability. And it struck me more deeply than I cared to admit.

“Get off me,” she said coldly, her voice as sharp as the shards scattered around us. She pushed herself upright, brushing dirt from her clothing. I expected her to be grateful—or at the very least acknowledge what had just happened. But this was Wednesday.

“Not even a ‘thank you’?” I asked, my voice low but laced with something raw, something I couldn’t quite suppress. I’d just saved her life.

Her eyes met mine, unblinking. “I didn’t ask to be saved.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, stepping closer, my voice losing its playful edge. “Even if you’d prefer to be flattened by a gargoyle.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. But her breathing was slightly faster, her gaze searching mine. For what, I couldn’t tell. “If you think that earns you any kind of favor, you’re mistaken.”

I exhaled, a humorless laugh escaping me. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Her expression didn’t change. But there was a spark in her eyes—an acknowledgment that, despite her words, she’d felt something. She stepped past me, brushing my shoulder. “Don’t expect gratitude from me, Y/n. Your heroics are… unnecessary.”

I watched her walk away, every fiber of my being alive with tension. I had never wanted to both throttle and kiss someone more in my life.

Wednesday POV

Wednesday strode quickly, the sound of gravel crunching under her shoes grounding her. Her heart was pounding, and she cursed herself for the betrayal of her own physiology. Why did this girl, this aggravating, cocky newcomer, make her feel so… off balance?

In the distance, she heard Enid’s voice, calling after her with frantic worry. She forced herself to slow, to breathe, to appear unfazed. She needed control. Always.

“Wednesday! Are you okay?” Enid’s voice was frantic, and she gripped Wednesday’s arm with surprising strength.

“I’m fine.” The words were curt, but Enid’s grip tightened. Wednesday’s eyes met hers, softened slightly by the uncharacteristic display of worry. “Truly, Enid. It was a coward’s attempt.”

“Still, it could’ve—” Enid’s gaze flicked to Y/n, who stood a few paces back, watchful, tension evident in the set of her jaw.

Wednesday turned away, focusing on her breathing, on the anger simmering beneath her skin. She hated needing help. But she’d been seconds from a painful, possibly fatal end. And she couldn’t quite shake the way Y/n’s voice had cracked when she’d shouted her name.

“I’ll find who did this,” Y/n said, voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t a question. It was a vow.

“Do whatever you like,” Wednesday replied, refusing to meet her gaze again. “But don’t expect me to owe you anything.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “I never do.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Wednesday with the realization that for all her careful plans, all her walls—there was a crack. A very, very dangerous crack.

******

The crowd had started to thin, curiosity satisfied for now. Some students whispered as they walked by, eyes darting to Y/n and then quickly away. The sound of crunching stone underfoot punctuated the silence, and as the commotion faded, Y/n found herself standing alone for a moment, watching Wednesday's retreating back.

She clenched her jaw, feeling an unexpected weight in her chest. Annoyance, mixed with something far more complicated. She’d acted on pure instinct. She wasn’t sure what she had expected in return—gratitude, certainly not—but Wednesday’s cold dismissal struck deeper than it should have. She turned sharply on her heel, shaking her head, and made her way toward the forest edge. She needed air, space to think, and to cool the simmering heat of anger, frustration, and a hint of fear she still couldn’t shake.

The woods were thick with life, the scents and sounds amplified by my heightened senses. Birds rustled above, and small animals scurried through the underbrush. I took deep, steadying breaths, but my mind was restless, racing with everything that had just happened. That gargoyle wasn’t some random accident—it was deliberate. Someone had aimed for Wednesday, and that meant the stakes were higher than I’d thought.

But even as I replayed the scene, the sound of her heartbeat against my chest lingered. Her scent—a mix of pine, ink, and something uniquely her—clung to me. I cursed myself for noticing, for caring, when I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

“You’re getting sloppy,” I muttered aloud. “Dangerously sloppy.”

The snap of a twig pulled me from my thoughts. I spun around, fangs bared. But it wasn’t a threat. It was Yoko, her dark eyes gleaming as she leaned casually against a tree trunk, arms folded across her chest.

“Rough day?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I relaxed slightly, though I didn’t let my guard down. “You could say that.”

She stepped closer, her gaze flicking over me with a curiosity that was anything but casual. “Word spreads fast here. You saved Wednesday Addams. Bold move.”

“I wasn’t trying to be bold,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Just doing what needed to be done.”

Yoko tilted her head, her smile a touch too knowing. “Still. Not everyone would’ve jumped in like that.”

Her words, though seemingly harmless, carried an edge of challenge. I chose not to rise to it. “What do you want, Yoko?”

She moved closer, and I noticed the faint glint of crimson at her throat—likely some concealed charm or ward. Smart, considering what she was. “Maybe I just want to see if you’re as interesting as everyone says.”

“And?” I crossed my arms, forcing my body to relax. It was a game, and she was playing it well.

Her smile widened, showing the barest hint of fangs. “Still deciding.”

She turned and started to walk away, pausing just long enough to throw a parting glance over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for allies, or just a way to blow off steam… I’m not hard to find.”

As she disappeared into the shadows, I felt a flicker of something resembling intrigue. But there was no time to dwell on it. I needed answers. Whoever was targeting Wednesday had just made this personal.

*timeskip*

The sun dipped low, casting the dormitory hallway in warm hues of amber and crimson. I walked beside Enid, her endless chatter filling the otherwise quiet space. She spoke of the upcoming carnival with childlike enthusiasm, her bright energy a welcome contrast to Nevermore's dark corners. It was amusing, watching her bounce from one topic to another like a hyperactive puppy, but my attention was elsewhere. Specifically, I could feel a pair of eyes boring into me.

Wednesday Addams walked just a pace behind us, her stare unwavering, analytical. The air between us was always charged, a pull of magnetic forces she’d never admit to feeling. I caught sight of my reflection in a cracked windowpane and couldn’t help but note the difference between us. Enid’s optimism radiated like a halo, Wednesday’s presence was a storm cloud of calculated indifference, and me? I was fire—dangerous, hot, and burning too brightly in all the wrong places.

“You know,” Enid said, spinning on her heel to face me, “I bet you’d look killer in one of those leather jackets they sell at the carnival. Add some chains, maybe a dark rose, and bam!” She gestured with her hands as if sketching the outfit in the air. “You’d make half the school faint.”

I chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “You think so?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes playfully, her gaze flitting over my figure. “I know so. Trust me. You have the look.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’d always known my body held an edge over others, though I wielded it sparingly. My movements, whether deliberate or casual, were often accompanied by lingering glances or stammered words. Wednesday might claim indifference, but I’d seen her eyes travel across my silhouette when she thought I wasn’t watching—a barely perceptible flicker of interest she’d never acknowledge. I took a moment, stretching languidly, making sure my form spoke volumes in that fleeting gesture. Behind me, there was silence. I smirked.

“So, what do you think of the carnival?” I asked, turning slightly to catch Wednesday’s reaction.

She arched a single eyebrow, her voice cool and flat. “If you’re asking whether I find frivolous celebrations amusing, the answer is no.”

Enid nudged me with her elbow, eyes sparkling with conspiratorial glee. “Don’t listen to her. Wednesday just likes to pretend she hates fun. Deep down, she’s probably planning which rides to go on first.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering beneath her pale skin. “The last time I attended a carnival, it ended with a burning Ferris wheel and at least three casualties.”

“Spoken like a true thrill-seeker,” I teased, stepping closer. “Why am I not surprised?”

For a brief moment, her dark eyes met mine, flickering with an intensity that made the air grow thick. She took a small, deliberate step back, as if to regain some semblance of control over whatever had just passed between us. I enjoyed the challenge far too much to let it go.

“Come on,” Enid chirped, dragging us toward the room we shared. “We need to pick outfits! And yes, Wednesday, you’re coming too. I already got us matching wristbands!”

Inside the dorm, Enid’s whirlwind energy took over. She flitted around, pulling clothes from drawers, and chatting about the carnival’s attractions—the haunted house, a shooting gallery, some wild fire-breathers rumored to perform. Meanwhile, Wednesday settled into her usual corner, methodically preparing for whatever tasks her peculiar routine demanded. I moved with a certain feline grace, feeling their eyes on me. I could almost hear Enid’s excited thoughts and Wednesday’s more guarded curiosity.

“Y/n,” Enid called, tugging a black leather jacket from her side of the wardrobe and tossing it my way. “Try this. It’ll suit you.”

I caught it mid-air, feeling its weight against my hands. As I shrugged it on, the material hugged my form perfectly, accentuating curves and lending a dangerous edge. Enid clapped in approval; even Wednesday’s gaze lingered for a second longer than usual. My lips curled upward.

“How do I look?” I asked, spreading my arms slightly. The question was meant for both of them, but my eyes found Wednesday.

She tilted her head, lips parting as if she were about to offer a cutting remark. Instead, she hesitated. “Acceptable,” she said finally, her voice devoid of emotion.

Enid laughed. “Acceptable? Please. You look like you just stepped out of a gothic romance novel.”

“Perhaps a dark tragedy,” Wednesday corrected, her voice low. “A fitting choice for her, don’t you think?”

