#people interested in my OCs ... gasp ... so kind ...

[laulo821]

do you have an oc database sorta thing... like a place where theyre all written down in one place maybe w little bios. like a carrd/toyhouse/etc

hi! hi! yes, i have. but unfortunatly. it is in french (disgusting) and half the info on it is outdated (punching the ground) and barely anything is even written on there (crying and sobbing)

here's the link though. even if theres wrong info at least it's some info. and i have all my main OCs' references on there, if you manage to surf through it

but i should do another database in english for y'all. with half the info to cut me some slack. i just don't know how carrd works and i don't have a toyhouse and dont really know other sites (<- meaning if someone is motivated enough to tell me how it works/give me an entry pass/teach me where the pretty designs templates are, i will comply w/ it v shortly)

[smutmind]

The Cost of Touch

Miyeon X OC Male

She wore hot pink tonight—the color of heat, danger, and attention. The dress clung to her like an apology she wouldn’t make, hugging her hips, riding up her thighs. Her nipples pressed stiff against the slick fabric, visibly dark and tight under silk. Not a bra in sight. She wasn’t here to play coy.

Her heels clicked once on the marble before she bent and unbuckled them, leaving them by the door. She walked barefoot, slow and silent, until she stood between his knees.

Mr. Jang didn’t say a word. He sat on the couch, sleeves rolled, his tie loose, scotch in hand, legs spread wide like he was already ready for her. His cock was half-hard in his pants, and she hadn’t even touched him yet.

“You’re late,” he said, finally.

“I’m owned,” she replied. “Not obedient.”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t stop her when she dropped to her knees.

She looked up, chin lifted, lashes low. “Don’t speak,” she said, hands moving to his belt. “Just let me remind you who makes this contract interesting.”

She unfastened the buckle slowly, tugged the zipper down. When she freed his cock, he let out a sound—half breath, half growl. Thick. Heavy. Already hardening.

She spat on her hand. Stroked him once, then again, her lips hovering.

“Still want to pretend this isn’t about control?”

Then she closed her lips around the head and sucked.

Warm. Wet. Utterly deliberate. Her mouth took him in slowly, tongue teasing the underside of his shaft. Her fingers curled around his base as her head began to bob—slow, deep, then deeper.

His hand tangled in her hair. “Miyeon…”

She moaned around him, letting the vibration slide straight through his cock. Spit pooled at the corners of her mouth, dripping onto his thighs as she took him farther. Gagged a little. Recovered. Swallowed.

She pulled off, gasping, chin wet. “You wanna cum in my throat already, CEO?”

He grunted and yanked her up, flipped her around.

“On the couch,” he ordered.

She smirked. “Yes, sir.”

She bent over the backrest, arching her back, offering herself with that lace-clad ass. Hot pink. Soaked.

He yanked the panties aside and slid in with one brutal thrust.

She screamed into the cushions.

Her pussy gripped him like velvet. Tight. Soaked. The kind of wet that made him see stars.

He grabbed her hips and started pounding, rough and deep. His hips slapped against her ass, loud and raw, as she braced herself and took every inch.

“This what you wanted?” he growled.

“Yes—fuck—don’t stop—” Her nails clawed the fabric.

Her body jolted with each thrust, breath stuttering, legs shaking. He grunted as her walls fluttered around him.

He bent over her, mouth near her ear. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

She turned her head. “I’m yours to break,” she whispered. “So break me.”

He slammed into her harder. Faster. Until her cries were hoarse and her body started to tremble under him.

But suddenly, she pushed back—gasping, wrecked—and spun around, shoving him onto the couch.

“Lie the fuck down.”

He obeyed.

She straddled him, hot pink lace now hanging at her ankle, and took his cock in hand. Guided it inside her. Sunk down inch by inch until he was buried inside her tight, dripping cunt.

Her head dropped back. “God—yes.”

She began to ride—slow and grinding, her hands on his chest, her breath coming in hot little gasps. Her tits bounced with every shift of her hips, nipples flushed, hard, the same pink as her lips.

“This,” she said, riding harder now, “is how I fuck people I choose.”

His hands gripped her ass, tried to control the pace. She slapped them away.

“No,” she said, breathless. “Tonight I take. You give.”

She slammed down on him, grinding their hips together until his cock throbbed. Sweat glistened between her breasts, her thighs tightening around his.

“You feel that?” she said.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned in, whispering, “Not yet.”

She kept going—riding, fucking, owning. Her moans got louder, more desperate, until she froze mid-thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” she gasped. “Right fucking now—”

“Do it,” he groaned. “Give it to me.”

Her body locked up around him, pussy clenching so hard he almost lost it. She sobbed out his name as the orgasm tore through her.

She didn’t stop moving. She kept riding, eyes wild, body spent but still chasing it. Still milking him.

Then she slid off him slowly, fingers wrapping around his shaft.

Her tongue flicked out. “Where do you want it, boss?”

He groaned. “Mouth. Fuck—Miyeon—your mouth—”

She opened wide, stroked him hard, fast. “Cum for me,” she whispered.

He did. Hot, thick ropes across her tongue. She swallowed every drop. Licked her lips. Smiled.

Then crawled up his body and kissed his cheek.

“You can own my name,” she whispered. “But not what I give you.”

He pulled her into his lap, cock twitching even now.

“Then keep giving it to me.”

[pedriache]

Can you write hector fort x FC Barcelona intern reader where she's talking with her supervisor in the area the boys are training and Hector got interested in her, then she and the supervisor go talk w the boys and Hector start showing her his interest for her. (sorry for my bad english😭)

Only angel — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Héctor first saw you, he swore you looked just like an angel.

Word count: 980+

Disclaimer/s: fluff , reader is a sports photographer intern + the supervisor is made a up person (oc sort of) !

A/N: haven’t written for Héctor in a while so hi!! this was lame and bummy asf but whatever..

Walking through the quiet halls that lead around Ciutat Esportiva building, you take a peak into one of the open doors. Luckily for you, it held just the person you were searching for.

“María?” You call out, pressing a hand onto the wooden door and pushing it open further. “It’s me.”

The dark haired woman glances up from her desk, smiling at the sight of you. “Oh! Good! You found me, I was beginning to wonder wear you were.”

María was a friend of your aunts, so when she found out about your interest in sports and photography, she offered you an internship. It’d made your year, and today was your first official day.

“Yeah, I got a little… lost.” You chuckle, closing the door behind you. Finding a seat in front of her desk, you clasp your hands together. “Where do we start?”

María’s eyebrow lifts, amusement flashing across her face. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Very.” You nod vigorously, “and a little nervous.”

Standing up, she grabs her camera and another, “this one’s for you.” She beckons for you to grab it, which you do with wide eyes.

“Oh wow.” You exhale, “this is.. thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now, let’s go meet the team, shall we?”

The walk up to the field was, well—it took a lot of breathing. The stairs had nearly winded you. Brushing a few pieces of hair from your face and straightening your shirt, you take a look around. Your eyes landed on a lot of different people.

It was hard not to be in awe seeing the players of your favorite team only feet away from you, live in action. María, beside you, watched you with a smile. “Impressed?”

“Very.” You laugh.

Twenty feet away from you stood Héctor Fort, his eyes trained on you curiously. Leaning to his left, he nudged Pau. “Who’s that?” He asks, pointing in your direction.

Pau followed his line of sight, shrugging when he didn’t recognize you. “No clue. But if she’s with María, i’m assuming family or maybe an assistant.” He glances at his friend, who was still staring. He smirks, “chill out, you don’t know how old she is.”

“Why would you say that?” Héctor gasps, swatting the back of Pau’s head. His friend laughs, jogging away from him.

Héctor’s eyes look back to you, his heart skipping a beat as you laughed at something María said. You looked like an angel with the sun shining down on you as your smile brightened.

When it came time for their water break, María leads you to the group. You followed her, nervously fidgeting with the straps that held her camera securely around her neck. “Boy’s!” The woman called out, waving to get their attention.

Hansi Flick, their coach, turned to face you first. He says something to the team, which you couldn’t hear, but it has their rowdiness turning into calm behavior.

“I’d like you to meet my new intern,” María introduces you, and in turn, the guys all say their ‘hello’s’. “She’ll be working alongside me and when i’m gone, she’ll take my place. Please be kind to her.”

Your lips had formed a pursed lipped smile while nerves wracked your body. It was awkward having so many eyes, much less all men’s eyes, on you.

Once that humiliation ritual was over, you found a seat on the sidelines where María suggested you sat while she ran back to her office to grab a few more supplies.

You snapped pictures here and there, not realizing you’d focus on one person in specific. Héctor Fort. He was your age, your friend’s favorite player, and he was cute—very photogenic.

You were clicking through the photos you’d taken, deleting the bad ones and smiling proudly at the good ones. You failed to notice when a shadow came over you, too enthralled in your camera.

“Hello?” A deep voice spoke above you, nearly scaring you. Nearly.

Snapping your head up, you come face to face with the man who belong to the picture you were just looking at. “Oh! Hey! Sorry, I didn’t notice you! Do you need something?”

Héctor shrugs, “just wanted to introduce myself. I’m—“

“Héctor.” You force a quick smile, “I know.”

A faint flush spreads across his cheeks. “Right. I suppose you would.” His eyes drift down to your camera, “is that me?”

Now it’s your turn to blush. “Uhm, yeah. I was taking individual pictures while I wait for María.” There’s a beat of silence, in which you realize he’s waiting to see it in full. “Oh! Here.” You take the strap off around your neck and diligently hand the camera to him.

Heart spreads across your hands when his fingers graze yours. He examines the picture, an impressed look passing over his expression. “Wow, this is.. really good.”

You laugh, “it’s really not that impressive. But, thank you anyways.” A sense of pride swells in your chest, his approval meaning more to you than he might have known.

“Could you send it to me?”

Blinking at him stupidly, you don’t catch onto the fact that he wanted you to send it to his number. “Sure! I can have María email it to you.”

Héctor suppressed a smirk, your obliviousness only made you all the cuter. “I meant send it to me, personally. As in, my number.”

Oh! Oh, right. Because he definitely wasn’t lowkey asking for your number.

“For sure, yeah. Like, me? Or, María..” You trail off. You sounded silly stumbling over your words so hard.

“After practice, find me. I’ll give you my number.” He smiles, “it was nice meeting you,” he says your name, and the way it rolled off his tongue so smoothly had your heartbeat stuttering.

“You too.” You force out, waving goodbye to him as he walks away. You were really starting to love this internship.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future héctor posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby !

[beomcharms]

10:36 a.m - a time called you

pairings: popular!yeonjun x outcast!f.reader

warnings: angst, oc has a lot of family issues, oc is kinda inspired by maeve from sex ed, further parts may have more warnings, featuring taehyun, soobin, jin(bts) and ryujin(itzy), taehyun soobin ryujin and yeonjun are the same age in this fic :)

read pt. 2 : here

genre: romance, friendship, high school au

word count: 2.9k

a/n: idk if anyone on here remembers me 😭 but i used to be beomiecharms… umm i thought of reuploading a couple of my old fics because i just missed writing a lot and i couldn’t just leave without ending this series 😭 hope you enjoy! : send in an ask or leave a comment and i’ll add/remove you :)

taglist: @doumachi @baekberrie @shycreationdreamland @hyueika (dk if any of you remember me or this fic)

────୨ৎ────

“So have you decided on who to ask for prom yet?”

Yeonjun sighs at Soobin’s question.

“You still haven’t decided ?!” Soobin gasps “Dude you can get any girl you want why haven’t you asked anyone ?”

“I don’t know” Yeonjun answers, he knows but he doesn’t wish to say it out loud, knowing the others won’t let him hear the end of it.

“Ahhh it’s because of her isn’t it?” Taehyun asks.

Sometimes Yeonjun wished Taehyun weren’t so clever.

“Who? Who is she?” Soobin asks poking his shoulder and Yeonjun looks down at his food.

“You know the one, his Chem lab partner” Taehyun tells Soobin.

“Y/N?” Soobin laughs out. “What’s wrong with her? Why don’t you ask her then?”

“She doesn’t even talk to me how the fuck am I supposed to ask her to prom? And I’m not even interested in her like that, I just find her interesting” Yeonjun mutters.

“Oh please, I sit behind you in that class I see the way you look at her” Taehyun says.

“She is friendly enough to me. I have Bio with her. A little quiet and kind of standoffish but she helps me out whenever I’m in trouble” Soobin’s says thinking about his time with you.

“Congrats dude” Yeonjun sighs and looks over at you. “I once bumped her shoulder accidentally and I thought she might burn me down with the look she gave me”

Soobin and Taehyun try to hold back their laughter as Yeonjun longingly looks over at your table. You sit with Ryujin, frowning down at whatever Ryujin was telling you.

Maybe because you feel his gaze on you, you suddenly look at his direction and Yeonjun immediately looks away. He can tell he is blushing and he hates himself for the effect you have on him.

Even he couldn’t understand why he was so taken by you. You barely even looked at him and that’s not how things usually worked for Yeonjun. He is used to people liking him easily without even trying for it. You feel like a challenge to him and he hates it but also he doesn’t wish for the thrill to go away.

“Who knows maybe I will end up going to prom with her” Yeonjun says out loud.

-.-

You sit on your stool waiting for the teacher to come in. You had to work at Jin’s Diner today and to be honest you were looking forward to it. It was payday today and Jin always gave you a little extra cash, calling it bonuses. You knew it was mostly out of pity, but you were not proud enough to say no to it.

The guy sitting next to you keeps fidgeting in his place and you feel your patience thinning. You wouldn’t be sharing lab with Yeonjun if it wasn’t for Ryujin and her giant crush on Karina.

“Y/N, darling of my life, pleasee I’ll do anything for you” she had told you to get you to change lab partners with her.

A loud snap brings you out of your thoughts and you look over to see Yeonjun holding his goggles with a broken strap.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Taehyun laughs out behind you. “Fuck what am I going to do?” Yeonjun starts panicking.

