#that will become very evident as the story unfolds

[baskeigh-ball]

Was Raph's eye scratched by a cat and that's why he's scared of them?

well, he doesn't fully remember what happened to his eye, considering it happened when he was a tot

but coincidentally enough, he doesn't remember why he has a fear of cats either. are the two related? maybe, but he doesn't like to think about it all that much, and as a result never fully accepted that the two might be connected (author's note, they are connected. 100%)

[livinginshambles]

I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

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

You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

 Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

Taglist:

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@charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @middle-of-the-earth @shrekscrustybudassy @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @nokkoongie

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

-

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

-

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

-

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold. 

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket. 

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket. 

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles. 

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility. 

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response. 

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space. 

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body,  his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze. 

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air. 

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips. 

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect. 

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours. 

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave. 

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck. 

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you. 

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy. 

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge. 

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more. 

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand. 

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you. 

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment. 

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not. 

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own. 

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him. 

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps. 

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.” 

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two. 

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste. 

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips. 

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you. 

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip. 

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand. 

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence. 

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

[elihashadenough]

Pairing: max verstappen x male reader (could be read by masc presenting people)

Summary: sometimes things go right in the moment but will they always be right? can they survive through the hardships of love? can their love hold the test of a treacherous path of love?

a/n: part 4 is here, i just wanted to take a moment and just say thank you to everyone showing love to all of my fics and yeah i hope you enjoy it :)

-> do not repost, copy or translate my works nor post them anywhere else. Read at your own risk. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated.

[series masterlist]

www.formula1news/redbulldriversinaromanticrelationship

Prepare yourselves for a revelation that could rock the foundations of the racing world. Fresh off yesterday's adrenaline-pumping race, an anonymous source has spilled the beans with compelling evidence, painting a scandalous picture of Redbull's rivalry duo. Forget podium celebrations; the two Redbull drivers weren't just celebrating their victories to an entirely unexpected level, engaging in intimate moments, sharing more than just victories. Brace yourselves, folks, because it appears the track rivalry has taken an unexpected turn into the realm of romance.

The whispers of the newfound romance between the two Redbull drivers are rippling through the media. Forget the professional facade; it seems that the thrill of victory has ignited a different kind of spark between the two Redbull racers. The photos and evidence speak volumes, capturing elusive moments that beg the question: are they more than just teammates?

In the cutthroat world of Formula 1, where rivalries are forged on the track, this off-track revelation is bound to send shockwaves. 'Friends' don't usually blur the lines between celebration and intimacy, and this newfound closeness could spell trouble for the Redbull team. With both star drivers romantically entangled, the impact on their on-track performance and the team dynamic is poised to be nothing short of sensational this season.

As the smokescreen of camaraderie lifts, the real question arises: will the on-track rivalry morph into a personal one? The last race already provided a glimpse into the friction between the drivers, and it seems the drama is just getting started. Will the asphalt become the stage for not only racing prowess but also a battleground for love and tension?

And let's not forget the intrigue surrounding Y/n, whose rumoured involvement with the Redbull driver were put to rest by his manager a couple seasons ago. One cannot help but think could this 'relationship' be the catalyst behind Y/n's abrupt shift from Ferrari to Redbull? The pieces of this scandalous puzzle are falling into place, unveiling a narrative that transcends the not so typical drama of the racing world.

Examining their career trajectories adds fuel to the fire. Y/n's journey began with a bang, securing P2 in his final Formula 2 race before joining McLaren in the 2016 season. After a brief stint, he spent seven years with Ferrari before the unexpected transfer to Redbull. Max, on the other hand, made his Formula 1 debut with Scuderia Toro Rosso in 2015, solidifying his place with Redbull in 2016 and staying put ever since.

The burning question remains: will this on-and-off track relationship sizzle into an exhilarating love story, or will it flame out in spectacular fashion? The impact on team dynamics and on-track relationships is poised to be monumental. Fasten your seatbelts, F1 fans – the next race might just be the battleground for love, rivalry, and everything in between. What are your predictions for this unprecedented twist in the Redbull saga? Share your thoughts as we watch this high-speed drama unfold on and off the track.

i haven't proof read this so if there were any mistakes, i'm sorry. But i hope you all enjoyed this, it took alot of effort and i'm very excited to post this. I hope you all have a wonderful day/night ❤️

tag list: @leosxrealm, @miloformula123fan

(you can send in an ask to be added to the tagging list)

[8bitrosethorn]

I know the plot of the next ACOTAR book

Your girl’s back with a new theory and this time, it’s more receipts from ACOFAS. Continuing with my theory (link) that the next two novels in the ACOTAR series will be about Elain and Mor (in that order), I went back to look at the structure of ACOFAS and for any more clues on Elain’s book 🧐

Last night, something hit me on my latest reread. I wanted to look at how Cassian’s introductory chapters unfolded through a lens of what we now know of his and Nesta’s story in ACOSF, and use those parallels to look closer at Azriel and Elain’s chapters (as narrated by Feysand).