“Tragedy, romance, it’s all the same,” I replied, stepping closer to where she sat. “And you, Wednesday? Will you blend in with the crowd or haunt the carnival like one of its ghost stories?”

She stared at me, unblinking. “I don’t blend. Ever.”

“Good,” I murmured, leaning back against my bedframe. “Neither do I.”

*Later that Evening*

The grounds were transformed, strung with twinkling lights and bustling with life. Music thrummed from hidden speakers, blending with the laughter and screams of students on various rides. Enid dragged me past vendors selling everything from candied skulls to twisted metal trinkets. Her excitement was infectious. But all the while, my attention remained divided. Wednesday walked a few paces ahead, her dark aura unbroken by the revelry. I wondered what she thought of all this—a chaotic mix of joy and hidden danger.

“Y/n!” Enid’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This way! There’s a mirror maze! You’ll love it!”

I let her pull me along, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch Wednesday watching me. I gave her a playful wink before disappearing into the maze's gleaming hall of glass.

The air within the mirror maze was different—cooler, more distant from the vibrant sounds of the carnival outside. The walls stretched around me in reflective splendor, distorting every angle of my form. My image twisted and elongated as I walked past each mirrored surface, creating endless copies of myself. A faint smirk tugged at my lips; there was something poetic about the illusion of infinite versions of me, each gaze equally challenging the world.

Enid had dashed ahead, her laughter echoing faintly through the labyrinth. I let her voice guide me for a few moments before deliberately slowing my pace, the thrill of isolation too enticing to resist. My senses sharpened, honing in on every small noise. The flicker of carnival lights outside cast shadows that danced on the glass, creating shifting patterns that felt almost alive.

I took a step forward, and there she was—Wednesday, standing perfectly still amidst the sea of reflections. Her dark hair framed her pale face like ink spilled across porcelain. For a brief moment, I thought it was another trick of the mirrors. Then she moved, her gaze cutting through the maze to find mine.

"Lost already?" I called out, my voice bouncing through the mirrored walls.

"Hardly," she replied, her tone sharp. She moved closer, her steps silent against the polished floor. Each reflection of her was as precise and menacing as the real thing.

As she neared, I leaned casually against one of the mirrored panels, my body language deliberately relaxed. "And here I thought you avoided carnival nonsense."

Wednesday stopped a mere breath away, her eyes narrowing. "I am simply observing how quickly people lose themselves in meaningless distractions."

I tilted my head, tracing her silhouette with my eyes. "Is that what you think this is? A distraction?"

She didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a measured step closer. We were surrounded by endless versions of ourselves, each silent and expectant. “You tell me, Y/n. Why are you here? Is this another stage for you to perform your games?”

Her words hung between us, a challenge I couldn't resist. I closed the distance, letting our reflections align behind us in perfect symmetry. “If it is a game,” I whispered, “then you’re playing too. Deny it all you want, Wednesday. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

For a second, her gaze softened. Something unspoken lingered there, in the depths of her stormy eyes—something raw, uncertain. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by the iron control she wielded like a shield. She stepped back, the tension snapping like a taut string.

“You give yourself too much credit,” she said, voice cold again. “This is merely a test of your predictability.”

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in every direction. “Predictability? Oh, Wednesday, you haven’t even begun to know me.”

She turned, a fluid movement that sent her raven hair cascading down her back. “Then stop wasting my time.” Her footsteps were precise, deliberate. I watched as she walked deeper into the maze, becoming a shifting ghost of mirrors and reflections.

Wednesday’s POV

As I moved through the maze, the glass surfaces reflected Y/n’s form—always watching, always following, even if she stood still. It was irritating how her presence lingered, carving out space in my mind where none should exist. She was a paradox; a being I wanted to avoid, yet always found myself confronting.

She’d gotten too close. Not physically—there was always some distance I could claim. But with words, looks, her damnable confidence. It gnawed at me that my composure had faltered, even if briefly. The carnival’s noise and chaos outside seemed to amplify what I refused to acknowledge.

Focus. The word repeated itself in my mind like a mantra. I turned a corner, scanning the mirrored path ahead. This maze, this ridiculous charade, was a distraction. I needed control, not confusion. Yet every step brought her voice to mind, every reflection a reminder of the tension neither of us would name.

Footsteps approached. I stiffened, ready to parry another round of words. But it wasn’t Y/n who appeared—it was Enid, her bright smile glowing under the carnival lights that crept in through slits and cracks. “Found you!”

She grinned, unaware of the storm raging in my mind. I nodded and allowed her to take my hand, leading me away from the maze’s grip. Before stepping fully into the open air, I glanced back one last time. In the distance, one reflection of Y/n lingered, a silent promise of more games yet to come.

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal no. 18

masterlist | secret signal

"this was such a good idea,"

alisa sighs contentedly, setting down her fork with a satisfied smile. kuroo mirrors her expression, nodding in agreement, though his mind drifts elsewhere.

inside, a war is raging. everything about this feels wrong, but it's the right thing to do. at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

he tries to maintain his composure, to focus on the woman in front of him, but beneath the surface, he’s being torn apart. it’s maddening - the frustration, confusion, and anger building up inside. emotions he knows he shouldn’t be feeling, not now, not here.

kuroo was brought up to be a "good" guy. make the people around you comfortable, give them a hand when they need to, and help bring out the best in them. he lived his whole life being the reliable, friendly guy that is ready to give you a push whenever you need him.

in his mind, it means he can’t afford to be selfish. it’s simple: if it makes others happy, it should make him happy too. and when he wants something for himself? well, he should bury that desire, deny it for the greater good. because that's his "role".

that's how he mastered the art of masking his own feelings, hiding behind a smile, always keeping things light and fun. anything to avoid ruining the peace, to avoid letting people see how conflicted he truly is. if he messes up, in his eyes, he’ll have failed. the tetsuro kuroo everyone knows and relies on would be gone.

he knows kenma can see through it. kenma’s always been his voice of reason, telling him it’s okay to be honest, to not always put himself last. but it’s no use. kuroo can’t afford to believe that - not when the cost of expressing his true feelings seems so high.

so, he convinces himself that this is for the best, even though he knows deep down that if he could, he’d treat you so much better. he’d hold you close, knowing you belonged there. just seeing you smile could melt all his troubles away, and even the slightest brush of your hand would send his heart racing.

to him, you are everything. beautiful, kind, funny, and passionate. but it’s more than that. something about you makes him weak in a way no one else ever has. you make him want to be selfish, to want you all for himself, no matter the consequences.

he’ll do anything for you - even if it means forgetting you. because that’s what he thinks you want. you don’t need him complicating things with his feelings, not when you like someone else, even if you call it a harmless crush. it’s ruining whatever you already have. so, he’ll keep this up.

alisa and kuroo continued to talk, and he tried his best to get to know more about alisa, outside being his project partner and classmate. all he knew about her was that she had a little brother who was also into volleyball, which sparked most of their conversations before. besides, he needed to distract himself from thinking about you.

honestly, he feels bad. this date is probably something you both just wanted to try out, but he can't help but feel like he's forcing himself to be here when alisa is genuinely great.

as they finish their dessert and wrap up the conversation, kuroo can’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. he’s managed to put up the front, to act like everything’s fine. maybe if he does this enough, he’ll actually start to believe it. maybe, eventually, he’ll forget about you.

“i had a great time, alisa,” he says, turning to her with a small smile.

“this was a really nice date. i felt comfortable.” the lie slips out effortlessly, though he did genuinely enjoy getting to know her better.

alisa raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of amused confusion. “wait, what?” she lets out a small laugh, “a date?”

kuroo tilts his head slightly, caught off guard. “yeah?”

she shakes her head, still smiling. “this wasn’t a date, kuroo.”

for a second, the words don’t register. then, when they do, he feels his stomach drop. holy shit. embarrassment rushes over him as he quickly tries to backtrack.

“oh god,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “i’m sorry.”

alisa’s expression softens, and she waves it off casually. “no, no. did i lead you on? i didn’t mean to. i’m sorry if i made it seem that way.”

kuroo shakes his head quickly. “no, it’s not your fault. i just misunderstood. honestly, at first, i didn’t think of you like that, but when you asked me out for coffee, i thought - well, maybe.”

alisa nods slowly, her expression apologetic. “i’m still sorry, though. i guess i should’ve been clearer when i asked.”

he shrugs it off, offering a weak smile. “it’s fine. really. i hope this doesn’t make things awkward.”

alisa shakes her head this time, "don't worry, as long as we're on the same page. you're a great guy yourself, kuroo." she smiles at him.

he returns the smile, but inside, his mind is racing. despite the embarrassment, a strange relief settles over him, washing away the tension he’s been carrying all evening. it feels wrong to be this relieved, almost like he’s betraying the plan he’d set for himself, but the truth is undeniable.

why is he relieved? all of a sudden, although he feels emotionally tired from all the torture he gave himself throughout today, it's like his inner self was screaming, thank God.

a wave of emotions crashes over him, sudden and overwhelming, as if the universe is trying to tell him something. like, this was a sign.

he freezes, the thought hitting him hard. it's absurd, reckless even. after everything he’s put himself through today, after all the mental battles and efforts to push you away, this would undo it all. it goes against every rational argument he’s made for why he should forget you.

but the relief flooding his chest is undeniable, drowning out the logic he’s clung to. it’s like a voice, quiet at first but growing louder, insistent, cutting through his doubt until it’s the only thing he can hear:

he loves you, and it's you who he wants to be with.

without another thought, kuroo stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“thank you, alisa. i’m sorry again. but i have to go.”