You sigh to yourself again and pretend like you can’t see him. Maybe that will solve your problems. You look down at your notes when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You knew this was coming. Sooner or later you had to engage with him. You had hoped that your cold front would keep him away for as long as possible. Guess it’s coming to an end today.

You look up at him and see his helpless eyes and your heart softens ever so slightly.

“Do you have a spare? Please? I don’t want to get thrown out of here” Yeonjun pleads with you.

Mr. Jung was the meanest teacher out of all in the faculty and gave detention even for the smallest errors and you felt a little sorry for Yeonjun.

“I don’t have a spare” you tell him, possibly the first words that has passed between you two.

“Oh” he looks down at his hands onto his broken goggles.

You contemplate for a minute before taking them out of his hands and Yeonjun looks at you surprised.

You take the safety pin you carry with you for emergencies and deftly pin the broken strap against the gap with the lens. Broken things weren’t new to you. “Bob the fixer” Ryujin used to call you.

“Try it on” you tell him handing it over to him and he starts fidgeting with the strap again. You feel a surge of irritation and take it out of his hands again, putting it over his eyes and fixing it around his head. Yeonjun looks down at you with wide eyes and you almost laugh out at how comical he looks.

“Don’t you dare take it off before the class ends” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am” he whispers at you. “Thank you”

You sit down on your stool again just in time to see your teacher walking in.

-.-

The buzzing lasted all throughout the class. It had started the moment you talked to him and only slightly lessened when you left your seat after the class ended.

He knew he looked a little ridiculous with his goggles on his face even during parts in which he wasn’t required to wear googles but he was terrified of it snapping again and earning his detention. He had to play today evening.

Thankfully Mr.Jung was in a good mood today so he didn’t seem to mind that one of his students had kept their googles on throughout the class.

Yeonjun gingerly takes of the goggles and looks down at your pin smiling at it.

“Aren’t you coming?” Taehyun asks nudging his shoulder.

“Yeah” Yeonjun grins at Taehyun who rolls his eyes.

-.-

“You make it sound as though she made out with you” Soobin mutters. “She just helped you out with your goggles, something a lab partner usually does”

“But she is not a usual lab partner now is she?” Yeonjun replies. Nobody could take this away from him.

“She is to me” Soobin reminds him.

“Stop it. Let him have his moment now” Taehyun reprimands Soobin.

They were sitting around in the stands after playing basketball. Yeonjun had played really well today and felt proud of himself.

“She is warming up to me, I can feel it” Yeonjun tells mostly to himself and smiles.

Soobin and Taehyun look at each other and sighs. If being deluded helped Yeonjun play better then they were not going to be the one’s to break it to him.

-.-

“Jin, this is too much, I can’t accept this” you tell him. In addition to your wages Jin had given you a bonus of thirty dollars and around four containers of food. He had made sure to hand it over to you only after the other employees had left. You were one of the youngest out of all of them and they usually had a soft spot for you which you knew would disappear if they came to know of Jin’s partiality.

“Ah just take it. It’s because you work harder than anyone else here” Jin insists pushing the containers onto your hands. In his eyes you were still the kid who had stood defiantly in front of his Diner asking for a job.

He had all the staffs he needed but looking at the hunger evident in your frame and the determination in your eyes, he didn’t feel like saying no to you. He also considered you his luck, because after taking you in, the Diner had prospered with customers and travellers coming in from different parts of the city.

“You know that’s a lie” you mutter at him.

“Just take it already, you can pay me back by working this weekend alright” Jin tells you.

“Why? What happened to Beomgyu?” You ask him curiously.

“He is going back to his hometown, hasn’t visited his parents in over six months now” Jin tells you.

You consider this. One weekend wouldn’t cover the help he has given you but you knew Jin wouldn’t let you work anymore than you already do.

“Okay” you tell him softly and Jin grins at you, ruffling your hair.

“Have you heard from her yet?” Jin asks you cautiously and your mood sours immediately.

“No” and that’s all you say before thanking him again and taking two containers in each hand and walking out of the Diner.

Jin watches your retreating form feeling sad for you. You hold yourself like nothing could ever get to you but at the end of the day you were just a kid, alone in the world.

-.-

Yeonjun pushes the candy bar towards you during class and you look up at him.

“For yesterday” he says smiling at you.

You regard him with a neutral expression. His new goggles hang around his neck and his fingers fidget against his legs as he looks at you nervously.

“It was not a big deal” you say picking up the candy bar and putting it in your pocket.

Yeonjun smiles at you again and you look down back at your notes.

“Hey um could you, you know maybe lent me your English notes?” Yeonjun asks you again. It had taken him a lot of courage to bring this up to you. He really needed to improve his grade in English and you were one of the best students in that class. Also, it would give him more of an opportunity to talk to you.

“Why? You can ask your friends” you reply curtly. You didn’t know what about him made ticked you off but something about the way he sauntered around like he owned the place irked you. Having confidence was one thing but he acted like he was above everyone else.

“Uh… I heard you make really good notes I’m struggling quite a bit in that class and your notes could really help me out” Yeonjun tells you. “Please” he adds.

“What’s the point of having my notes if you don’t understand what’s happening in class?” You ask him.

“Uh…” he trails off and Mr. Jung enters the classroom cutting off whatever Yeonjun was about to say.

-.-

The class had been extra brutal today. Mr. Jung asked many questions and you barely scrapped by. Ryujin received detention along with Karina and a few others. You looked at her and she grinned back at you and you fought back your smile. Love makes you crazy you think to yourself.

“So um I’ve thought about it and could you like maybe tutor me or something?” Yeonjun asks you.

You huff out a small laugh “And why would I do that?” Typical of him, assuming girls to jump at every chance to hang out with the famous Yeonjun.

“I could pay you for it” He tells you and you look at him. That has your attention.

Yeonjun seems motivated now “Yeah uh I can pay you for tutoring me”

“How much?” You ask him.

“Around twenty for an hour?” He tells you.

You bite your lip, thinking hard. It was a different matter now if money was involved but you couldn’t help but think that Yeonjun was hiding something from you. He could ask anyone else to tutor him and some of them might even do it for free so why you?

“Why me though?” You question walking out of class as Yeonjun falls into step beside you.

“Because you are the best in that class and I really need the help” he tells you.

You look over at him. He sounds sincere enough to you. You open your locker picking out books for your next class and Yeonjun leans against the other trying to catch your eyes.

“I’ll think about it” you tell him. This was way too sudden for you. You had barely one conversation with him and he wants you to tutor him ?

“Excellent” he grins at you as the bell rings signalling the end of your break.

-.-

“Having her tutor you is not the same as asking her to prom” Soobin tells Yeonjun.

“I know but I want her to know me better so that she would atleast consider the prospect before rejecting me without a second thought” Yeonjun huffs out.

They were hanging out at the cafeteria waiting for Taehyun to arrive and Yeonjun had told Soobin about his master plan.

“Besides I really need all the help i can get in English. I’m barely scrapping by” Yeonjun adds.

“I don’t think she is that dumb to not figure out you have something else on your mind” Soobin tells him.

“You make it sound as though I’m trying to get her to do drugs or something” Yeonjun replies growing irritated by Soobins pessimism. “And she hasn’t agreed, she told me she will think about it”

“Uhh I have a good/bad feeling about this” Soobin tells him.

-.-

“Y/N, just do it” Ryujin tells you. “He is willing to pay and you need the help” she adds not unkindly.

Ryujin is more of family to you than a friend. You had grown up together and while your other “friends” left you, when they grew older to realise your situation, Ryujin stuck by your side. She couldn’t care less about whether you were rich or popular or not and kind of accepted you and your situation like it was the most normal thing.

You sigh.

“Why me ? We barely even talk in class” You ask again for the hundredth time.

“Maybe because you are one of the top students in that class? Has that ever occurred to you?” Ryujin asks you.

“Uhuh… but i feel like he has some ulterior motive” you reply, still not convinced.

“If he does anything you can stop tutoring him” Ryujin shrugs her shoulders.

“Still… why me?” you ask again

“Godd Y/N, just take it or drop it. Geez” Ryujin finally explodes.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry” you tell her and Ryujin calms down.

-.-

It’s evening by the time you reach home, after work. You open the door to your home, well if it could be even called a home. It’s basically a studio with one bedroom in a small neighbourhood with a couple of other homes sitting right next to each other.

You take a look at your rations. Its running a little low on rice and oil but with Jin’s help you could survive. You have to save up for the winter if you wish to have the heater running at night.

Money was your main problem. The scholarship and government aid helped to pay for your school and your part time jobs and the allowance She sent made sure that you wouldn’t starve and the bills were paid. Still it was never enough for you to slow down and live like the rest of the kids at school, the worry of running out of it always in the back of your mind. College was another looming issue in your life.

Of course She played a big part in it but you rarely let yourself think of her. The pain was too much to handle. You wondered when she would make her next appearance.

You needed to take up the tutoring job. It would give you a small respite. Sighing, you lie down on your bed and something hard pokes you. Remembering Yeonjun’s candy bar, you take it out and take a bite out of it, the sweetness calming your body. Staring up at the ceiling your eyes land on the butterfly sticker she had put up for you when you were a child and you try to ease the pain that flares in your heart.

Mothers don’t just abandon their children.

-.-

The English test results were out. The teacher hands over your papers and you look over at Yeonjun. He holds up his paper and you can slightly make out the C on his paper. You look down at your A+, making up your mind.

“I’ll do it” you tell Yeonjun after class. “On Tuesdays and Thursdays, alright?”

“Yeah?” Yeonjun grins at you. “Thank you” he adds.

You nod your head before picking up your stuff and heading out to the hallway unaware of how happy Yeonjun is.

“Wait” Yeonjun calls out and you turn around to see him walk up to you.

“Where will we be studying?” He asks you.

You think for a minute. His house would be the reasonable option, but then there would be his parents and undoubtedly they’d ask you questions about your own. You’ve had enough of concerned adults in your life. They worry and fret initially and then grow tired of you after a while.

“My place” you tell him.

“Alright, but I don’t know where you live” he tells you.

“That’s not a problem. We will be going after class, you can come with me” you tell him.

“Okayy” he drawls out still smiling at you.

“Is that all?” You deadpan.

“Thank you” he tells you grabbing your hand and shaking it, taking you by surprise.

Across the hallway Soobin nearly dies from cringe watching his friends actions.

────୨ৎ────

🎧that’s the end of part 1, i hope you all liked this one and if you did please leave a like and reblog this fic it helps me out a lot xoxo🎧

[atinylittlepain]

Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

............................................

This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore. 

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?” 

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.��

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely. 

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.” 

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger. 

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.” 

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?” 

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?” 

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her. 

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office. 

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum  depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least. 

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning. 

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?” 

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.” 

“So you want us to start going on dates again?” 

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right. 

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.” 

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all. 

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it. 

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.” 

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement. 

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared. 

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them. 

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?” 

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well. 

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific,  probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears. 

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed. 

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants. 

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is. 

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?” 

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.” 

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.” 

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails. 

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time. 

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be. 

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too. 

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone. 

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it. 

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl. 

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this. 

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief. 

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it. 

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways. 

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body. 

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it. 

[bonny-kookoo]

𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓞𝓵𝓸𝓻 yoongi is so 😩🫶🏽🫶🏽need more of him and oc , their story is so interesting!!

He really is so hot I can't lie (this is a bit violent? It's a small glimpse into the fight he had with Jungkook)

Jungkook has always been an opponent he'd admit to be an equal to him- but also someone who was meant to one day grow beyond what Yoongi had taught him.

He's young, but Yoongi respects him for his strengths- though right now, he could really use some more of his own, the younger King slowly overpowering him with each step he takes towards him, swords clashing as Yoongi begins to slip up, rather concerned with defending himself now instead of attacking. The fight has been going on for way too long. Yoongi can feel his body slowly exhausting.

Jungkook has the upper hand. And he knows it.

Yoongi's thoughts are racing, a decision needing to be made in this moment, especially when his sword is taken from him, falling to the ground after his hand had been kicked too hard with the dull edge of Jungkook's. It all happens fast after that, the young King taking his chance to tackle the older one, sword having slashed over his face, before Jungkook is basically on top of the other king on the ground, pointing the sword right over his neck in the familiar way of execution.

Jungkook doesn't want to do this- but it's the way of life for him and his kind.

"Will you come back?" You ask Yoongi, worry clear on your face as you watch him prepare his journey after being challenged.

"If I win, I will return to you." He responds honestly, because that is the only answer he can really give you. "And my body will return to you either way."

"But I want you- not just your physical form.!" You press, desperate, even though you know there is no way to convince him to not go and stay instead. That's not the way of his kind, and that's not something he could ever do as a king either.

He has accepted the challenge already.

"Yoongi?" You ask, and he turns at that, since you've just used his actual name for the first time ever- and he's not used to hearing his name anymore, hasn't heard it in quite a long time.

And he's especially never heard it said so tenderly ever before.

"What is it?" He asks, and you just walk a bit closer, leaning against him for a hug he only reluctantly returns- gestures of affection like that foreign to him.

"I'm scared." You admit. And he simply places a hand on your head, face gentle as he looks down at you.

"There is no reason for fear." He denies. "Trust in me that I've made preparations in the case of my death." The king tells you. "You will be well cared for."

"But I'll be lonely again." You say.

And somehow, he can feel a harsh sting in his chest at your words.

"I surrender." Yoongi says, eyes staring up at Jungkook, who's staring back with eyes wide open in shock at what he's just heard.

He would've never thought that Yoongi, his senior and former mentor of all people, would do something as shameful as surrender in the eyes of death.

"The King of Yuirus has surrendered." The overseer calls out openly, crowds cheering and others gasping in shock of the sudden twist of events.

Jungkook only reluctantly gets up, watching how Yoongi is slowly helped up by his own advisor, multiple maids immediately placing something over his eye to stop the bleeding wound.