So let’s dive deeper…

THE EVIDENCE

Exhibit 1

In Chapter 2, we start with Rhysand’s POV. Here are the first 3 sentences.

🔻 Cassian was already pissed — the start of ACOSF has Cassian and Nesta both frustrated and at their lowest/feeling like failures (Cassian with the Illyrian problem, Nesta with herself/her sisters/her father's death).

🔻 the Illyrian Mountains — training and the climax of ACOSF all surround them and Ramiel (which is also featured in Chapter 3 when Cassian flies by it).

🔻 the gray peaks — characters in ACOTAR are continuously referenced with repeating colors, and Nesta’s most notably is gray (sometimes referred to as steel, which is a fun double entendre with weaponry).

And in Chapter 3, we have Cassian’s POV. Here are the first 3 paragraphs:

🔻 Devlon and his warriors — the Illyrian warriors are antagonists against Nesta in the Blood Rite

🔻 the murmurings of discontent — the motivation for that growing threat that Nesta faces in the Blood Rite and the patriarchal legacies that the Valkyries are upending

🔻 hell of a weapon against enemies in battle — Nesta’s new trove of weapons she Made: the greatsword, sword, and dagger.

In both of these chapters, there are other recurring themes and imagery, including The Blood Rite, Ramiel, fire/campfires/embers, and more interestingly, Cassian visiting his mother’s unmarked grave, something that Nesta literally does when she visits her father’s grave at the very end of ACOSF.

Every major plot that Nesta and Cassian faced as a couple was explored in the first two chapters reintroducing Cassian for the spinoff series.

Using this evidence, we can deduce that the next chapters exploring Azriel will feature the same sort of foreshadowing, setup, and potential payoff in the upcoming novel (which I predict will be Elain’s book).

Exhibit 2

In Chapter 7, we start again with Rhysand’s POV. Here are the first 3 paragraphs:

🔹 You really do know how to give Solstice presents, Az — We all know about the necklace for Elain at this point. But also interestingly, Elain gives Azriel two significant Solstice gifts, one of which he keeps by his nightstand to longingly look at every night, the other a pair of earplugs (which we can deduce will have their use in the upcoming book).

🔹 wall of windows — something I’ve noticed (and want to dive deeper on later) is that both Azriel and Elain are often associated with windows.

Azriel: grew up in a lightless, windowless room; stares out the window of the townhouse to the garden during ACOFAS, presumably to watch a gardener at work; in the HOW lounge area, his unofficial chair is nearest to the window.  Elain: during her time after becoming Fae, she sat near the bay windows in the HOW; during ACOFAS Solstice, she watches the snow fall outside the windows before Azriel joins her there; her smile was described by Nesta as being as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows.

Windows can symbolize freedom, desire to explore, and pathways to the outside world. They also focus on providing sight, something very important to a Seer who can look beyond the world in front of them to something more, but I digress!

🔹 private — Azriel is described as the most private, secretive of the Bat Boys (with both his emotions and his lovers), so I thought it was worth noting.

🔹 awash in the hues of the early morning — only one character is consistently described as glowing like the sun at dawn (even by Azriel himself, no less).

🔹 might as well have been stone — there is a wealth of repeating imagery of Elain associated with stone: sitting on a stone bench with her father surrounded by blue and pink flowers (haha, I see you SJM), Elain washed onto the stone floor by the Cauldron after becoming Fae, Elain hearing a heartbeat through stone, etc.

🔹 just after dawn — I see you again, SJM 😏

🔹 that sleep had been futile — although this is about Rhysand being tired, there is a wealth of sleep imagery surrounding both Azriel and Elain. Most notably Azriel’s inability to get a goodnight’s rest the past year as he’s been thinking of Elain at night. And Elain, who says she feels like “she’s always dreaming these days” in regards to her Seer powers.

I also want to dive into the sleep imagery surrounding these two and their potential Sleeping Beauty ties. But alas, a post for another day.

🔹 Tamlin and his borders — Conflict with the Human Lands, similar to Cassian’s with the Illyrians and the growing discontent, which then ties into the next part of the chapter.

Rhysand and Azriel move on to the next conflict at hand: Vassa, the Human Lands, and the sorcerer-lord’s curse, which they discuss after deeming Cassian to handle the growing Illyrian conflict, leaving Azriel to “continue to watch [the human queens]” and the “strange gathering” happening in the human lands. We also learn that the curse on Vassa by the sorcerer-lord might be woven into [Vassa’s] very blood (put a pin in this).

Finally, Rhysand and Azriel turn their attention to how they might get a handle on the situation to the south:

🔹 As our human emissary — While Lucien may have been considered the human emissary to the Night Court during ACOFAS, per Mor in ACOSF, Lucien can no longer be trusted as he is now living with Vassa and Jurian in the human lands. Does this perhaps leave an opening to a new human emissary of the Night Court? Maybe even Elain, who could convince anyone with a few smiles.

