#fluent in two languages can help with neither

[sweatyracoon]

Can u pls do a story where like Hyunjin/Lee know is touching u during class? (Pls I’m desperate😭😭😭)

Casual Distractions

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A/n: I'm so sorry it took so long. Life has been kicking my ass. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: smut, public scenes, social anxiety, threesome? Mxm, bullying, language

You were new to this college, and it didn't help that the language was more than difficult to learn. You were nearly fluent, but knew nothing if the inside jokes or curse words, which was almost everyone your ages' dialogue.

You found it hard to make friends after the transfer, but one person was always kind to you.

His name was Han, and his English was perfect almost. He helped you out in certain course since you shared them, helping you with your pronunciation and all that jazz.

He eventually introduced you to his group of friends that had been together forever. Eight in total.

They were known as Strays. They couldn't be more different from one another. And to top it off, most of them knew English. Two were Australian, and one had lived in America for a short time.

Ironically near you, actually.

All of them were polite to you, but you kept your distance, not trying to force yourself in.

It had been months since you met them all, and it had become routine for you to sit with them in the cafeteria per Felix's request.

You still kept quiet, not confident on your Korean yet.

One day, you and Han were having a study session at your dorm, and got on the topic of crushes.

"If you had to pick between any of my friends, who would you want to fuck you?" He asked randomly, his face blank as if it were the most natural question.

You nearly choked on nothing, staring at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at you, confused.

"I said, if one of my friends-"

"I know what you said, Han! But why?" You scoffed, jabbing at his shoulder playfully.

He pretended it hurt, sticking his tongue to you.

"Who do you think is hot? That's what I meant, y/n! Gosh," He grinned, watching your ears turn pink.

"What makes you think I like any of them?" You ask, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your textbook.

"Girl. It's a hypothetical question.." His eyes squint at you in silent question, and smile playing on his face.

You pause to think, unsure if you should tell him, knowing he was a blabber mouth. But you could easily say it was hypothetical just as Han did.

"Uhh, maybe....Hyunjin? Or-"

"I knew it! I knew you like him- wait did you just say 'or'?" He paused his prediction, wanting to hear who else you were going to say.

"I was gonna say, or Minho, Han."

You both sat there, looking at one another. He blinked while you shifted uncomfortably, not used to long periods of eye contact.

"Why him? Have either of you even said a word to one another?" He flicked at his pencil, holding it as if he were going to write.

"Not really...he's just gorgeous, you know?" You mutter, turning your attention back to your notebook. You felt judged despite them being friends. It almost seemed as if he were disappointed.

"Your right," you could hear the smile behind his words, making you look back up, returning it brightly.

"To be fair, though, we're all gorgeous, girly," He pitched his voice, flashing his undone nails making you cackle.

He lightened the mood knowing you weren't feeling right with how it was going. It was the main reason he was your best friend. He understood.

You both continued to joke and study, getting ready for the upcoming class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the only class you don't have with Han is the class you have with Hyunjin and Minho, ironically.

Hyunjin always says hello, and Lee Know just nods at you with a smile, but today, neither of them did so.

You looked at them multiple times, noticing how they glanced at you some times. It made you nervous. You wondered if you did something wrong that offended them.

They never sat next to you, but today they seemed farther than usual.

Their shoulders raised higher than they should be, almost making it seem like they were out of breath.

You were about to text Han in question, but the teacher called you out.

"Y/n, please step outside for your phone call seeing as it is more important than class,"

You looked up, seeing everyone's head snap towards you. Your heart stopped, "No, I-" your words got caught in your throat as you cleared it loudly.

You felt your face flush.

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed your belongings and darted out the door, catching the way Lee Know and Hyunjin looked at you with what looked like pity.

You held your head low, sighing loudly when you reached the empty hallway.

You walked towards the girls restroom, stopping before the janitors closet, just hoping for some quiet.

It doesn't last long.

You heard a door snap from behind you, making you jump, turning to see if you were in anyone's way.

But it was just the two boys you had been worried about all day.

"You okay, y/ninnie? We saw you freeze in the back," Hyunjin observed, his hands in his pockets as he stood to your right, Minho on the other.

"Oh! Yeah, M'okay. Just want the world to swallow me right now," you chuckled, your shoulders deflating.

"Don't worry about that asshole, okay? Just giving you a hard time," Minho scoffed, staring at the door leading to his classroom.

"Why are you guys out here, though? He's going over the test on Monday." You wonder, not wanting them to fail because they were worried about you.

"We just wanted to see you," Hyunjin said, making you confused.

"See me? You see me every other day," you reply, tilting your head.

"We just have something on our minds I guess. You are the only person we can talk to about it though," Hyunjin grinned, nudging against Minho, who smiled wickedly next to him.

Your heart dropped.

"A little Birdy may have told us something you said from yesterday," Minho growled, bringing his arm to cage your left to the wall while Hyunjin did the same on the other side. You squeezed, making them chuckle.

"Hans a liar," you whispered, feeling your face warm up.

"Are you sure, baby? Cause we can give you what you want," Hyunjin groaned next to your ear, your body shivering in anticipation.

"I-I-" you stuttered, your breathing suddenly shallow as you try to clear your foggy mind.

"Relax," Minho whispered.

Thats when you heard a door handle turning behind you, the wall disappearing that held you, making you fall. But Hyunjin was behind you in seconds, gently bringing you to the tile floor in the closet, Minho closing and locking the door behind him.

You three had officially now moved out of the public eye, away from any onlookers.

"This okay, Princess?" Minho asks as he kneels next to you, your faces inches away.

You breathe out a shaky yes before he nods, looking at your lips then back to you.

He leans in, locking his lips with yours as he started gentle, quickly becoming more rough but the second.

You moaned into Minho as you felt another pair of hands fondling your clothes breasts.

Hyunjin took his time, not bothering to take of your shirt, hoping you wouldn't look like walking sex by the time they were done with you.

He wanted to feel your nipple between his teeth, but he told himself to wait. That they can have you properly after school.

Minho growled into the kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat as you panted into his mouth.

"Let me have a turn, hyung!" Hyunjin whined as he played with your clothes nubs.

Minho pulled himself off of you, grunting. You didn't like the loss if contact, grabbing at his forearms.

"Finally," Hyunjin chuckled, grabbing the back of your head to pull you into him.

His lips crashed against yours, the rhythm easy to control.

Lee Know took his chance to run his hand up your skirt, fisting the fabric of your underwear before pushing them aside.

He ran his fingers through your slick folds, moaning at the feeling of your excessive wetness.

He shoved his middle finger into your hole, pumping slowly as Hyunjin sucked the air from you.

You were both moaning, the kiss getting sloppier until it was just wet pecks.

"Feel good, baby?" Hyunjin asked as he listened to Minho add another finger, the slickness making a sinful sound in the quiet closet."S'good,"

Your head tilted back, Hyunjin takes his chance to nip at your collar bone, leaving a trail of marks. He tried keeping them close to your neckline, hoping you could hide them.

You grabbed at his hair with a moan, pulling it gently as Minho quickened his pace.

He groaned against your neck, teeth scraping against the purple spots now blossoming on your neck.

They both kept at it until you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

"There!" You plead, Lee Know hitting your g-spot roughly now with three fingers.

"Here, baby?" He teases, now hitting it harder.

You were writhing underneath them as you felt your wife snap, your high washing over you suddenly.

Your body shook from overstimulation, nearly crying as they pushed themselves from you after you came down.

"That felt so good," You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut.

They both smirked at one another.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Minho pushing his wet fingers into Hyunjins mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

The sight of them being intimate made your hole clench around nothing.

"Come over after school?" You asked them quietly, and try both nodded.

"we'll make you feel a lot more, I promise," Hyunjin smirked, pecking your lips gently. Minho did the same, helping you up.

All the way to class, you could feel your slick drip down lower on your thigh, making you both embarrassed and aroused as you thought about what they would do to you.

[hellothisisangle]

Vignette, or “V” for short, is a mercenary for hire in Cyberpunk 2077. V is of mixed decent, speaking in a masculine American accent and fluent in both the English and Greek language, along with broken Spanglish learned from Jackie.

Front | Hair (Ex 2) | Teeth | Hands | Feet | Back

Screenshots | Comics, Convos, and Other Art

Download a mod to have Vignette’s hair in-game here!

Vignette

“It’s V, just V. Only people who know me real well get to use my real name.”

Age

Mid twenties

Biography

V grew up in the American wilderness as a member of the Γυναίκες με χρώμα nomad family, a fully matriarchal clan that exiles sons of a certain age. Alone and lost after being cast away, V traveled through the badlands outside Night City accomplishing odd jobs until getting in contact with Jackie Welles. The pair agreed to smuggle contraband together over the city border and split the profits; however, they were ambushed by the Arasaka corporation shortly after crossing inspections. Fleeing from the heat, the two are able to escape by driving further into the city.

Jackie helps V by connecting them to a buddy that rents out crappy apartments in Night City and gives more grunt work. V is supremely grateful to have someone they can finally consider a ‘friend’, but is wary of becoming too attached to anything. Years pass by as V and Jackie begin to make a name for themselves as reliable mercs.

Over time, V seeks transformation through cyberware, restructuring their body piece by piece — not just for survival in Night City, but also chasing an internal vision of potential and beauty they felt they were denied at birth. V swaps their masculine and feminine parts depending on their mood, but appears to prefer a feminine bust with a penis.

Γυναίκες με χρώμα

The “Women of Color” clan is dominated by formidable women who prize physical strength and attributes. Names which are given to members of the clan are based upon names of color, such as “Magenta” or “Cerulean”. Boys born to the clan are expected to serve their mothers and sisters, and are not gifted an actual name of color. To V, the balance of the clan was all they knew. Torn between reverence and envy, V grew up questioning their role plus their identity, while any attempts to emulate the clan's feminine ideals often came across as ‘confused’ to the elders. V would only later understand the suffocating power dynamics they were subject to, and it left them having a hatred towards nomad clans and their values of ‘family’ and ‘solidarity’ in general. Their respect and sometimes fear towards powerful women endures as they struggle with feelings of inadequacy and the idea that they will never measure up to the women they were influenced by.

Personality

V is fierce. They project puffed-up strength, self confidence, humor, and adaptability on the outside, often in an attempt to get people to underestimate them. Called an asshole on more than a few occasions. Yet privately, V is wracked with insecurity, constantly battling the thought that they are neither man nor woman enough to belong anywhere.

They may unknowingly or secretly prefer feminine pronouns, though they do not voice the preference to friends, peers, or even strangers, accepting whatever others classify them as.

V tends to distrust authority, especially matriarchal figures who remind them too much of home. They are deeply loyal and would never betray anyone, but cautious in building relationships, as ultimately- V looks out for themselves first and foremost.

Likes and Hobbies

Anything that gives an adrenaline rush. Street racing, dangerous bar games, over-the-top action movies.

Fighting Style

In the beginning, V utilizes a crappy pistol, and simple quick-hacks. Following “The Heist”, V became more self sufficient, relying only on themselves for netrunning, soloing, and edgerunning. Ranged, they can wipe out a dozen enemies in seconds by simultaneously uploading EMP hacks and scoping remaining stragglers. In close combat, they rely on heavy damage hacks, knives, and their fists.

Weapons

Overwatch Sniper Rifle

Stinger and Punknife

Vehicle

Kusanagi CT-3X

Cyberware (current)

Deck: Tetratronic Rippler MK.5

Frontal Cortex: Camillo Ram Manager, Ex-Disk, Self-Ice

Optics: Kiroshi “The Oracle”

Arms: Projectile Launch System

Skeleton: Bionic Joints, Ram Recoup, Universal Booster

Nervous System: Kerenzikov, Reflex Tuner, Synaptic Accelerator

Integumentary System: Subdermal Armor, Carapace, Pain Editor

Circulatory System: Threatevac, Heal-On-Kill, Blood Pump

Hands: Smart Link, Ballistic Corprocessor

Legs: Fortified Ankles

Drink of Choice

Jaeger, Ouzo

Radio “V’s playlist to do drugs and kill people to”

Godspeed You! Black Emperor

Ptasinksi and RJ Pasin

Ratatat

Health

HTRK

Lorn

Boards of Canada

Battles

Carpenter Brut

Giraffes? Giraffes!

Melt Yourself Down (Jackie recommendation)

—————————

In-game Mod List

Solo Body OG

Lethal Curves

Metallic Skin

Cyber Body Bodytextures

Kiasu Burger Cyberware

Kiasu Burger Takemura Hands

Cyber Spine

Anrui Teeth Texture

MTF Voice

[bookloover35]

Je T'aime, Steve- Steve Harrington x fem reader.

Steve Harrington was never one to shy away from trying new things. After all, he had spent most of his high school years trying on different personas. But there was something about the idea of learning French that excited him more than he cared to admit. Maybe it was because it was a language of romance, something he could use to impress someone he cared about. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were the one offering to teach him.

You had known Steve for a while now. He wasn't the same arrogant jock he had once been. Over the past few months, he had shown a side of himself that was surprisingly earnest and kind. You'd become fast friends, sharing late-night conversations, junk food, and countless moments where he'd make you laugh just when you needed it most.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch in your living room, Steve turned to you with an earnest look in his eyes.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, scratching the back of his neck in that way he did when he was nervous. "I was thinking... maybe you could teach me French?"

You raised an eyebrow. "French? As in, the language?"

Steve nodded, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Yeah, I mean, why not? You know I've always wanted to learn. And you're, like, fluent or whatever."

You laughed. "I wouldn't say fluent, but I do know a few things. I can definitely teach you."

"Great!" Steve grinned. "I'll be the next Jean-Claude Van Damme in no time."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "We'll start slow. How about we begin with the basics?"

Over the next few weeks, you met up with Steve after school. You'd go over vocabulary, pronunciation, and grammar rules, but Steve's favorite lesson by far was when you taught him a phrase that had him grinning like a fool.

One late afternoon, you sat together on the porch, the sun casting a warm glow over the town. You had been practicing basic phrases for hours, but you noticed Steve getting a little distracted, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Okay, let's try this one," you said, writing it down in your notebook. "Je t'aime. It means 'I love you.'"

Steve stared at the phrase on the page, then looked up at you, his brown eyes softening. "So, it's like, 'I love you'... but in French?"

"Exactly," you smiled, leaning over to point at the words. "Say it with me: Je t'aime."

Steve's lips curled into a smile as he repeated after you, trying to perfect the pronunciation. "Je t'aime."

You chuckled, nodding. "That's pretty good. But I think you're missing a little something."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Steve asked, leaning closer, his eyes locking with yours.

You grinned and said, "You have to say it like you mean it."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Like... like I'm confessing my undying love or something?"

You nodded. "Exactly. You're not just saying the words; you're feeling them."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air felt thick with anticipation, and you could feel the space between you two shrinking. Then, without warning, Steve turned to face you, his expression serious, and he softly spoke the words you'd just taught him:

"Je t'aime."