"Why?" Jungkook breathes out, grip on his sword without any tension anymore, body in complete shock. "Why would you do that?" He demands to know with angrily teared up eyes, feeling heartbroken at the sight and decision of his old friend, a certain sense of betrayal inside of him since the man who always taught him to see things through till the end just surrendered.

Yoongi looks at the young king with his still intact eye, before he speaks.

"One day you'll understand."

[rowan-ashtree]

Keeper of Earth

this is a gift for @riseandfallofsecunit because they drew my OCs (look at them!!!), written about someone in my OC world getting some Elemental magic (explanation of magic system here. i think that's all the context you need)

1.1k words, no CWs (let me know if i missed anything!)

this is my first time posting something set in this world - I'd love to post more if people are interested :)

🌱⚡🌊🔥☀️🌑 | 🌑☀️🔥🌊⚡🌱

You've been guarding the Vessel of Earth for a number of years now.

It's not as cool as you'd originally thought.

Not the Vessel. That thing — a circlet of vines that bloom with gemstones rather than flowers — is extremely cool.

Guarding it is what's boring.

Oh, you know it's an important job. You take the responsibility very seriously. You just thought it'd be more… exciting?

Nevertheless, you do what the Keepers’ Guild asked of you: check on the Vessel and update its History each day, stay mostly isolated, move around often, and grow a garden wherever you live.

The garden doesn't need to be anything special, they'd told you. Just something that shows the Element that you care. So you plant whatever's in season, wherever you happen to be. Currently, it's tomatoes and bell peppers, plus various herbs and flowers.

You're kneeling in the garden now, gently untangling weeds from the soil to be transplanted away from your vegetables. One annoying thing about keeping the core of all nature magic in your toolshed: it feeds all life. It doesn't make growing a garden any less work.

The small toolshed sits nearby to the garden. You've gotten better at not glancing at it every three seconds just to make sure it's still locked, though you learned quickly that the vines growing on the walls and roof need to be checked on and pruned frequently, or else they'll slowly dismantle the shed in their hunt for the magic they can sense within.

It also attracts animals, which you'd been warned about, but not prepared for emotionally. One day, you'd walked outside to see a large wildcat napping by the shed, and you'd made a strangled gasp-scream that had woken the cat. It had stirred, looked at you, then gone back to sleep.

Okay, so it was kind of a cool job.

(Still not very exciting, though. Not in the ways you'd hoped.)

You gather your tools and the small bundle of uprooted plants, and move to the second garden plot, the one where you put the weeds. Many of them are hardy enough that you just sprinkle them across the ground. A few of them, you take the time to re-plant.

Very early on, you learned that the Element of Earth doesn't appreciate needless death. It encourages the natural cycle of things, of life, death, decay, and rebirth, but the weeds in your garden have as much right to live as the vegetables you plant. So you simply relocate them, to show the Element that you care. (And so they don't strangle your basil.)

Standing up again, you wipe your hands on your pants — you gave up on keeping them free of dirt stains a long time ago — and move towards the shed to put away your tools.

When you unlock and open the door, the gentle multicolored glow of the Vessel’s gemstones spills out. You block as much of it as you can with your body and quickly shut the door behind you, even though you know there's no one around. Call it paranoia, but old habits die hard.

As you hang up your tools (yes, the shed houses incredibly powerful magic, but it's still a toolshed), you notice that the light seems greener than usual. You look closer at the Vessel. It hangs on a nail like a celebratory wreath, about the size of a woven flower crown. One of the smaller precious stones, the one that's usually colorless and crystalline, is now a deep, bright green.

Carefully (always carefully, though the Vessel has never harmed you), you reach up to touch the green stone — but before you do, it falls off the vine and into your palm.

You flinch and gasp and close your fist around it. In all the years you've guarded the Vessel, through all the places you've lived, this has never happened before.

You open your hand slowly. The bright green glow is pulsing now. Starting to panic, you think back to what the Guild told you — was there anything about the stones falling out? Have you been doing something wrong this whole time? Oh, stars and smoke, did you somehow manage to break the Vessel?

Trembling, you reach with your free hand to touch the other gemstones, even going so far as to gingerly wiggle one like you would a loose tooth, but they all seem as secure as they've ever been. You try to remember the History, if any previous guardian recorded something similar to this.

You're staring into the gemstone, flashing greener and brighter and faster, when you realize you're spiraling. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then another, letting out the tension in your body with each exhale. Freaking out won't help anything, as you're well aware, so you try to let go of the panic, then open your eyes to try again.

The gem’s light still pulses on your palm, but you realize something — it's pulsing to the beat of your heart.

Huh.

Well, it is nature magic, and you're definitely part of nature. Is it trying to tell you something?

You take several more deep breaths, feeling your heartbeat slow, and watching as the gem's flashes slow to match.

Panic fades, replaced by curiosity. You try to project that feeling out, unsure of what to do but ready to receive what the Element wants to give.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, the gem glows brighter, and brighter, still matching your heartbeat — then disappears.

You have a split second to be confused — until you feel something blooming in your heart, your limbs, your mind. For a moment, you're acutely aware of the world around you: the fungi in the shed, the vines surrounding it, the beetles under the grass and the bedrock far below. Most of all, the Vessel, still glowing softly, now missing a gemstone. You've always known the whole world is alive (how could it not be?), but it's more than that. It's gloriously bright, it's overflowing with energy. With all this life around you, it's no wonder the Vessel glows.

Slowly, gently, the awareness fades, but you still feel awash with the beautiful warmth of your Element.

… your Element?

You open your eyes (you aren't sure when you closed them). The dim toolshed looks the same, but you feel different. You look at the Vessel again — note the missing gem, the mild glow, the hardy vines. You reach up, touch the empty socket, and realization blossoms.

The Vessel of Earth has gifted you magic.

It's not your Element, really. It doesn't belong to you (nor does it belong to anyone), but you are a part of it, now.

You realize you're leaning against the wall for support. There's a new, tiny crystal already growing in the Vessel's empty spot. You look down at yourself. You look no different from before, but inside…

Well. Your wish for more excitement seems to have come true.

[cros-s]

Shooting the shot

imagine having a crush on Captain Vangeance for a long time, then you met him as "William"

this delusional thought has been living rent-free in my head for a long time now... that I finally did something about it. Took me a very long time and some help. Also, it's my first time putting my Black Clover OC in the wild, hehe~, just for this one-shot, cuz I really like the delulu thought. Feel free to leave your thoughts :P

It's this time of the year again, Clover Kingdom's Star Awards Festival. The street lights that line up along the streets, lighting the cobblestone roads that leads the people from every social status to eye-catching stalls, lively street performers and some more magical spots that this event brought.

Although the festival is lively and peaceful, security should is still be one of the top priority. This year, the Golden Dawn squad has been assigned to patrol the streets, with William Vangeance, their masked captain, taking the lead, despite having to attend the awards ceremony that will conclude the celebrations.

In his patrol, and despite being a focused leader as he is, he couldn't help but pause at some spots that seems to tug his attention. The warmth, the music, the liveliness of the attendees—the kingdom he swore to protect, it calls to him as if asking to be appreciated.

On a different side of the festival, Hera moved through the crowds, capturing every moment that caught her attention through her camera. From the flowers being sold by the roadside to the group of friends passing by with big smiles on their faces, these were the kinds of moments she wanted to keep.

As she focused her camera on a certain stray cat resting atop of empty crates in a quiet alley, she walked backwards to find the perfect angle. In her distraction, Hera slipped on a fruit peel she hadn't noticed.

Her camera flew up in the air, while her head processes multiple thoughts at the same time. Torn between catching her camera or protecting her head from hitting the curb, all while internally blaming herself for not hanging the camera straps around her neck.

Then just when she accepted she cannot do either of them a hand wrapped around her waist, saving her from the inevitable headache. She sighed in relief and gasped at realization. "Captain Vangeance!?" She exclaimed. Just as soon as his other hand catches her camera, saving them both from damage.

It's him. She thought. The captain of the squad she had always admired. No—the captain she had always admired. She never thought she'd ever see him upclose but here she is, wrapped in his arm. "Are you alright?" He asked. His voice waking her from the daze.

"I... yes... thank you.. and I'm sorry for the trouble" she answered, as he help her regain her balance.

“There’s no need to apologize,” William said gently, handing her the camera she had almost dropped. “The festival is crowded. It’s easy to lose track of where you’re going.”

Hera smiled sheepishly, taking the camera from him. “Thank you… I didn’t expect to see you.. the... Captain Vangeance, in here” she said, as she tried to steady her thoughts to suppress the awe that's bubbling inside.

“I’m here on patrol,” William explained, though his voice softened as he continued. “But it’s hard not to get caught up in the festival.”

Hera nodded, her eyes scanning the vibrant setting of the festival. The lights, the sounds, the movements—it was all so beautiful, and she couldn’t help but feel inspired.

Then, on an impulse, she looked at William, her eyes bright with an idea. “Would you mind if I took your picture?” she asked, her voice starting out hesitantly.

William blinked, surprised by her request. “My picture?” he repeated, as though unsure why someone like him would be worthy of a photograph.

Hera quickly explained, her excitement bubbling to the surface. “well... it’s just… you’re always so calm and composed. I think it would be interesting to capture that in a photo. Plus,” she continued with a small grin, “it’s not every day that someone gets to photograph a captain of a Magic Knight squad."

For a moment, he was hesitant but she was enthusiastic and her eyes were determined. "Please, just three shots. And it will be just for me." She added. William sighed, he figured she wouldn't take no for an answer.

“All right,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Three shots.”

Hera beamed, grateful for his trust. She raised her camera, while adjusting the settings as she find the perfect angle.

“Okay, just relax,” she said softly, framing him in her lens. “First shot.”

Click.

The first picture was taken, William standing tall in his usual calm and enigmatic demeanor, the soft glow of the streetlamps framing his form.

“Now something a bit less formal,” Hera suggested, a playful glint in her eyes. “Try relaxing your shoulders.” she added, as she roll her shoulders as an example for him to follow.

William complied, slightly loosening his posture. Hera smiled, appreciating the subtle change.

“Second shot.”

Click.

The second photo captured William looking slightly less like the intimidating captain of the Golden Dawn, and more like a person simply enjoying the festival.

And then came the third shot.

Hera lowered her camera for a moment, looking at him through her eyes, not just her lens. “For the last one… I want something special..." she trailed as if in thought "Something real.”

Something real. His chest fluttered at the thought. The words lingered in his mind. Having been placed on a pedestal for so long, his life had been about maintaining an image, about being a symbol for others—something he longed to change. And today, he was taking his brief chance.

If she was looking for something real, then she wasn’t asking for the captain of the Golden Dawn—she was asking for William, the man behind the mask.

"Hmm.." he hummed and nodded, as he slowly reached up and, to Hera’s astonishment, removed his mask.

Hera gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise. It wasn’t just the fact that he had revealed his face—it was the trust, the intimacy of the moment. She had never seen William unmasked before, and not even a single newspaper talked about it, but now, in this brief exchange, he was showing her something he didn’t show to just anyone.

It was as if, in this fleeting moment, he had chosen to let her in–a stranger.

Hera fumbled for her camera, her fingers trembling slightly, not from nervousness, but from the weight of what was happening.

“Third shot,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She lifted her camera, and through the lens, she framed William as he truly was—calm, strong, but also vulnerable. His white hair reflecting the lights, his face... serene, his eyes reflecting a softness that few had ever seen. For Hera, this was more than just a photograph... it was a glimpse into a side of him that felt like a gift, a special moment that belonged to her alone.

Click.

The third photo was taken, and Hera slowly lowered her camera, while breathing out the breath she's been holding.

“Thank you,” she said, as she smiled at him with sincerity, “for trusting me.”

William chuckled softly, “You’ve shown me that some moments are worth capturing,” he replied, his voice just as soft.

As he placed his mask back on, there is something else that lingered in the air. A connection between them that has formed. Faint, yet, more real than anything.

The celebrations around them continued, with its music and lights, but for William and Hera, this moment would forever stand still—captured not just in a photograph, but in their hearts.

something to share: the dialogue color is the same as their eyes. I also wanna do something base on this for his birthday, it's next month! >u<)♥ draft here

[acknowledge-reigns]

Baddie and The Beast | Jacob Fatu x Black!Fem OC | 18+!

Description: Jacob and Myra go on their first date and discuss kinks and limits.

Chapter: 4/6

Face Claim: Flo Milli

Warnings: Marking, primal play, possessiveness, honorifics, praise, nipple play, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, begging, degradation, breeding, petnames.

This is the Jacob x Myra sequel to Swipe Right, Rivals With Benefits and Kiss It Better. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. If kink content isn't for you, specifically Primal Kink (google if need be) for this one, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 1,925

My masterlist can be found here

Taglist: @lov3rla03 @adoreesun @Isabella-2025 @skyesthebomb @acute-crashout-jeyuso @raya-hunter01

It had been a long, eventful week. Iris had given birth two healthy babies, a girl and a boy. Marina and Cove.

As the weekend approached, Myra found herself both nervous and excited for her date with Jacob. She couldn't help but think about their previous encounter and how she had given in to his dominance so easily. She wondered what he had planned for tonight.

As they sat down at a cozy little restaurant, Jacob reached across the table and took her hand in his. "You look gorgeous tonight," he said, his eyes roaming over her body appreciatively.

Myra felt her heart flutter in her chest. "Thank you," she replied softly, looking down at her plate.

Throughout dinner, Jacob kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking her about her life and interests. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, which made Myra feel both special and a little confused. Was he being real, or was this just part of his game? Any guy who can fuck her the way he did and then just forget her for months MUST be a player.

After dinner, Jacob insisted on taking her for a walk in the park. The night was cool and crisp, and the stars twinkled above them. They walked hand in hand, their breath visible in the cold air.

As they strolled along the path, Jacob suddenly pulled her into a secluded area, pressing her against a tree.