"i want you, y/n."

his words echo in the quiet room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, frozen in place. the intensity in kuroo’s eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the surprise or the weight of his confession that makes your heart race.

kuroo lets out a shaky breath, his voice raw. “i know you like tooru. and i know you’ve explained to me how you feel about him, how it’s always been. but even knowing all of that, i couldn’t stop wanting you.”

his gaze drops to the floor, as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “i kept telling myself that i didn’t have the right. that i shouldn’t want you. but no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t help it. i just do.”

there’s a vulnerability in his tone that you’ve never heard before. kuroo, who’s always so composed, so confident, now stands in front of you, his emotions laid bare.

“i don’t know if you’ll hate me for this or if this will ruin everything between us, but i... i can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.”

his fists clench slightly at his sides, his voice almost breaking. “i’m tired of pretending i’m okay with it. tired of forcing a smile when all i want is something i convinced myself i couldn’t have.”

he steps closer to you, his eyes lifting to meet yours again, filled with something that leaves you breathless.

“from the day i saw you smile... i wanted you. even if that smile wasn’t for me.”

the room feels smaller, the air heavier, as you try to process everything he’s saying. a part of you wants to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you find yourself moving without thinking - your arms wrapping around him, pulling him close.

kuroo stiffens for just a second, caught off guard by your hug. he doesn’t know what this meant, but in the midst of his confusion, his arms come around you slowly, holding you close, his fingers curling gently into the fabric of your shirt.

maybe she just missed me, he thinks. or maybe you felt touched by his confession. he tries to make sense of it by thinking that you were too happy to see him that you just weren’t able to control it. he’s been avoiding you lately, after all.

you glance over his shoulder, and there were your friends, peeking around the corner, smirking like they’ve been waiting for this moment all along. you pull back slightly from kuroo, cheeks burning, and clear your throat.

“come on,” you whisper, guiding him toward your room to escape their prying eyes. once inside, you close the door behind you, trying to ignore the heat that’s rising to your face.

the two of you sit on the edge of your bed, but there’s still a careful distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you know how to cross just yet.

kuroo breaks the silence first, his voice hesitant. “so...”

you glance at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. you know you need to say something, but finding the right words feels impossible. after a moment, you take a deep breath and decide to start with the truth.

“you know about my last relationship, right?”

he nods silently, his eyes softening as he waits for you to continue.

“well… it scarred me. i decided after that… i didn’t want to fall in love again. i didn’t think i could be a good girlfriend, so i chose to just admire from afar instead.” you pause.

as you start to explain, kuroo starts to decipher what you’re trying to say. immediately, he thinks this would end up in a rejection. why would you say these things to him anyway?

despite this, he wants to listen to what you have to say. it’s not like he’s expecting you to like him back. you feel his gaze on you, unwavering, and it makes it both easier and harder to keep going.

“i told myself i didn’t deserve anyone. even more guys that i thought was out of my league. that was the case too when i liked tooru. it was safe... i knew nothing would come of it - the reason why i used to say i just wanted to be an ‘observer’.”

kuroo stays quiet, letting your words sink in. there’s no judgment in his eyes, just understanding.

“i did my best to run away from romantic feelings,” you admit quietly. “because i didn’t think i deserve to be in love anyway.”

there’s a pause, a heavy silence that settles between you. then kuroo speaks, his voice gentle but firm. “we both know that’s not true.”

“is it, though?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

kuroo shifts closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “do you really think i would’ve fallen in love with you if that was true?”

the question takes you by surprise, and you don’t know how to respond. “i... i don’t know,” you stammer, unsure.

he shakes his head slightly, his expression softening. “you didn’t need to be my girlfriend for me to see that you’re more than capable of being loved. you didn’t have to prove anything to me. i’ve always seen it. you’re perfect the way you are, y/n.”

his voice drops lower, filled with emotion, looking down. “i would’ve done anything just to call you mine.”

his words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. you can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the truth behind every word he’s just said.

“kuroo,” you begin, your voice shaky. “i don’t like tooru anymore. i haven’t for a while now.”

his brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “but... i thought you guys were getting closer?”

you nod, a small, rueful smile on your lips. “we were, but only as friends, nothing more.”

kuroo’s eyes widen as realization dawns on him. tooru had been trying to push him toward you this whole time.

“kuroo,” you say again, gently pulling him out of his thoughts.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice a little unsteady.

“i know you just said you’re in love with me... but do you think i can?”

he tilts his head, eyes searching yours. “can you what?”

you hesitate for a moment, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

“can i fall in love with you too?”

kuroo’s eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid as he processes your words. for a moment, he’s completely still, his mouth opening slightly as if he’s searching for the right response. the room feels charged with the weight of your confession.

you watch as he takes a moment to absorb what you’ve just said. when he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper, filled with disbelief. “w-what?”

you give him a small, rueful smile, and continue, “you know, getting closer to tooru was because of you. he was also helping me figure things out.”

kuroo’s eyes widen further, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “because of me?”

you nod, your gaze steady. “yeah,"

the pieces start to fall into place for kuroo, and you can see the understanding dawn in his eyes. he takes a deep breath, his expression a mix of relief and intense emotion.

and then, in a swift, almost desperate movement, he reaches for you, pulling you close. his lips find yours with a kind of urgency that takes your breath away, the kiss filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

his hands frame your face gently, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. you can feel the tension melt away, replaced by something warm and undeniable.

when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. kuroo lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“of course,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“please do.”

and then, without missing a beat, he kisses you again.

notes

kuroo borrowed yn's phone and tweeted (and not because i didnt realize the plot hole immediately)

yn and kuroo sitting in a tree : D

this ends undercurrents OMGG UGHHKFSDHFKSDFS

i hope this was a good ending !!!!!

dw because a special chapter is coming !!! bc ik i'll miss this plus i want u guys to see sum yn and kuroo moments as a couple because WHY NOT

i'll properly conclude everything there !!

so technically its not officially done???

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin @mochroialainn @avis-writeshq @sorrynotsorrh @walllflowerrrsss @viva-vxgue @chifuzzy @mikaela26sstuff

[hearts4renaa]

ONCE BELIEVED

summary: what they thought love was versus what you showed them it really is. featuring xiao, childe, diluc, scaramouche, albedo, and alhaitham.

contains: 0.7k words, little drabbles for each boy 🫶 fluff

a/n: finally some fluff 😭 this piece was pretty personal for me to write, since i used perceptions of the loves ive seen through my people watching/people around me/personal experiences. enjoy 🫶

Xiao thought love was a useless phenomenon that only mortals experienced. He didn’t think love was all that special, nor did he understand how someone could devote their entire life to one person. To love was to be attached. To be attached was to get hurt. However, you taught him that love did have a use; to bring out the best in each other. You brought out a different side of Xiao. A softer, gentler side that was able to relax at your touch. The side of Xiao who finally felt like each breath of air in his lungs were ones of life, and not as a reminder that he is still suffering. The side of Xiao who was proven wrong about love, but he could never be more glad than he is. Xiao knows what true love is now. Love is you.

Childe thought that love was fiery and passionate all the time. He thought that to love was to kiss dramatically in the rain, to dance in the moonlight. To forever be caught up in the thrill of it all, like a never ending adrenaline rush. But being with you made him realize that love isn’t just a thrilling roller coaster ride. Sometimes, love is the quiet laughter at night, sweet kisses on each other's foreheads, or the comfort of simply sitting next to each other. Love doesn’t always have to be burning brightly; sometimes, it’s a calm flame in the corner of the room. It may not be dramatic, but it illuminates everything around it.

Diluc thought that to be loved, he had to be worthy. He thought that he had to perfect himself in order to be loved, that he had to meet certain conditions. But then you came around and flipped his entire worldview around. You showed him that he didn’t need to be extravagant, or strong all the time, or perfect. He just had to be Diluc. Your Diluc, who does extensive research on grape juice just to find his favourite kind. Your Diluc, who wakes up early on Saturdays to make you a hot drink to serve to you in bed. Your Diluc, who brings you small trinkets with that lovely smile. Your Diluc, forever yours.

Scaramouche thought that love was like a business deal. Two people come together and realize how they could benefit off each other; that’s what it really is, right? Otherwise, how could you possibly devote your love, your trust, your time, your life to someone? But he gets it now. The moment you got through the smallest crack in his walls, it all came crashing down. The way you knew him, the way you saw right through all his bluffs and best defences. Despite the many roundabouts, you went through the labyrinth to his heart, all because you loved him. Love doesn’t always need a rhyme or reason. Sometimes, you love for the sake of loving. And loving you is one thing he’ll never regret.

Albedo thought there was a formula for love. He thought it could be calculated, predicted. You start as friends, you touch their hand to spark interest, then you flirt and so it goes. It’s ironic, because his love for you was not planned at all. In fact, it hit him like a truck. He didn’t expect any of it at all. He was so stunned that he was in denial for weeks before Kaeya literally had to call out his heart eyes for you. But now, the spontaneity of your relationship is what makes him happiest. What should the two of you do today? Stay home cuddled up in bed? A picnic at Windrise? Perhaps Albedo could draw a portrait of you? The unknown is can be scary, but not with you. And as long as you are by his side, he will go wherever the wind takes him.