Your heart skipped a beat. He hadn't just said it; he had said it like he meant it. And the way he looked at you, with that vulnerability in his eyes, made your breath catch in your throat.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. "Steve..." you whispered, your voice catching.

He smiled, his usual playful smirk replaced with something much softer. "What? Too much? Too soon?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "It's just... I didn't think you'd actually say it like that."

He leaned a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, when you teach me something as beautiful as that... I think it deserves to be said with feeling."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. Maybe Steve Harrington had always been this kind-hearted, you thought. Maybe you had just been too focused on his former image to see it before.

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Je t'aime too," you whispered back.

Steve's grin returned, this time with a little more confidence, as if he had just won a small victory. "Guess I really am a natural at this whole French thing, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You might be getting the hang of it."

And there, under the fading light of the sunset, you realized that learning French with Steve Harrington wasn't just about language—it was about understanding the subtle emotions that had always been there, waiting to be shared.

As he leaned back in his chair, still smiling that goofy, endearing grin, you knew one thing for sure: you were going to cherish these lessons for a lot longer than you'd ever imagined.

End

[cheezeybread]

Could I request headcanons for Scarabia + Pomefiore where they overhear their lover speaking in their native language with is neither japanese or english? Maybe they're cussing, maybe just talking to themselves, maybe singing, whatever. Here are the characters + some language samples:

Jamil - bangla: https://youtube.com/shorts/WF2LbzJDzD4?si=11V-UicSCLv8vySx

Kalim - mandarin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iUCZgObUDg&t=106s

Rook - egyptian arabic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zsz0ou4VX2g

Vil - swahili: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tpol4TKeJ14

Epel - welsh: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufKf4eORcKA

So sorry it took me a while to get around to this request, I've had it gathering dust in my drafts as I brainstormed ideas for it, hehe!

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

Jamil Viper

Jamil's first introduction to your language was when you burned yourself in the Scarabia kitchen. Touching a hot pot before he could warn you that it contained boiling soup, you cried out a foreign phrase to him

"Hauar pola!" You screamed, one hand clamping over your injured palm, applying pressure as you glared at the pot "Magir Puth!"

Despite his fretting noises as he grabbed the nearest first aid kit (of course with Kalim, Jamil had made sure there was a pack in every room) and fixed your hand, Jamil had to hide his laughter. He had just assumed that you were making up gibberish like Kalim used to do as a kid- gibberish to take place of curse words.

Once you explained to him that it was indeed an actual curse, in your mother tongue, he was a bit shocked. You mean you didn't originally speak what you were speaking now??

He'll definitely ask you to teach him some words in Bangla- mainly curse words, but if he can get his hands on a book for the language, he'll attempt to learn some "sweeter" words to use with you, if only to get a little bit closer to you...or make you feel closer to home.

Kalim Al-Asim

He's no stranger to different languages! Being in a merchant family, knowing many different languages was essential to business, and Kalim has had so many tutors teaching him so many languages- he's not entirely fluent in all of them since he never gets a chance to speak them, but he knows all the basics to have a simple conversation

He probably knew that you didn't originally speak the current language that you did in Twisted Wonderland, but hadn't really heard you speak in this "Mandarin" before.

But one day, while prepping for a party, he took a small break to ask you to show him a new dance- he wasn't particularly set on what sort of dance you showed him, he just wanted some new moves to use while dancing at the party.

To his utter delight, you grabbed his hands and tried to teach him a little dance that went to an old song you heard in your childhood- of course, since your song didn't really exist in this world, you had to hum and sing it out loud.

He's definitely going to insist that you not only teach him the song, but that you start giving him lessons on your language! He figures it'll be fun to converse to you in Mandarin, allowing the two of you to have conversations in secret, where no one else knows what you guys are talking about!

Rook Hunt

Ooh, la la!

He's going to run into you whilst you're in the library after class! You were sitting at one of the tables, half-closed eyes scanning over a textbook. Of course, you hadn't been getting too much sleep recently, so it was hard for you to actually read and digest the information you were supposed to. Which led to you mumbling to yourself instead in Egyptian Araibic under your breath.

Of course, Rook doesn't greet you at first, preferring to stay back and listen to your voice for a little while longer. He enjoys the cadence of it, the highs and lows of every word...it is truly beautiful for a language, is it not?

Once he helps you get to bed and can speak to you after a good night's rest, Rook inquires as to what you were saying earlier.

To hearing you say that you spoke a different language than this one, he was flabbergasted, but intrigued.

"Read me a poem in your own words, dear, in your mother tongue! Speak your mind, call me curses, list out your errand runs, just allow me to hear you speak once more!"

He's...strange. But he enjoys the foreign language very much

Vil Shoenheit

Hearing you sing to yourself while having a spa day with Vil left him speechless, for once in his life.

He had left you alone in the bathroom to soak in the warm, bubbling water, assuring you that he would be right back once he found a certain brand of oil that he suspected Rook had mistook as his.

Once he came back to the bathroom, your words sounded so...alluring. It made his hips sway with the beat you put out with a fist slapping the side of the porcelain tub. It was rather catchy, and he couldn't help but smile as he nodded his head to your tune.

"Oh, such a wonderful language, what is it?"

He's so genuinely curious about it all, and enjoys listening to you speak about it all- how you grew up, how you felt about your culture and language itself.

And don't worry, he'll be asking you to sing to him a lot more heheh

Epel Felmier

Another curser! Aah!

Epel absolutely loves the sounds coming out of your mouth as you lose your temper and let loose at another student bothering you in the courtyard, but curbs his excitement until he properly threatens the student with a good lickin' if he doesn't scoot out!

I'm not gonna lie, Epel seems like he'd speak Welsh if he weren't in Twisted Wonderland- it just seems to fit his character so well.

And, of course, he's going to ask you to teach him all of the swear you know, so that Epel can voice his grievances against Vil and some teachers without them being able to get mad at him (because, of course, Welsh isn't technically an existant language in Twisted Wonderland, soooooo the teachers/Vil can't prove it even exists unless you become a tattle-tail, hehe!)

Once he has his fun with cursing, Epel will try his best to learn some simple words/phrases from you so he can pass you secret notes in class and talk to you in private. He's...not the best at learning a new language, so be patient with him, but he's trying his hardest!

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

[keehomania]

spoiled (스포일드) — kim seokjin (김석진)

part two can be found here

✧.* 18+

money was the silent orchestrator of the world, an unseen force that dictated the rhythm of life, the rise and fall of empires, the ebb and flow of fortunes. it was a creator and a destroyer, a source of power and a symbol of ambition. the inheritance of wealth could mold a person in myriad ways, breeding either foolish heirs who squandered their legacy or brilliant minds who elevated it. you were among the fortunate ones, born into affluence, but you were no fool.

your mother, a luminary in the fashion industry, had built an empire with her own hands. her name was synonymous with elegance and innovation, and her company was a testament to her relentless drive. you inherited not only her stunning beauty but also her formidable intellect. gorgeous, stunning—you were the epitome of grace and allure, turning heads wherever you went. yet, beneath that captivating exterior lay a mind sharper than any blade. you were the top of your class, the one whose name was always at the pinnacle of academic achievements. fluent in four languages, you navigated conversations with a fluidity that left others in awe. a scholarship awaited you, a testament to your hard work and brilliance, promising a future as bright as your past.

but intelligence and beauty weren't your only traits. there was a darker side to you, a part that thrived on power and control. you were mean, perhaps even rotten to your core, wielding your sharp wit and cutting remarks with a precision that left others reeling. it wasn't enough to be the best; you had to ensure everyone knew it, had to see the fear and admiration in their eyes. you relished in the power, in the way others bowed to your will, and it fed a part of you that nothing else could satisfy.

the grand estate was bathed in the golden hues of the late afternoon sun, its light filtering through the crystal chandeliers and casting intricate patterns on the polished marble floors. the opulence of the room was undeniable, from the sumptuous velvet drapes framing the expansive windows to the luxurious silk cushions adorning the elegant settee. the air was suffused with the delicate scent of blooming orchids and the heady fragrance of high-end perfume.

you glided through the hallways with the poise of someone accustomed to navigating both luxury and expectation, your steps silent on the plush carpet. you approached your mother’s sitting room, a space as meticulously curated as her latest fashion line. there, amidst a clutter of fabric swatches and sketchbooks, sat your mother—an embodiment of grace and precision. she was engrossed in her work, her slender fingers expertly tracing designs on a sketchpad.

“mother, what do you mean you’re getting married?” your voice was a blend of disbelief and irritation, piercing through the serene atmosphere of the room. she looked up momentarily, her gaze cool and dismissive. “you’re the only person making a big deal out of this, (y/n). have some respect. focus on your own engagement instead of mine.”

the mention of your engagement to kim taehyung—a union orchestrated purely for the benefit of your families’ business interests—sent a wave of frustration through you. it was a marriage neither of you had desired, yet it loomed over both your lives like a specter. “you have no shame, do you?” you couldn’t help but ask, the words escaping through gritted teeth. her eyes, sharp and unfeeling, met yours with a chilling calm. “while you’re at it, find a dress to wear for tonight. you’ll finally meet your step-brother in person.”

the term “step-brother” felt like a sharp jab. kim seokjin—whom you had long despised—was a man as ruthless as you were, a counterpart in cruelty. his reputation for being merciless and calculating was matched only by your own, and the thought of him entering your already complicated life was a bitter pill to swallow. you stared at your mother, her attention already drifting back to her sketches, and felt a mix of rage and resignation. that was your life—an intricate tapestry of beauty, wealth, and intelligence, all entwined with the demands and manipulations of those who wielded power without a thought for your personal happiness.

in the opulent confines of your dressing room, you moved with practiced ease among the racks of high-end garments. the room was a haven of luxury, with walls lined in elegant silk and shelves overflowing with an array of couture dresses. you sifted through the exquisite fabrics, your fingers grazing the soft silk and intricate lace as you searched for something suitable.

your mother’s voice, though distant, was still audible, her sharp instructions hanging in the air like an unwelcome perfume. “and don’t forget to accessorize properly. it’s important that you look presentable.” you rolled your eyes, dismissing her instructions with a wave of your hand as if to shoo away an irritating fly. your gaze landed on a stunning, midnight blue dress—a floor-length creation of silk and satin that flowed like liquid night. it was the perfect blend of sophistication and understated elegance, its deep hue accentuating your striking features. you slipped it on, the fabric hugging your figure with a sensual grace.

just as you were adjusting the dress, the shrill ring of your phone pierced through the ambiance of the room. glancing at the screen, you saw taehyung’s photo staring back at you, his image frozen in a charming, if somewhat distant, smile. you answered with a scoff, the irritation in your voice palpable. “hello?”

his voice came through, cold and casual. “what are you doing?” you rolled your eyes again, your tone dripping with venom. “getting ready to meet my step-brother.” the words were laced with a disdainful emphasis, meant to irritate your mother, who was still buried in her work.

there was a pause on the other end, followed by taehyung’s cautious inquiry. “is it official, then? will kim seokjin really become your step-brother?” you snorted derisively. “don’t ever call him that again,” you snapped, unable to hide the venom in your voice. “he’s nothing more than a nuisance.” with that, you ended the call abruptly, the screen darkening as you tossed your phone aside. you returned to your reflection in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of your dress with a mixture of resignation and defiance. the evening ahead promised to be another stage in the endless drama of your life—a life where every interaction was tinged with power plays and unspoken rivalries.

you accompanied your mother through the opulent corridor leading to the restaurant linked to kim hyunsoo’s grand hotel, the weight of your irritation palpable with each step. the opulence of the hotel’s interior did little to soothe your mood. the lavish decor—gold leaf accents, polished marble floors, and crystal chandeliers—felt like an elaborate facade, masking the discomfort you felt.

“this is absolutely ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, the words escaping through gritted teeth. “i can’t believe i have to endure another evening of this charade.” your mother, walking beside you with her usual air of practiced elegance, offered no comment. she was focused on her phone, perhaps finalizing details for the evening or merely avoiding the exchange of pleasantries.

as you reached the entrance to the restaurant, your eyes fell on kim hyunsoo standing at the threshold, his imposing figure framed by the grand entrance. his presence was magnetic, a blend of authority and charisma. the moment he saw your mother, his face broke into a warm smile. he stepped forward and greeted her with a tender kiss on the cheek, a display of affection that seemed almost theatrical.

you couldn't suppress the scoff that escaped your lips. the gesture seemed to be as much a performance as it was genuine affection, a mere piece of the elaborate play that was your life. hyunsoo turned to you, his smile unwavering. “ah, (y/n),” he said warmly, his eyes surveying you with an appraising gaze. “you’ve certainly inherited your mother’s looks.”

the comment made you cringe inwardly, though you maintained a polite smile. “thank you,” you replied, forcing a touch of gratitude into your voice. your gaze shifted to the table where kim seokjin sat, his presence commanding attention even from a distance. he was seated with a relaxed posture, a faint smirk playing on his lips—a smirk you knew all too well. the dynamic between him and his father was palpable; hyunsoo’s authoritative demeanor was mirrored by the cold distance he maintained with his son.

“seokjin, please stand up, don't be rude” his father instructed, his voice tinged with an almost imperceptible note of command. seokjin rose with a practiced grace, his smirk never faltering. as he approached your mother, he greeted her with a display of chivalry, his smile polished and disarmingly charming. “good evening, ma'am. it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

he turned his attention to you, extending a hand with a smirk that seemed to say he knew all your secrets. “haven’t seen you in a while, sister.” you couldn’t help but scoff at the nickname, the term dripping with insincerity. “how’s my friend, the fiancé?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing edge.

you rolled your eyes, though you tried to keep your tone even. “taehyung has been well, thank you for asking.”

your mother, sensing the undercurrent of tension, quickly intervened. “let’s not stand on ceremony. please, everyone, let’s sit down and enjoy our meal.” with that, the group moved to their seats, the evening set to unfold in the lavish surroundings of the restaurant. the table, elegantly set with fine china and crystal glasses, seemed to promise a night of carefully orchestrated politeness and hidden animosities. as you settled into your chair, you braced yourself for the intricate dance of social niceties and familial politics that lay ahead.

the dining room, bathed in the soft glow of hanging chandeliers, was a tableau of refined elegance. the table was adorned with pristine white linens, crystal glassware, and polished silver cutlery, each element meticulously arranged to complement the luxurious surroundings. as you and the others settled into your seats, the clinking of silverware and the murmur of polite conversation filled the space.

hyunsoo, with his air of effortless charm, took the lead in the conversation. “so, (y/n),” he began, addressing you with a casual interest, “how do you and my son know each other?” you placed your fork down, your gaze steady. “we attend the same high school,” you explained, your tone even. “he used to be friends with taehyung, my fiancé.”

hyunsoo turned his attention to his son, his eyes narrowing slightly as he posed a question. “seokjin, why did you two stop hanging out?” his son, sitting with an air of casual defiance, responded with a scoff.