Myra gasped as her back hit the tree, her heart racing in her chest. Jacob leaned in close, his body pressed against hers. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispered, his breath hot against her neck.

Myra's mind was reeling. She had never felt this kind of desire before, this need to be dominated and controlled. Jacob was awakening something deep within her, and she didn't know if she could resist it any longer.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of surprise and longing. "Jacob..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob captured her lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a possessive hunger. He pressed his body even closer to hers, pinning her against the tree. His hands roamed over her body, claiming her as his own.

Myra moaned into the kiss, her body arching against his. She felt helpless under his touch, completely at his mercy. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Jacob broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck and nipping at her sensitive skin. "You're mine," he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "You belong to me."

Myra nodded, her mind foggy with desire. "Yes," she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop herself. "I'm yours."

Jacob's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he heard her admission. He claimed her mouth again, his kiss possessive and demanding. He pressed his body against hers, letting her feel his arousal.

Myra could feel her own desire building, a heat pooling between her legs. She wanted him, needed him, more than she had ever needed anything before.

Jacob reluctantly pulled away from her, his breathing ragged. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and seriousness.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice rough.

Myra's heart sank. She had been so caught up in the moment, She looked up at him, a mixture of nervousness and curiosity in her eyes.

"What do we need to talk about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob took her hand and led her to a nearby bench. They sat down, their bodies still close together.

"We need to establish some boundaries," he said, his tone serious. "And we need to discuss what we like and don't like."

Myra nodded, her heart racing. She had never had a conversation like this before, but she knew it was necessary.

"I...I'm not sure where to start," she admitted, feeling a little embarrassed, "I didn't initially think I was submissive"

Jacob squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's okay," he said softly. "We'll take it one step at a time. Do you have any kinks or fantasies that you know of?"

Myra felt her cheeks heat up. "I...I think I might like being dominated," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And...maybe being called names."

Jacob's eyes darkened with lust. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Being called names like what?"

Myra felt a shiver run down her spine as he praised her. "Things like...slut, whore, and...princess," she whispered, her face burning with embarrassment.

Jacob's hand tightened on hers, his grip possessive. "Those are perfect," he growled.

Jacob and Myra talked for a while longer, laying out the ground rules and expectations for their dynamic as well as logistics such as the fact they were both clean and she was on birth control. They agreed that they would not be in a romantic relationship, but rather just a Dom/sub relationship. Neither of them was ready for more.

"I'm a primal Dom," Jacob tells her, his eyes fixed intently on hers.

"Primal play is a style of BDSM that focuses on raw feelings and actions" Jacob adds.

Myra nodded, her eyes wide with interest. She had heard of primal play before, but she had never experienced it herself.

"What does that mean exactly?" she asked, wanting to understand what she was getting herself into.

"As a Primal Dom, I'm interested in engaging in more intense, instinct-driven and animalistic activities. It's important to have open and honest communication of course to establish boundaries, consent, and safewords like any other dynamic." Jacob explains

Myra listened intently, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The thought of engaging in intense, instinct-driven activities with Jacob both thrilled and terrified her.

"I understand," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I trust you to guide me through this."

Jacob smiled, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Good," he said, his hand moving to cup her chin. "I promise to take care of you, to push you to your limits, but always within your boundaries."

Myra felt a shiver run through her at his touch. She knew she was in for a wild ride, but she couldn't deny the thrill of excitement coursing through her veins.

Awhile later, Jacob led her to his car, his hand on the small of her back. The drive to his place was filled with a tense, electric energy. They didn't speak, but the air between them crackled with anticipation.

As soon as they arrived at his place, Jacob practically dragged her inside, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss.

Myra melted into the kiss, her body responding instinctively to his touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their tongues tangled together.

Jacob's hands roamed over her body, his touch rough and possessive. He pushed her against the wall, his body pinning hers as he deepened the kiss.

As they stumbled through the house, their clothes fell away in a trail behind them. By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both naked and breathing heavily.

Jacob pushed her onto the bed, his eyes roving over her body hungrily.

Myra's heart raced under his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She lay there, her body trembling with anticipation as he crawled onto the bed, caging her in with his arms.

He ran his hands over her body, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. "I'm going to claim you," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"Yes Sir." Myra shivered, her body arching up into his touch. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and she let out a soft moan.

"It's Yes Alpha.." Jacob corrected her opting for an honorific reflective of their primal dynamic.

"Y-yes Alpha," Myra corrected herself, her voice trembling with submission.

Jacob growled in approval, his hand moving to cup her breast. "Good girl," he praised her, his thumb circling her nipple.

Myra moaned again, her body reacting to his touch. She could feel herself getting wetter, her desire for him growing with every passing moment.

Jacob leaned down, his lips closing around her other nipple. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, his teeth grazing her skin.

Myra writhed beneath him as she held him close. She was lost in the sensation of his mouth on her body, the feeling of his tongue swirling around her nipple sending waves of pleasure through her.

Jacob switched to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment as he continued to tease her. He could feel her growing more desperate beneath him, her body arching up into his touch.

"You're so sensitive," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky.

Myra whimpered in response, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back her moans. She could feel the heat building between her legs, her body aching for more.

"Alpha...please," she gasped, her voice strained with need.

Jacob lifted his head, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Please what, princess?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

He knew exactly what she wanted, but he was going to make her say it.

"Please...fuck me," she finally whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob's smirk widened into a feral grin. "That's my good girl," he said, his hand sliding down her body to between her legs.

He ran his fingers through her wetness, teasing her entrance before moving up to circle her clit.

Myra gasped, her hips bucking up against his hand. She was so sensitive, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

Jacob positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust into her in one smooth motion.

"Alpha's gonna fill you up," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna breed this tight lil pussy."

Myra moaned loudly, her body stretching to accommodate his size. He was big, and she could feel every inch of him as he began to move inside her, taking her hard and fast.

"Please, Alpha," she begged, her voice high and needy. "Please breed me."

Jacob's thrusts grew harder, faster, as he lost himself in the pleasure of her body. He could feel her walls clenching around him, milking his cock as he pounded into her.

"That's it, princess," he grunted, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "Take it all. Take your Alpha's seed."

Myra's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she felt herself nearing the edge. She was close, so close.

"Alpha...I'm gonna come," she whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Come for me, princess," Jacob growled, his own orgasm building rapidly. "Come on my cock like a lil slut."

He reached down and pinched her clit, sending her hurtling over the edge.

Myra cried out as she came, her body convulsing beneath him. She clenched around him tightly, her walls fluttering as she milked his cock for all he was worth.

Jacob grunted, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. They lay there for a moment, sweaty and spent, before he rolled off of her and pulled her into his arms.

"So am I gonna tame you or are you gonna tame me?" Myra joked.

"Honestly? it looks like both. Tale as old as time, baby." Jacob responded.

Previous Chapter ●◉◎◈◎◉● Next Chapter

[sunflowers-and-scales]

hey!! i draw stuff (and write too. sometimes) :))

u can call me sunny if you like (and i’ll take requests//suggestions but only sfw pls :0)

also pls talk to me abt:

persona 3 and 4

ace attorney (!!!!)

hunterxhunter

animal crossing

tomodachi life (do ppl still play this)

pokémon

slay the princess (!!!!!)

the owl house

spiderverse

the dragon prince

disastrous life of saiki k

deltarune (a little)

other stuff probably too idk what all of my interests have been ever

i put oc art under the tag #sunflowers and scales

if you want to draw them (pls i will love you forever) you can do the same :D

v oc info under here v

main oc intro stuff!! (feel free to skip this, but i draw them a lot so in case ur interested)

from left to right:

ryu:

little sheltered rich kid boy & ambulatory wheelchair user. he lives in a big beige mini mansion on a coastal cliff and is perpetually bored until ian breaks into his home and drags him on an adventure. he’s also kind of part fish (though my ocs have an elemental system so i guess it’s “water element” technically lol)

he enjoys: rain, cats, his friends, the color blue, video games, alone time

he does not enjoy: the color beige, yelling, crowded public spaces, heat, sunburns

ian:

lives in an elemental village taken over by some guy named Duke who also married his mom. he doesn’t know it but he is NOT dukes kid lmao. he’s part plant element, part air element (harpy basically) (hence the shiny silly wings) and he gets kicked out for being the product of an affair whereupon he breaks into ryu’s home and is like “hey help me find my mom again pls”. he is the pathetic wet dog to ryu’s pathetic wet cat.

he enjoys: sunny days, light showers, his friends, sewing

he does not enjoy: fire, small enclosed spaces, extremely coarse dirt

kei:

is ian’s older half brother and is the more emo of the two. he’s part plant-element and part fire-element and can manipulate fire though cannot prevent burns like a typical fire element. he gets wrecked by duke on numerous occasions for trying to have an opinion and/or existing (todoroki/zuko dupe). dw they get him eventually. he’s also shorter than ian and mad about it.

he enjoys: green tea, the beach, studying biology, ample relaxation time

he does not enjoy: loud voices, being alone, not being able to swim, fire hazards

alyce:

part of a second elemental village, this one ruled by her father (and ian’s father (gasP)) who’s an air element (so is she). in line to rule until ian shows up and her dad’s cringe so he gets the throne by default. he does not want it. also their dad gets burned to death three minutes later but that’s kinda irrelevant. she’s extremely well organized and tolerant but also has talons and knows how to use them.

she enjoys: archery, recreational diving, nighttime, quiet

she does not enjoy: cats, molting season, people who talk and/or chew too loud

[moncherriecoups]

"Like clouds kissed by the sun, some people leave behind a color you can’t name."

✧ moon junhui x f!oc

✧ kwon hoshi x f!oc

✧ summary: She came to Seoul to escape—what she found instead was him. Jun, unreadable and magnetic. Hoshi, warm but just out of reach. As feelings blur and moments slip by, Min Ah realizes not everything beautiful is meant to last. Some storms come softly. Some leave a mess behind.

✧ word count: 6.3k

✧ tags: emotional angst, fleeting connection, unresolved tension, office romance, love triangle, slow burn, banter, eventual smut

✧ warnings: one-night stand, heartbreak themes, drinking, suggestive scenes, alcohol use, suggestive content, emotional pining, sexual scenes

✧ MINORS DNI

Chapter 5

So here they are.

Sitting across from each other in a quiet little pasta restaurant near the train station. The kind of cozy corner place where the lighting is just dim enough to feel intimate, but casual enough not to scare someone into thinking this is a real date.

Min Ah stirred her water absently, half-listening to the soft jazz playing in the background. It was probably the most awkward she’d ever seen Hoshi. This was the same man who wore neon green socks to client meetings and hosted impromptu dance battles in the Artois lounge. And yet now, he was sitting perfectly straight, barely making eye contact, nervously adjusting his spoon like it was a loaded weapon.

Min Ah raised an eyebrow. “Is it, like, what… you ran out of your social battery or something?”

That did the trick. Hoshi’s head snapped up. His lips tugged into a sheepish grin, and his shoulders finally slumped a little in relief.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I mean, I don’t really do this. Dates, I mean.”

Min Ah burst out laughing, leaning back in her chair. “Relax. Let’s just say we’re teammates who accidentally got hungry together and decided on pasta. No pressure.”

That made Hoshi exhale—an actual laugh this time—and the tension finally dissolved like sugar in tea.

What followed surprised her. They talked. A lot. Hoshi had the kind of storytelling energy that could make even a broken printer sound like a stand-up routine.

“Once, Dokyeom accidentally sat through an entire client pitch because he was too embarrassed to admit he was in the wrong room. Ended up presenting a whole five-minute section about budgeting with complete confidence. The client nodded. Mr. Kim almost had a heart attack.”

Min Ah clapped, choking on her laugh. “You’re joking!”

“Swear to God,” Hoshi said, crossing his heart. “Then he begged Mr. Kim to move him to marketing for a week. The finance team threatened to unionize.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. And honestly? It was fun. It was easy. Hoshi wasn’t trying too hard, he was just being himself, and that was more than enough. Min Ah found herself genuinely interested, especially when he started showing her pictures of a weird office costume contest from last year.

“And that’s me dressed as a Power Ranger. Marketing Blue,” he said proudly.

“Why is Mr. Kim in a Pikachu onesie?”

“Don’t ask. He lost a bet.”

They were halfway through dessert—some shared tiramisu, because of course Hoshi said, “We’re not leaving without something sweet,”—when Min Ah’s phone buzzed. It was a video call from Eomma. Hoshi immediately straightened up, suddenly flustered again.

“Pick it up,” Hoshi grinned, wiping his mouth. “You should answer.”

“She’ll probably ask who I’m with…”

“Then tell her,” he said, already scooting his chair next to hers. “I don’t mind. Let’s say hi to Mrs. Song.”

So she answered.

And like some strange turn of fate, twenty seconds later, Mrs. Song’s smiling face filled the screen—and Hoshi was waving beside her, flashing his boyish grin.

“Omo!” her mother gasped. “Ya, who’s this handsome boy? Is this your boyfriend?”

“Eomma!” Min Ah groaned, but laughed through it. “No, he’s my coworker.”

“Ohhh coworker,” Mrs. Song drawled, clearly unconvinced. “So cute. What’s your name, young man?”

“Kwon Soonyoung,” he replied politely. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Song. I work with your daughter at Artois. She’s… kind of the star of our team.”

Her mother gushed immediately, clapping. “Are you the one who sings and dances?”

Hoshi’s face flushed pink, but he laughed. “That might be me.”

“Do you cook too?”

“I… microwave very well.”

Mrs. Song laughed, delighted. “You’re better than my husband already!”

The three of them chatted for almost thirty minutes. Somehow, Hoshi ended up seated next to Min Ah so her mom could see both of them clearly. He answered questions politely, asked about Mrs. Song’s famous jjajangmyeon recipe, and even promised to send her a dance video next time.

“You have good friends, Min Ah-yah,” her mom said softly before hanging up. “I’m glad.”