Alhaitham thought that all forever loves have to go through some sort of major conflict within their relationship. He thought that you had to fight for your love. He thought that love was something you had to almost die for. When you came around, it’s as if all stars aligned. Every failed love led the two of you together. It’s as if the two of you were molded for each other. From the silent understanding stares or soft smiles from across a room, anyone outside could see the love flowing from the two of you. Of course the two of you had disagreements like any couple, but things never exploded beyond repair. At the end of the day, the two of you knew you’d be okay. Some things are just meant to be, and the two of you are one of them.

[herrscherofinsanity]

Claiming Hearts

Summary: 4 times Jimin gets jealous and 1 time she actually does something about it.

Fluff? I honestly don't know

Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader

Word count: 1.9k

___________________

Flowers

Jimin lingered by the school entrance, her gaze fixated on you, engaged in a conversation with a classmate. As the conversation progressed, a figure approached the girl Jimin had been staring at, flowers in hand, and a warm smile that ignited a pang of jealousy in Jimin's heart.

The vibrant petals seemed to dance in the air, capturing your attention as you graciously accepted the bouquet. Jimin's grip on her textbooks tightened, her knuckles turning white as she fought the internal battle of unspoken emotions.

"Flowers," Jimin thought, her mind echoing with unvoiced feelings. "Does she know how many times I've wanted to bring her flowers, to express what I feel?" The realization stung, a poignant reminder of the hesitations that had kept her from revealing her true emotions.

Amidst the sea of emotions, Jimin remained hidden, an observer to a scene that fueled the flames of longing within her. The laughter and camaraderie around her seemed to fade as she grappled with the ache of unspoken words.

Eventually, you bid farewell to your admirer, the flowers cradled delicately in your arms. Jimin, hidden in the shadows, watched as you disappeared around the corner. A sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of resignation and determination.

"I can't keep hiding," Jimin mused, resolving to confront the emotions that stirred within her. The path to expressing her feelings lay ahead, and with a determined stride, she ventured into the realm of vulnerability.

With the flowers as a poignant memory, Jimin set forth on a journey to unveil the truth hidden within her heart.

--------

2. Party People

The pulsating beat of music reverberated through the crowded room as Jimin navigated the sea of partygoers. Spotting you amidst the lively gathering, she couldn't help but marvel at how the ambient lights played on your features, casting a captivating glow.

However, the enchanting moment was abruptly interrupted. Jimin's eyes narrowed as she noticed a line of eager dancers forming around you, each extending an invitation to share a dance. The realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind, unsettling and stirring the familiar sensation of jealousy within.

Jimin observed from a distance, her fingers subtly clenching and unclenching as she contemplated the scene. The rhythm of the music seemed to synchronize with the erratic beats of her heart. It wasn't just about dancing; it was the idea of someone else encroaching on the intimate space Jimin yearned to occupy.

"Does she enjoy their company more than mine?" Jimin questioned, jealousy whispering doubts that lingered beneath her calm exterior. She wrestled with the conflicting emotions, the desire to join the dance battling with the fear of facing a truth she might not be ready to confront.

As the party continued to pulse around you, Jimin found herself at a crossroads. Should she step into the dance, embracing the opportunity to be close to you, or should she retreat and grapple with the jealousy that threatened to consume her?

The music carried on, echoing the unspoken sentiments that lingered in the air.

---------

3. Seating Arrangement:

The lecture hall buzzed with the hum of conversations as students settled into their seats. Jimin, ever attentive to your presence, scanned the room. Today's lecture seemed to hold an unexpected twist as Yunjin, a fellow classmate, approached you, saving you a seat next to her.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of discomfort settling in. The proximity of another person occupying the space Jimin had come to consider her own ignited a spark of jealousy. The seat next to you had always been Jimin's unspoken refuge, a silent agreement that transcended the need for words.

"Does she not want to sit with me?" Jimin pondered, the green-eyed monster whispering doubts that clawed at the edges of her composure. The internal struggle intensified as she debated whether to approach and stake her claim or to maintain a facade of indifference.

The choice lingered in the air, a silent challenge to confront the feelings that danced beneath the surface. Jimin, caught between the desire for closeness and the fear of rejection, watched as you settled into the newly claimed seat, the distance between you magnified by the invisible barrier of unspoken emotions.

As the lecture began, the unoccupied seat next to Jimin echoed with the weight of unexpressed sentiments. The dynamics of your connection seemed to shift, leaving Jimin grappling with the unforeseen challenge of redefining the unspoken bonds that had once held you two close.

-----------

4. Three’s a crowd:

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the campus grounds as you and Jimin prepared to embark on your usual journey home together. It was a ritual you both cherished, a moment of solace amid the bustling routine of academic life.

However, on this particular day, a sudden addition to your duo caught Jimin off guard. As you stepped out of the campus gates, you casually invited Yeji, another one of your friends, to join you on the walk home. The unexpected intrusion ignited a spark of jealousy within Jimin, a flicker of discomfort at the prospect of sharing a cherished routine.

"Why would she invite someone else?" Jimin questioned, the unspoken fear of being replaced gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. The dynamics of your friendship, built on the foundation of shared moments, seemed to shift beneath the weight of unforeseen circumstances.

Jimin navigated the sidewalks in silence, her gaze occasionally flickering towards you and your unexpected companion. The trio moved through the fading daylight, the echoes of shared laughter laced with the unspoken tension that lingered beneath the surface.

The once familiar path felt different, Yeji’s unwanted presence casting a subtle shadow over the routine Jimin had come to cherish. Jimin, caught between the warmth of shared memories and the chill of uncertainty, pondered the significance of this unexpected company on the journey home.

----------

5: Taking matters into my own hands

Jimin strode through the bustling hallway, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her footsteps. The day had taken an unexpected turn as she witnessed Nayeon, a senior known for her charm and confidence, approach you with an invitation that hung in the air like an impending storm.

"This can't go on any longer," Jimin determined, her gaze narrowing as she reached the precipice of her own internal struggle.

Without hesitation, she closed the distance between you, a surge of determination guiding her actions. The sight of you engaged in conversation with Nayeon fueled Jimin's resolve. She couldn't stand by any longer, watching others vie for the affections of the one who held her heart.

"y/n," Jimin's voice cut through the ambient noise, drawing your attention. Startled, you turned towards Jimin, your eyes widening at the urgency in the other girl's expression.

"We need to talk. Now." Jimin declared, seizing your arm and guiding you away from the curious gazes that lingered.

Confusion etched across your face as Jimin led you to an empty classroom, the door closing behind both of you with a resounding click. The confined space amplified the tension, setting the stage for a confrontation neither of you had anticipated.

"Jimin, what's going on?" you questioned, concern furrowing your brow as you faced the visibly distressed taller girl.

Jimin, her emotions teetering on the edge of revelation, took a deep breath. The floodgates of unspoken truths were about to open, and she could no longer suppress the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume her.

"I can't do this anymore, y/n," Jimin admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and longing. "I can't stand by and watch other people try to win you over when all I want is to be the one who makes your heart race."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as you absorbed Jimin's words, the gravity of the revelation settling between you two. The silence that followed was shattered by the weight of unspoken emotions.

In a vulnerable confession, Jimin laid bare the feelings that had tormented her. "I'm in love with you, y/n. I can't keep pretending that it doesn't hurt to see others vying for your attention."

The revelation hung in the air, a precipice between friendship and something more profound. You felt your own emotions surfacing looking up at Jimin with a mixture of surprise and realization.

"I... I had no idea," you whispered, your own confession echoing in the hallowed silence. "Jimin, I'm in love with you too."

The moment of revelation hung in the air, a delicate dance of vulnerability and acknowledgment. As you confessed your reciprocated feelings, a radiant smile illuminated Jimin's face, eclipsing the shadows of uncertainty that had lingered for too long.

With unabashed joy, Jimin surged forward, enveloping you in an exuberant hug. The confines of the classroom echoed with laughter and the lightness of newfound understanding. Jimin couldn't contain the whirlwind of emotions that cascaded through her, and in a burst of unrestrained elation, she twirled you around, your laughter intertwining like a melody that resonated with the cadence of shared affection.

"I can't believe we both felt the same way," Jimin exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with unbridled happiness. "y/n, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

You gave Jimin the brightest smile she had ever seen, caught in the whirlwind of emotion and the newfound revelation, your eyes reflecting the shared joy between you. "Of course, Jimin. I'd love to go on a date with you."

----------

Bonus: Mine

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the school courtyard as students meandered through the scattered clusters of conversation. You and Jimin, now blissfully entwined in the magic of newfound love, strolled hand in hand. Yet, amidst the tranquil atmosphere, a familiar figure approached from the periphery.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed Nayeon making her way toward you, a seemingly innocent smile adorning her features. A pang of protective jealousy surged within Jimin, prompting her to take swift action.