🔹 the tenseness — interesting of Rhysand to point out considering Azriel is usually impossible to read. Something is stressing him about this situation causing some sort of internal conflict

🔹 shadows veiling half of himself from the sunlight — an interesting parallel to the iconic carved, wooden rose scene in ACOSF when Nesta places the rose the exact same way, half-hidden in shadows.

🔹 elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side — elegant and cold are repeating descriptors for Azriel and Truth-Teller’s significance after HOFAS has only grown. 🗡

🔹 “He is Elain’s mate.” — one of our next conflicts: Elain’s mating bond (which is also supported by Azriel’s BC).

🔹 “invasion of her privacy” — interesting to me that privacy is brought up again… perhaps alluding to something secret or forbidden?

Towards the end of their discussion, Rhys and Azriel move on to Cassian's favorite subject, Bryaxis:

🔹 “No word on Byraxis, I take it.” / “Do you want me to hunt it down?” — Like hunting for the troves in ACOSF, I believe Azriel will hunt Bryaxis down in the next book. Given how he’s an ancient, shadowy monster, I’d be curious how Bryaxis could perhaps provide incite into Koschei 👀 Also, what does Bryaxis want installed in the library? A goddamn window.

🔹 beneath this mountain — perhaps we’ll see underneath another mountain explored, given Eris’s parting words to Cassian and Nesta at the end of ACOSF 🏔

🔹 My brother had a sly, wicked sense of humor — this also aligns with Elain, whose Solstice presents to Az have both been cheeky and made him laugh.

From this chapter alone, we can see the major plot points building: Azriel spying on the human lands, Vassa’s curse and Koschei’s control over her, Bryaxis still on the run, Truth-Teller’s significance, and Elain’s mating bond.

Which finally leads us to Feyre’s chapter where Elain is front and center.

Exhibit 3

In Chapter 15, Feyre and Elain visit the weaver’s shop while looking for Solstice presents for their family, where a very interesting conversation goes down:

🌸 the weaver paused the loom — similar to the the curse woven into Vassa’s very blood, weaver imagery surrounds the conflicts of both Vassa's curse and Elain’s mating bond, especially as mating bonds are described as threads, particularly as one tied to a rib by Elain. This also aligns with the multitude of Sleeping Beauty imagery surrounding Elain.

🌸 my sister’s gaze — lol, I mean, I love when SJM does this over and over. We know Elain’s gaze is special as a Seer.

🌸 “I call it Hope.” — Elain, who is constantly described as hope and having a different sort of strength, which aligns with Azriel, who Rhys declares taught him how to hope. Perhaps Elain and Azriel are connected by an iridescent, living silver thread that is bright despite the darkness?

🌸 “I made it after I mastered Void.” — Elain’s Seer abilities are often described as the murky realm, a void that she needed to be freed from when Azriel recognized her powers. She declares in ACOSF she can start reacquainting herself with her powers to help the Inner Circle. Since Nesta stepped in, we haven’t seen her truly do this yet. Also… the weaver Made it 😜

From this small conversation, we can see SJM is playing with classic Sleeping Beauty fairytale imagery and how it connects to Elain as not just a Seer, but as a light in the darkness. I believe for Elain’s book where she finds her voice, we will see her master the Void, aka her Seer powers, and perhaps weave something made from Hope, like a mating bond and healing Vassa’s curse.

CONCLUSION

SJM clearly laid out the stories to be explored in the next books with ACOFAS, a plan she said she’s had for years. This does not mean that we won’t see more from our other favorite characters (looking at you, Nesta and the Valkyries).

But based on the evidence I shared last time that Elain’s book is unequivocally next, here we can see that the storylines set up in ACOFAS were paid off for Cassian and Nesta in their book.

So, I can without a doubt say we know what’s coming:

Elain’s book, where she will explore the main conflicts of the growing threat in the human lands as possible human emissary, her mating bond with Lucien, her feelings for Azriel, mastering her Seer powers, Hope vs the Void, and breaking Vassa’s curse.

I can’t wait for the book announcement in the months to come for our favorite flower girl 🌸

Next time, I’ll explore Mor’s first chapters in the Hewn City and why I believe her story will be paired with the defeat of Koschei (There was no light in this place and eternal darkness dwelled in the Hewn City, anyone?).

Thanks for reading 💖

[leeannsparksauthor]

How Could I Hurt You?

*SPOILERS FOR DARK URGE PLAY THROUGH*

This one right here is for all the people who wanted a little more angst with their dark urge character. Personally I loved the story for the dark urge but I wish there was more of a reaction from companions at the fact that you died! So here's a little angsty treat for my fellow gamers who've put in over 300 hours into this game.

“I have a gift for you child. You will use it to lacerate this world.” No, the only word that echoed in your mind. You will not accept any gift from your so-called god. There is good in this world and your free mind knows this now. It is evident in the companions you have picked up along this journey. In the love of a pale elf, the kindness of an archdruid and the determination of tieflings. You have felt it in every gentle hug, tender kiss and smile that did not come from the release of death. 