When the call ended, the silence that followed was oddly warm.

“She’s adorable,” Hoshi said.

“She likes you,” Min Ah replied, “which is wild because she doesn’t like anyone. Even my high school boyfriend didn’t survive more than five minutes.”

He grinned. “So… I passed the mom test?”

“Barely,” she teased. “You’ll have to work harder.”

They walked out of the restaurant around 10 PM, the air cooling with the onset of summer evening. Hoshi insisted on walking her to the bus stop nearby, and the conversation slowed into something gentler.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

They stood there for a few moments, not quite ready to say goodbye.

She bit her lip. Right. Jun.She typed a quick reply.

Then Min Ah’s phone buzzed again—this time, a string of texts.

Where are you?

Still out?

Are you okay?

Just finished dinner with Hoshi. On my way home.

Her phone rang before she could even put it down.

“Hey,” she answered. “I was just about to—”

“Dinner?” Jun’s voice was low, firm. “As in… a date?”

Min Ah sighed, turning slightly so Hoshi wouldn’t hear. “It wasn’t like that. Mr. Kim kind of... set us up. It was more of a friendly teammate bonding thing, I promise.”

Jun didn’t answer right away. The pause said everything.

“You still coming over tomorrow?” he asked finally.

She smiled softly. “Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Okay then,” he muttered, sounding very much not okay. “Get home safe.”

“I will. I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah.”

Call ended.

Min Ah slipped the phone into her pocket just as the bus pulled up.

Hoshi smiled at her, gently elbowing her side. “Was that your high school friend?”

“Something like that,” she replied vaguely.

He tilted his head. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, you know.”

“I know,” she smiled. “Thanks for tonight, Soonyoung.”

His eyes crinkled. “You called me by my name.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

—

Min Ah sat cross-legged on her bed, hair a fluffy mess, still in her Artois hoodie and pajama shorts. The sunlight was creeping through her blinds in stripes, lighting up the screen of her phone, which lay face-up on the pillow beside her.

Two unread messages. Sent just a few minutes apart.

One from Hoshi,

morningggg ☀️

had fun yesterday 🥲 let’s do it again sometime if ur not too sick of me

She stared at them for a full minute. Just… blinking. Blank.

And another one… of course, Jun

hey. you awake?

good morning pretty

“Oh no.”

She flopped back into her pillows and groaned dramatically.

"Why is my life like this."

She dragged herself into the shower like a ghost haunted by two cute men. She even ate her toast while still towel-drying her hair, the phone untouched.

By the time her hair was half-dry and she was poking at her leftover pastries from last night, she finally unlocked her phone.

To Jun, she typed back:

To Hoshi, she smiled to herself, remembering the way he made her mom laugh over roasted peanuts and wine.

still waking up 😵‍💫

but now that i see your text…

hi. i’m smiling. so thanks.

Send.

Send.

good morning

i had so much fun too

let’s hang out again sometime, u were too good at picking pasta!!

Double messages. Double sigh.

—

At Artois HQ, chaos was already brewing like over-steeped tea.

She stepped into the 10th floor and was ambushed immediately.

“THERE SHE IS!” Eunji yelled from her desk like she’d spotted a celebrity at Incheon Airport. “The WOMAN who bagged a dinner date with Hoshi!”

Everyone turned.

Even someone from HR peeked out from the pantry.

Dahyun tilted her chin, smirking. “Min Ah. Tell us everything.”

“I—what—?” she blinked.

Mr. Kim swooped into view, yogurt in one hand, spoon in the other, ready like he was moderating a dating show. “You did really had a dinner with him, right!?”

“Did he pull your chair out?”

“He—no! I don’t think so, it’s not that kind of place—”

“Did he pay?”

“Yes, but I offered—”

“Did you hold hands?”

“Mr. Kim!”

“Okay, okay,” Dokyeom poked his head in dramatically from the finance team across the floor. “But what did he wear? Important detail.”

“He wore a shirt, Dokyeom. You were with us before we left.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he muttered, walking away.

Eunji spun in her chair. “No but seriously, do you realize how big this is? Soonyoung. On a date. With someone from our office.”

Mr. Kim leaned closer, conspiratorially. “I’ve worked with Hoshi for six years. SIX. I have never seen him go on a date. Not once. And now you, our sunshine newbie, have broken the streak?”

Min Ah buried her face in her hands. “Can’t we just go back to bullying Dahyun or something?”

“I—HEY—”

“No wait,” Dahyun grinned. “I support this. Redirect. Focus on Min Ah.”

Mr. Kim spun toward the rest of the team like he was making an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’ve got a potential office power couple on our hands.”

“Oh my God,” Min Ah muttered. “You’re all unwell.”

Hoshi suddenly walked in with a bundle of printed slides, slightly out of breath. “What did I miss?”

The room exploded.

“Your DATE,” Eunji practically screamed.

“Oh,” Hoshi grinned. “She survived. So I guess I didn’t screw it up.”

“She’s blushing,” Mr. Kim pointed out helpfully. “Look at her cheeks.”

“I hate this place,” Min Ah laughed, fanning herself.

“We love you,” Mr. Kim replied.

The room settled a little—just a little—until Hoshi clapped his hands sharply. “Okay, okay, children. We have a client meeting with O2 at 2PM. Focus. We leave right after lunch.”

“Copy, leader-nim,” Dahyun saluted.

Eunji just whispered to Min Ah, “You’re in too deep now.”

—

By lunchtime, the team was gathered near the elevators with their bags, ready to head out before the client meeting. The elevator dinged, and they stepped in—

Right into three men from Quantix.

Jeonghan looked relaxed as always, arms crossed, slightly slouched against the wall.

Joshua turned first, smiling brightly. “Oh, Min Ah-ssi!”

“Hey!” she greeted, smiling back. “Long time no see.”

“You been well?” he asked casually, like they were running into each other at a library.

“Still alive,” she laughed. “You?”

“Same. You should try the new tofu rice on that rice house on the 3rd floor!.”

“Noted. Oh—” she gestured toward her group, “my team—this is Hoshi, Dahyun, Eunji, Mr. Kim.”

Everyone nodded or waved politely. Jeonghan muttered a soft hello, and Hoshi gave his bright, leader-style smile. Min Ah’s eyes finally landed on Jun, who stood quietly at the back.

He hadn’t said a word, but his gaze was locked on her.

Soft. A little shy. A little unreadable.

She offered him a gentle smile. Not bold, not flirty—just… warm. Like the kind you’d give someone you missed, even when you saw them yesterday.

He blinked slowly, but didn’t look away.

The elevator doors opened at the ground floor, and the two teams parted ways. As she stepped out, Min Ah caught Jun glancing over his shoulder, just for a second. She smiled again. This time, he smiled back.

Very small. But it counted.

—

As soon as the Quantix guys were gone…

“OKAY WHAT—” Eunji grabbed her arm. “You know Joshua?”

“We’ve talked a few times,” Min Ah replied nonchalantly, picking at her salad.

“Talked??” Dahyun echoed. “You were talking like… you went to the same middle school and ran a club together.”

“He’s just friendly! I took the same train home a few times. That’s all.”

“Wait—he takes the train?” Eunji looked scandalized. “Isn’t he, like… loaded?”

Hoshi chuckled. “I’ve seen him bike to work. Quantix guys are really into that eco stuff.”

Min Ah nodded without thinking. “Jun doesn’t use plastic lids on his coffee cups too. Says it’s to reduce waste.”

Everyone turned to her slowly.

Even Hoshi blinked.

She paused. Realized. Then quickly added, “—or, like… I heard that. Somewhere. From someone. Who said that.”

Min Ah smiled instinctively and bit her lip before typing back:

Eunji’s mouth opened like she was about to scream, but then Min Ah’s phone buzzed on the table. It’s Jun.

you looked really pretty.

leaving for a meeting?

She set her phone face-down and went back to her salad, ignoring the very loud silence around her.

you looked cute too

i’m glad i got to see u today 🥲

yeah, we won’t be back at the office after lunch.

see u at ur place later?

Mr. Kim finally broke it.

“Okay we still haven't finished talking about your date with Hoshi, like… what kind of pasta did he order?”

Min Ah groans, Hoshi blushes, everyone laughs.

—

The meeting ran long. Predictably so.

Three hours of presentation decks, color palette discussions, copy revisions, and a surprisingly passionate debate over button placements in the mobile layout. By the end of it, Min Ah’s brain was a smoothie of pixel grids and client buzzwords. She’d taken over the presentation halfway through when Mr. Kim’s WiFi bugged out—held her own under pressure, adjusted the mockups in real-time, even managed to sneak in a joke that made the client laugh.

But by the time the clock hit 5PM, she was running on caffeine fumes and blind muscle memory.

“Okay,” Dahyun exhaled dramatically the second they left the client’s office building. “I need coffee. I deserve coffee. My neurons are crying.”

“Do neurons even cry?” Hoshi muttered, scrolling through his phone.

“They do now,” Eunji yawned. “I’m not even mad we’re getting coffee, I’m just mad I didn’t bring a bigger tote bag. I need reward pastries.”

Mr. Kim clapped his hands. “Team, that was solid. Take this as a sign of your competence, your resilience, and also that you’re buying your own drinks.”

They ended up at a cozy café a block away, the kind with retro jazz playing and pretentious chalkboard menus. While the others settled in and started fighting over muffin sizes, Min Ah excused herself to a corner with her phone.

She typed quickly.

Jun replied almost instantly.

done with the meeting!

grabbing coffee with the team for a bit

will head over right after <3

She stared at the address for a second as another message pops, it’s his address.

good

gives me more time to cook ;)

see you soon

Oh. Right.

Last time she went to his place she was very drunk and not exactly aware of which neighborhood he even lived in. Everything had been a blur of street lights and club bass and Jun’s hand on the small of her back.

But now… now she was sober. And nervous.

—

Jun’s apartment was warm even before she stepped inside. It smelled like garlic, sesame oil, and something sweet simmering on a stove. She knocked softly.

He opened the door immediately.

Min Ah blinked.

He wasn’t even trying to be seductive—and yet—he looked like a quiet dream. A long-sleeved black shirt clung to his shoulders, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms. His grey slacks were creased and casual, and he was barefoot, standing in the soft yellow light of his apartment like he belonged there—with her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and kind.

“Hi,” she echoed, her eyes darting past him. “Oh—oh my God. What is this?”

The table behind him was covered in food. Not takeout. Not rushed leftovers. Cooked. With care. A full spread—spicy jjigae in a stone pot, marinated galbi still steaming, japchae glistening, sautéed mushrooms, small plates of pickled sides, and—was that fruit? And a bowl of seaweed soup? Even the wine bottle looked romantic, like it came from a movie.

She stepped in and toed off her shoes, still stunned.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, turning to him. “And I thought you said you can’t cook!?”

Jun smiled. “It’s my birthday.”

Min Ah blinked again.

“What?”

He nodded, as if this was casual news. “Today. June tenth.”

“Today today? Not, like, today but your lunar calendar birthday?”

“Today today.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re telling me you invited me over on your birthday, cooked this entire fantasy meal, and didn’t tell me?!”

“You’d make a scene.”

“I’m making a scene!”

Jun chuckled and walked into the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses. “Exactly.”

She followed him, still reeling. “Why didn’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”

“They were going clubbing,” he said. “I didn’t want that.”

“But....”

“I love it less than peace and wine and…” His eyes softened. “You.”

Her heart stuttered.

“You could’ve just said that,” she whispered. “I would’ve—Jun—I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t even know—God, I didn’t even brush my hair properly.”

“You look perfect.”

“I look like someone who spent three hours arguing over button placement on a mobile homepage.”

He placed the wine glass in her hand and leaned against the counter. “You came. That’s all I wanted.”

And just like that, she melted.

They ate slowly. Jun insisted she take the better cuts of meat, but she refused after the third piece, making him laugh with a dramatic: “Sir, I am not a charity case, feed yourself.”

He teased her about being picky with mushrooms; she pointed out he cut the galbi into perfectly even rectangles like a serial killer.

The wine settled in gently, warming her cheeks and loosening her smile.

They were halfway through dessert—store-bought cake and strawberries that Jun arranged like he was auditioning for a food styling gig—when the conversation took a shift.

“So…” Jun said, swirling the wine in his glass. “Dinner with Hoshi went well?”

Min Ah raised a brow. “Are you asking because you want to know, or because you don’t want to know?”

Jun’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “...Bit of both.”

She smiled, then nudged his knee under the table.

“It was nice,” she said honestly. “He’s fun. You know how Hoshi is.”

Jun gave a tiny nod, lips tight.

Min Ah tilted her head. “Wait. You’re not seriously… jealous, are you?”

Jun hesitated.

That was answer enough.

She burst out laughing. “Jun! Oh my God. He’s my team leader. He’s literally the reason I have three anxiety-induced ulcers. He made us rehearse a pitch like it was SNL today.”

“You were laughing a lot.”

“He also tripped on a scooter in front of the building and blamed the sidewalk. You think I’m going to fall for that kind of man?”

Jun smiled, but didn’t say anything.

Min Ah’s smile softened. She reached across the table and touched his wrist lightly.

“Hey,” she said. “You don’t have to worry. I like Hoshi, but not like that. He's bright, yeah, but you're—” She paused, then smiled again. “You’re something else. Quiet but steady. Warm in this terrifying, infuriating way that makes me feel like I’m going to forget how to function in public.”

Jun blinked.

“Infuriating?”

“Deeply,” she teased. “You’re like a really expensive blanket I didn’t ask for but now can’t sleep without.”

Jun laughed, full and rich, his head tipping back. “You’re ridiculous.”

“See? Now you’re stuck with me. Hope you enjoy chaos.”

He looked at her for a long moment—like he was trying to memorize everything she just said, every stupid metaphor and warmth behind it—and then stood up slowly.

Min Ah tilted her head. “Where are you going?”

He offered her a hand. “Helping you onto the couch.”