With a determined stride, Jimin intercepted Nayeon just as she reached you. Ignoring the subtle surprise in Nayeon's gaze, Jimin wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close. In a bold declaration, Jimin pressed a gentle yet possessive kiss on your lips, the embodiment of claiming what was rightfully hers.

A chorus of whispers and gasps rippled through the onlookers, and Jimin, slightly flustered by her own audacity, glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "Just making sure everyone knows you're taken," Jimin teased, her eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and genuine affection.

Amused by Jimin's impromptu display, you chuckled softly. "Jealous much?"

Jimin blushed, feigning innocence. "Me? Jealous? Never," she replied, her voice layered with a hint of mock defensiveness.

The newfound couple, caught in the orbit of this unexpected spectacle, exchanged glances and knowing smiles. Jimin, triumphant in her quest to ward off potential suitors, and you, reveling in the endearing quirks of your girlfriend, continued your journey through the school courtyard, hand in hand, your love story etched in the tender moments that unfolded with each shared step.

And so, in the glow of the fading daylight, you and your girlfriend embarked on a journey filled with laughter, love, and the sweet anticipation of a future painted in the hues of your intertwined hearts.

____________________

A/N: Hi, hello! The following 5 weeks might actually be the death of me, but oh well. I hope you enjoy this work, and also, thank you so much for reading!

[avastrasposts]

Rosemary & Lavender

Plot: The victorious army is in town and Pero feels he deserves some R&R at the local tavern; a hot meal, a bath and a bed. And you just happen to be there to administer that bath. Lucky you!

Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, dirt, blood, scowls and time period typical attitudes to safe sex. No use of y/n and the reader is pretty much a blank slate.

Word count: 4.5k

So @nerdieforpedro informed me about her Pero soon being in a tub in the fic she's working on, and that sparked a whole idea. She is wholly responsible for the below spa session. I can't believe I haven't written Pero getting a well deserved bath before! Thank you for the inspiration, Nerdie!

Also, huge thank you to the lovely @lady-bess who whipped up the banner in about five minutes flat when I twisted her arm with sweet words about Jack Daniels. Love you!

The soldiers were loud and triumphant as they rumbled into town, the victory had been resounding, the enemy thwarted and a much larger conflict avoided. The people of the town were out on the narrow streets, cheering the men as they marched onwards to the camp that had been erected on the other side. The victorious officers led the improvised parade, grinning at the boisterous men. The line of soldiers seemed to go on forever, but eventually the line trickled out and you closed the window to the upstairs room in the tavern your brother ran and hurried down to the kitchen. There would be a lot of work to be done when the men came in search of ale and revelry in a few hours. 

At the back of the long line of soldiers came those who didn’t really care what side won or lost, as long as they were on the winning side and got their payment, they were the mercenaries. Among them was a tall, dark haired Spaniard whose deep scowl kept most people at bay, Pero Tovar. He scanned the houses of the town as he followed the men walking past them, keeping his eyes open for a tavern who also offered rooms to stay in. He was still expecting his pay from the commander, but he’d found a few coins and valuables as he lingered on the battlefield after it was all done. His body ached, he was covered in grime, blood and mud, and he had no intention of sleeping in a tent tonight. The coins he’d found would buy him a bath, a bed and a hot meal away from the rest of the army. 

The tavern sign swung in the wind and he recognised the sign for lodgings. Taking no notice of the other mercenaries, he ducked his head and stepped through the low door, into the gloomy room inside. The innkeeper caught sight of him and raised a hand in greeting as he approached. 

“Welcome, and congratulations on your victory, soldier!” he boomed, “You’ve all done us a great service by keeping our border safe.” 

Tovar scoffed, his scowl deepening, he had no patience for the locals who were too cowardly to even attempt to defend their homes. 

“I want a hot meal, a bath and a bed for the night, in that order, innkeep,” he growled, tossing the coins on the nearest table. 

“Of course, sir, of course, take a seat and I’ll make sure your bath is heated while you eat,” the innkeep waved at the serving girl in the corner, who hurried through a door leading to the kitchen. Tovar sank down at one of the trestle tables as the innkeeper disappeared up a creaking staircase. Out of sight, he could hear him call to someone to prepare a hot bath in the available room, and then the stairs creaked as the innkeeper made his way back down. 

“Sir, my sister will make sure your bath is ready for when you’ve eaten, please let her know if you want more hot water or need anything else.” 

Tovar grunted and gave a short nod in reply, picking up his short knife and beginning to clean the grime from underneath his fingernails with the sharp tip. 

Not many minutes later the serving girl reappeared with a large bowl and a flagon. She set both down on the table in front of him and he inhaled deeply. Whoever the cook was, they did a fine job with the stew. It was thick and rich and he could see a bone or two sticking up. While the serving girl fetched him bread, he fished the longest bone from the bowl and sucked the marrow from it with a loud slurp before he tucked into the stew. 

It didn’t take him long to finish the bowl and mop up the remains with the last heel of bread. He pushed the bowl to the side and drained the flagon. 

“Girl, which room has my bath?” he called to the serving girl in the corner and she all but jumped out of her skin at his bark. 

“U-up th-e stairs and to the right, milord,” she stuttered, “l-last r-room.” 

He ignored her incorrect title for him and pushed to his feet, making his way up the creaking stairs and finding the room at the end of the hall. 

You straightened up as the door was opened and the lodger walked in. 

“Your bath is just about ready, sir,” you said, pouring the last of the hot water into the large wooden tub and checking to make sure it was hot enough. The delicate fragrance of rosemary and lavender filled the room, the sprigs floating in the water, the air warm from the fire burning brightly in the stone fireplace. You’d set aside a couple of your softest linen sheets for drying and a pitcher of cider was sitting on the small table in the corner together with bread and cheese. 

The man grunted in response and stepped through the door, his large frame taking up much of the space between the door and the tub. He was still wearing his armour, what little could be seen under the grime that covered it, two viscous looking swords equally splattered by dirt and blood on his back, and a knife in his belt. You couldn’t even see much of his face, most of it covered in mud, although it looked as if he’d attempted to wipe it off, patches of tan skin peaking through.

He sniffed the air, nodding approvingly as he saw the lavender floating in the steaming water and began to pull at one of the straps. 

“Do you require assistance removing your amour, sir?” you asked, putting down the jug and stepping to the side to make room for him by the tub. 

“Tovar,” he muttered, his hand dropping from the heavy looking belt around his waist, “don’t call me sir. And yes, if you’re willing, a helping hand is welcome, but I won’t pay extra for it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his curt reply, but stepped closer, reaching for the first strap. 

“I won’t charge extra for it, we’re all very grateful for your service in defending the land around our town.” 

He only grunted at that as he stood still, watching your face as you unbuckled a piece of his armour. He hadn’t been close to an ordinary woman in months, only the whores that followed the wagon train, and he’d made sure to stay well away from them. He knew from experience that the easiest way to get something unpleasant festering in your cock was to share the same cunts as the rest of the army. But here was a real woman, clean by the looks of it, the shining hair uncovered, marking you as unmarried, skin clear of any blemishes, round cheeks and soft curves, was it any surprise that his cock twitched as you moved around him? Delicate hands unlatching and uncovering more of him with each piece that you removed.  

The pieces of his armour were placed nearby and he stood in his sweat drenched shirt as you worked on the last part. He could feel the foul smell coming off himself, but you didn’t flinch. He had a clean shirt in his pack, this one he might need to discard. Looking at the perfect swell of your ass cheeks under the dress, as you bent down to place vambraces on the floor, he wondered if he could offer you enough money to stay and bathe him, if he had enough coins to tempt you to do even more for him. His eyes were glued to you as you stood up straight and turned around. You felt his gaze slip over your body, greedily taking in each dip and curve, especially where your chest strained against the fabric of your dress. 

Without a word, you continued your task of undressing him, pretending to just keep going now that the armour was off. Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, and pushed it upwards, feeling his hard muscles under the warm skin as you caressed him under the guise of removing the last layer on his upper body.  

Tovar’s cock slammed to attention at the feeling; soft, warm palms, fingers slowly trailing over his chest, and sides, lifting the shirt over his head and dropping it down on the floor. Without stopping to ask, your fingers moved to the lacing in his breeches, and he toed his boots off as you looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes without hesitation. 

“You’re covered in all manner of grime, sir,” you said, glancing down to loosen another loop, “will you let me help you get clean?” 

“Pero,” he muttered, following your gaze down to where your hands were deftly working their way closer to the evidence of his arousal, his cock tight against the leather of his breeches. 

“Pero,” you echoed, slipping your hands around his waist and pushing his breeches down over his hips, curving your hands over his rear, grabbing it a bit more than necessary. His cock bobbed free, quickly growing harder as your hands caressed over his hips, sliding up along his sides, finding his shoulders and slipping down his arms, your fingernails leaving goosebumps in their wake on his skin. Finally your hand closed around his and pulled him towards the tub. 

“Get in before it gets cold, Pero,” you said, keeping your voice in the same low tone he’d given you his name in. 

He stepped into the warm water and let out an involuntary groan as his muscles first seized up and then relaxed, letting him slip deeper into the tub, the fragrance of rosemary and lavender all around him as he sensed your presence next to him. 