“i’d rather not talk about it,” he said dismissively. he then directed his gaze back to you, his smirk reappearing with an almost predatory gleam. “do give him my best regards,” he said with an insincere sweetness that made your skin crawl.

the conversation was beginning to wear on your patience. the façade of civility, the undercurrents of tension—it was all too much. with a sigh, you decided it was best to excuse yourself. “i’ve lost my appetite,” you announced, standing up with a decisive motion. “i’ll be leaving now.” without waiting for a response, you made your way out of the restaurant, the cool evening air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the allure of retail therapy beckoned. you needed to blow off steam and escape the artificial pleasantries of the evening.

just as you were contemplating how to leave without drawing unwanted attention, you heard the sound of footsteps echoing behind you. turning around, you saw seokjin approaching, his smirk as unwavering as ever. “planning to see lover boy?” he asked, his voice carrying a taunting edge. you arched an eyebrow, the irritation in your tone barely concealed. “i’m going shopping. i can’t stand this anymore.”

his expression shifted slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips as he leaned in closer. “i hate it as much as you do,” he admitted in a low voice. “but there’s nothing you can do about it. you’ll just have to make peace with being my sister.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his audacity. “and why should i take advice from you?”

he gestured toward a sleek motorcycle parked at the curb, its dark surface gleaming under the streetlights. “the mall’s too far away, princess,” he said with a casual shrug. “good luck walking there.” he turned and began to walk toward the motorcycle, his smirk growing wider.

you hesitated for a moment, the prospect of walking a long distance against the backdrop of your frustration compelling you to reconsider. with a resigned sigh, you caved and followed him. he glanced over his shoulder, a satisfied gleam in his eye as he handed you a helmet. “climb on,” he instructed. “and hold on tight.”

you mounted the motorcycle with a scoff, feeling his smirk radiate through the air. as he settled into place in front of you, the rumble of the engine beneath you provided a thrilling contrast to the evening’s earlier tension. you gripped the edges of his jacket, readying yourself for the ride. his presence, though infuriating, was about to take you away from the constraints of the evening’s charade and into the night’s liberating possibilities.

the rumble of the motorcycle beneath you was a steady, rhythmic pulse as seokjin maneuvered through the city streets, heading towards the mall. the cool night air whipped past you, mingling with the hum of the engine and the occasional flash of neon lights from the passing storefronts. the journey was a blend of discomfort and unexpected exhilaration, with his occasional glances over his shoulder adding a touch of irritation to the otherwise liberating ride.

when the motorcycle finally came to a stop in front of the gleaming mall entrance, you dismounted, the solid ground beneath your feet a welcome change from the bike’s vibrations. you turned to him, eyebrow raised in surprise. “where do you think you’re going?” you asked, catching sight of him sliding off the motorcycle with a casual grace. his smirk was as unwavering as ever. “accompanying you,” he replied, arching an eyebrow with a nonchalant air. “it’s the brotherly thing to do, after all.”

you rolled your eyes but chose not to argue. with a huff, you headed towards the entrance of the mall, the anticipation of shopping lifting your spirits slightly. the vast interior of the mall was a labyrinth of luxury boutiques, department stores, and specialty shops, all bathed in the soft, ambient glow of recessed lighting.

you wandered through a myriad of stores, each one a treasure trove of fashion and accessories. from high-end clothing to chic accessories and luxurious makeup, you filled multiple shopping bags to the brim. each time your arms began to tire, you’d hand the bags over to seokjin, who wore an expression of resigned defeat.

his initial smirk had faded into a look of palpable exhaustion as he struggled to juggle the growing collection of shopping bags. “is this really necessary?” he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. you smirked at him, reveling in his discomfort. “it’s the brotherly thing to do,” you replied with a teasing inflection, mimicking his earlier words. he merely scoffed, but he complied, following you through store after store. the evening wore on, the mall’s atmosphere a dizzying blur of bright lights and vibrant displays.

as you perused a selection of skirts, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. you turned, surprised to see taehyung striding towards you with an expression of concern. seokjin’s scoff was barely audible beside you. “you’ve gotta be joking,” he muttered under his breath.

taehyung approached, his gaze shifting between you and seokjin with evident disapproval. “what are you doing with him?” he asked, his tone edged with tension. before you could respond, seokjin wrapped an arm around you, his smirk a mocking contrast to taehyung’s serious demeanor. “shopping with her brother,” he said smoothly. “we’re just bonding. why the long face?”

taehyung’s eyes narrowed in response. “call me when you get the chance,” he said, his voice softening as he turned to you. he leaned in and planted a brief, affectionate kiss on your cheek before stepping back. seokjin scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain. “how touching,” he remarked sarcastically.

the display of affection felt hollow, a forced gesture that did little to alleviate the artificiality of the evening. you turned to seokjin with a glare, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “you haven’t told him, have you?”

he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “what? that you slept with me?” he asked, his tone nonchalant. “can’t say that I have.”

the memory of that night—the one you had hoped to keep buried—flashed through your mind, bringing a wave of discomfort. you grimaced, your voice sharp with a sudden edge. “keep it that way,” you snapped. “for both our sakes.” his eyes narrowed slightly, though his smirk remained. “consider it done,” he said with a shrug. “but don’t expect me to be quiet forever.” as he turned to follow you once more, the tension between you felt almost palpable, the facade of familial civility wearing thin. the revelation, unexpected and intense, hung in the air like a dark cloud over the evening's strained politeness, promising that the complex web of relationships and hidden truths was far from over.

the ride back to your place was a strained silence punctuated only by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional rush of wind. seokjin’s grip on the handlebars was steady, but the tension between you was almost tangible. the city lights flickered by in a blur, the streets now quiet and calm after the evening's earlier hustle. as he maneuvered the bike into the parking lot of your residential complex, you could see the familiar outline of your building emerging from the shadows. the cool night air greeted you as you dismounted, the weight of the evening's events heavy on your shoulders.

your mother was waiting outside, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips, the smoke curling lazily into the night. her face lit up with a practiced smile when she spotted the two of you. “oh, what a lovely surprise,” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with insincerity. “i’m so happy to see you both bonding.” seokjin gave a polite nod, his expression a mask of courteousness. “good night, ma'am” he said, preparing to leave.

but before he could pull away, your mother called out, her tone shifting from casual to inviting. “oh, seokjin, why don’t you stay the night? you might as well make yourself comfortable, since you and your father will be moving in soon anyway.” you let out an audible scoff, your annoyance clear. “mother, that—”

his initial inclination to decline was evident, but when he caught sight of your reaction, a calculating smirk slowly crept onto his face. “i’d be honoured,” he said smoothly, addressing your mother. the shift in his demeanor was immediate, and you felt your face fall in horror. the realization of what this meant settled over you like a cold, heavy blanket. your mother, oblivious to your distress, beamed with delight. “wonderful!” she exclaimed. “come inside, both of you.”

you turned to him with a glare, your frustration palpable. “what do you think you’re doing?” you demanded. his smirk widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “just keeping my sister company,” he replied, his voice dripping with insincerity.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on your heel and headed towards the entrance of the building. “fine,” you said curtly. “you can start by carrying the bags in.” the satisfaction of seeing his grimace as he picked up the bags was a small consolation as you walked inside, the weight of the evening’s revelations settling heavily over you. the prospect of having seokjin as a constant presence in your life, particularly as your step-brother, was an unsettling twist that promised to complicate things further.

as you prepared for bed, the hum of conversation from the living room seeped into your room. the voices of your mother and seokjin intertwined in a nauseating symphony of pleasantries and false intimacy. the sound of his laughter, insincere and mocking, only served to heighten your irritation. you could imagine the sickeningly sweet exchange taking place just beyond the door: your mother’s fluttering giggles and his carefully measured compliments.

you stood in front of your mirror, the soft, silken strands of your hair cascading over your shoulders as you brushed them out. each stroke was a deliberate motion, a small attempt to maintain a semblance of control amid the chaos that had abruptly entered your life. the pale light of the bedside lamp illuminated your reflection, casting delicate shadows on your features.

suddenly, your mother’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “(y/n), come to the living room for a moment.”

your heart sank as you walked down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. the living room’s soft, warm light contrasted starkly with the cool, calculating presence of seokjin, who was lounging comfortably on the sofa. his eyes met yours with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“oh, there you are,” your mother said with a bright, if forced, cheerfulness. “seokjin proposed such a wonderful idea. we should invite taehyung for breakfast with the whole family tomorrow.” the words felt like a punch to the gut. your stomach churned, and you felt your face pale as you glared at him. the smirk on his face was almost predatory, a silent taunt that he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s been a while since i've seen him,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, feigning nostalgia.

your mouth went dry, and you struggled to maintain your composure. “taehyung’s been busy with the company,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. your mother’s eyes narrowed with impatience. “nonsense,” she said dismissively. “he always makes time for his fiancée. don’t be ridiculous, (y/n).”

seokjin chimed in, his voice laced with an undercurrent of venom. “i’d think so too. it would be nice to catch up.” biting back the retort on the tip of your tongue, you managed to force a strained smile. “i’ll give him a call and see if he can make it.”

your mother’s face lit up with unrestrained delight. “perfect! we’ll all have a lovely time.”

with a final nod, your mother headed towards her bedroom, leaving you and seokjin alone. you retreated to your room, your mind a tumult of frustration and unease. as you resumed brushing your hair, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. he was standing just outside your door, watching you with an unsettling, predatory gaze.

“are you out of your mind?” you snapped, not turning around. his smirk widened as he stepped into the room, his presence exuding a palpable tension. he moved with deliberate slowness, his footsteps almost silent against the polished floor. as he approached, your breath quickened, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm against the back of your neck. he gently pushed your hair aside, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“what’s the issue?” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “are you so afraid of your fiancé finding out about our little rendezvous? or perhaps you’re concerned your mother might discover that her perfect daughter has a rather troubling fondness for her new stepbrother?”

you stiffened in front of the mirror, your heart racing. desperately trying to maintain a facade of calm, you replied, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he chuckled softly, the sound resonating with dark amusement. “oh, i’m sure you don’t,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “well, good night then. i look forward to seeing my brother-in-law tomorrow.”

as he walked away, the soft click of the door closing behind him left you in a charged silence. the intensity of the moment lingered, leaving you with a tangled mix of dread and apprehension. as you stared at your reflection, the night’s revelations swirled around you, setting the stage for the complex and treacherous path that lay ahead.

as the clock ticked away into the early hours of the morning, you found yourself hunched over your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you typed out a message to taehyung. the screen’s dim glow illuminated your face, casting shadows that only seemed to deepen the anxiety pooling in your stomach.

“hey, taehyung. i’ve arranged for breakfast with my family tomorrow. it would mean a lot if you could join us. i hope you’re free.” you stared at the message for a moment, the words feeling like a leaden weight. the last thing you wanted was for him to be in the same room as seokjin, but you couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to cancel the invitation. with a resigned sigh, you hit send, hoping for an excuse to emerge from somewhere, anywhere. throwing your phone onto the bedside table, you buried your face in the cool sheets and forced yourself to sleep, even as the anxiety kept your mind racing.

when morning light filtered through the curtains, you reluctantly dragged yourself from the bed. the day stretched before you, fraught with the tension of what awaited. you moved through your morning routine with mechanical precision, each movement a choreographed dance of necessity rather than joy. dressed in a sleek, sophisticated outfit—elegant yet understated—you made your way to the dining hall. the murmur of conversation and the clink of cutlery reached your ears before you even stepped inside. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the encounter, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

the scene that greeted you was like a punch to the gut. the dining table was a tableau of familial warmth and cheer, a stark contrast to the tumult brewing within you. your mother sat at the head of the table, a vision of radiant composure, while seokjin and his father occupied the seats on either side. the sight that nearly made your heart stop was taehyung, seated directly beside seokjin, his expression a mix of discomfort and forced politeness.

the moment you entered, seokjin’s eyes lit up with a devious glint. his smirk widened as he called out in a tone laced with mock cheerfulness, “there’s my sister! finally decided to join us?” your stomach dropped as your mother’s face brightened. “oh, you’re just in time!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with enthusiasm. “we’ve been waiting for you.”

seokjin’s father turned to you, his gaze appreciative as he remarked, “you look stunning this morning.” you offered a strained smile in return, your insides twisting with a mixture of frustration and dread. with deliberate steps, you crossed the room and took a seat directly across from seokjin. the breakfast spread was a feast of opulent proportions, but your appetite was long gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.

turning to taehyung, you forced a pleasant smile. “good morning, taehyung.” his response was a carefully controlled, if equally false, smile. “good morning, sweetheart.”

the term of endearment seemed to have a magnetic effect on seokjin, who looked at taehyung with an expression that flickered between amusement and something darker—resentment, perhaps. the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were about to say something, but he restrained himself, the hint of a smirk still playing at his lips. your mother’s cooing only served to heighten the discomfort. “oh, you two make such a lovely couple. it’s wonderful to see you both getting along so well.”

seokjin’s eyes were a dark pool of satisfaction as he observed the interaction, clearly reveling in the discomfort he had orchestrated. the breakfast proceeded with strained conversation and polite laughter, each bite of food tasting like cardboard, each exchange of pleasantries feeling like a forced performance. the morning air was thick with the pretenses and tensions that lay just beneath the surface. each passing moment felt like a countdown to the inevitable fallout, and you could only hope that somehow, someway, this precarious balance would hold until you could escape the confines of the gilded cage.

the clinking of cutlery against fine china created a rhythmic backdrop to the strained conversation. your mother, ever the adept conversationalist, turned her attention to you and taehyung with a gleaming smile. “so,” she began, her tone warm and honeyed, “have you two given any more thought to the wedding plans? i’m sure there’s so much to organize, but it’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

taehyung, his expression a mask of polite detachment, nodded. “yes, we’ve been working through the details. there’s a lot to consider, but we’re managing.” you offered a non-committal shrug. “it’s just a formality, really. the details don’t matter much to me.”

your mother’s smile faltered slightly but she pressed on. “oh, but it’s such an important day. you’ll want everything to be perfect.” seokjin, who had been watching with a calculating gaze, leaned in with a fabricated sincerity. “you two are such a precious couple. it’s heartwarming to see you both so committed.”

you shot him a glare, your eyes narrowing in warning, but the intensity of his smirk only grew. unbeknownst to the others at the table, his hand began a slow, deliberate journey up your hamstring, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of your ankle before tracing along your heel. a shiver ran up your spine, not from pleasure but from the shock of his audacity. his touch was both tender and invasive, a contradictory blend that left you feeling unnervingly exposed. his eyes flickered toward taehyung, who was deeply engaged in conversation with your mother, oblivious to the silent exchange happening under the table.

with a determined calmness, you shifted your foot, removing the heel from your shoe. you pressed your bare sole gently against his clothed crotch, the contact eliciting a subdued grunt from him. the sound was enough to draw the attention of everyone at the table.

your mother's head snapped toward him, a frown of concern etched on her face. “is everything alright?” seokjin cleared his throat, a mask of discomfort now in place. “just a bit of a cramp,” he said, his voice strained but controlled. “i’ll be fine.”