“Why?”

“So I can kiss you properly.”

She took his hand.

“I am wearing lip gloss.”

“Fine, I’ll do the dishes first then,” he chuckles.

“Let me help,” she stands up, following him

—

They’d eaten too much.

By the time Jun cleared the dishes and Min Ah helped stack the side plates, their limbs were heavy from food, wine, and the kind of ease that only came when two people forgot to be strangers.

Jun dried his hands with a kitchen towel while Min Ah stood in front of the speaker perched on the shelf above his coffee table.

“I think we need music,” she declared, half-drunkenly regal. “It’s your birthday. Silence is illegal.”

Jun raised an eyebrow. “Silence is illegal?”

“In this house? Yes,” she said. “You cooked like it was a final round of MasterChef. We need a vibe.”

“I thought you hated my playlists.”

“That was before you fed me galbi and cake. I’m feeling generous.”

Jun laughed and stepped closer, watching as she scrolled through his music app. “If you play trot, I’m kicking you out.”

She gasped. “You have trot in here?”

He didn’t answer.

She grinned. “You do. My God. A finance bro who listens to trot. The layers.”

“I like the passion,” Jun deadpanned.

Min Ah’s finger hovered dramatically before landing on a mellow R&B track—slow, sultry, and quietly romantic. The kind of song that doesn’t ask for attention but draws it anyway.

She turned to him, eyes dancing. “Dance with me?”

Jun blinked. “Now?”

“Yes. While we still have blood in our limbs. Before the food coma wins.”

“I can’t dance.”

“You literally carried me like a ragdoll while I was blackout drunk last week.”

“That’s different. You weren’t conscious to judge.”

Min Ah laughed, stepping forward and gently taking his hand. “Come on. No one's watching.”

He let himself be pulled into the living room, where the shadows from the lamp stretched long across the floor and the couch loomed just behind them like a witness.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and guided his other to her waist.

“Just sway,” she whispered. “Like this.”

Jun followed.

They moved slowly. His palm warm on her waist, her fingertips light on his shoulder. The music wrapped around them like honey—slow, golden, unhurried.

“I promise I’ll make a proper birthday scene tomorrow,” she mumbled, her cheek brushing his shoulder. “I’ll get you a hat. Maybe balloons. A cake that says ‘Finance Daddy’ on it.”

Jun laughed, breath fanning her temple. “Please don’t.”

“I will. You can’t stop me. Everyone in our building will know you like trot.”

He spun her gently, making her laugh again. When she landed back in his arms, closer than before, something in the air shifted.

Not heavy. Not rushed.

Just... honest.

Jun looked down at her, gaze soft.

“Thank you for coming,” he said quietly.

Min Ah looked up, heart thudding. “Thank you for inviting me.”

And then—it just happened.

Their lips met in a kiss so soft, it felt like a whisper. A breath. A question.

No tongue. No heat.

Just… warmth. Time slowing down around the two of them as they kissed in the quiet comfort of an apartment with wine glasses on the table and a leftover strawberry on the plate.

Jun pulled her closer, his hand finding the small of her back. Min Ah leaned in, her arms looping around his neck, letting herself sink into the moment without thinking too hard.

It was the kind of kiss you don’t rush. The kind you want to remember even before it ends.

When they finally pulled away, they didn’t speak.

They just stood there. Foreheads touching. Breathing in sync.

A few beats later, Jun guided her gently to the couch. They collapsed into it together, shoulders brushing, the music still playing low in the background.

Min Ah turned slightly to face him. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, her smile small but steady.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly.

Jun’s lips parted, as if to say thank you—but she wasn’t done.

“I know we just met. And we’ve only spent… what? A weekend? Some coffee? A dinner or two?”

He nodded, quiet.

“But I mean it,” she went on, voice lower now. “I’m really grateful I got to bump into you. That I got to meet you.”

He blinked, a little startled by her seriousness.

She held his gaze. “I’m grateful you were born.”

Silence.

For a second, Min Ah looked like she might pull back. Like she wanted to laugh and brush it off as a joke.

But she didn’t.

Jun reached out slowly, his fingers brushing her cheek like she was something precious.

“I’m grateful I met you too,” he murmured.

That was all he said.

But the way he said it—the way his voice dipped, the way his eyes never left hers—it said enough.

They sat like that for a while, close and quiet, letting the music and wine and feelings wrap around them like a soft blanket neither of them had the heart to pull away from.

And somewhere between the song ending and the moon rising, something in both of them settled.

Not defined.

Not labeled.

But real.

—

Jun was still chuckling from their slow, sleepy post-dinner dance, slumped slightly on the couch with his wine glass dangling in one hand. The dim light from the pendant lamp over the dining table flickered ever so slightly with the night breeze sneaking in through the cracked-open window. His cheeks were still flushed — partly from the alcohol, mostly from the way Min Ah had looked at him just minutes ago and said she was grateful he was born.

He turned his head to glance at her.

“You really know how to mess with someone’s heart,” he said, voice low and laced with a soft vulnerability that made Min Ah’s chest ache in the best way.

She only smiled, eyes half-lidded from the wine but still glinting with her usual mischief. "Oh, you think I'm done?"

Jun raised an eyebrow, amused. “You're not?”

“Nope.” She set her own glass down and turned on the couch to face him fully. “In fact,” she leaned closer, her grin turning downright dangerous, “I did bring a gift.”

Jun blinked, surprised. “Wait, what—”

“Yep. It’s....” She pointed at herself dramatically, suppressing a laugh. “But don’t worry, this one’s a limited edition. Only available on June tenth. While supplies last.”

Jun laughed—genuine, from his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” she said, crawling slowly onto his lap now, straddling him gently. “Let me make your birthday memorable.”

His breath hitched just slightly, but he didn’t stop her. Instead, he looked up at her — dazed, completely smitten. His hands instinctively found her waist, thumbs brushing the soft fabric of her blouse.

“…You don’t have to do anything, Min Ah.”

“I know,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “But I want to.”

She meant it. Every word.

And maybe it was the wine or the magic of soft jazz still humming faintly in the background, but Min Ah felt bold tonight. Confident in a way she hadn’t expected. She kissed him again — this time full, slow, lingering — and as Jun opened his mouth to her, she deepened it, hands sliding into his hair, tugging just a little.

She could feel him harden under her, and when she pulled back slightly and looked down at him — cheeks red, breath uneven — she whispered, “Can I…?” just to be sure.

Jun gave the tiniest nod. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, Min Ah…”

So she slid off his lap, gently pushing him back against the couch cushions. She knelt on the rug between his knees, her fingers lightly trailing along the hem of his shirt as she looked up at him.

And she began.

And in her head, there was a rush of thoughts.

Okay, remember that one fic. Chapter twelve. Slow start. Light teasing. Gentle confidence.She exhaled.

—

It started with soft, curious touches — her fingers brushing the top of his waistband, watching the way Jun’s abs tensed slightly beneath her hands. She leaned in, kissing the skin just above the waistband, and she felt him twitch — not in impatience, but anticipation.

“Is this okay?” she asked gently, looking up at him from her position on the floor.

Jun was biting his bottom lip, one hand already gripping the edge of the couch. “Better than okay,” he breathed. “You sure you want to—”

“I do,” she whispered, smiling, and slowly pulled at the band of his sweatpants.

The moment she had him fully exposed, Min Ah paused.

Her breath hitched—just slightly.

She blinked once.

Holy shit.

Okay. She knew he was big. Felt he was big. But actually seeing him like this?

Then again.

That… that can’t be average, right?

Like, practically as long as my forearm…

Is this normal?

No. No way. This is above average. This is—anatomically impressive.

No wonder she’d been sore last weekend. She’d chalked it up to her being out of practice.

But no. It was definitely this.

Him.

She began with her hands. Slow, deliberate strokes, watching Jun react with every flick of her wrist. Then her lips — light kisses, teasing, letting him feel her breath before she even took him fully. 

Okay. Okay.

Don’t panic. You got this, Min Ah.

Has she ever done this? Nope. Does she know how? Maybe.She didn’t panic — thank god — but in her head, the mental highlight reel of all the fanfic-based techniques she’d studied started rolling like a training montage.

He groaned softly. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“That’s the point,” she grinned, and then—

Min Ah moved slowly, focused on her rhythm, her breathing, listening to the sounds Jun made above her — every breathless moan, every quiet shit, the way his hips jerked just slightly when she swirled her tongue around the tip.

She wrapped her mouth around him.

Warm. Wet. Controlled.

Slowly taking him fully.

She was expecting to choke on it but surprisingly, she didn't.

He was falling apart. Hands clutching the fabric of the couch, head thrown back, eyes fluttering.

—

And Min Ah, despite the heat building between her own thighs, felt powerful.

So this is what those fanfics were talking about, she thought proudly.

Sex ed, baby. Through literature.

The moment the teasing turned into something deeper, more focused. But there she was, on her knees, with her fingers wrapped around Jun’s length, her lips hovering just above him, heart pounding as his breath caught.

Jun was flushed to the tips of his ears, his hands clenched at his sides like he was trying not to reach for her again. He looked down at her, eyes glazed, mouth parted, completely undone.

“You don’t have to—” he began, voice hoarse.

Min Ah just smiled, a little devilish curl to her lips as she leaned in. “Jun.”

He blinked, dazed. “Yeah?”

She kissed the inside of his thigh. “Do you want me to stop?”

He swallowed hard. “God, no.”

“Then shut up, birthday boy.”

He let out a short, strangled laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lowered her mouth again, slower this time. She wanted to explore. To taste. To remember how he twitched when her tongue circled the tip, how his thighs tensed every time she hollowed her cheeks just right.

It made her smirk — the power in it, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

It was kind of addictive.

And Jun — poor Jun — was gone.

Completely and utterly.

His head leaned back against the couch, eyes shut tight, mouth parted in a breathless string of curses in both Korean and — wait, was that Mandarin? Hot.

“Fuck, Min Ah…” he groaned, one hand finally giving in and tangling in her hair. Not forcing, just grounding himself. His other hand was still fisted at his side, like if he moved too much, he’d lose it completely.

She kept going — a slow, deliberate rhythm, one hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. She glanced up at him through her lashes, watching him unravel inch by inch.

But she’d never done it before.

And then — a wicked thought.

What would it taste like?She had read about it, sure — late-night fanfic benders, occasional deep dives on NSFW threads or Tumblr when she was bored or feeling particularly brave.

So when she felt him start to tremble slightly, hips twitching, jaw tight — that telltale sign — she pulled back just a fraction, locking eyes with him.

“You wanna—” Jun gasped, barely able to get the words out, “Min Ah— I’m close—fuck, I—”

She didn’t stop.

In fact, she nodded, just slightly, inviting it.

His eyes shot open, wide, panicked and wrecked all at once. “Wait, are you—”

She hummed around him in response, and that was it.

Jun let out a deep, desperate moan — low, almost like a sob — and came in her mouth.

It was sudden, hot, and more than she expected. She blinked, surprised, but didn’t pull away. She let it happen, swallowed carefully, and held his hips down gently when he jerked.

“Jesus Christ,” Jun choked out. His entire body trembled. “You… you didn’t have to do that—”

She sat up slowly, wiping the corner of her lips with the back of her hand. “I wanted to.”

Jun stared at her, utterly ruined. His hair was a mess, his chest heaving, and his gaze had shifted from stunned pleasure to something far more dangerous — something deeper. Adoration.

“You…” he tried again, but gave up and just pulled her up into his lap. “You’re going to kill me.”

Min Ah giggled and kissed his flushed cheek. “Happy burstday.”

He groaned into her shoulder, laughing. “Oh, you did not say that.”

“You liked it.”

“…Yeah.” He buried his face in her neck, breath warm against her skin. “Too much. I think I just saw God.”

She laughed harder this time, wrapping her arms around his neck.

But beneath the teasing, there was something softer — something that lingered in the way Jun clutched her tighter, like he couldn’t quite believe she was there. That she had done that for him. That she had wanted to.

—

And in Min Ah’s heart, that same warmth bloomed again. A quiet flutter that whispered:

Maybe I’m falling.

Jun was still catching his breath, arms lazily wrapped around Min Ah as she sat on his lap, her cheek resting against his shoulder. His skin was flushed, warm, and sticky in some places, but she didn’t move. She just sat there, holding him.

His heartbeat—fast at first—was slowly returning to normal beneath her fingers. His breaths steadied too. But his face was still buried in her neck, and every now and then, a soft laugh escaped his lips, like he still couldn’t process what had just happened.

“Is everything alright?” she whispered.

Jun groaned, dramatically. “No.”

She laughed. “You dying?”

“Absolutely.” He tilted his head back and let it thunk against the couch. “You’ve killed me. This is where I die. On my birthday. Happy ending.”

Min Ah snorted and poked his cheek. “So dramatic.”

“You just ruined me, Min Ah.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jun peeked at her with the laziest grin, eyes heavy-lidded and full of fondness. “I’m not complaining. I’m just saying… no one’s ever done that for me before. Not like that.”

Something about the way he said it—soft, unsure, sincere—made Min Ah pause.

“…Really?”

He nodded slowly. “They’ve… tried. But not like you. You were so…” He trailed off, searching for the word.

“Talented?” she offered innocently.

Jun broke into laughter, covering his face with both hands. “God, why are you like this.”

She grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Because I read a lot of fanfics, and I aim to please.”

He groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. “Okay, I need five more minutes before you say anything else sexy or I’ll pass out.”

She giggled and stood, stretching her arms with a satisfied hum. “You got five. Then I’m climbing back on top of you.”

Jun tilted his head just enough to watch her walk toward the kitchen island, his eyes drifting down the back of her legs and up the hem of his borrowed t-shirt that barely covered anything.

He was smiling. Not just because of what she’d done. But because she was here. Because she was walking around his place like she belonged there. Because she looked so at ease, barefoot, hair slightly messed, glowing from wine and laughter.