“No, no, for once I’m free! I have seen life, I’ve seen beauty! I have loved, I have been loved…and I am never giving that back!” Fuck your god, fuck destiny, fuck everything that came before. The autonomy of your body was suddenly stripped away as you were raised into the air by invisible claws. Back breaking under the force answered only by cruel laughter.

“Can we kill this little freak!” The vampire spawn was ready to rush forward and imbed his knife into the puppet pulling the strings. You knew that he would be killed if he so much as put a kink in the plans of the cruel god. 

“Karlach…keep him away!”

Your father laughed at the weakness you showed so openly. “What a disappointing spawn you’ve become, my most promising, possessed by pathetic emotions. I remember when the very act of murder reflected in your gaze, oh the terror you inspired, the horror.”

The words Astarion spoke to his former master echoed within your mind, giving you courage, determination. “I am so much more than what you made me.”

“You are nothing without me, child. What I have given freely and what you have rejected most unknowingly I will take back. I will give you back to the rotting earth you hold so dearly, nothing but a dead fool, food for the worms. Even below the ground you will still feel the blood I rain upon this world, the fire that will consume the forests you called home. Your blood is mine and I will see it returned.”

You could feel the very blood he spoke of fall from your eyes like scarlett tears, your breath trapped inside your lungs begging to escape. The taste of copper fills your mouth as it dribbles down your chin. You’ve never felt so cold before, even in the harshest of winters. Bones seemed to snap and then as if clutched in a grasp of fury your heart shattered within your chest a silent scream caught in your throat. It was instant death but somehow still prolonged beyond the mortal plane.

There was no more chanting within the Bhall temple, no foreign word. Yet the scent of blood still lingered, the screams of your name like an echo being absorbed into the walls. 

You watched events unfold outside of your body and wondered if this is what all of your victims experienced after their death. Or if this torture was designed just for you by the lord of murder himself. 

Astarion had rushed over as soon as your body fell to the cold stone below. His hands cradling your body with a fierce protectiveness you had never seen before. His hands searched for a pulse, something, any sign of life you would give him. “Karlach give me a bloody scroll!”

“Astarion it won’t work…” she was right, it won’t. She had seen first hand instant death at the hands of devils, like a thread cut with a pair of scissors. 

“You don’t fucking know that, we have to try! Halsin do something you useless druid! Darling, look at me, please, please. I promised, I promised it wouldn’t have you my love, please…” Oh what you would give to embrace him, comfort him.

Light illuminated the blood that stained your face, warmth from Halsin’s palm, the warmth of nature itself. It would do nothing for you now. “Oak Father, hear me, aid me, protect this child of Silvanus.” The light flickered, a soft breeze tussling the hair surrounding your body. You had never seen such sadness on Halsin’s face, not even when his grove was threatened or when all hope had seemed lost in the darkness of the shadow curse. His hand engulfed the one that rested limply by your body, “forgive me my heart.” He brought the hand to his lips, warmth against deadly cold skin. 

“Your god is as useless as the rest of them! Potions, Karlach in my bag, hurry please…” his words were cut short as the large tiefling cradled the back of your head. Her forehead came to rest against yours, horns knocking against the ones atop your head. Soft lips brushed across the place where lines and creases would form the most.

“Rest easy Soldier…I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Get away! Fuck you, fuck all of you, we have to help them, there must be something…” as if a candle had been extinguished so did his fight. “No, no…oh darling…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry my love, my light. Forgive me, please come back, I promise I’ll keep you safe please come back, don’t leave me, please.” They would tell stories about you, the hero who sacrificed everything to save Baulders Gate. Would they tell of the love you got to experience before it all ended? Would they speak of the friends you made? The adventures you had? 

Would they speak of the man who emerged from his crypt only to enter a temple and offer a choice?

The hardest choice you would ever have to make. Only it’s not a difficult one is it? After all it’s only one more battle until the rest of your life. Yours now, no one else's. You could close your eyes forever, spare yourself the view, the consequences. 

When the breath was returned to your lungs and the shattered pieces of your heart put back together one by one your body lurched forward with the first sight of your new life. 

Cool lips pressed against yours, fangs almost puncturing skin with the ferocity of a lover who held death in his arms. Words whispered against your mouth, “don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.”

A small, breathless laugh, “how could I leave my little star behind?” How could you leave this behind?

[yujo-nishimura]

Red Hair or Red Nose? - Part 5

This is the last SFW part of the story - depending on your decision I will continue with either all three of them being very infatuated by each other or Y/n choosing one companion for the night. ;) We can also make her strong and independent and let her go back to the ship - I am open to any suggestions.

Enjoy the 5th part of the story! <3

PS. Sorry for being too lazy to put the link to the other parts and thank you all again for reading.

"Yeah, what if...?" After what feels like an eternity, Shanks finally responds. He abruptly halts the movement of the three of you, tightening his arms around you and creating a barrier between you and Buggy. In the midst of the stumble, he guides you gently but firmly against a corner of a nearby building.