“I will smell like a well roasted side of pork when you’re done, are you bathing me or cooking me?” he mused as he sniffed the air, pushing away a sprig of rosemary. 

“You look like a very tough side of meat, I’d need to keep you simmering for days to get you tender and soft,” you said, laughing softly as Pero raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Tough side of meat,” he huffed, his hand coming out fast as a viper and swatting your behind as you bent to pick up the washcloth, “come here and finish what you started, mujer, or I’ll show you how tough my side of meat is.” 

You smiled at his crude humour, his hard erection clearly visible beneath the water, underlining his meaning. 

Rubbing down the wash cloth with sweet smelling soap you kneeled behind his head, “Close your eyes, Pero,” you said softly, “let me clean your face and hair first.” 

He could only grunt in response as you began to gently wipe at his face, tracing each line and angle, wiping weeks of grime away with every delicate movement. You’d guessed that he was a handsome man, even the dirt couldn’t hide that, but you were taken in as you rinsed the cloth in a bowl and reapplied it to his face, wiping gently. His skin was golden, a smattering of freckles over his nose, long dark lashes rested on his high cheekbones and the full lips were soft and plush looking under his scruffy facial hair. It really was too long, and his hair had begun to curl over his ears. 

“Pero,” you asked softly, “can I trim your beard and hair a little, keep it from getting in your eyes?” 

He only gave another low grunt in response, not even opening his eyes. You stepped away for the cutters, and then kneeled back down, using a small comb to untangle his locks, cutting until it was all even, revealing more of his handsome face. 

Rubbing the hard soap between your hands, you began to wash his hair, running your fingers through it to lift the grime and dirt. Under your hands, Pero moaned, an almost obscene sound, as your nails scratched at his scalp. 

“Mierda…” he groaned, “that’s good, keep doing that.” 

With a smile you continued, longer than necessary, to rub his scalp, massaging all the way down his neck and the tightly corded muscles holding his head up. Pero tipped forward, exposing more of his broad shoulder to you, and you soaped your hands again and worked through every inch of flesh you could reach, digging your thumbs into the knots and tight spots. Pero was breathing heavily, groaning every time you found a new kink to put pressure on.

“Señorita, I would pay good money to have you do this to me every night,” he mumbled, his head lolling from side to side as you worked your way up again, scratching at his scalp and rinsing his hair. Gently you pulled his head back and rested it on the small pillow at the lip of the tub. 

“If you pay better than my brother, I might take you up on that offer,” you smiled at him, even though his eyes were closed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you moved to the side of the tub and picked up the washcloth again.

Pero peeled his eyes open as you began to gently rub at his chest and arms, rinsing away the dirt. 

“And he won’t come after me if I steal you away from this place?” he asked, letting his free hand reach out and trace across your shoulder, down your side, barely grazing the curve of your breast before he let his hand fall. 

“He’ll probably only see it as one less mouth to feed,” you said with a smile as Pero shifted his gaze to where your hand was now washing his leg. You moved the washcloth methodically, rubbing circles on his foot, his calf, then on his knee, moving to his thigh and letting your hand disappear under the water. Pero hissed as the cloth grazed against his erection. It had simmered down while you cut and washed his hair, now it was growing rapidly, and he bucked his hips as you nudged it again. 

“Mierda….” he muttered under his breath, tipping his head back, anticipating your hand closing around his hard length. But instead, you pulled your hand out of the water and began to work on his other leg, the same methodical motions, circling over his wet skin. His foot…his calf…his knee…his thigh…it seemed you moved at a snail’s pace. When you finally let your hand sink below the water again, he all but held his breath as your hand moved. The washcloth brushed over the tip of him, sending a shiver through him, as you rubbed the very top of his thigh, cleaning the crease where his leg met his torso. It was agony, pure, sweet agony, and he had to bite his lip, his breathing laboured. 

“Cariño lindo….” he finally mumbled, putting his hand in the water and finding yours, “stop tormenting me.” With a firm grip he made you drop the washcloth, letting it float away forgotten in the tub, and brought your hand to his aching cock, your hand closing around it as you met his dark eyes. He let go of your hand and it stayed, wrapped around his thick length, an impressive girth from what you could feel. With a sigh he tipped his head back again, and you felt his cock twitch under your fingers, prompting you to slowly drag your hand up to the tip, your thumb slipping over the fat head. Pero bit down on his lip, air escaping his mouth, and beneath heavy lids he watched your face as you moved your hand. Your tongue peaked out, the tip resting on your bottom lip, and he could feel you grip him firmly, the soft pad of your thumb caressing his slit again. The sensation made his hip jerk up and he wondered if you’d let him pull you into the tub. Or even better, let him toss you on the bed that stood by the window, pull your skirts up and see if you were as wet as he thought you must be. The thought of sinking his cock into that wet heat made him jerk his hips again, fucking up into your tight hand. 

The water lubricated your movements, Pero’s heavy breathing and almost pained moans egged you on, and your hand stroked him firmly. His eyes were glued to you, half closed and he was mumbling under his breath, his hips jerking his cock up into your hand. He was heavy under your fingers, smooth and hard, and so thick that your hand couldn’t really close around all of him. Through the now murky water you could make it out, jutting out from between his strong thighs, a dark thicket of hair surrounding it. You pulled down the foreskin and let your thumb slip around the smooth head again, making him gasp and curse, pleading with you to go on. The water splashed a little over the edges as you slipped your hand down, picking up the pace, Pero’s incoherent mumbling replaced by heavy breathing and groans. He tipped his head back, his eyes squeezing shut, your hand moving faster, lighting a trail of fire through his spine, the familiar tightness building in his heavy balls, his fingers were gripping the sides of the tub tightly, his knuckles white. 

“Please….” he groaned, a loud gasp escaping and you felt his body freeze, only his hips jerking erratically into your hand as you continued to stroke him, white liquid shooting out from his cock into the water. 

“Mierda…” he hissed, grabbing your hand under water, closing your fingers even tighter around his still pumping cock, making you rub him through the length of his climax, milking every drop from him. 

Eventually he slowed down, making you slow your pace to a stand still too. His head lolled back and his muscles relaxed, only his chest moving now as he drew long, deep breaths. 

“Cariño lindo,” he muttered, taking your hand under water and bringing it up to his mouth for a slow kiss, “tell me, are you as wet as I am?” 

His question, and the sinful look on his face, made your cheeks heat up, but arousal flared in your body too. 

He pushed himself up, hanging his arms over the side of the tub, water dripping to the rushes on the floor. With a sly grin and his eyes on your face, he pushed your skirt up, his hand slipping under and up, finding the inside of your soft thigh. With practised ease he navigated your undergarments and found the apex of your thighs. He found you dripping, the slick liquid coating the lips of your sex, and with a pleased groan, he pushed a thick finger inside. Your body convulsed and you had to grip his shoulders to stop yourself from falling into the tub. 

“Pero…” you gasped, his finger deep inside, curling back and making your cunt tighten around his digit as he gave you a pleased grin. 

“So wet, cariño,” he praised, “I had a feeling you would be.” 

He slipped his finger out and quickly pushed in another, stretching you as his thumb found the pearl at the top of your slit, swirling around it with his rough pad. Lighting shot out into every limb and your grip on his shoulders tightened, your breathing suddenly laboured as he began to drive his fingers in and out, the slick dripping down his hand. You whimpered and dropped your head, leaning against his shoulder, and you felt him turn his head and nip at your neck, adding to the onslaught of your nerve endings. 

“Come on, querida, let me ruin you for whatever slow farmer tries to fuck you when I’m gone,” he muttered, his hot breath in your ear as he curled his fingers again, grinning as he heard you whine at his words, or maybe it was the way his thumb changed the pattern on your aching bundle of nerves. 

Your teeth were leaving marks on his shoulder, your nails digging into them too. The breathy moans you were panting made his cock twitch and fill again, he felt blood rush to it as your cunt clamped down hard around his fingers. 

“Fuck it,” he suddenly groweled, water sloshing over the floor as he pulled his fingers from between your legs and stood up. You gasped in protest but he didn’t let you gather yourself, pulling you to your feet he stepped out of the tub and pushed you backwards onto the bed. He gave your behind a swat, urging you to shimmy up it, and followed you as he eagerly pushed your dress up around your waist again. His grin was hungry, and you saw his heavy cock swollen between his thighs again. With an impatient shove, he parted your legs and sank down, his wide shoulder holding them open. 

His first lick through your folds made you cry out, grabbing on to his damp curls as he opened his mouth to fuck his tongue as deep as he could inside you. The feeling made you dizzy as every inch of your skin seemed to burn under him, your arousal ramping up as you heard him growl into your cunt, his tongue lapping at you. He moved above you, pushing your legs further apart as he moved his hand up and mumbled something into your flesh. You tugged at his curls, pulling his face up to look at you and he gave you a grin. 