Min Ah noticed his gaze when she turned around with a glass of water. “What?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

Min Ah’s teasing smile softened into something gentler. She walked back, handed him the water, and settled beside him on the couch, her knees tucked up, one hand brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“You.”

A pause.

“And the fact that I’m never going to forget this birthday. Ever.”

Jun leaned into the touch immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“I’m perfect,” he said quietly. “You could’ve given me socks or something and I’d still be grateful you’re here.”

Min Ah felt her chest twist at that. In the good way. The oh no I might be falling for this emotionally fragile finance bro kind of way.

She nudged his thigh playfully. “Okay, but seriously, socks are very useful. Next time.”

He caught her hand in his and laced their fingers together. “Next time?”

She blinked. “I mean—if you’re still talking to me after tonight—”

Jun turned his head, eyes locking with hers, and suddenly everything in the room felt still again.

“Of course I will,” he said, voice low but steady. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Min Ah hesitated, then shrugged, trying to play it off. “I dunno. Maybe you’ll wake up and realize I’m just some weirdo who can’t shut up and thinks blowjob puns are funny.”

Jun squeezed her hand, then leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek.

“Min Ah,” he whispered. “That’s literally half the reason I like you.”

And suddenly, the tension in the room wasn’t just sexual anymore. It was thick with something sweeter, scarier, heavier.

She froze.

He hadn’t said I love you — not even close — but…

He likes her. He really likes her.

Min Ah bit her lip, heart thudding. “Well, Mr. Birthday Boy… if you’ve recovered…”

Jun turned his head slightly, already looking at her with that mischievous smirk again.

“…Are you planning to give me a gift now?”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Depends. What do you want?”

She slid closer, into his lap again, lips brushing his ear.

“I want you to make me forget my name.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Come here.”

Jun exhaled sharply.

And just like that—his energy returned.

—

ITS JUNE 10TH!!!! Happy birthday my Junhui, the cutest catto I've ever seen in my entire life!! Forever wishing for your lifetime happiness, love, and everything good in life <3

Here's a gift from me to you all on Jun's birthday: an extra chapter!

[evelhak]

I’m curious about a few: Propinquity, Anem and Bitchberg (a great name, lol)

Well, you've already read about Bitchberg by now from the previous ask. :D

Lol, I actually winced a little when I saw you asked about "Propinquity" since it's the current working title of my Akashi centric fic, and I know you don't find him that interesting. It's still just a bunch of "notes" (=bits of monologue and dialogue that come to me and I have to write down so I won't forget). I haven't actively started this fic yet, since I can't really write multiple projects at the same time. I will probably have to finish another shorter fic after The Luminous Things, before I get to this one.

I know the opening lines, though:

Winning is like breathing. Sometimes I wake up, gasping for air, but my lungs seem to have fallen into a partial state of paralysis.

Or something fairly close to that. The idea has been in my head for a long time, because I really enjoy digging up ignored dimensions that kind of naturally follow from whatever is going on in canon.

There is of course one thing in this fic that could interest you: The main love interest is an OC. :) You know some things about Azumi already. Here's a snippet that will probably serve as her introduction in the fic:

I absolutely pretended to be the empress of this micro-utopia, growing up. Not because it was mine to conquer, or control. Because it was mine to know. To pick apart. Explore, taste, and merge with. A little pocket of wonder in this huge city, a bubble with its own rules. That's what I came to realise pretty soon, anyway. About the world. How different, how illogical and ultimately unsatisfying it was, compared to my shrine, my home, my own ecosystem, my island of undisturbed ground. It frustrates me that the rest of the world doesn't know how to do it. Live and let live. Give and take. Circle of life. A system that works. Because I was born into it. An heir to it. Happiness.

Micro-utopias are a huge element in my whole fic series as it progresses, and there are several kinds of them, Azumi's home life being its own example. Utopia is generally something I'm really interested to write about, especially because a lot of people claim you can't write interesting utopia without making it dystopia in the end, and I very much disagree with that, as people are always imperfect, so you don't need to add any intentionally awful circumstances for a story to have conflict, if you're writing believable people. For me, the key to what makes the most out of utopia is to centre it around whose utopia it is and why. This got slightly off topic, these are just themes I really like exploring and since my fics are my playground, I definitely use them for exploration of things I might want to write later in a more polished form in my original fiction.

The working title "Propinquity" came while I was writing a chapter in The Luminous Things where Kagami ends up lost in Kyoto (it's complicated) and spends the night in Azumi's place, where he has many enlightening conversations with Akashi. (Azumi and Akashi are already together in my main fic timeline, their own fic will cover how they got together, among other things.)

Here's a snippet from the chapter also titled "Propinquity", which I haven't yet posted anywhere, so things might still change a little, but for now, Akashi muses something like this in it:

"[Propinquity] is the central theme of this shrine. Things develop, and change, and prosper in propinquity. It rings true, doesn’t it? Right things, wrong things… so it really matters what you surround yourself with. It’s not enough to know and think. You have to see, and taste, and touch… A plant wouldn’t grow from the understanding that it needs water, if it never got it. It would still die from poison, no matter how informed it was. Azumi knew all of this, so bone deep. That’s why she was disappointed with the world. That’s why she retreated back to her paradise. I think that’s what caught my attention at first. How she had a physical place to go to when she needed to get away."

I probably would not have developed any need to write a story about Akashi's love life on my own. (Well, it's not all there is to it, but it is a how-they-get-together type of story). It was the influence of my ex, who's a big Akashi fan, and as I have probably said before, Azumi was originally her OC that we worked on together a lot. Eventually I grew attached to Akashi and Azumi together, and now I have my own version of the story.

I don't think I actually read any Akashi x OC fics myself, but my ex read them and complained about them, usually, and I picked up on two pretty common patterns, which I didn't want to do: I didn't want the OC to be 1) poor, or 2) have a similar family dynamic and childhood trauma as Akashi. This is because I wasn't interested in dealing with the power imbalance that tends to come with very different socioeconomic standing, and I also didn't want to write a relationship where people get stuck in validating each other's trauma, and it takes them a long time to grow beyond that phase because their relationship is centred around how similar their experiences are. I wanted to hit that sweet spot which I like the most, a relationship that centres around growth, having enough common ground, and being inspired by things about the other that you've never experienced before, or even believed really exists in the world. The kind of relationship that makes you feel that you want to fill your own gaps, and a key factor in that is the proximity, or, propinquity to a person you can rely on, because they don't have the same weaknesses as you. I just really love writing about people who are good influences to each other.

A lot of this fic will also be about dissociation and trauma. Yay.

Anem, then, is another original novel I've started multiple times without being completely satisfied. The premise is pretty classic religious cult + good girl/bad girl dynamic, or at least would seem like that in the beginning.

Here's how I seem to have described it on my website at some point:

Dina is a good girl. She picks up flowers every morning, to put on the altar of her family’s home. She’s chaste, she’s beautiful. She fears God. Semira is a “Wild One”, she rarely goes to church, she speaks out of turn. She could be beautiful, if her hair wasn’t so short. Dina doesn’t think it’s her job to save Semira. After all, if the Fathers don’t know how to help the girl, how could she? But Dina keeps ending up spending time with Semira anyway, and the more she does, the stronger the big black swirling something grows in her stomach. There’s clearly something very wrong about Semira. And there’s something wrong about the woods surrounding their isolated village. Dina knows she’s supposed to stay away, but Semira keeps going into the woods.

It has a lot bigger world and anything but clear-cut themes and dynamics, even though it may seem like that in the beginning... and it's one of those early projects that are sort of everything, because you're not good at narrowing it down yet. It's like a dystopian supernatural medieval fantasy horror philosophical cult story I wrote just to barf out everything I was thinking in my early years of studying theology. It's certainly a cult story, but is the cult the big bad or the world around it? It's certainly a queer story, but is it a love story or a hate story? It's certainly trying to say something, but what? No one knows, not even me. It's a big mess.

I'm also starting to feel like I'm dealing with every element and theme I have in this story, in some other story too, and coincidentally someone from my writing group actually just got a book published this year that has a strikingly similar setting and themes, (we both wrote them without knowing about each other) and even though it shouldn't, it does kind of add to my confusion to what to do with this story. I do still want to write it at some point, but it's a big question mark that sort of just pops up from below the surface every time I'm not actively thinking or writing about another project.

Some angsty pictures of Dina, also drawn in my early university years (Oh Lord how obvious my Arina Tanemura influences still were in the way I draw):

Yeah... at least they are accurately dramatic to the story.

Thanks for the ask. I hope there was something entertaining. <3

For anyone curious, here's the WIP list.

[baskingsol]

Secret's out, sort of

pairing: eventual!OC x Geto Suguru X Gojo Satoru

summary: Yami and Gojo take the students out for a group mission, arguments/flirting ensue

“Everyone ready?” Satoru asks, ushering the group of students out of the school van. “This is where we’ll be training for the day.”

A five-story abandoned school stands in front of the group of nine people. The decrepit state and overgrown shrubbery gave no doubts that this place would be something out of a textbook ghost site, not to account for the actual reports of multiple cursed spirits lingering around the building.

“Expecting to show off your technique today?” Satoru asks quietly, pointing down to one of the blade sheaths sitting on either side of Yami’s belt. “Those are some interesting weapons.”

“Gifts from a job I did years ago,” Yami mutters, shooting her eyes up to stare at his bandages. “Worried I’ll outshine you to the students?”

“Oh never,” Satoru replies, a smirk growing on his face as he leans in. “I’m quite interested to see what kind of woman you are to have such respect from Yaga and to leave such a memory on Suguru.”

“Jealous I’m wooing your boss and boyfriend with just my existence?” Yami teases. “You’ll see what I can do in time, patience.” 

Gojo opens his mouth to retort to Yami’s tease but Yami whistles to grab the student’s attention. 

“We’ll be splitting up into groups to cover more groups and to not step on each other's toes when working,” Yami listed off, closing the file for the job and tossing it onto one of the seats in the van. “Ijichi will be placing the veil for us and staying a safe distance away so if anyone needs help, find another student or a teacher.”

“I’ll have the twins, Inumaki, and Panda. Maki, Yuta, and Megumi will be with Yokai.” Satoru chimes in, ruffling Megumi’s hair. “I know you’re not technically a student yet but it’d be good to see what you’ll be up to next year.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Megumi grumbled in response. “At least I get to train with someone who won’t toss me off a building again.”

“It was one time!” Satoru gasps, faking a look of hurt as the rest of the students laugh or roll their eyes at his outburst. “I already got an earful from Suguru and Yaga about it.”

“There should be no building tossing this time,” Yami laughs. “Let’s get started though so we can get back before noon.”

Gojo huffs but directs his group of students toward the left half of the school, already starting to play fight with Nanako. Yami turns to her group of students; Megumi looking generally disinterested with his hands shoved in his pockets, Yuta holding a death grip on his sheathed katana, and Maki looking to Yami for direction, leaning on her naginata. 

“Let’s get started then kids,” Yami directs, pointing towards the main entrance doors. “We’re the right half of the building so lots of ground to cover. We’ll start at the top and work down.”

The group nods in response to her directions and starts their trek to clear the levels of the school. The top floor (5th) is fairly empty, with a few fly-head curses that Megumi and Maki easily take out. The fourth floor contains more fly-head curses along with some more lower-level bug and worm-like curses. 

“You use cursed weapons?” Maki asks, pointing down to Yami’s sheaths. “I’ve never seen something like those before.”

“Yep, they’re very easy to use in close combat,” Yami explains, drawing both blades. “These are called Ulu. They were a gift I got when I did a job out of the country. Much better than the old tanto I used to have.”

“So you’ll be helping with weapons training then?” Megumi adds as Yami sheaths the blades. “Gojo and Geto don’t use weapons so there hasn’t been much training with them.”

“I can tell. Yuta, loosen your grip there bud,” Yami teases, poking the boy’s hand that holds the katana. “It’s not going to run away from you.”

“Sorry, Yokai-sensei.” Yuta apologizes, loosening a bit. “Just a little nervous for my first mission.”

“What rank are you?” Maki cuts in, shaking curse chunks off her blade. “Nothing here yet should be terrifying you.”

“He’s wearing white,” Megumi points out, petting his recently summoned divine dogs. “He might not be ranked yet since they deem him problematic.”

“Play nice you two,” Yami scolds the two black-haired students. “The higher-ups must have determined your uniform.”

“But he still has a ranking, what is it?” Maki questions. “I’m a four, and Megumi is most likely going to land in grade two when he starts.”

“I don’t know,” Yuta says, eyes flicking between Maki and Megumi. “I don’t think I was told.”

“You most likely weren’t. That’d be Gojo’s fault.” Yami sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a special grade, like me and Gojo.”

“What!?” Megumi and Maki yell in unionson. 

“How?” Yuta turns to Yami, mouth agape. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You about killed everyone first day kid.” Yami laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Rika alone makes you a special grade.”

“Even with him barely able to hold a sword?” Maki questions. 

“Yep. Curse spirit manipulation is a very rare ability. Geto is a master with manipulation of multiple spirits while others can control one spirit.” Yami explains. “There’s only about four people known to be able to control cursed spirits.”

“So Geto and Yuta,” Megumi counts on his fingers. “Whose else can do it?”

“Tsukumo Yuki is another special grade sorcerer that controls a spirit named Garuda that adds to her abilities.” Yami lists off, starting down the stairs to the third floor. “It’s an extension of her fighting style, like adding an extra sharp arm.”

“Whose the last one?” Yuta asks, following close behind with Megumi and Maki on either side of him. “It isn’t Gojo-sensei, right?”

“That man can’t even control himself, much less another spirit,” Megumi snorts.

“No, not him.” Yami laughs, stopping at the door to the third floor. “The last sorcerer is much cooler than Gojo.”

A groan sounds through the hallway as the group steps into the hallway, the remaining classroom doors shaking slightly. The divine dogs gather closer to the group of three students as Yuta grips his katana tighter again and Maki readies her naginata. Yami draws her ulus and trunks back to the students. 