"I can assure you, I'm a better kisser than the clown over there..." Shanks whispers, his words resonating close to your face, intentionally loud enough for Buggy to hear. Your heart races in your chest as the unexpected turn of events unfolds.

With Shanks now in such close proximity, he leans in and begins to kiss you, his lips pressing gently against yours. Caught off guard by the alcohol-induced haze and the surprise of his actions, you find yourself momentarily paralyzed, unable to react as the warmth of his lips meets yours.

In that electrifying moment, you find yourself reciprocating the kiss with equal fervor. Shanks' tongue delicately dances along your lips, his movements both cautious and resolute, ensuring that he doesn't cause any harm. He is convinced that this intimate exchange will make you feel as if you're melting away, and he's proven right.

A rush of sensations floods your body, weakening your knees once again, while a fiery heat ignites within your stomach, mirroring the intensity visible in Shanks' eyes. Your excitement is palpable, making it difficult to catch your breath. Grateful that he has you pressed against the wall, your arms raised, you desperately restrain yourself from fiercely embracing him, fearful that you might reveal just how much you crave for him and his body.

Immediately Buggy's outrage flares up, and his disconnected hands, empowered by the devil fruit, find their way back to you. With a forceful grip, he cups your face, abruptly halting the kiss and pushing your head to the side. Before he forces you to meet his gaze, you catch a glimmer of satisfaction in Shanks' eyes. It becomes evident that he not only enjoyed the kiss but relished Buggy's jealousy even more.

"I'll be damned if this monkey can kiss better than me," Buggy exclaims, his voice laced with determination. "Normally, I wouldn't touch anything that his lips have touched, but I believe it's time to prove a point...!"

Now standing beside both of you, Buggy positions himself as an active participant. Shanks willingly releases his hold with a grin, as if he's thoroughly entertained. Caught between these two captivating figures, you feel like a playball, too weak, intimidated, and excited to move. The tension in the air is palpable as the dynamic between them intensifies, and you find yourself drawn deeper into their entangled game. You cannot stop smiling, somehow you are still enjoying yourself.

Buggy forcefully pushes Shanks away, retracting his hands back to his body. With a surge of determination, he takes control, pressing his body against yours. In an exhilarating moment, a mixture of surprise and excitement escapes your lips in a shrill shriek before Buggy's mouth meets yours.

His kiss is passionate and fervent, though slightly sloppy. The intensity of the moment eclipses any lack of finesse, and his stubble grazes against your skin, adding an intoxicating sensation. Lost in the embrace, you surrender yourself to the magnetic pull of this man. The heat emanating from his body envelops you, their closeness creating an irresistible connection. The taste of heaven and rum lingers on his lips, leaving you longing for more, captivated by the sensations coursing through your being.

Breathless he draws away from you, leaving you breathless just as Shanks did. "So, sweet cakes, who was better?" he playfully inquires, his eyes gleaming mischievously, leaving the decision in your hands.

[lalal-99]

of new friendship {h.j.} | track 3

©June 2023, March 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 3.8k

Synopsis: The one where you go to a Jackson Wang party.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: As promised, this chapter is much shorter than the last. The next will, again, have 6k, but after that, chapters will be shorter (I think). Also, I wrote the most angsty and heartbreaking chapter yesterday and I can't wait to post it when it's due. Hope you enjoy this :)

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

You couldn’t remember the last party you had been to.

A real party, with crates of alcohol, loud music, and drunk people, that was.

Throughout your early teen years it had been a regular part of your week. Getting drunk, befriending strangers and making mistakes. You left no party within reach unattended, no matter the people or their willingness to provide alcohol to minors. You had figured out ways to always get what you wanted in the end. And what you wanted at that time was to drink away any and every one of your brain cells.

With a little luck it would be the very one that made you remember the grief of losing a parent.

Whenever you told people about those days, it was as an explanation to why you rarely drank now. Most people also thought Jisung had helped you overcome that part of your life. It would have fit right into their version of a romantic love story—girl sad, girl meets boy, boy fixes girl. Happy end.

Most people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Jisung, like yourself, was plagued by his very own share of suffocating pain. And he too wanted to forget, desperately. In meeting you, he found someone who was right as troubled, maybe even more so. Thus, a toxic relationship formed, the two of you soon becoming the life of every party you attended.

Any party you went to, you became the centre of. Be it a friend’s party, a friend’s sibling’s party, or a stranger’s party one of your mutual friends had heard about god-knows-where. Surrounded by a crowd of people, both your age and older, you became the main source of entertainment. Making people laugh and providing them with memories they wouldn’t forget. Because which other two 14-year-olds could keg-stand and funnel like grown-ups?

You weren’t proud of it, but at the same time, it was as much part of your story as everything before and after. The darkest part, filled with pain, rage, and the simple desire to forget, yes. But a part never less.

Those times were long gone; life had caught up to you at some point.

Despite your party-animal-past, a shiver ran down your back when the frat house appeared on the horizon.