“Your taste is driving me wild, hermosa,” he panted, his short beard glistening with your slick, “I want to feel you come on my tongue, can you do that for me?” He gave you a mischievous grin and held up his hand, wiggling two of his fingers as you nodded weakly. His fingers slid down through your cunt and easily into your heat and he watched your eyes slip closed as you moaned, your head dropping back down on the bed. As you panted out his name, he picked up the speed of his fingers, bending down to close his mouth around your swollen bead, flicking his tongue over it before he lapped at it. Your cries, your fingers tightening in his hair, let him know he was working you the right way and he doubled his efforts. His cock was aching beneath him, hard and swollen, as you tried to close your legs around his head, your body arching up from the bedding. Panting hard you began to moan his name, rocking your face against his mouth with your fingers in his curls, he could feel you beginning to unravel, your legs shaking. With a final effort, he clamped his mouth around your sensitive pearl and sucked, pushing a third finger into you and curling back. 

“Pero…” you moaned loudly, “p-please…” A gasp escaped you, your breathing erratic and he felt your body go taught under him, your cunt going impossibly tight around his fingers. He felt his scrotum tighten at the thought of feeling that around his cock, as you cried out, your climax washing over you in wave after wave. He kept his fingers moving, flicking his tongue over your core and pushed your pleasure as high as he could. You were all but sobbing as he finally felt your legs begin to relax around him, gasping to catch your breath. He caressed your thighs, pulling out his fingers and pushing himself back up to sit on his haunches. His cock was painfully hard, bouncing back against his belly as he looked down at you, spent and sated beneath him. 

There was something predatory in the way his gaze roamed over your body now, your bottom half exposed to him, your top half still covered by your dress. He put his hand out and tugged at one of the ribbons. 

“Take it off,” he commanded, pushing aside the first layer. With trembling fingers, still shaking from his ministrations, you undid the fastenings, pulling the dress apart and wiggling out of it until it lay beneath you and you were as naked as Pero still kneeling between your spread legs. He was watching you with heavily lidded eyes, stroking his cock with lazy movements, the head red and weeping. 

“I want to fuck you,” he said, his voice low as he leaned forward and moved up over your body, “I won’t come inside you, but I need to feel this tight cunt around my cock tonight.” 

You nodded dumbly, you’d do anything to have more of him, he’d already given you more pleasure than you thought possible, and you ached to feel him inside you. 

His rough hand came out and grabbed your soft breast, teasing the nipple and watching it pebble under his finger tips. When he was satisfied, he let his hand slip down your cushy belly, noting how you shivered as he grazed your sensitive core. He grabbed your thigh and pushed it up, making space for himself. When he was satisfied, he closed his hand around his cock and placed it at your opening, watching as he caressed it through your folds, coating it in your slick, and then pushed in, sliding through your swollen cunt in one fell swoop. It made you gasp as Pero groaned, both his hands grabbing your hips and he pulled you onto his cock. 

“Cariño, so tight…” he growled, eyes transfixed at the place where his aching hard length disappeared into your wet cunt. He pulled out, and slid back in again, groans escaping through his clenched jaw as he began to fuck you. His fingers dug into your flesh as he held you in a vice, snapping his hips, chasing his rapidly approaching climax. 

You watched him, your own body spent and pliant under him, only there to let him use, to sink his cock into, as he growled like a feral animal, snarling when he felt your cunt tighten and clamp down around his cock. His newly cut hair was damp from sweat and bath water, he smelled of rosemary and lavender and every scar on his hard soldier’s body stood out on his flushed skin. 

He groaned, his eyes closing, squeezing them tight and his mouth hung open, his breaths coming out in short bursts. Suddenly he pushed your hips away, pulling out with a hiss and fisting his cock, furiously stroking himself. It took only a few seconds, and then his hot spend shot out, coating your belly and thighs as he snarled and moaned like he was injured. With fascination you watched the thick liquid burst from the shining head of his cock while he squeezed, his face screwed up like he was in pain. He tugged at it, milking it dry before he finally gasped, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. 

Looking down at you, his eyes softened as he regarded you for a few long seconds, his hand still wrapped around his softening cock. With a sigh he crawled over you, dropping down on your side and pressing a kiss, wet and soft, to your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, hermosa, but I think we need another bath.” 

[unpopularwriter25]

A Gentle Wind

Summary: After the battle, the group arrives at the Butterfly Mansion for much-needed rest and recovery. When Sanemi's abrasive nature sparks a confrontation, the reader steps in to defend her friends. Her fiery spirit leaves the Wind Hashira stunned and unexpectedly smitten.

Warnings: None

The soft rustling of leaves in the Butterfly Mansion garden was a gentle contrast to the tension that crackled in the air. Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke had just arrived, weary and battered, seeking solace and healing. However, the atmosphere shifted as Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, made his presence known with his usual bluntness.

"You three idiots better not mess things up here," Sanemi barked, his tone as sharp as his blade. "You're lucky to even be alive."

Inosuke bristled, fists clenching, but before he could respond, you stepped forward, your eyes blazing with determination. "That’s enough, Sanemi," you snapped, standing protectively in front of your friends. "They’ve been through enough without you berating them."

Sanemi's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within them. "And who are you to lecture me? Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Yes, I do," you replied firmly. "I’m talking to someone who should know better than to kick people when they’re down. They’ve fought hard and deserve respect, not ridicule."

Sanemi's lip curled in a sneer. "Respect? From me? They're a bunch of reckless brats who need to learn their place."

"Reckless?" you shot back, stepping closer, undeterred by his intimidating presence. "They’re brave. They’ve risked their lives to protect others. If that’s what you call reckless, then maybe you need to rethink what it means to be a Demon Slayer."

Tanjiro placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you. "It's okay, [Y/N], we don’t want to cause any trouble."

You shrugged his hand off, not breaking eye contact with Sanemi. "No, Tanjiro. Someone needs to stand up to him. You’ve all done nothing but give your best, and you deserve better than this."

Sanemi's eyes flickered with surprise and something else—was it admiration? "You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that," he muttered, his voice low.

"And you’ve got a lot of nerve treating people like they’re beneath you," you retorted. "Being a Hashira doesn’t give you the right to be a bully."

Zenitsu, hiding behind Inosuke, peeked out and added nervously, "She’s right, you know. We’re all on the same side."

Inosuke, ever the blunt one, huffed. "Yeah, what she said! Back off, Wind Guy!"

Sanemi's gaze softened just a fraction, but his voice remained gruff. "You think you’re something special, don’t you? Protecting them like this?"

"Yes, I do," you said, lifting your chin defiantly. "Because they are special. And if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re not as strong as you think you are."

A tense silence settled over the garden. The colorful butterflies fluttered around, oblivious to the conflict, while the sweet scent of blooming flowers filled the air. Your friends watched with wide eyes, clearly impressed by your courage.

"You've got guts," Sanemi muttered, a flicker of something softer passing through his harsh demeanor.

"I’m just protecting my friends," you said, turning on your heel with a huff. "Maybe you should try it sometime." With that, you marched back into the mansion, leaving a stunned Sanemi in your wake.

Sanemi stood rooted to the spot, the words replaying in his mind. The fire in your eyes, the unwavering strength in your voice—it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered. He watched as you disappeared into the mansion, his heart pounding in a way it never had before.

For the first time, the fierce Wind Hashira felt something other than anger and duty. He felt admiration, respect, and something he could hardly name. But as he stood there, surrounded by the serene beauty of the Butterfly Mansion, Sanemi was sure of one thing.

He was in love.

[jxwl4k]

Sparks Ignite

Plot: Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N L/N are known for their intense rivalry, their constant bickering and competitive spirit are a source of both amusement and frustration for their classmates and teachers until, their rivalry evolves into a simple relationship.

pt.2

In the prestigious halls of UA High, where aspiring heroes honed their skills, there existed an electrifying rivalry between Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N L/N. Their dynamic was a constant clash of wills and ideologies, reminiscent of two raging storms converging. Y/N, possessing a demeanor akin to Todoroki's calm exterior but paired with a sharp tongue, never hesitated to voice their thoughts, especially when Bakugo's explosive temperament was concerned.

One crisp autumn morning found them in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by their classmates enjoying breakfast. Bakugo, as always, was sitting at a table in a corner, glaring at the world as if daring anyone to challenge him. Y/N, not one to back down, sauntered over with a tray in hand and dropped into the seat across from him.

"You're glaring again, Bakugo," Y/N remarked casually, stirring their coffee. "Did you forget to blow something up this morning?"

Bakugo snorted, his expression darkening. "You're one to talk, Ice Cube. Don't you have some glacier to melt?"

Their classmates exchanged knowing looks, accustomed to the duo's banter that could rival any action-packed showdown. As Y/N and Bakugo continued their verbal sparring, the atmosphere around them seemed to hum with anticipation, half expecting an explosion that would rock the cafeteria.

Later that day, during a break between classes, Y/N found themselves in the same empty classroom as Bakugo, both reviewing notes from the morning's lecture. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, waiting for the slightest spark to ignite.

"You know," Y/N began, breaking the silence, "you might actually be tolerable if you weren't so obsessed with proving you're the best."

Bakugo scoffed, his hands clenched into fists. "And you might be less annoying if you weren't always criticizing every move I make."

Y/N leaned back in their chair, a small smirk playing on their lips. "But where's the fun in that? Someone has to keep you in check, Bakugo."

He glared at them, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I don't need anyone to keep me in check. Least of all you."

Their argument was interrupted by the arrival of their classmates, who entered the classroom and immediately sensed the charged atmosphere. Mina Ashido, ever the cheerful soul, chirped, "Whoa, guys, are we interrupting something?"