your mother’s eyes softened with concern. “do you need an ice pack, dear?” he shook his head, though his eyes remained locked with yours, a smirk barely contained. “no, thank you. i’ll manage.”

as you slipped your foot back into your heel, the smug satisfaction on your face was palpable. the brief encounter had been a dangerous game, but you had managed to assert some measure of control. the exchange was subtle, yet charged with an intensity that left your pulse racing. taehyung, still watching seokjin with a mixture of worry and suspicion, glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. he seemed to sense that something had occurred, but the details eluded him. you met his gaze with an innocent, if somewhat strained, smile.

seokjin’s gaze lingered on you, his smirk now a twisted symbol of triumph. the underlying tension was almost tangible, a dark thread weaving through the seemingly mundane breakfast conversation. despite the outward civility, the air crackled with an unspoken challenge, a game of dominance played out in the guise of a simple family meal.

as taehyung prepared to leave, you approached him with a practiced grace, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the gesture, though routine, was met with enthusiastic coos from your mother and her new husband, their faces lighting up with approval. seokjin, however, observed with a dark intensity, his gaze locked with taehyung’s in a silent, menacing exchange. the atmosphere crackled with unspoken hostility as he departed, leaving you standing at the threshold of your room.

once alone, you retreated to your room, eager to change out of your breakfast attire. your wardrobe offered a range of options, but you were immediately drawn to a sleek, pink dress. as you pulled it from the hanger, a voice, cold and commanding, cut through the quiet. “don’t wear that one. too short.”

startled, you turned to see seokjin standing in the doorway, his smirk taunting. you rolled your eyes and tossed the dress aside with a dismissive flick of your wrist. “it’s none of your concern.” his amusement only grew. he sauntered closer, the confidence in his step both unsettling and provocative. his next question was blunt, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. “have you and taehyung fucked yet?”

you recoiled, a flush rising to your cheeks as you scoffed at his vulgarity. “you’re disgusting,” you decided to do what you did best—you lied. “but if you must know, yes, we have.”

his smirk never wavered as he drew near, his breath warm against your ear. “oh, really? was he good?” your heart raced, but you forced yourself to respond with practiced nonchalance. “the best i’ve ever had.”

before you could register the full impact of your lie, his hands were on your hips, his touch sending an involuntary shiver through you. his fingers grazed the fabric of your dress, moving with deliberate slowness. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, igniting a frisson of unwanted pleasure. the sensation was overwhelming as his finger slipped beneath the hem of your dress, brushing your clit through your underwear. a sharp yelp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto his arm, your grip tight as if to anchor yourself in the face of his audacity.

“stop,” you whispered urgently, your voice trembling. “anyone could come in.”

seokjin’s eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as he withdrew his touch, his fingers lingering in the air for a moment. he turned toward the door, but not before performing a slow, deliberate motion that made your stomach churn. he brought his finger to his mouth, licking it clean with a sensuous, unhurried stroke. “just wanted a taste,” he said softly, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “breakfast wasn’t enough.”

with that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him. you stood frozen, your mind racing as you processed the invasion of privacy and the degradation you had just endured. the room felt oppressively quiet, the tension of the encounter leaving an acrid taste in the air. you hurried to your mirror, your reflection revealing a flush of lust and humiliation. your hands trembled as you grasped the discarded dress, the weight of his touch lingering in your senses. desperately, you tried to compose yourself, to regain some semblance of control as you prepared to face the rest of the day.

the day had dawned with a biting chill, but you were too preoccupied with the turmoil from the night before to pay it any heed. as you slipped into your uniform, the short, beige skirt clung uncomfortably to your hips. you meticulously dusted off the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you could. the skirt, although practical, felt like an unwelcome reminder of the escalating tension between you and seokjin.

stepping out of your room, you were met with your mother’s beaming smile. she was already preparing to offer you a ride, her cheerfulness a stark contrast to your inner turmoil. but before she could extend the offer, seokjin appeared beside her, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of approval and something darker.

“i’ll take her,” he announced smoothly, his voice carrying a confident, almost commanding tone. your mother’s face lit up with delight. “oh, that’s a wonderful idea, jin! i’m sure you two will have a pleasant drive.”

you tried to voice your protest, but the words seemed to die on your lips as you followed him to the entrance. as you walked, you felt his hand graze your thigh—a touch both intimate and unnervingly casual. a shiver ran up your spine as he let out a soft tsk, his gaze sliding down to your skirt. “this skirt's much too short,” he commented with a feigned air of disapproval. you fought the urge to flinch at his touch, though it left a disconcerting sensation in your stomach. rolling your eyes, you replied, “it’s not short enough.”

his sharp look silenced you instantly, his eyes narrowing with an intensity that made you want to shrink away. without a word, he reached into the compartment of his motorcycle and pulled out a helmet. the sleek, black visor seemed to glint with a dangerous promise. he handed it to you with a barely perceptible smirk. “here,” he said, “you’ll need this.”

you took the helmet with a resigned sigh, slipping it over your head. as you adjusted it, seokjin mounted his motorcycle with practiced ease. he gestured for you to climb on behind him. with a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around his waist, the feel of his body against yours both unsettling and strangely thrilling. his touch was almost absent as he guided the motorcycle out of the driveway, his movements smooth and fluid. the engine roared to life beneath you, and you felt the vibration travel up through the seat, connecting you in a way that was both intimate and intrusive. as the bike picked up speed, the wind whipped around you, a harsh reminder of the precarious balance between control and chaos in your relationship with him.

the motorcycle finally rolled to a stop outside the grand gates of your school, a prestigious, modern private institution that towered above you with its gleaming glass façade and intricate architectural details. the building seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reflecting the morning sun in a dazzling display of light. you dismounted quickly, feeling seokjin’s presence just behind you as you surveyed the sea of students who turned their heads to watch.

with a practiced air of indifference, you strode towards the entrance, the clack of your heels against the pavement sharp and commanding. seokjin matched your pace, his stride relaxed yet unmistakably assured. his presence only amplified the scrutiny from your peers, their eyes flitting between you and him as they whispered amongst themselves.

the hallways of the school were just as opulent as the exterior, decorated with sleek marble floors and walls adorned with modern art. you approached your locker with the familiar weight of the day’s burden pressing on your shoulders. as you spun the combination, the soft murmur of voices from two girls near the lockers caught your attention. “did you see that?” one whispered, her tone tinged with awe and curiosity. “she’s with kim seokjin.”

“yeah,” the other replied, “i heard he’s going to be her stepbrother. and what about taehyung? is he still her fiancé?” you froze momentarily, your mind racing. you snapped your head in their direction, the edge of your gaze sharp enough to cut through the uncertainty that hung in the air. the girls fell silent, their eyes widening as they avoided your stare.

“speak up,” you demanded, your voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “i can’t hear you properly.” the two girls exchanged terrified glances before they hastily gathered their things and hurried away, their retreating footsteps echoing down the corridor. you slammed your locker shut with a decisive bang, the sound reverberating through the hallway. the echo of their whispers was replaced by the gentle, almost mocking chuckle of seokjin beside you.

“you know,” he said with a smirk, his voice low and teasing, “you might want to consider being a bit nicer. you’d have less to deal with if you did.”

you shot him a look that could have frozen fire, your expression a mix of annoyance and disdain. “dealing with you is a death sentence itself,” you retorted sharply. his amusement only grew as he followed you down the hallway, his laughter a low, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate in time with your quickening pace. the halls were filled with a soft hum of activity as students bustled about, their chatter and laughter creating a backdrop to your tense exchange.

the bell chimed with its usual, resonant clang, signaling the beginning of your literature class. the room, with its rows of wooden desks and high-backed chairs, settled into a hush as students rustled through their notebooks and textbooks. the light from the large windows spilled across the floor in golden patches, warming the space and casting a serene glow over the scene.

the professor, a middle-aged woman with a penchant for dramatic flair, stepped to the front of the class. she adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat, her eyes twinkling with the promise of intellectual challenge.

“today,” she began, “we will be delving into the complexities of shakespeare’s works. i want to start by discussing hamlet. can anyone tell me about the significance of the ghost in the play?” the room was filled with a heavy silence as students exchanged glances, their faces betraying a mix of uncertainty and reluctance. you could almost feel the collective hesitation hanging in the air. with a soft, derisive scoff, you raised your hand.

“yes, (y/n)?” the professor prompted. “the ghost of king hamlet represents the unresolved issues and the sins of the past,” you began smoothly, your tone both confident and nonchalant. “he acts as a catalyst for hamlet’s quest for revenge and moral reflection, underscoring the play’s themes of corruption and madness.”

the professor nodded appreciatively, and you continued to field the subsequent questions with equal ease. your responses flowed effortlessly, the knowledge gained from countless hours of studying shakespeare’s intricacies and nuances evident in your answers. each question seemed to melt away beneath your adept grasp of the material, leaving the professor and the class in a state of quiet admiration—or, perhaps, envy.

throughout your impromptu display of literary prowess, seokjin sat at the back of the room, his gaze locked on you with an expression of bemused amusement. his smirk widened with each correct answer, his eyes sparkling with an inscrutable mixture of pride and mischief. the way he watched you, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual elegance, made it clear that he enjoyed every moment of your intellectual dominance.

then, breaking the relative silence of the lecture, his voice cut through the air with a deliberate casualness. “professor,” he began, his tone smooth and deliberately casual, “will the class be covering cymbeline at any point?” your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the play. you froze, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk as your eyes shot towards him. his gaze met yours, and the smirk on his lips was infuriatingly smug.

the professor, momentarily taken aback, adjusted her glasses and thought for a moment. “ah, cymbeline,” she mused. “it is indeed a romance about the struggles and complexities of unrequited love between the characters of cloten and imogen, who, as it turns out, are stepsiblings. we will be covering this play in our syllabus, and you’ll have the opportunity to discuss its themes and characters in the near future.”

as she spoke, you felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. the connection he had made—whether intentional or not—was impossible to ignore. the irony of discussing a romance between stepsiblings while seated next to him, the future stepbrother in your life, was nearly unbearable. you buried your face in your hands, the heat of mortification blending with frustration. seokjin’s amusement was palpable. he leaned back, his smirk widening as he relished in the discomfort he had stirred. his eyes glinted with satisfaction as he observed your reaction, finding some twisted pleasure in the way you squirmed beneath his gaze.

the bell rang, its sharp peal reverberating through the hallways of the private school. students began to shuffle out of the classroom, their voices mingling into a hum of chatter as they made their way to their next destination. you, with a determined stride, pushed through the crowd, eager to escape the claustrophobic confines of the literature class.

just as you were about to leave the classroom, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“impressive as always, sister” seokjin said with a mocking inflection in his tone. “your knowledge of literature, your prowess in speaking four languages, and let’s not forget your mathematical skills. quite the renaissance woman.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and quickening your pace. “not now, seokjin,” you muttered, focusing on the path ahead.

with his characteristic blend of confidence and insolence, he wasn’t easily deterred. he kept pace beside you, his footsteps echoing your own. “oh, but wait,” he continued, a sly smile curling his lips, “such brilliance, and yet—”

he paused dramatically, letting his words hang in the air. you shot him a wary glance, your irritation mounting. “and yet?” you prompted, trying to keep your voice steady. “so smart,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “until she’s on her knees for her stepbrother.”

you froze mid-step, the echo of his words reverberating in your mind. the hallway seemed to close in around you, the chatter of students fading into a distant murmur. you whirled around to face him, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “keep it down, asshole” you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one else could hear. “anyone could hear you.”

his smirk widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. without warning, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you back towards him. you stumbled slightly, your back pressing against his chest as he held you close.

“don’t you want to have lunch with your stepbrother?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. the proximity made your pulse quicken, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. you shivered, both from his touch and the implications of his words. “let go, asshole,” you said, struggling to free yourself from his grip. “this isn’t funny.”

he didn’t release you, though. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “come on,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine. “you can’t avoid me forever.” reluctantly, you sighed and resigned yourself to the situation. “fine,” you muttered, “let’s go.”

his grip on your wrist loosened, and he finally released you, though he maintained a close proximity as you both made your way to the cafeteria. the hallway was bustling with students, their faces a blur of excitement and chatter. he walked beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the tension between you. as you entered the cafeteria, the noise level surged. The scent of various foods—freshly baked bread, savory meats, and sweet desserts—filled the air. the large room was filled with long tables, some already occupied by groups of students engaged in animated conversations. you and seokjin made your way to an empty table in the corner, away from the more crowded areas.

he pulled out a chair for you with an exaggerated flourish, his smirk never fading. “after you, dear step-sister,” he said, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

you sat down, your eyes narrowing at him as you took in the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him. his presence was both intimidating and infuriating. as you began to look over the food options, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you, you could feel the weight of his words and actions pressing down on you. “why are you doing this?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached for a plate. his eyes sparkled with mischief. “doing what?” he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eye betrayed his true intentions.

“playing games,” you clarified, your frustration palpable. “why make things so difficult?” he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you. “it’s not about making things difficult,” he said casually. “it’s about making things interesting. besides, it’s not every day i get to spend time with my step-sister.”

as you both waited for your food, the cafeteria buzzed with the chatter of other students, the atmosphere filled with a vibrant energy that contrasted sharply with the tension between you and him. the clash of his casual demeanor against your stiff, frustrated silence created a palpable tension in the air, one that neither of you seemed willing to break.

as he leaned back in his chair, his casual demeanor never faltering, you turned to him with an edge of exasperation in your voice. “seokjin,” you began, your tone sharp, “stop calling me your step-sister. it’s not funny.” his smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “oh, but it is funny,” he said, a mischievous tone threading through his words. “besides, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

before you could retort, the cafeteria doors swung open with a familiar creak. taehyung walked in, his expression taut with displeasure. his eyes locked onto yours and then to seokjin. he approached the table, his gaze stern. “what’s going on here?” he asked, his voice low and controlled but clearly irritated.

seokjin, seemingly unfazed, looked up at him with a smirk. “isn’t it obvious?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “i’m simply enjoying lunch with my sister.” you shot him a withering glare, feeling the flush of humiliation creeping up your neck. taehyung’s patience seemed to wear thin as he turned to you.

“get up,” he said firmly, extending his hand. you stared at him in astonishment. “what? why?”