People gathered on the porch, on the stairs leading up to it, and on the lawn, smoking, drinking, and making out. Whatever stereotypical frat-party scenario you could have come up with played out right in front of your eyes.

You lingered for a moment, watching the scene unfold. Unsure how to approach the evening or if you even still wanted to. Hadn’t it been for Yuqi taking matters into her own two hands and dragging you inside... Well, you would have turned around and chosen the safety of your room instead.

Your partying days sure had passed.

When you entered the house, a thick veil of warmth and sweat hit you, a breath of nausea taking over your being. A sea of people was stumbling from room to room, up the stairs or towards you, in a desperate search for fresh air. If you planned on staying here for the next few hours, you’d need a drink. Or five.

Yuqi turned towards you, excitement evident on her face, “Wanna look for Jisung?”

“Drinks first!” you yelled back, her nod telling you she had understood. Surprising, seeing someone had cranked the bass right up to 11.

With your hand in hers, Yuqi pulled you through the crowd until you reached the kitchen. It was less crowded than the rest of the house, meaning you had a safe haven you could come to if things got too much. Judging from the tension in your back not even five minutes in, you’d need it at some point.

You didn’t pay too much attention to the people around you. The couple making out on the counter or the group chatting on the other side of the room. Instead, your gaze focused on the beers in the ice-filled sink. A sigh of relief escaped you as the cold, bitter liquid ran down your throat. The first half of the bottle, you emptied in that initial gulp.

You must have needed this more than you noticed.

“Impressive,” Yuqi praised you, her lips wrapping around her own bottle for a less eager sip. “Remind me never to face you in a drink-off.”

“Trust me, my drink-off days are far behind me.”

Your voice startled one of the people standing by the side, a familiar face snapping towards you. “Y/N?”

You found Hwasa leaning against the counter, a surprised expression taking over her features.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Your roomie had told you she’d be going out tonight too. Although you hadn’t expected her to be at the same party you had been dragged into. Pulling you into a hug, a few of her locks tickled your nose. “Jisung got invited by an old friend.”

“And you brought my new favourite person! Hi!” Hwasa greeted Yuqi with another bone-crushing hug. To an outsider, it must have looked like you hadn’t seen each other for years rather than yesterday.

“Don’t call me your favourite person, or I will cry.”

The smile on Yuqi’s face spread from one ear to the other as she let go of your roommate. After a few shorts hours spent with her, she had opened up to you about how difficult it usually was for her to make friends. Similar to Jisung, her quirky persona more times than not scared people off. Befriending not one but two people within the first week on campus, her happiness was understandable.

“So, who’s the mystery friend that invited you here? Wait, don’t tell me! I’m gonna guess. Is it Chris? He knows, like, everyone.” You shook your head, never having heard that name in your life. Scratching her chin with two perfectly manicured fingernails, Hwasa pondered. “Matthew? He’s been around for a while.” Again, you didn’t know who she was talking about.

This game could have taken forever. There were about 300 people who could have invited you, judging from the crowd inside this house. Though the fun was cut short when the door to the kitchen opened, and a familiar face entered the scene. Just like you remembered, he was followed by a crowd of eager people. Ever the centre of everything.

“No way! Am I dreaming? Y/N! I can’t believe you came.”

You startled when he pulled you into a hug, wrapping your arms around him with reluctance. You hadn’t seen him in over two years, and this was how he decided to greet you? A hug? Thinking about it, you had probably hugged him only a handful of times in your lifetime. Your birthday, maybe. Or Christmas.

“Hi, Jackson.”

He let go of you, momentarily staying in your proximity before stepping back.

He looked good, face clean-shaven and hair pulled back by a baseball cap. His clothes told the same story they always did. Rich guy with swagger, Gucci earrings somehow accentuating his baggy clothing. Jackson, for all you remembered, had always dressed like this. Drenching his aura in handsome.

“How is everyone? How’s the fam?”

“Everyone is perfect. Healthy, happy.”

Despite your best efforts to sound nonchalant, you couldn’t help the undertone of spite. Jackson seemed to understand the secret message, nodding as his lips pressed into a thin line.

You wanted to be nice to him as you were aware he was a good person at heart. But after everything, you couldn’t help being a little bitter still.

Hwasa—oblivious to a fault—interrupted the awkward shift this conversation had taken and you silently thanked the heavens. “You know each other?”

“What? You do, too?” Jackson replied, pointing between the two of you, ever the Spiderman-meme. “How?”

“We’re roommates.”

Emptying your first bottle, you pulled a second one out of the sink, opening it on the marble of the kitchen island. A party trick from back in your heyday you never quite unlearned.

“What? That’s crazy!” Jackson seemed genuinely surprised. He pulled his baseball cap off his head and repositioned it over a few loose strands. “Small world.”

“How about you?” you threw the question back to them.

“We’re—” Jackson cut himself off, eyes meeting Hwasa’s as they toasted their bottles. A quick wink, and he finished his contextually unbelievable description of their relationship. “Friends.”