"Nope," Y/N replied smoothly, shooting Bakugo a pointed look. "Just discussing the finer points of hero strategy."

Bakugo muttered something unintelligible under his breath, his usual bravado momentarily subdued. The class exchanged amused glances, accustomed to the volatile but strangely magnetic relationship between Y/N and Bakugo.

As weeks turned into months, their bickering continued, becoming a familiar soundtrack to life at UA. Yet, beneath the constant clash of egos, a grudging respect began to emerge. They found themselves gravitating towards each other during training sessions, their strategies complementing rather than conflicting.

One rainy afternoon, while sparring in the training grounds, Bakugo threw a punch that Y/N deftly dodged. "Too slow, Bakugo," they taunted, a playful grin on their face.

He gritted his teeth, his palms sparking with frustration. "Shut up and fight, Ice Cube."

Their classmates watched from the sidelines, half expecting the training grounds to erupt into chaos. Instead, they witnessed a synchronized dance of skill and determination, a silent acknowledgment passing between Y/N and Bakugo as they fought side by side.

Afterward, as they walked back to the dormitories together, Y/N glanced at Bakugo out of the corner of their eye. "You know, for someone who claims to hate my guts, you don't mind teaming up with me."

Bakugo grunted, his expression unreadable. "Don't get used to it. I just tolerate your presence because you're marginally less useless than the rest of these extras."

Y/N chuckled, bumping shoulders with him lightly. "High praise, coming from you."

Their classmates, trailing behind them, exchanged bewildered glances. Kirishima, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, ventured, "Hey, Y/N, Bakugo, are you two... friends now?"

Bakugo and Y/N exchanged a look, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before Bakugo gruffly replied, "We're not friends, shitty hair. Just... rivals who tolerate each other."

Y/N smirked, shaking their head. "Sure, Bakugo. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

And so, amidst the chaos and camaraderie of UA High, Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N found themselves navigating a path from bitter rivals to reluctant allies—perhaps even something more, though neither would admit it aloud.

[godbirdart]

Hey there. Ive been admiring your work a long time and I was hoping I could get some advice from a more experienced artist.

How do you go about deciding which commission submissions will proceed forward? If you decide to decline a request how do you go about it? I recently started accepting commissions and get nervous when certain requests are too vague, too difficult or the requester isn't fully answering my questions and I dont know how to go about justifying a decline. Is it okay to decline a commission submission?

aAA thank you for enjoying my work!!

i could talk for Days about commissions and how I handle my own work, but I'm going to try to keep this short and simple for ease of reading:

i use a Google Form in combination with a number generator for my commission openings

reasons why i use a Google Form and number generator: - to avoid favoritism / client bias - to push my comfort zone with a variety of projects - to ensure i'm not taking on more work that i can handle

The Google form will automatically assign a number to each form, making it easy for me to pull up a website and ask it to generate a number between [insert number] and [insert number]. That said, I will still manually go through each form. Occasionally I'll pick up a project if I notice someone's reapplied a couple times who wasn't selected during previous openings, or if a project especially appeals to me, or isn't something i'd usually draw!

declining a commission / project:

yes, it is always okay to decline a project! you are not obligated to accept every submission that comes into your inbox / form / etc. there are many valid reasons to decline a project, from a conflict with your Terms of Service, to making sure you don't take on more work than you can reasonably handle.

if the project doesn't inspire you or spark that creative passion, it may result in frustration, exhaustion, and you might wind up handing the client a subpar art piece that you're not at all proud of. it's much more honorable to be upfront about it than to subject yourself to such grief as you waste your time and energy and your client's time and money.

ways to decline: it's always important to be polite. depending on your reasoning, you could say "Thank you for considering me for this project, but, ...." - "... This is not a project I'd be comfortable taking on." "... This project conflicts with my Terms of Service and I cannot accept it." "... I cannot accept it at this time." "... but I would not be able to fulfill your request to the detail / complexity you are expecting for this piece."

there's no shame in saying "i would not be a good fit for this project". i've had clients ask me for hyper-realistic work, which is quite far from my art style. while i could do it, i'd rather not put both myself and the client through months of frustration and waiting for a project i am not completely confident in executing.

if a client is being too vague, not answering questions:

it happens! not every client will communicate thoroughly. some clients will over-communicate, and for others there may be a language barrier so their difficultness may be entirely unintended.

you can't do the job if you don't know what you're supposed to be doing. never be afraid to ask your client for clarification on their request. phases you can use would be: - "I do not have enough information to begin work on this, could you clarify these details: [insert questions about details you need elaboration about]" - "I cannot proceed without knowing more about [insert thing], can you tell me more about [thing you need clarification on]". if your client being deliberately obtuse and refusing to supply the necessary information, you can be more firm with them such as: - "I will not proceed any further with this project if I do not receive [insert details]."

on clients being too difficult:

"difficult" is a bit subjective here. what may be considered difficult for one artist may be a walk in the park for another. this said, i'm going to use some very generic common examples here.

too many irrelevant notes, or randomly forwarding details / requests instead of condensing their ideas into one message:

"Thank you for these additional notes, however: ..." - "... please only supply notes that are directly related to the project at hand." [such as notes on the expression, environment, pose, etc - things that you need to know for the artwork you are working on] - "... please condense them into one message instead of sending multiple messages. I want to stay organized / do not want to lose track of your notes."

frequent requests for updates, or changes to the WIP / final art:

note: you should always be communicative and receptive to a client's request for updates, but here i am referring specifically to excessive requests such as numerous requests sent multiple times a day. additionally, what is considered "excessive" will vary depending on an artist's average turnaround time. "Thank you for reaching out, ..." - "... but I do not yet have an update for you at this time. I will reach out when I have an update ready for you, thank you for your patience." - "... but these requests are too frequent. Please allow more time to pass between requests for updates." You could also ask your client if they have concerns about the turnaround time, if they need the work by a specific date for a birthday / event, etc. It is important to consider that some clients may have been scammed by an artist in the past and their insistence on updates could be a result from that. if a client keeps requesting edits on the concept / sketch or final piece, you're within your right to say enough is enough. this will also vary depending on the artist's individual work process. if the changes are getting excessive, you could say: - "As we've undergone numerous edits to this, I will permit one final request for editing after which I will -" [move on to the next stage, cease work on this project, issue a partial refund, start asking fees for edits, etc; insert next step of your preference]

ignoring work hours / terms of service / communication channels

as an artist, you should set a firm boundary of what is a working day and what is not. you are not in a profession that is "on-call" 24/7. you can save some headache by having your schedule posted on your website / social media or wherever your queue is publicly posted. anywhere that is readily accessible for a client to easy find. - something you could say is: "My work days are [insert days], I answer work-related messages, work on art, and send out updates [if applicable] on those days. Thank you for your patience." if you prefer to have your work messages confined to one social media account or email, it's okay to enforce that! but be sure to have it posted in easily noticeable spots like pinned posts. - something to say here would be: "If you need to reach me, please do so via [insert platform / email etc]. I will not respond to [comments / DMs on other social media, etc]." terms of service, same as above, should be in an easy-to-find location and should be easy to read. if a client's prompt or action conflicts with your ToS, you could address it with: "As mentioned in my Terms of Service, [address thing that conflicts with your T&C."

language barriers

sometimes you may have a client with a language barrier. we live in a vast world, after all! be patient with them, and depending on their fluency, do your best to simplify your questions for them. if you know your client is using an online translator, try and avoid using jargon. we've come a long way with online translators, but they're not going to spit out the right translation if you ask "are they supposed to be super shredded and beefy" and the translator tells your client "should they be shredded meat".

dropping a client

this is an absolute most extreme last resort, but i bring this up since we're on the topic of difficult clients and this particular stage isn't spoken about often. no artist wants to up and drop a client, but sometimes it's better for all parties involved instead of dragging out a bad experience. dropping a client could result from a variety of factors, including: the artist is retiring from art, something has come up in the artist's life and they are unable to continue, a client has become abusive, or an agreement cannot be made on a project or the project has caused a conflict of interest between the artist and the client. if you must drop a client, you could say: - "I apologize, but for [insert reason] I cannot continue with this project. I will be [refunding / partially refunding] this project." If it's for medical reasons, you can say "due to a medical complication, I am unable to continue" - and leave it at that. Your client does not need elaboration on your private medical information. The same goes for private family matter or other personal issue. artists shouldn't let guilt eat at them if they are physically incapable of completing a project due to personal reasons. things happen, life happens. the vast majority of your clients will be understanding and appreciate that you reached out to them to address the situation instead of leaving them in limbo. If you have to drop a client because they're being genuinely abusive and hostile and not respecting you, your time, or your work, you can say the same thing as above. There's zero need to retaliate or be hostile back. The situation will likely make you feel awful, sure, but firmly staying professional is the best thing you can do. When issuing a refund, always specify when the client should expect their refund to arrive. "A refund has been issued and will be processed through [insert payment method] shortly." or "A refund will be issued on [insert date]."

This wound up long anyway despite my effort to shorten it, but ah well.

If you'd like more elaboration on something, don't hesitate to ask! Some sections did get pruned down in my futile effort to keep it short, so things might've ended up a bit vague or convoluted [my apologies].