“just get up,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. reluctantly, you stood, but before you could move, seokjin’s hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising force. “sit back down,” he commanded, his voice icy.

taehyung’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “if you don’t let her go,” he said through gritted teeth, “i’ll knock your ass out clean.”

seokjin’s smirk remained, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement. “please,” he said, gesturing towards the other students who had begun to watch the scene unfold. “let’s not make a scene.”

mortification washed over you as the stares of the students pierced through you like daggers. “cut it out, both of you,” you said, your voice rising in desperation. “this is ridiculous.”

taehyung’s frustration was palpable as he reached for your wrist, pulling gently. “let’s go,” he said firmly. but just as he began to lead you away, seokjin yanked you back by your other arm, his grip unyielding. the two men locked eyes, the tension between them nearly tangible.

taehyung’s jaw clenched. “watch what you’re doing,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. seokjin’s smirk only deepened. “oh, i’m just having a little fun,” he said, his tone taunting. “if you think you can do something about it, feel free to try.”

before taehyung could make a move, you interjected, your voice trembling but resolute. “seokjin,” you said firmly, “i’ll be right back.” his eyes flashed with reluctant understanding, though his smirk remained. he released his grip on your arm but maintained a watchful gaze as you began to follow taehyung. as you moved away, the atmosphere crackled with an unspoken challenge between the two of them. you glanced back once, catching seokjin’s smirk as he watched you go. taehyung, leading you away, was clearly trying to keep his anger in check, his grip on your wrist tight but not painful.

he led you outside the front doors of the school, the crisp afternoon air hitting you with a sharpness that matched the tension between you. he didn’t release his grip on your wrist until you were standing under the shadow of a large oak tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. “what’s your problem?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the surge of anger and hurt. “why are you being such an asshole? neither of us wanted this engagement, so why does it matter what i do?”

his glare was as cold as steel. “it matters because my reputation is on the line,” he snapped, his voice edged with frustration. “i didn’t agree to this engagement, but i have to uphold a certain image. seeing you so close to seokjin makes me look weak and unreliable. that’s something i can’t afford.”

the hurt in your chest felt like a physical blow, but you held your tongue as he continued. “i don’t care what you do behind closed doors,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “just keep it out of the public eye. my reputation is at stake, and i expect you to be more mindful of that when others are around.” his words cut deep, leaving you standing there, stunned and wounded. the weight of his disapproval pressed heavily upon you, making it hard to breathe. as he turned on his heel and walked away, his stride confident and unyielding, you were left grappling with his harsh words.

as you stood there, processing the sting of his words, you felt a familiar touch on your shoulder. you turned to see seokjin standing behind you, his gaze sympathetic yet carrying an undercurrent of coldness as he watched taehyung retreating in the distance. “come on,” he said gently, his tone soft but firm. “i’ll take you home.”

you nodded, unable to muster more than a weary sigh. seokjin’s presence was a mixed blessing—his offer of support came with its own complexities, but right now, it was a comfort. as he guided you back towards his motorcycle, the silence between you was thick, filled with unspoken words and shared tension. you both walked in silence, the rustling leaves and distant hum of traffic filling the void. the drive back to your place was equally quiet, with his driving marked by an attentive, almost contemplative air. you glanced occasionally at him, but his eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable.

when you finally arrived at your place, the familiar surroundings did little to ease the turmoil inside you. seokjin parked the motorcycle and turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and sincere. you nodded, though the ache in your chest told a different story. “i’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a small smile. “thanks for the ride.”

his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a short nod. “if you need anything,” he said softly, “just let me know.” with that, you both stepped out. as you made your way to the door, his presence was a steady, albeit complex, support. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the comfort of your home offering a momentary reprieve from the emotional storm.

the evening settled over the house, casting long shadows across the rooms as you moved through the kitchen, tidying up for dinner. the comforting hum of the dishwasher filled the space, a soothing background to the tumultuous thoughts racing through your mind. you wiped down the counters with mechanical precision, trying to keep your mind occupied and away from the earlier confrontation with taehyung and the underlying tension with seokjin.

as you finished cleaning, you joined your mother and seokjin at the dining table. the air, which had once held a certain playful charm, now felt dense and suffocating. the weight of your mother’s earlier conversation with taehyung and the ensuing emotional turmoil clung to you like a shroud.

she seized the opportunity to delve into a discussion about your engagement. “you know,” she began, her tone casual yet probing, “i was thinking about the wedding preparations. we need to finalize the guest list and decide on the venue soon. It’s such an important event, and i want everything to be perfect for you and taehyung.” you nodded, though the words felt like daggers. “i’m sure everything will work out,” you replied, your voice tight with suppressed emotion.

seokjin, sitting across the table, cast a sympathetic glance your way but said nothing. he seemed to sense the delicate balance of the conversation and watched as your mother continued.

“and i know it’s a big adjustment,” your mother continued, her voice gentle but insistent. “but you’ll find that once you get used to the idea, it'll all fall into place. taehyung is a wonderful man, and i’m sure you’ll both make a great life together.” each word felt like a pinprick against your already raw nerves. you could barely maintain your composure as she spoke, her words a relentless reminder of the life you were being forced into. the suffocating weight of her expectations and the impossible situation you were trapped in pushed you closer to the edge.

finally, the strain became too much. “i don’t wanna hear about taehyung anymore,” you blurted out, your voice trembling with emotion. “it’s more than enough that i’m being forced into a life i don’t want. i don’t need to be reminded of it every minute.” your mother’s eyes widened in shock, her fork halting mid-air. seokjin’s gaze shifted from your mother to you, his expression softening as he took in your distress. the silence that followed your outburst was thick and uncomfortable, the air charged with the weight of your raw emotion.

tears welled in your eyes, and you tried to blink them away, but they came anyway, spilling down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i just can’t do this anymore.” without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. you hurried out of the room, not daring to look back. the cold comfort of your room was a small relief, a place where you could be alone with your thoughts.

you shut the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. the tears came freely now, each sob a release of the pent-up frustration and despair that had been building inside you. the crushing weight of your situation, the unrelenting pressure from your mother, and the complexities of your relationship with seokjin all converged into a single, overwhelming storm of emotion. outside, the house was eerily quiet. his sympathetic gaze had not gone unnoticed, and you could only hope that his understanding extended beyond the surface. as you cried into the softness of your pillow, you felt a small pang of gratitude for his presence, even as you wished desperately for the strength to face the days ahead.

you lay on your bed, your face buried in the pillow as the tears continued to flow. the muffled sound of your sobs was the only noise in the room, and the heavy silence was a stark contrast to the chaos in your heart. the warmth of the tears against your cheeks and the soft, wet fabric of the pillowcase were the only things grounding you in that moment.

you didn't hear the soft creak of the door opening, nor the quiet footsteps that followed. seokjin entered the room with a silent grace, closing the door behind him with a careful click. the dim light from the hallway cast long shadows on the floor, barely illuminating his figure as he approached. sitting beside you on the bed, he placed a comforting hand on your leg. his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions. “you’re gonna ruin your makeup,” he said softly, attempting to lighten the mood. his voice was warm, but there was an undertone of genuine concern.

you managed a watery laugh, the sound escaping through your tears. you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, struggling to regain some semblance of composure. when you looked at him, his gaze was unwaveringly sympathetic. he gently brushed away the tears that had escaped your attempts to dry them, his touch tender and reassuring. his eyes softened as he studied your face. the image of the woman before him, so vulnerable and distressed, was a far cry from the spoiled, spoiled girl he had initially perceived. there was a depth to you now, a raw honesty in your pain that challenged his previous assumptions.

“you’ll find a way out of this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “any guy would be lucky to have you.” you shook your head, a defeated gesture. “i don’t want to be taehyung’s fiancée anymore,” you confessed, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “i can’t stand this life.”

his expression hardened with resolve. “i know,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ll find a way out of it for you. i promise.”

before you could respond, he leaned closer. his lips brushed against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. the initial touch was gentle, a mere whisper of contact, but it quickly grew more intense. as his lips pressed more firmly against yours, the kiss became heated, filled with a passion that had been bubbling beneath the surface.

his body hovered over yours, the warmth of his form radiating against your own. his hands cupped your face, tilting it slightly to deepen the kiss. each movement was deliberate, his touch both commanding and tender. the kiss conveyed a mix of comfort and desire, an unspoken promise in every press of his lips against yours. the world outside faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips and the comforting strength of his presence. the kiss was a blend of urgency and tenderness, a moment of escape from the oppressive reality that had been suffocating you. seokjin’s hands roamed gently, his touch setting your skin aflame even as it soothed the storm within.

as the kiss continued, you found yourself responding, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders. the heat of the moment enveloped you, the kiss becoming an intense exchange of feelings that neither of you could fully articulate. his grip on your face tightened slightly, his kisses growing more fervent as he lost himself in the shared passion. “any man would be lucky to have my stepsister, right?”

you gasped against his mouth, nodding, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue delved deeper, tasting you thoroughly. seokjin’s hands began to wander, tracing the contours of your body with a hungry touch. his palms slid over your breasts, kneading gently before he reached for the hem of your shirt. you didn’t resist, allowing him to lift it over your head, baring your chest to the cool air. his eyes raked over your exposed skin, a look of pure lust in his gaze.

his mouth left yours to blaze a trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. your body arched, a soft moan escaping as his teeth grazed your collarbone. your skin was on fire, every nerve ending alight with a need that only he could satisfy. as his kisses grew more insistent, his hands worked at the button and zipper of your skirt, pulling it down over your hips. his warm breath against your skin was intoxicating, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

his eyes locked with yours as he slid your underwear aside, revealing your wet, swollen pussy. without hesitation, he leaned down to bury his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that surprised even him. you bucked against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming, your hands gripping the bedcovers tightly. his tongue flicked and probed, his expert touch driving you wild. “told you i needed a taste,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

his mouth closed around your clit, sucking gently as his fingers slid into your tight heat. your breath hitched, a whimper escaping as he began to fuck you with his digits, setting a rhythm that matched the strokes of his tongue. the room was filled with the sounds of your passion, your cries muffled by the pillow you’d buried your face in. he ate you out like a starving man, savoring every drop of your arousal, his own need growing with every passing second.

his words were dirty, a stream of vulgar praise that had you squirming with pleasure. “you’re so fucking perfect, baby. so sweet and tight for me. gotta fill you up, make you scream my name. tell me you want it, tell me you’re mine.” his voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the gentle laps of his tongue.

you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body taut with anticipation. you whispered a shaky “yes, seokjin, yes—promise i'm all yours,” urging him on, begging for release. his pace increased, his tongue circling your clit faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you with an unyielding rhythm. your thighs trembled, your entire body tightening as the orgasm built within you.

finally, with a muffled scream into the pillow, you came, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. seokjin didn’t stop, his mouth working tirelessly to extend your climax, his fingers still moving within you. when the last tremor had passed, he kissed your inner thighs before standing up, his eyes dark with desire.

his own clothing was quickly discarded, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his length nudging at your entrance. “are you ready for me? need your step-brother that bad?” he growled, his voice low and animalistic.

you nodded, your eyes wide with need. “yes, please, yes.” he didn’t wait for further invitation, thrusting into you in one swift motion. your walls clenched around him, trying to accommodate his size. a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure slipped from your lips, but you didn’t protest. this was what you needed, what you’d been craving.

his strokes were deep and hard, claiming you as his own. his hands held your hips in a firm grip, keeping you in place as he drove into you without mercy. the room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your moans of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. he didn’t hold back, fucking you with an intensity that left you breathless.

his eyes never left yours, the connection between you two palpable as he fucked you with an unbridled passion. your pussy was soaking wet, welcoming his every thrust, and with each push into you, seokjin felt a sense of power and ownership that he hadn’t experienced before. you were his, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

his hips pistoned against yours, his cock plunging deep inside you. your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that would later remind him of this illicit encounter. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you writhing beneath him. “you’re so tight, baby. just need you to be quiet for me, don't let your mom hear us.” he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

his words only served to drive you higher, your breath coming in ragged gasps. your walls tightened around him, the friction building as he hit all the right spots. your body was his playground, and he was playing you like a maestro conducting an orchestra of desire. “you like that, don’t you? wonder what your mom would think, if she saw you like this—fucked out just for her step-brother's cock.” he taunted, his voice a mix of praise and degradation.

you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirlwind of sensation. all you could do was moan, your body a slave to the pleasure he was giving you. you felt yourself building up to another orgasm, the tension coiling in your belly like a tight spring. “yes, yes, yes,” you encouraged, your voice raw and desperate.

his rhythm grew erratic as he felt his own climax approaching. his grip on your hips tightened, his strokes becoming more frenzied. “i’m gonna cum inside you, baby. i’m gonna fill you up with my cum, mark you as mine.” his words were a declaration of ownership, a claiming that sent a thrill through your core.

you felt yourself tumbling over the edge once more, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. as it crested, you felt him tense above you, his cock pulsing as he released his seed deep within you. the warmth of his cum filled you, mixing with your own juices, creating a deliciously obscene mess. his breathing was harsh, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. he leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue invading your mouth as he continued to pump his hips, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. when he finally pulled out, he collapsed beside you, both of you panting and slick with sweat.

the room was filled with the scent of your shared passion, the air thick with the intimacy of your connection. he turned towards you, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if sealing a promise. “you'll find a way out of it,” he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. “and you'll always have me by your side.”

you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. his words were a lifeline in the storm of your emotions, a promise of unwavering support and love. the weight of the world seemed a little lighter with him there, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. his eyes were filled with an earnest sincerity that made your heart ache. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. the warmth of his body against yours was a comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in this. as you nestled into his chest, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly ebbing away.

“i can't be taehyung's fiancée anymore,” you whispered, the words barely audible. he tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “i know,” he replied gently. “i promise you won't be.”

his reassurance was a soothing balm to your battered spirit. you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax in his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. the future was still uncertain, but with seokjin by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. the bond between you, forged in the fires of your shared struggles, was unbreakable. and as you lay there, wrapped in his embrace, you knew that no matter what happened, you would always have each other.

✧.*

a/n: should i end it here or make a part 2 lmk

[galaxiasgreen]

💐🍃Flowery Language

Shenanigans with minor Garreth/ Reader [G-Rated, 2k words]

"Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?" "I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"

Garreth gets you flowers, and things go terribly wrong.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

A/N: Written for a prompt challenge, 'flower language'. This is a companion to Stay With Me and features my MCs Prim, Gibby and Missy, but can be read with no prior knowledge. Enjoy! <3

Garreth Weasley swaggers down the hallway with a very important bouquet of flowers.

Today, after all, is a special anniversary: precisely three months and nine days since you started dating. And with O.W.L.s starting soon and the fifth-years hunkering down for the exam period, you've been very keen to frolic the Highlands to escape the stress... just kidding, you hole up in some dark corner of the library and cry about how you don't know anything. Close enough. He's just been making sure you're fed and watered and occasionally getting social contact in the form of a cuddle. Later he'll celebrate with you properly, but for now – what girl doesn't like flowers?

With Professor Garlick's permission he raided the greenhouses for some blossoms, mostly for ones with funny names like cyclamen and rhododendron, and a ton of primroses too, a nice little nod to your nickname, and clumped them together with twine. The end result is a colourful ensemble that will look great in a vase and, not to brag (yes to brag), this might be his best work ever – and he's a potion's genius, so he frequently creates his best work ever on a regular basis.

"Prim!"

In the hallway during lunch, he finds you with your nose in a textbook on your way to the library. Piqued by his voice, you turn towards him, summoning a broad smile, and he sidles up to you with the bouquet hiding behind his back.

"Guess what day it is today?"

You blink owlishly. "Thirty-two days, twenty-one hours and forty-seven minutes until exams?"

"... Well yes, but actually no. Try again?"