Hwasa choked on her drink, laughing at his words as if it was the funniest thing she had heard all year. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

You remembered Yuqi, who was leaning against the counter beside you, perfectly quiet as she listened. Probably the quietest you had seen her since you met her. And that included the courses you visited together.

“Fine. We used to hook up. Happy?” Jackson corrected his previous statement. The wink he had sent Hwasa made way more sense now.

“Almost. You seem to have forgotten the part in which you fell hopelessly in love with me.”

Your eyes focused on the two of them. Could Hwasa be the girl? No way! That would have been too big of a coincidence.

“Okay, you are blowing that way out of proportion.” Chuckling at her words, Jackson positioned himself so that he was now facing her. “I had a little crush on you.”

“Exactly. What I said.”

Huffing, Jackson shook his head, pulling Hwasa into a side hug of sorts. Good thing Wheein wasn’t around to witness this flirtatious moment. Her absence explained why Hwasa even let someone come close to her like this. Her girlfriend’s presence seemed to put her a little on edge. Like Hwasa was in constant hope she wouldn’t do something to offend Wheein. Or, God forbid, make her think she was anything but faithful.

“We broke things off, and now—”

“We’re besties,” Hwasa ended his statement, patting his chest as they smiled at each other.

It couldn’t have been silent for more than five seconds before Jackson unwrapped his arm from his bestie. He fetched himself a fresh bottle out of the sink.

“Anyways,” throwing you and Yuqi a kind smile, Jackson turned to his friends. They were still gathered behind him, talking over each other with loud laughter. “It was nice seeing you again. I hope you and Sungie have a great night. Let me know if you need anything.”

Making his way out of the room, he left you to yourselves, sipping on your bottle like you hadn’t just emptied the last one. “Good luck finding him if you need anything. Jackson won’t be in the same room for longer than a minute.”

There was no need to tell you that.

At every party he had ever thrown, Jackson had always been nowhere and everywhere, all at once. You distinctly remembered searching for an hour once before eventually finding him where you had started. How he did it, no idea, but he sure was a pro at it.

“Let me get back to my friends. I’ll see you later?”

Nodding, you turned towards Yuqi, who had about 100 questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. The second you were on your own, she erupted like a waterfall.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” As if she would buy that. There was no way you didn’t know what she was talking about. Your body language had been very see-through throughout that whole interaction. Arms crossed, lips tight, brows cocked.

“Don’t play me, bitch!” A term of endearment, you had learned. “There was so much tension, I thought I was in Riverdale for a sec.”

You laughed at her words, shaking your head. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Alright.” Yuqi accepted, but not before getting at least one last statement out in the open. “He’s smoking hot, but whatever he did to you, I would not want to be him.”

The two of you left the kitchen on a seemingly impossible quest to find your boyfriend. You forced your way through the crowd until you reached a less dense section of the room. Only then you noticed a group of people a little further back, right by a window.

You motioned for Yuqi to follow you as you approached the couches. Your boyfriend’s mop of brown hair remained the centre of your vision.

Jisung was deep in conversation with a boy beside him while Felix listened to them. Apart from them, a handful of other boys spread over the couches. The ones that didn’t fit, sat comfortable on chairs. Seeing Jisung in a sea of people he didn’t know, talking like it’s all he was born to do, you almost didn’t want to intrude.

“Bro! Babe Alert!”

The boy next to Jisung was the first to notice you approaching. It took a lot in you to push your amusement at his obliviousness down.

As Jisung’s head followed his friend’s gaze, he gasped out a loud “Yah!” before giving the boy next to him a slap against the bulky arm.

“Dude, that’s my girlfriend.”

“Oops.”

All eyes were on you as you waved at the group. You introduced yourself while sitting on the armrest beside your boyfriend. Yuqi joined your other side, and introduced herself before leaning against you.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Jisung confessed, hand coming to your thigh, squeezing it in adoration.

“You are?”

When you looked at Jisung, you noticed the guy beside him, eyes threatening to bulk out of their sockets. Staring at Yuqi, no less. After a few seconds, he realised he’d been caught and blushed. By pulling Felix into a conversation, he hoped to cover up his interest in your friend.

The girl in question was too deep in her interaction with one of the boys on the chairs to notice. He soon offered her half of his seat, which she accepted while discussing his choice of—footwear? She really seemed to know her way around the closet.

“Yes. Because someone didn’t believe you were real.” Jisung’s eyes darted towards a boy on the other couch whose blonde tresses were pulled into a loose ponytail. “What do you say now, Hyunjin? My hot girlfriend is real.”

“That’s how you describe me to people? Hot?” You didn’t know whether to be mad or flattered.

“Just so we’re clear,” the boy, Hyunjin, chimed in, “it wasn’t the hot part I didn’t believe. It was the whole concept of a girlfriend I was questioning. But you are real, apparently. So I owe Felix ten bucks.”