“You three stay a good distance back,” Yami quietly states, pointing to the corner about thirty feet in front of them. “It’s most likely just around there.”

As Yami finishes her explanation, a loud shifting sound comes from around the corner as the creature comes into view. Its body was shaped like a massive slug, dragging its misshaped body along the hallway. Two arms grip the walls, pulling itself into the main hallway, and its blob-shaped head shifts to look down the hallway before shifting and seeing the group on the opposite end. Yami rushes the spirit as it lets out a wet growl and slashes through its arms, slicing the limbs off cleanly. The slug screams, new limbs bubbling to form out of its main body cavity as pale hands come out of a black pool in the ceiling above its head, gripping the sides of what should be its face. Quickly cutting horizontally across the body, silver blade-like slivers launch off the main ulu blades, cutting completely through the curse’s body as the pale hands above use a tanto to slice through its mouth, cutting from the maxilla up free from the rest of the body. As the pale hands retract into the ceiling, dropping the newly removed top part of the curse, Yami quickly side-steps the now-falling torso and the forming pool of sludge as the curse’s body melts. Flicking her blades clean and sheathing them, she turns and starts to walk back to the now stunned group of students, still awkwardly holding their attack position. 

“Such a mess,” Yami sighs, pushing some of her front hair back that came loose from her braid. “Everyone here good?”

“What was that?” The three students yell, the divine dogs adding in with barks for good measure. 

“Jeez, y’all are going to blow my ears out with all that.” Yami laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender, stopping about five feet away.

“So you’re….?” Maki starts and then cuts off in a half breath. 

A black pool forms above Yami as a torso sporting multiple pale arms comes down from the ceiling. Black hair spills from the head and flows to the floor, creating another black pool Yami stands in. Pale arms wrap closely around Yami, almost protectively as several outside arms brandish tantos toward the group of students. Hair strands split to reveal eyes as the pale blank head opens its mouth full of sharp teeth, lips split from ear to ear. Yami reaches up to place a hand gently on the face as it rests its chin on top of her head.

“The last curse manipulator?” Yami says. “You’d be right. Meet Kuchisake-onna.”

“The split-mouth woman?” Megumi asks. “You control the vengeful spirit Kuchisake-onna?”

“Ooo Gojo teach you all about the curse types already?” Yami questions, patting Kuchisake’s cheek, allowing her to sink back into the pools on the ceiling and floor. “I’m glad he’s taught you some of the basics already.”

“That’s why you were hired!” Maki exclaims, lowering her weapon. “You’re exactly like Yuta with Rika.” 

“Hey now not quite,” Yami laughs, finally walking back to the group. “We both have cursed spirits with us, but our techniques and forms are completely different. Plus I never had an execution order on my head.”

“No one knew of you,” Megumi sighs. “Society didn’t know of your existence. Gojo never told us even how you got hired here since not even he knew of you.”

“Tsukumo trained me and kept my existence a secret as I didn't have someone like Gojo to stop them from executing me,” Yami explains, hands on her hips. “Geto met me once years ago but didn’t know me more than a face and a name. Yaga found me through Tsukumo specifically because I can control Kuchisake-onna to train you (points at Yuta) to control Rika as a stipulation for you being released from your execution order.”

“Does Gojo know?” Yuta asks quietly, fidgeting with his katana.

“He knows I’m here to help train students and I don’t care for tradition in jujutsu society,” Yami states firmly. “Plus Yaga let him know the situation at least, just not much information about me, other than a name.”

“So us three are those know most?” Maki gestures to the three students. “At least about you?”

“Yep, don’t you feel special?” Yami laughs at the tired expressions on the kids' faces. “The rest will find out, don’t worry. Let’s just get through the rest of the floors and we can discuss more later.” 

The three kids nod as Yami leads them through the rest of the floor and the bottom two, meeting up with an equally tired group with Gojo. 

“So how’d it all go?” Satoru asks cheerfully, earning some glares from his own and Yami’s students. 

“Lots of low-level curses,” Yami replies with a shrug of her shoulders. “We had a big slug on the third floor but we dealt with it quickly.”

“Ooooo who had the honors?” Gojo teased, eyeing her group. “No one looks slimy.”

“She did.” All three reply, pointing at Yami.

“Really?” Gojo says almost surprised. “No trouble with it?”

“She handled it faster than you would have,” Megumi mutters, resulting in a squawk from Gojo. 

“Let’s just get back to school, huh kids?” Yami asks the group, resulting in a resounding ‘Yes’. “Call Ijichi to come get us and lower the veil Gojo.”

“Just boss me around, why don’t you?” Satoru murmurs as the students walk toward the veil barrier. “Like a wife. Got my kids already liking you and everything.”

“Not your wife,” Yami teases once the students are far enough away. “If you’re that jealous to see my technique, I can always give you a show.”

“A private showing of Yokai’s power?” Satoru smirks, finishing the text to Ijichi. “I’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Yeah yeah keep it in your pants,” Yami goes to smack the back of Gojo’s head but is stopped by the infinity. “I can do a showing for you and the rest of the kids tomorrow for afternoon training. I’m sure Suguru would like to know too. He did keep me a secret for years.”

“I’ll let him know you’re willing to pay that favor forward,” Satoru laughs, starting a text to Suguru. 

“Gojo! Yokai!” Nanako yells from the now-falling veil. “Ijichi is here!”

“Coming!” Yami yells back. “Don’t give Suguru the wrong impression, Satoru.”

“I would never!” Satoru teases. “Do we get to see behind the mask tomorrow?”

“Let’s go Satoru,” Yami states, rolling her eyes and walking to the van as Gojo laughs behind her.

a/n: I know Geto technically has Kuchisake-onna in his arsenal but we're just gonna ignore that cause it's more interesting to have her as something like Rika.

[iloveyoudie]

the year is winding down and i want to just reach out and thank everyone who is still hanging around with me on here! some of us have been together since GAIA .. some of us since Dragon Age and so many from Morseverse up into the current time of all kinds of shit (quarry and alan wake and horror???)

i dont check my stats or my followers on here or ao3 but i know my 'productivity' and content has changed wildly so i just want to say i appreciate all you amazing folks for always engaging. its fun for ME to see where our interests overlap, where my morse people overlap with my video games or when surprising folks like some gnarly horror stuff.

and im still writing! and i hope you are still making your art too. im doing a lot to sort of just embrace things i'm drawn to without thinking about how it will be recieved by an audience. this has helped me write more recently and also explore writing new things. so if you see my writing get darker, or me doing OC's or gasp maybe even a slash/reader or weirder kinks or more graphic porn or even take something gnarly and make it fluffy- this is me working on my own writing and experimenting. i'm posting on ao3 for it to be shared, but also archived in this age where things could disappear at any minute.

anyway i love you guys, this hellsite remains my favorite one. if i delete every social account i will likely always stay on this one and i hope we have many more years of unhinged late night posts, midafternoon screaming, and gifposts of old people we all wanna fuck.

[antimonyandthyme]

hellooo athy i love your words. could you maybe share with us how you got started writing fic and three things that you've learned along the way? thanking u

Anon you are very very sweet and very very kind! Thank you for this lovely ask. Kekekeke I'll let you in on a secret! I discovered fic because I found my sister's OC writing printed out and hidden in a drawer once and I was like woah what is this?? And she went oh NOOOOooOOOO and then she was like fine since you've already seen it lemme introduce you to the wonderful world of fic! It all started from there. The first thing I ever wrote was for Guilty Gear. Imagine that! Guilty Gear. It never got anywhere, just in my silly little notebook that I've long lost. And it was a little while before I dared put anything up. But I'm glad I did! It's been such a great time!

It isn't fancy by any means, but three things that I've learned:

Writing's a lot more fun when done with people! Prior to F1 I've never really interacted with fandom much, I just wrote my Naruto and Haikyuu!! stories and hoped people would read them. I lurked a little (a lot) before creating this tumblr when I got into F1. And then I started talking! With other writers! And readers! I got to chatficcing! And I got to improving. I had people around me who would suggest ideas for what I could add to my stories. Give me tips when I was stuck. Tell me what was good and what I could do better. Lend their expertise! Like when writing Shutter Speed and I had no idea what gallery shows were like and @sebrrari held my hand and gave me advice and was basically one of the greatest reasons I finished the fic. I'm so much more motivated to finish writing projects because I know I have a tiny group of people who will light me on fire (affectionately) after I publish something unhinged.

I struggled with writing length and to be honest I still do! I get distracted by new ideas constantly. If I can't finish something in <5k words I sometimes lose interest and the next shiniest thing takes over. There have been several things that have helped. One, forcing my sections in my writing to be a certain word count. It seems a little contrived, but it's made me linger where other times I would have just hopped off to the next bit. Two, forcing myself to split my writing over several days. Once again, lingering and adding meat because I've had time in the day to mull over details. Three, joining exchanges like the F1 Big Bang. Nothing like a word requirement to nudge you towards a longer journey.

I'll end with something a little silly heehee. I started off really going for synonyms when it came to expressing characters speaking. I mean really going for it. "I hate you," he intoned. "I like this," she gasped. "You're wrong," they yelled. This might be a preference thing, but "said" or "says" has evolved to be my favourite and most effective way of reading/writing a conversation. It feels a ton more natural, and it reads a lot smoother too. Mind you, this all goes out the window when I'm writing sex. Kekekeke. Because now he whined/he moaned/he sobbed sounds a lot hotter.

[neowinestainedress]

𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 — 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒/𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: na jaemin x oc | 𝐖𝐂: 827

𝐀/𝐍: So this is the scene I forgot about. A brief summary: Hyejin dies her hair bright red to imitate Zoya’s front red streaks and Jaemin finds her crying after regretting the decision. I’m a dumb bitch for forgetting this because while I was drafting things out it was kind of an important thing to shape Hyejin’s character but well, blame it on my brain that forgets even my own name. Jaemin’s talk made it somehow and became the fight and then the balcony scene, so this was supposed to happen during those chapters. Not the best thing I've written cause duh, it's a draft that was in my notes; I fixed a few things but I didn't add many other details like I usually would since I just wanted to share it and I probably only three people will read this.

“Oh! Oh… wow,” Jaemin gasped, entering the room and seeing a bright red-head crying on the couch. 

“Don’t judge me!” Hyejin cried, sniffling and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. 

“It’s red... Your hair is... red,” he stated, tilting his head to have a better look.

Hyejin sighed, pouting, “It’s not dye, it’s just a shampoo.”

Jaemin blinked, silently asking her why she would do it anyway. It wasn’t ugly, it just wasn’t… her. 

“I wanted to try something new.”

“Then why are you crying? You look beautiful like this.”

She broke down crying, falling on the floor and Jaemin reached her quickly.

“Hey, I mean it. They suit you.” His hands rubbed circles on her arms as he tried to calm her down.  

“No, they don’t. I will never be cool like her. I will never be her,” she cried in the crook of his neck. 

“Her...?”

“Zoya.”

“Oh,” he gasped, a sad smile sitting on his face. “Why do you even wanna be like her?”

She sniffled. “Because she’s everything I’m not.” Jaemin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, wiping away a tear, and she found a bit of comfort in the touch. “Because I’m bland and she’s always so interesting and I’m not even jealous I just... I wish...”

Jaemin felt his heart break. He wanted to tell her she was far from being bland. That she was so many beautiful things and he loved all of them so much. But that wasn’t his place. And the person that was occupying that space didn’t show it enough. Jaemin knew the real reason why she wanted to be Zoya, and it wasn’t her personality. 

“You don’t need to be her to be special.” 

She sobbed, shaking her head. “Yes, yes, I do. Because he never looks at me like he looks at her. I know he loves me, but it’s just not the same. I will always be his best friend, his other half, and it wouldn’t hurt so fucking much if only I didn’t spend the last 18 years of my life loving him.”

Jaemin sighed, his hands were still caressing her face. “Can I be honest?”

Hyejin hummed. 

“I can see how much you love him, and I know he loves you too, but I think... I think you’re both attached to the past. You clearly love a version of him that is not there anymore. It’s like you mourn the past years and what you two used to do together, and I’m not a therapist, but I feel like it’s because even if he didn’t love you like you wanted, he loved you more deeply. Now you’re something you two are, mmh... maybe not meant to be, and it’s breaking you apart.”

“I don’t love an old version of him. I love him for who he is,” Hyejin retorted. 

“You sure do, but who he is now, doesn’t match with you romantically.”

She scoffed, pulling away from his touch. 

Jaemin hated seeing her react like that but still tried to keep the conversation going. “Was he so distant when you two were friends? Like physically distant.”

She was about to say something, saying he never liked physical contact but when she stopped thinking for a while, she realized a painful truth, yet, she denied it. “No... But he never liked it as I do. We have different ways of showing love.”

“Yet it didn’t bother him back then? Am I right?”

“We weren’t dating, we weren’t...” she stopped, holding back a moan before whispering the last words, “so close.”

Jaemin hummed, daring to hold her hand again. “Am I wrong or you two used to do everything together?”

“We still do.”

Jaemin raised a brow. “Do you?” 

She huffed, turning around and giving him her back.

“Listen, I don’t want to annoy you but if you have to be like another woman to keep your man, maybe, just maybe, the relationship is not as perfect as you want it to be.”

“He never asked me to be like her.”

“I know. And I also know that he cares about you two in two different ways. And I know that you are enough for him, even when he acts with no care, he would never change you for anything. I’m just telling you that the problem is somewhere else... and I don’t want it to break your heart. You’ve spent your entire life running after him, and you can risk losing a lover and a friend at the same time.”

She timidly faced him again, more to seek some kind of comfort in his body, something his words weren’t giving her. “Why would I lose him? You want me to break up with him? Or are you saying he will break up with me?”

Jaemin sighed, pressing his lips together. “He won’t break up with you.”

“And how do you know it?” 

“Because he’s more blind than you.”

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