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, frowning. "I'm sorry, I've been so stressed. It's the fifth of May? A Thursday? Oh no, have I forgotten something important?"

"It's our sixty-ninth day together! Isn't that great?" He brandishes the bouquet. "And I brought you—"

"AAAAAH!" you shriek suddenly, flinching backwards and warding him away with the book. "No no no!"

"What the—? What's the matter—?"

"Get it away from me!"

You run away – full on, around the corner, dust swirling in your wake – leaving him standing there with his bouquet like an utter plonker. It takes him a few seconds to process what happened. Did he have bad breath? Did you not want to celebrate? Was it the flowers? He glances down at the bouquet, befuddled. You only reacted when he pulled them out – there must be something wrong with them.

He needs help, and he decides to seek it from the wisest person he knows.

"Mr Weasley, I am a door knocker," says the eagle on the Ravenclaw common room door. "I am not a relationship counsellor."

"I'm not here for counselling!" Garreth says, flinging out his arms. "Prim and I are fine, except for this one thing. It's these flowers. She screamed at them! Like, shrilly! Come ooooon, you love giving me your honest, brutal and often very rude opinion. Is it ugly? Does it smell bad?"

He shoves the bouquet to its beak, and it splutters, "I can make judgement perfectly well from a safe distance, thank you! To answer your question, it is neither ugly nor foul-smelling – by some miracle you have indeed managed to pull that off. No, I suspect the young lady takes a different issue. Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?"

"I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"

"That's not what I meant." It sighs. "The language of flowers is a Muggle method of subtly communicating emotions or thoughts through floristry. You know a red rose means passionate romantic love, for example? All flowers have a similar connotation, ranging from friendship to jealousy to life. When gifting flowers, one may create a dialogue of meaning through them."

"And you reckon Prim knows about flowery language?"

"She is a Ravenclaw," it says haughtily.

Garreth glances down at his bouquet. Honestly, he chose most of them because they looked pretty. He's simple like that.

"Okay, so... what do these mean?"

"I'm afraid that's as much knowledge as I possess."

He lets out a laugh. "You don't know something? You? The Ravenclaw door knocker?"

"If you don't want the whole school to know about when you were gyrating to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in only a bath towel, I suggest you keep quiet."

"... How the heck do you know about that? I was alone!"

"The dorm mirrors talk, Mr Weasley. Very loudly."

Bloody mirrors... "Fine. Where do I go? Who do I ask?"

"Someone fluent in the language of flowers might be good start. Perhaps a Muggle-born?"

"Gibby." She would know way more about this stuff. He heads down the stairs. "Thanks for the help. You're my favourite door knocker!"

"May my title be swiftly usurped."

Surprisingly, he finds Gibby outside the greenhouses. On her knees in the grass, she seems to be deep in concentration when he lumbers over, her brow scrunched behind her glasses. Strangely enough, Professor Black's house-elf Scrope is also at her side.

"Gibs! I need your Muggle expertise!"

She takes one look at the bouquet before screaming.

"Lord Almighty! Those better not be for me!"

Uh oh. "No! This— I made this for Prim. She ran away when I gave them to her and the door knocker said it might be because of some flower language thingy. Why? What's wrong with it?"

She gets to her feet, wiping grass off her knees. "Okay, my flower language is a bit rusty, but I believe this is what you've told her." She clears her throat. "Beware! I hate you. This is goodbye, you poor, jealous virgin... yay!"

It's like the earth swallows him whole. He said all those horrible things, all in some stupid flowers? No wonder you ran!

"Tell me how to fix it," he says desperately. "Please, I can't have her believing any of that's true!"

"I'd help you, but I'm kind of sort of... doing a punishment right now."

"... What for?"

Scrope finally pipes up. "The young lady thought it appropriate to bake Master Black a cake."

"He's so moody all the time! I figured it would cheer him up."

"She fell as she presented it. A direct hit on Master's face."

"But it tasted great!"

"As punishment, the young lady has been made to count blades of grass for three hours."

"I'm at eight thousand! ... Or was it seven? You sort of lose track after the first. Can I take a quick break, Mr Scrope?"

"Ten minutes," says Scrope. "Only because Master forbade Scrope from laughing when it was very funny."

It's apparently all she needs, when she drags Garreth to the greenhouses and starts plucking flowers furiously.

"You're going to have to scrap the whole bouquet," she says. "I mean, all the flowers you picked were horrible. Just really bad. Awful. It might've been kinder to tell Prim you hate her."

"Really not helping."

"The primroses can stay though. That's the yay one."

"Primroses mean yay?"

"Well, no. It sort of means youth and optimism, which I interpret as yay!"

Of all the flowers he picked, at least this one isn't bad. Gibby runs around taking her favourites.

"Okay, so, we have this one, pink heather, which means admiration. You want to show how much you admire her, right? Yes. More of it. We need amaryllis, for pride, because you're proud of her. Crocus – that means cheer. Oh! Honeysuckle. They grow in Feldcroft, they're lovely. Jasmine for elegance, red tulips for passion, pink roses for happiness.... are you getting all of this?"

"Yeah," he says, absolutely not getting all of this.

"We should add myrtle, for good luck, since she's taking her O.W.L.s soon. And purple hyacinth for sorrow, because you are very apologetic for that last bouquet. Oh, oh! And some daisies!"

"Aren't daisies weeds?"

She gasps. "No! How dare you! They represent first love! It's perfect."

He sticks them in the bouquet. By the time her ten minutes are up, Garreth has a ginormous bunch of flowers almost as large as his chest. He can barely hold it with one hand.

"Thanks for your help, really."

"Just guarantee me a front-row seat at the wedding. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She drops back to the lawn with Scrope. "Eight-thousand-and-fifty-one, eight-thousand-and-fifty-two..."

Garreth's on the way to find you in the library when he bumps into his friend Missy. She's not wearing her Slytherin robes today, instead an eclectic blouse and skirt, and her hair is dark blue, curling down almost to her waist.

"Good grief, what is that?"

"The bouquet I made for Prim. Isn't it glorious?"

"No, it's terrible. Do you plan to bludgeon her in the head with it?"

Garreth groans. "What do you mean? What's wrong now?"

"Look at the composition! It's much too heavy." She takes it from his hand, shooing him away to inspect. "The silhouette is too imposing... the flora to foliage ratio is unbalanced... the dimensions are far too biased on this side..."

"Can you please talk in wizard's English?"

"Bouquet ugly. Me fix."

"Fine." He gestures. "Have at it."

She starts tossing the flowers she deems extraneous, ruthlessly paring down the bouquet with pursed lips and callous eyes. "I assume you asked Gibby for help?"

"Yeah, why?"

She stifles a snort. "She knows her language of flowers, but her arranging skills leave much to be desired. Frankly I'm insulted you didn't come to me first."

"Sorry I didn't know you were an expert flower arrangerer."

"I only took floristry lessons for eight years. I'm sure that means nothing."

He rolls his eyes. Merlin, what a rich girl past-time. Once she's satisfied skinning the bouquet, lightening it physically and visually, she starts trimming some of the stems.

"No!" he yelps, just as she makes to remove the primroses. "No, keep those."

"It symbolises new beginnings," she says, raising an eyebrow. "However, you seem to have it in abundance. You don't think it's too much?"

"Keep it all," he says again. "It's the only flower I got right the first time."

And he's quite attached to the little primroses now. Name aside, they remind him of you: small and unassuming, but very cute. Missy shrugs in a suit yourself sort of way, and adjusts the stem heights instead. She changes the placement of the flowers so there is greenery between, and makes the foliage fan out prettily over the sides. By the time she's done, she holds an appealing, moderately sized bouquet with a variety of pink, purple and white flowers perfectly balanced with green.

"This will suffice," she says at last, handing it back to him. "Good luck."

"Or you could say myrtle, am I right?"

"Mmm, no." She pats him twice on the shoulder before spinning him around. "On your way, lover boy."

The library is fairly abandoned by the time Garreth arrives with his sensible bouquet. He has to do some real sneak-thievery crab-walking to get inside without Madam Scribner noticing, but when she gets distracted by another student chucking an inkwell over the bannister, Garreth makes his way to the back aisles.

Like he expected, you're there, textbooks and quills abound, ink staining your hands and face. He checks his breath, just in case (it's good), before he walks around the shelf.

"Don't panic, Prim—"

You spot the bouquet immediately and scramble to your feet, slapping a hand over your nose. "No, no—"

"Prim! Merlin's saggy danglers—" He snatches your arm before you can run away. "What? What is it?"

Your eyes squeeze shut, and tears form at the seal. "No, let me go! Please!"

"I'm really sorry if I offended you with my last bouquet! I swear I didn't mean to call you a poor, jealous virgin—"

"No, Garreth— ACHOO!" You flinch through a whole-body sneeze. "I'm allergic to primroses!"

As you fling yourself away, aggressively sneezing, Garreth's hand goes limp.

"I've been calling you Prim for the whole year and you're allergic to primroses?"

Fin.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed <3

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [Divider credit]

[miusmusings]

KentaKim historical au but make it asian history.

aka Kim is the king's newest concubine and kenta is a lowly palace guard assigned to the doors of Kim's new quarters in the palace. Partly for safety, partly to make sure the new concubine, who isn't fluent in the language of the country doesn't find himself in trouble (or run around).

And Kim, bored off his mind in this foreign land, likes taking walks in the gardens of his quarters everyday (the palace is a sprawling one with a number of semi separated compounds/smaller palaces in them), with a large parasol and a sheer veil that does nothing to hide how pretty he is.

Being a guard with mostly-idle, leisulrely duty, Kenta can't help but take a few covert looks when he sees the newest addition to the palace walk around, especially there's been more than a few rumors about this foreigner—some about this strange habits and way of speaking, and some about his beauty.

And when one day he finds Kim glancing back.... (the guard uniform fits kenta in ways that shouldn't be allowed in the palace fr fr)

Kim is lonely in this big, scary palace, all alone without anyone to talk to him, or even give him a shred of kindness. And Kenta is a lowly commoner palace guard, as forgettable as grass.

They form a friendship, that turns into more.

Kenta takes Kim's parasol and gives him shade from the sun as they walk together through the hibiscus lined garden paths in summer, and when the flowers wither away in the garden in winter, Kim brings him into his bedroom, and kisses him under the covers.

It will end badly. It can only end badly.

But neither of them cares as they fall into each other's arms and finds a moment's peace from all the harsh world.

In the sweet air of Kim's room, heavy with incense, they don't speak.

In the next month Kenta is beheaded in the market square, and Kim is imprisoned within the dark prison walls, never to see the summer light shimmering on hibiscus petals.

Two stars shine together by the moon.

[ageredateeverything]

Hi, i saw that you put mateo as a cg which. yippee!!! uh uh can i get some mateo cg headcanons where the little is the player character? if that’s okay! -@poptartsaysurloved

Okay so this is my first time doing PC/Reader HCs for a character so bare with me XD

Random Mateo comments before i get to the CG Mateo X Little PC/Reader Headcanons

He is Betty's main CG but they are platonic and the only reason she feels safe enough to regress with his help is because the two are strictly nonsexual and there isn't attraction on either side there.

Mateo tends to be the go to babysitter for alot of the younger regressor objects. He is one of the few people who is able to babysit Volt when Eddie is busy - but Volt spends the first like 5 hours of being babysat upset and wanting Eddie.

CG MATEO X LITTLE PC/READER

Mateo is great with pet regressors and baby regressors.

He is the best swaddler for newborn to baby regressors

He has a soft spot for puppy regressors - and all his inanimals are very gentle around pet regressors

Mateo loves cuddling little ones and is always available to give a little one a cuddle and a baba if they need one.

Mateo is a talented knitter. He loves making special and unique blankies for the littles around him.

He is able to get even the fussiest of littles to lay down for a nap. No one knows how he can do it - but he can.

He's also really good at taking care of little ones when they are feeling icky or sick.

With older littles - Toddler regressors and up; he finds fun ways to let them help around the animal shelter. From fetching the inanimals different toys to play with to even letting you do things like feed or brush the inanimals. He doesn't mind if you over spill the pet food - the inanimals will just clean that mess

Mateo knows and is fluent in Sign Language and does his best to teach nonverbal little ones basic baby sign language so they can still express their needs even when words are hard.

He's alot stronger then he looks and is able to lift a good bit. He can't pick of Freddy but he is able to pick Betty up despite the fact that she is taller and larger then he is. So there is a high chance that he can atleast pick most littles up

Mateo knows all kind of little safe media and is always down to cuddle and watch cartoons.

WARNING - under is Headcanons relating to Weed

Mateo keep high quality weed edibles to help littles with pain issues or to help them enter headspace to relax. If hes taking care of a little or a pet regressor - he will stay sober and not partake to make sure the person under his care is safe

He prefers keeping edibles over pens or smoking weed due to not liking the smell of weed.

Mateo keeps his edibles in a locked boxed (that he wears the key) to make sure neither animal or person or object in his care accidentally eats them without his permission and proper knowledge of what they are eating.

He keeps a variety of non edible snacks for when muchies hit. That are kept away from the Inanimals but not locked up.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Sending a headcannon and I got carried away:

Our Dragon-Parented Dragonslayers needed to learn modern Fioran (or whatever languages Earthland X777 had) after arriving in the future and Natsu's the one with the biggest grasp of it.

---

These kids were from 400 years in the past when there was a huge dragon-feud going on. If Nirvana and Dragnof are any indication, multiple civilizations fell during that time and with it the loss of several languages. Whatever language they had been taught (which was likely at least one form of dragonic at the time...because dragon parents), it's probably considered extinct in X777.

But thing is I think Natsu may have been the only one to get lessons on how to read and write Fioran.

Gajeel? He got stuck in Phantom Lord, which (to put it nicely) had a sink-or-swim philosophy towards it's members. He probably picked up on a bit on his own, but likely also struggles reading job assignments and won't let anyone know he is (side headcannon: our favorite linguist Levy helped him out once she found out he was struggling).

Wendy? The kid who first got adopted by a runaway prince from another dimension and then by a 400 year old ghost? I don't think either of them know Fioran themselves, much less could teach it. On the bright side, she probably also knows ancient Nirvit.

The Two Sabergoofs? Same case as Gajeel. Rogue's hit with a double whammy since he supposedly hung around Phantom Lord before getting yeeted to Sabertooth's guildmaster. Though this probably leads to a few complications once Sting is guildmaster and has to start filling out paperwork.

So much to everyone's surprise, out of all of them Natsu - who got seven-years worth of supportive family at the orphan daycare - is the one who can read/write in modern language best.

It's not a unique headcannon by any means but one of my favorites. Thoughts?

Y'see this is what im talkin bout, some good ol' analysis stuff.

I had a post aaaaagggeeees ago (if i find it back i may link it) bout like a crack situation where the team got forced to speak their first languages and natsu n wendy got stuck speaking their og ancient fioran languages and no one could understand wtf they were saying (and they couldnt understand each other neither bcus i had it that they were speakin different dialects of ancient fioran but details.). But i am gettin off track.

I always hc that most of the slayers didnt end up in Fiore when they got shot to the future, itd be kinda boring if they all ended up on the same continent. So Gajeel for me landed in Bosco so he learnt Boscan first as his modern language before he made his way to fiore to learn the language there by osmosis. I think Gajeel as a character especially to me with his spying skills and generally personality is super discerning with his desire to know information. So i think he's largely self taught with everything when he was on his own and knows 2 languages fully- Boscan and Fioran- but his fioran is weaker especially when it comes onto the writing part. And he vaguely knows phrases and terms from a bunch of diff languages.

Wendy landed closer to the border of Fiore and Seven before mystogan picked her up. I'd like to think that the language in Edolas and Earthland is largely the same orally (but it'd have a whole different written language) so he managed to teach her how to speak modern fioran but write in modern edolas. Which was a weird disconnect when the team found out down the line lmao. When he left her with cait shelter she picked up that additional language (which is a purely oral language) and is probs the only person left in modern fiore who can speak it (Levy loves her for it)

Sting got yote to Caelum before somehow making his way over to Minstrel then Fiore, he speaks a weird combo package of slangs from all 3 and he's not fully fluent in all of em (fioran is his best) and sometimes when he can't remember a word in one he'll supplement it with a word from another. He's ironically better at the written languages with them than speakin em.

Rogue met Sting in Minstrel briefly (didnt stick around with each other and then ran into each other again in fiore) but Rogue never picked up on Minstrel's language easily so he only picked up on fioran when he eventually made his way over. He knows brief smatterings and terms from other languages from his time hanging out with phantom lord but is only fluent in just the one.

Natsu's the only sucker who landed squarely in Fiore and was picked up by Makarov who had him fluent enough in speaking modern fiore before he got him back to the guild. He didn't get around to starting him with writing so that was a task for the others to teach and get him up to speed (to varying success. His handwriting sucks ass). I also like to think he hung around a decent amount with Levy when he was younger (he liked listening when she read her stories aloud) so he has a weird mixed bag of being able to read and understand a whole bunch of random language bits despite not actively trying to learn em.

Ok byyyyeeeeeeeeeee

[loves1ckgirl]

Denki Kaminari with an online best friend

Denki x American! reader

Online friends + maybe romantic-ish

Note, I have no idea how to write in the grammar of someone learning English so I’m just avoiding contractions and using a bit of chat gtp to make the sentence to be a little more incorrect lol.

He initially met you while playing a FPS at 3am

The game between you and both was mostly silent aside from some English and Japanese cursing, Denki understood some what you said

You however; did not understand him, but assumed he was expressing the same frustration and wasn’t just getting upset at you

After your first game was played, he had sent you a few emojis and a little english

The game you had been playing along side some random from Japan had gone surprisingly well. It was such a bad game for the loser you wondered if it was because they were absolute garbage or all of a sudden you became a gaming god. As you leaned back in your chair and attempted to fix the knot that formed in your back from hunching, you looked back at your computer screen. There you see a friend and message request.

Kaminarieki

“You are good at playing. Can we play more?”

As you read the message, you decide to respond and pray he wasn’t some 30 year old incel. After all, you were bored, and a bit lonely.

After that first interaction, you would go on to play with him often

However, neither of you talked very often especially after you came to the conclusion you didn’t speak the same language

In the end, there were still some short convos

Kaminari liked these, as he thought you were cool

The fact that UA English classes were more rigorous helped him in talking to you (a hero needed to communicate with a large variety of people)

A couple of months in, he was struggling with his classes exponentially, and no amount of help by his friends would help him,

He then thought it was a good idea to message you and explain that he thought it would be nice to talk and learn through a fluent speaker instead

Kaminarieki

“Can we talk a lot I am learning English I think your cool.”

“I’m down. It’s late now though. I have school is tomorrow okay? Also, the your should be you’re”

Kaminari sends a cute little heart emoji,

“Yes. Thank you.”

For awhile, you’d avoid many abbreviations and some complex Slang

Eventually Kaminari had gotten more advanced and you spoke more casually

After exchanging Instagram and other accounts, instead of mostly talking as you guys played, it started during school and random times of day

The time difference didn’t mean much since the both of you had terrible sleep schedules

(Although, he was a bit more regular due to his hero school)

As you talked to him you obviously found more of his personality and it had become more endearing tbh

He’d most definitely google English pick up lines

Eventually as his friends noticed his behavior and how if he’d planned to play with you he’d decline

Also how he’d be texting more than before (mostly on his Sundays and Monday’s as you’d be awake the longest when he was.)

Lowkey hates the time difference tbh.

Anyway, as his friends noticed him typing away on those two days in particular they’d begun to ask questions about who he was texting

“My friend.” He’d say, looking up from the phone for a second before continuing the text. Mina had begun even more curious than previously.

“Whaaa? Friend? Who?” She asks, leaning over the couch and Kaminari’s shoulder. She sees joke flirty messages that he sends and receives.

He ended up telling them about you and explains that’s why his English grade was getting better

Anywayyy he’s overall super cute with you

Basically just being himself

If you ever wanted to learn Japanese he’d 100% do his best to help you enthusiastically

He tries his best to keep you updated since it’s its hard to talk to you regularly

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Any more thoughts to share on a carmen sandiego and ieytd fusion?

enter my beautiful mind palace with me

vile and zoraxis have heard about each other, but neither of them know everything abt one another. pre the ending to ieytd2, all vile knows is that zoraxis has a facade, but not how vicious and evil its underbelly is. zor, meanwhile, knows that vile pull heists and schemes, but don't care much about them considering they stay out of each others way

post-ieytd2, i can see zoraxis with their tail tucked between their legs, willing to ally themselves with zor in order to have more reach after their facade gets publicly exposed. all they really share is resources, though. beyond that, the two probably wouldn't have much to do with each other

as aforementioned, cleo would absolutely know who fabby is, and would be chomping at the fucking bit to get a chance to talk with her.

i don't know whether or not solaris would still be with zoraxis at the time, but i think vile would be obsessed with her potential. what the fuck do you mean this engineer was the backbone of the death engine project??? what do you mean?? that's fucking crazy.

i think solaris would be unused to this much attention but very flattered. its honestly about time someone appreciates her work for what it is

i think carmen understands that there's something amiss with zoraxis, but keeps vile her top priority, so she doesn't often interject with their plots

also, zoraxis doesn't do many cultural heists, so more often than not it doesn't even come up on her radar

the one time she crossed paths with them, funnily enough, was when she mistook some of their activity for a vile scheme

she caught some zoraxis operatives on the tail end of stealing some nice, but relatively culturally benign spanish artwork (the stuff you can find in zor's madrid headquarters). she never managed to track down where they went and if she's honest with herself she's still kind of bitter about it

i think phoenix and carmen would actually get along pretty well and probably be able to work well together. however, both of them are good at a very niche set of things, and would be completely out of their element fighting the other's freaks of the week

phoenix is thoroughly surprised the first time they fight a vile operative and realize how young they are. normally they're willing to 'stoop' to lethal combat but they are not killing these?? children?? no absolutely not.

sometimes they sneak agency calling cards into their pockets after knocking them unconscious... just in case they need someone to help them drop off the map, like anna did (they're not going to recruit those children for the agency. that would be just as irresponsible, if not worse)

carmen, meanwhile, is unprepared to deal with operatives who are so willing to murder first and ask questions second. sure, vile lackeys can be hostile, but most of them were her graduating class so there was time for a little banter in between throwing wild punches. none of them had fucking guns, you know??

phoenix is not at all surprised by this considering carmen has essentially trained herself by fighting c-lister villain high schoolers ("college graduates") same difference.

zach and ivy are fine but DON'T let phoenix know about player i think they'll have a hernia

on a more positive note, though, it is nice to be able to talk to someone fluent in sign languages (and/or whatever other language you think phoenix would be fluent in). i think that would be a very pleasant surprise for them

more often than not when phoenix and carmen cross paths, phoenix doesn't let the agency know about it. mainly because carmen is a vigilante and as such probably wouldn't be seen in a great light by the agency anyways. and apparently she already has an agency tracking her down?? so they're not going to add to that that sounds like a lot

i also think acme would have a very bad opinion on the agency due to how many agents they wind up getting killed but this isn't abt them this is abt the cool guys

and this isn't really a headcanon this is just me having fun, but literally just yesterday i was looking and realized that there's a cultural artifact in geneva that would make for a good mcguffin for a carmen episode: the world's first swiss wristwatch, commissioned for the countess of hungary in 1868, and held on display in geneva's watchmaker museum. occasionally confused for the first ever wristwatch, (which was actually made in france in 1810), but both are steeped in an equal amount of culture and we also have no physical evidence of the first ever wristwatch so this is the next best thing and its in geneva

anyways all this to say i got a little silly about it last night. my whimsy. the timeless timepiece caper or whatever. swag.

ft mothbeasts jumpscare. ragh

[cramberry24]

I Am No Mother, I Am No Bride, I Am King

Happy Update Day! Also known as Sunday lol. This chapter lowkey fought me a bit, but at last she's done and released into the wild

Chapter 10: Don't Call It a Comeback, I've Been Here for Years is now officially up!

Pairing: Robert Zussman/OFC

Tags: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Historical References, Historical Inaccuracy, War, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Medical Inaccuracies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Period-Typical Sexism, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Feminist Themes, Queer Themes, Survivor Guilt, Self-Esteem Issues, Blood and Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Protective Robert Zussman, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Choking, Buried Alive, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Denial of Feelings, Misunderstandings, Yearning, Mutual Pining

Summary: The Bloody First liberates Paris, featuring more flashbacks to basics and the formation of the gang.

Little sneak peak below, the entire chapter is up on ao3, linked up above in the chapter title!

“Remember,” Eve says, keeping her voice low. “It’s all about being quiet.  We go in fast and silent.  Don’t let anyone get upstairs or set off any kind of alarm.  And for fuck’s sake, only shoot Jerry, don’t forget about the prisoners.  Control your fire.  Everyone have their silencers on?”

Everyone nods.  Eve lifts her head up, looking for the moon.  She’s a thick crescent, nearly half illuminated, and there’s a smattering of stars not covered by clouds.  Taking a deep breath, Eve looks back down, gesturing for Woods to take the door.

As soon as he opens it, Eve and Marsh move in.  Marsh remains low, in a crouch, and Eve is directly behind him, aiming over him, and the two immediately get to work.  They’ve gone over this dozens of times, and it pays off.  Marsh starts on the left, Eve looking for immediate threats, and when Del and Woods come in behind them, they focus their fire on the right.  The silencers do their job, and they’re so quick most of the soldiers down here don’t even have a chance to yell.  It helps to have the element of surprise - some of the soldiers are drunk, others strewn out and playing cards, unprepared for an attack.  Eve’s eyes find the stairwell leading upstairs, and she watches it intensely as they all move into the cellar to make sure no one darts away to alert anyone to their presence.

It takes less than a minute.  On Eve’s command, Rojas and Pig flank the stairwell, knives out, ready to dispatch of any unlucky Germans who may happen to wander down to the cellar.  Lowe and Woods man the door leading to the courtyard in a similar fashion, and Eve, Del, and Marsh clear the rest of the cellar.  Marsh pulls a ring of iron keys off one of the dead Krauts and tosses it to Eve.  There are two resistance members imprisoned down here, a man in one of the cells who’s free after Eve unlocks the door, and a woman who exits from a room at the far end of the cellar.  Neither of them speak English, and there’s no one in their squad who can speak fluent French, but they both mutter a quick “vive la resistance” and help themselves to the dead Germans weapons.

Waiting at the stairwell, the time passes for the gates to blow, and nothing happens.  Eve shifts nervously, grinding her teeth together, and her squad feeds into her anxious energy.

“What if it went off and we didn’t hear?” Rojas asks.

“You dumb or something?” Dellucci responds. “You don’t think we’d hear the fucking bombs?”

“Del’s right,” Eve cuts in, even though the words physically hurt to say. “We’ll hear them, and probably feel them, too.”

“But why haven’t they gone off yet?” Pig, this time.

“Something went wrong,” Del says. “We should attack, now.”

“No.  We wait for the signal.”

“It’s not gonna come, they failed-“

“We don’t know that-“

“Knew this was a stupid fuckin’ mission-“

“Shut the fuck up and get ready,” Eve snarls, whipping around to glare at her squad, and their whispered comments silence. “We just need to wait.  Rousseau’s not going to fail.”

But it’s been over a minute, now, and still nothing.  If something has gone wrong, the rest of the platoon will sink back, away from the Garrison to regroup and get a new plan of attack.  Eve’s squad, though?  They’re stuck here.  Trapped at the German headquarters in the middle of a city crawling with Nazis.  They can’t attack the Garrison with just the six of them, plus the two resistance members.  But if they escape out the courtyard, where will they go?

If Rousseau and Crowley failed, then Eve and her squad are as good as dead.

Expendable, a voice hisses in the back of her mind, and that’s the moment a distant thundering boom rocks and shakes the cellar.

“Go, now!”

[astromechs]

Pure RebelCaptain behavior here.

Holding hands to balance out each other's temperatures

So...yeah. Just a thought. ;)

here's a short little snippet! ~ 1k for a little saturday morning writing exercise; i think i'll crosspost some prompt fics to ao3 in a little collected work on another day, but for now, here this is! from this list; still accepting!

Intimacy, Jyn has come to learn, is becoming fluent in an entirely unique language, one built on moments and all contained within them — sighs, steps, shifts in posture, brushes of hands.

She's not sure when, exactly, becoming fluent in Cassian had turned so automatic, so nearly effortless, but for all that he doesn't say — still can't bring himself to sometimes — he fills in the spaces for her. There's a certain sigh that means he's irritated, a certain knit to his brow and set of his mouth that indicates disapproval, a certain wide vulnerability in his eyes that shows the fear he wouldn't admit beyond closed doors; there's also a certain subtle twitch at his mouth that always betrays his amusement, the way his genuine smiles crinkle at his eyes when those for a calculated purpose never do, the way his touch is always gentle and seeking, like he can’t believe it’s happening, even now.

And at the end of this particular day, when their respective tasks are done and they’re alone, she knows exactly what it means to see him hunched in on himself like he is, head tucked and gaze barely even flicking up from the floor toward her direction, both hands stuffed in the front pockets of his parka.

Jyn has been in enough shitholes across the galaxy to confidently say that Hoth is the worst one she’s encountered yet, and so far, she hasn’t found anyone to disagree with her; frankly, anyone who doesn’t think this planet is some kind of fucking torture device needs their head checked. But she knows it’s worse on Cassian than it is on most — one, because his clear hatred of the cold in general had been obvious to her within a short time of knowing him, and also two, because on the really cold days (which is, well, every fucking day on Echo Base), his back noticeably stiffens, his steps become short and tight, and no matter how hard he tries to hide it from her, she can’t miss the way his jaw is clenched.

It’s hard, looking at him like this, holding herself back and giving him his space until the right time, when she wants nothing more than to rush in and do something.

He’s been pacing their quarters for close to half an hour now, in those tight, slow, agonizing steps that broadcast his flaring pain, and neither has spoken a word. It’s not as if there’s been total silence — he’s let out at least two of those certain irritated sighs, and she can’t pretend that she hasn’t done the same at a few points — but he hasn’t initiated a conversation, and she hasn’t pushed it. Patience isn’t as easy as the language she’s come to learn from watching him, but for Cassian, she tries.

(They both try, in their own ways. When making herself as difficult as possible has helped her to survive on her own well more than once, it’s second nature to turn those weapons on argument rather than throw them aside, and she’s seen the way he sucks in a sharp breath through a clenched jaw and takes some time before finding his words for her in return. They’re not perfect — they’ve both had their fair share of giving into baser, worse tendencies in ugly moments and saying things they regret — but they try. It’s what they can do.)

Even if it takes another hour, or more, waiting is the best thing that she can do for him now.

Fortunately, though, it isn’t another hour; it isn’t even another five minutes.

When he gets to the edge of the bunk on this round of pacing, Cassian suddenly stops moving completely. His hands are still in his pockets, he’s still hunched in on himself, but in a sidelong glance, Jyn can see that he’s regarding the bunk with the kind of intense, focused gaze that means he’s thinking. Truly considering. She keeps her distance, not intruding with words or otherwise just yet; it’s better, she knows, to let him come to a conclusion on his own, without any outside input from her or anything else.

After he exhales a long breath, he sinks down onto the mattress, slowly, painstakingly. He doesn’t do anything else, not even look at her, but the invitation he’s giving is clear.

Though a part of her is itching to rush across the room, she keeps her steps soft and quiet until she reaches the bunk, and slowly lowers herself onto it in much the same way that he had. He doesn’t jerk away from her presence, instead staying completely still, so Jyn takes that as a sign to move just a little closer, until their thighs are touching.

Beside her, his breaths are uneven, and the way he’s still holding his jaw tells her, maybe more than anything else, that nothing has improved.

If she can’t take away his pain, she thinks, she can at least do something to make the cold a little bit more fucking bearable — for him, for the both of them.

She knows exactly the kind of deflecting, minimizing bantha shit he'll say, so it's not worth wasting the time to even allow him to start. No, she shifts on the mattress, which creaks like it always does under the weight, and without warning, she tosses her glove off to the side and reaches for one of his hands still tucked into a pocket, wrapping hers around it tightly, firmly.

His fingers are ice cold when they first touch hers, but after a minute, she feels that begin to ebb.

"Better?" she ventures into the silence with an actual word for the first time, shifting only just enough to get a better look at him.

Cassian still doesn't quite meet her eyes, but he nods, so she'll consider that a victory.

Leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, she lingers, letting him take her warmth through more than just her hand; it's what he'll never ask for, but she'll always give without question or hesitation all the same. "Good."

[bahja-blix]

Oliver the Deaf/Mute imp kid controversy

During my break from most platforms due to family issues and me not wanting to indulge myself on most platforms for peace and quiet I pondered something during that time. I wanted to do something fun Regarding lil Oliver who Finally has a name after all the backlash Viv got for NOT naming her Deaf or possibly Mute character...

I wanted to try to crack exactly what Fizz and Oliver said and how accurate it is which will require me to also learn more along the way and it's thanks to the fact that I actually have an official Sign language Dictionary that has real pictures that teaches a reader how to Sign when speaking with your hands, what to Sign, and much more. The book itself was given to me as a gift from a licensed Sign Language and Deaf speaking and assisting teacher who was awesome to talk to. She specializes with Special Needs and other forms of Disabilities in her class such as Autism, ADHD, (Both in which I have but were diagnosed many years apart) or other Disabilities on the spectrum or differing conditions. And I've kept it since then.

This is Oliver, Olive or Ollie for short. Say Hi :D

He uses Sign Language to speak and is possibly both Deaf and Mute however I'm going off research regarding his condition/disability.

Here is the book from front to back ^^

As I read and look around at the endless adventure of learning a new Language and cracking what the show Signed it will also further my development of more accurately developing my own characters that are either Mute, Deaf, Or both. Some of them are main characters and either speak fluent Sign Language along with another Language taught via writing which is hard work but can be achieved over time. Some don't speak another language. Some of them are secondary, supporting etc. there's Always a role for them. Kuma is one of them, She's a main character of a series I'm working on. I'll show her later once she's finished in design. She is Both Deaf and Mute and uses a hearing aid to help hear from her Left Ear. She mainly speaks fluent Sign Language via hands or writes what she says. She's fluent in Japanese writing all in which took her years to learn by special teachers. She's treated as a person from thick and thin. Unlike how Viv treats her characters. Kuma originally comes from Tokyo Japan but moved internationally to California for college.

If you have any questions regarding my journey please don't hesitate to ask ❤️🙏

EDIT: I absolutely despise how Vivziepop writes her characters when it comes to "Trying" to represent something. That's why I was inspired to write this! That's why wanted to step in and be entirely goal oriented when representing stuff you can't do Viv. Viv sucks at representation in every way shape and form. From writing harmful stereotypes of All kinds, to misrepresenting the LGBT plus community I've been in for almost a decade, SA, SHrsd, Domestic Abuse victims (I hate to dig up a huge part of my past however... I fall into all those three categories too... Bcus my biological dad... Did unspeakable things to me...), to the way she writes her women vs guy characters in a non equalized way, the way she writes about drug abuse or alcoholics, and not give two shits about their development to the way she literally didn't give a shit about Oliver AND misrepresents the Disabled community that I'm ALSO in and left Oliver nameless UNTIL her audience CALLED HER OUT for that like... What the hell went through your head when you sat at the round table of yours with your team you call "Geniuses" like... Deaf Imp Child????? DEAF FUCKING IMP CHILD???? LoooooL! Stop trying Viv it's over! Your own political party doesn't like your ass no more neither wether traditionalized old school Dems like me or Modernized Americanized Dems. Everyone who saw through your bullshit regardless of who they are or where they lean don't want your shit anymore because you failed everyone around you multiple times for YEARS. I've found out So MANY things about you mate. I actually looked up to you... Lots of us did... And you only get worse from here. Your audience ain't the bigot unless they actively boot lick and kiss your ass. Valid criticism wether Harsh or Not is NOT "hate" lmao 🤣 love how thats your favorite go to word. Maybe come up with something original to call your audience you sack of poorly packaged horse shit, mmk! (Pilot Angel Dust reference btw if you get it)

Off topic but Viv really went Too far >:(

[hidingoutbackstage]

i wanna talk about college roommates ashuela. not redfield report (so that i don’t spoil redfield report) so this’ll be canon compliant them as roommates. easy, since neither of them ever appear in the series again

so this takes place after re4, after ashley has been returned home. she takes the rest of the year off from college cuz duh. my favorite versions of ashley have her being hoh after re4 due to aied, so she goes through that, and adjusts to having little hearing left, learning sign language (from her new bodyguard patrick, who is fluent in sign, bc i like adding minor characters to my things to flesh out the world) anyway by the next school year, she’s ready to go back to school, and has hearing aids for accessibility. during that time, leon’s requests for manuela’s release get approved, and she’s in the care of a “foster family” of dso agents equipped to be able to neutralize her if something goes wrong. they never have to bc manuela is literally fine, but she’s constantly reminded of how dangerous people view her as. anyway, now that manuela is 18, she wants a chance to go to college, which is allowed by her foster family, and it’s used as proof that manuela can exist in society without anything going wrong. so both girls are going back to school, and even though everyone from manuela’s family to ashley’s dad to the dean of the school swears it’s just a coincidence, manuela and ashley end up as roommates (despite manuela being a freshman and ashley being a sophomore but hey weirder things have happened)

anyway do they get along? not at first. ashley initially worries that manuela will either judge or pity her, two things she’s tired of receiving from people, and manuela thinks ashley initially doesn’t like her bc ashley is quiet around her and keeps to herself. the truth is ashley just isn’t used to making friends. but that’s okay, neither is manuela. eventually they start getting along, with stuff like ashley introducing manuela to metal music (she started listening to more loud/hardcore stuff when her hearing started going away bc it was easier to understand than softly sung pop) and manuela helping ashley with homework for stuff like math and science (two things manuela was exposed to a lot of while locked up)

they end up becoming friends, and then eventually feelings. they’re that classic “fell first/fell harder” thing where manuela catches feelings first, but stays quiet about it as they grow and she gets a huge crush on ashley, while ashley just suddenly realizes how pretty manuela is one day and spends the whole night spiraling while they’re curled up in bed (they share the same bed a lot bc manuela is cuddly and ashley is touch-starved) and it all finally cultivates in ashley suddenly blurting it out one day when she can’t hold it in anymore, but it works out bc manuela likes her too

[definesanity]

Chapter 9 Rewrite, Stage II: Connections and Contradictions

The cozy cafe's door opened, and in stepped the three. Almost immediately, Verba breathed a sigh of relief, taking off Aluya's coat and giving it back to her, who quickly placed it back on before going to a table by the window and taking out her phone.

"Oh, right! I forgot to introduce myself, heh..." the girl tilted her hat, smiling to her two new friends. "My name is Recoleta. It's a pleasure to meet you both, mis amigos!"

"Same to y--" the young woman paused, and then her eyes shone with wonder. "¡¿Tú hablas Español?!" Her Spanish was fluent, and her face reflected a pure joy that few had seen.

"¡Ah, sí!" Recoleta smiled back, nodding her hesd with fervor. "Nací en Chile y lo hablo desde que tengo uso de razón."

She tilted her head in curiosity. "¿Y tú?"

"Oh, en mi Ciudad, Edén, aprendimos todo tipo de idiomas..." she let out an awkward chuckle, cheeks going from a pale white to a small, bright pink that dusted her face. "...Aunque yo, eh, sólo recuerdo Español e Inglés...

"¡Ah, claro! Me llamo Liberum Verba, pero puedes llamarme Verba." the now introduced woman continued to smile, and then gestured over to her friend, still on call with whoever was on the other line, speaking in a language neither knew. "Mi amiga de allá es... bueno, ¿quieres presentarte o...?"

Aluya, hearing the tone change towards her, muttered something to her phone in the language before placing it down. "Sorry, I didn't understand a word of what either of you said." her tone was final, in a way, but also apologetic. "My name is Aluya, if that was what you were asking for: Aluya W.M.P. Tomo."

"O-Oh, right, whoops!" Verba looked back to Recoleta. "My friend here doesn't understand a lick of Spanish, I'm afraid..."

Recoleta blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? She's been speaking it fluently...?"

"For you, maybe, but for me;" Aluya gestured to her neck, where a thin, grey 'choker' was around her neck, an even thinner strip pulsating a gentle blue. "This device here is helping me translate what I'm saying on the fly to you... unfortunately, for me, it only understands English."

"Is that right? How interesting!" Recoleta took a moment to write in her book.

"...We're getting off topic," Aluya pinched the bridge of her nose. "Right, down to business."

She leaned up in her chair, and Recoleta felt like she was looking at a judge of souls. "How do you know Dores?"

"W-Well, 'know' is a bit strong a word... I met her here, in Ushuaia, about... three days ago, maybe? Sorry, time isn't my greatest friend..."

"Understandable, but unrelatable. Go on."

"She was walking past, and spoke to me... I-I will admit, I was stunned for a second, given that she's very pretty--" she coughed into her hand, continuing, "And asked me for directions to Comala Prison."

It was Verba who spoke next, her eyebrows knitted together. "Okay... is it open or closed? Minimum, Medium security?"

"Closed, and maximum security, I think. Amd, specifically, it is for Arcanists who have been deemed as unable to coexist in today's society." both didn't hear the defeated, annoyed sigh of the white-haired woman. "Normally, no one is allowed in... but!"

The brown-haired writer gave a playful wink to the both. "I know a way in!"

"..." Aluya gave Verba a look. Verba quickly made her way other, and the two began to whisper.

"Can't we report back to the Timekeeper? We've confirmed that Dores is here." Verba whispered, looking back at Recoleta, who offered an awkward, but well-meaning wave.

Aluya gave a 'tsk', "We could, yeah, but then it would have to go through a process, and by then it would be too late. We're already here, and I had Vertin write up a permit that gives us the power to privately investigate on our own."

"Oh, good, good!" Verba looked back, and turned to Recoleta. "Sorry, ignore us... by the way, if I can ask, you're a writer, but have you, um... actually wrote anything? It's just that, where I'm from, many went around saying absolute bogus."

"I have! ...Sorta, heh." Recoleta presented her small book to Aluya and Verba. "I call it, The Rise and Fall of Sanity. Please, have a read, it's not too long!"

The book was passed to Verba, who opened it, Aluya leaning over her shoulder.

Recoleta watched as their expressions changed throughout, and then got nervous, watching as Aluya's face in particular soured. By the end, for a second, she looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon.

The book was offered back, and Recoleta beamed at them. "So, my new friends, what's your thoughts?"

"It's..." Verba trailed off, hands opening and closing, as she struggled to find the words. "...interesting. The plot is messy, but given it's still a draft--"

"This is shit."

Recoleta looked at who said it.

Aluya looked back.

Recoleta opened her mouth, closed it, and then went bright red in shock. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Looking at Aluya intensively, she saw as heterochromatic eyes gazed back. If both were of pure red... she dispelled the thought. No, Aluya isn't as crude or cruel as they were.

"You're taking a quarter of an entire chapter to explain a metaphor, and the rest is filler, not advancing the plotline. It's like you're..." Aluya snapped her fingers, trying to find a nice way of wording it. "...thinking of the plot during the actual chapter, and not before it. Listen, I write essays, so I would do the same thing, but you're not writing an essay, you're writing a novel.

"And the characters are... developed? But you spend far too long explaining them, and their motivations."

By the end of it, Aluya seemed tired already, and both Verba and Recoleta were dumbfounded at the flurry unfolded. Even Verba's own thoughts had completely dissolved out of what was, she thought, pity.

"...O-Oh." Recoleta was used to criticism. But the ease that the two ripped into her novel had her stunned, eyes wide and breathing pattern irregular.

"I see... I guess I have been in need for a contrasting character, heh..." Recoleta shook her head, closed her book, and adjusted her hat. "A-Anyways! The prison. Right."

"You want to come along?" Verba asked.

"Well, yes; there's someone I want to meet there. My pen pal, you see." Recoleta left it at that.

"..." Aluya waved them both. "Alright, since we're both going to the same place."

"Excelle--!"

BANG.

Verba and Aluya turned to see Recoleta frozen, her leg next to the table, and her letting out a long, pained noise.

"...This is going to be Hel." Aluya sighed.

"You don't believe in Hell, though." Verba smiled back.

"I don't believe in either." a roll of the eyes. "Besides, it was--"

"--A joke on Helheim from Norse mythology. Don't worry, I've done my fair share of research. I'm surprised you have though!"

"I needed a hobby."

Meanwhile, Recoleta hobbled to them, eventually on both legs, and let out a breath, opening the doors, and ushering them out into the cold, desolate streets of Ushuaia.