Laughing at Hyunjin’s cluelessness, your boyfriend couldn’t hide his amusement. “Felix already met her, stupid! You got pranked good, dude.”

Hyunjin’s jaw was on the floor at the new discovery, gaze dramatically cutting to the boy in question.

As the two of them exchanged money and ridicule, you caressed Jisung’s thigh in adoration. A sense of pride filled you at how he had somehow already found a way out of his shell. University seemed to have a positive impact on him, the first week progressing smoother than you had anticipated. Regardless of how he made so many friends this early on, you were glad he did.

“So, who are your friends?”

Gaze wandering through the circle, Jisung introduced the boys one after another. Starting from the one sitting next to Yuqi.

“That’s Seungmin. He’s an English major.”

The boy conversed with Yuqi as though they had known each other for years. He had puppy-brown hair, parted in the middle and cut even on all sides in a fashionable bowl-cut. Two strands of light-blonde framed his face, rounding off an otherwise innocent appearance. His clothes were simple, t-shirt and cargo pants hanging loose on his lean shape.

“Next to him is Jeongin. He’s studying to become—something biology. Honestly, I didn’t understand what he does. It’s all about mitochondria and other boring stuff.”

A little more on the shy side, Jeongin followed Seungmin and Yuqi’s dialogue instead of creating his own. Like Seungmin, he clothed casual. Standing out was his thick pink hair, which contrasted his initial timid demeanour. A something-biology student with pink hair? Very eye-catching.

“On the couch, that’s Hyunjin, Minho and Chris. Hyunjin is studying art history, and Minho majors in dancing. Chris is a Music major.”

Hyunjin, the one who got pranked out of ten bucks—by Felix, out of all people—was clad in a more fashionable outfit. His grey jeans he had paired with a white button-up, a multitude of jewellery decorating his fingers and neck. Minho wore his hair in a lavender tone, a tight-fitting shirt and black leather pants. Showing off his very toned legs—a dancer, indeed. And Chris. Well, he liked his arms the size of logs, apparently. They were an unexpected contrast to his cutesy laugh, nose scrunching up as he joked with Minho.

“And the boy who can’t keep his eyes off Yuqi, that’s Changbin. Sports major. If you tell him your weight, he will send you a video of him benching it.”

“Yah, I don’t do that for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky,” Changbin interjected. Thankfully, he had only overheard the second part of Jisung’s description.

Ignoring his friend’s words, Jisung concluded his introductory round. “And you already know Felix. He’s studying to become the best teacher in the whole wide world.”

Felix ignored the mocking tone in his friend’s voice, only one of the reasons rendering him perfect for a teaching position. He stood calm whenever needed, not a word taken out of proportion. That much you had already learned from hanging out with him a handful of times. It wasn’t hard to believe, he handled children the same way he did his drunk friends.

“I’m glad you have so many friends with majors now. Maybe, they can help you decide on yours.”

Rolling his eyes at the subject you somehow couldn’t let go, Jisung pulled you from the armrest onto his lap. A tiny yelp escaped your throat, his action surprising. The two of you usually didn’t exchange PDA like that. His advances, therefore, you understood as a sign of the amount of alcohol he had already consumed.

“You will never let this go, will you?”

“Not until I know you’re not just going to university because I’m going.”

You had been gifted with so much drive to go to uni, study, become a manager. Sometimes, you forgot that some people weren’t as lucky to know what they wanted to do with their lives. Your boyfriend was one of those people.

Sure Jisung had hobbies like singing, sports and the occasional guitar session. But other than that, he was pretty clueless about his future. The two of you used to joke about it. Kidding how all the ambition and focus had gone to his sister and once he was born, there was nothing left of it. An innocent joke for as long as it hadn’t been reality.

Now that you were here and for the months leading up to your move, the joke was underlined with more seriousness.

For the longest time, Jisung hadn’t been sure he even wanted to go to university. He had debated going to work right away. Learn something handy, like electric work or nursing. That he didn’t even know a direction to go in didn’t make the decision any easier. In the end, he figured that while you were studying to go into management, he might as well join you. If anything, it could potentially give him an overview of possible fields of work.

After many discussions about your joined future and his role in it, he seemed to be over it. He wanted to explore his options—that’s what he had told you when you two enrolled. And yes, you were proud of him for getting his grades up in the last year of High School. Even if only to share this adventure with you. Though you still needed him to be a little more serious about it. Otherwise, university was four years of him exploring, ending in no degree. Four years wasted, in your eyes.

“I just want to make sure you’re thinking about it.”

“Right now, the only thing I’m thinking about, is taking you to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs.”

His breath fanned over your neck as he whispered into your ear. Goosebumps rose all over your skin, his fingers gracing over your exposed hip. You hadn’t even noticed how your shirt had ridden up before his careful touch. Repositioning yourself to sit sideways on his lap, you bit your lip at his suggestion. Your hand came around his neck, fingers running through the hair at the back of it.

“We just got here,” you chuckled as his arms wrapped around your thighs.

“So?”

“Let’s enjoy the party for a bit, yeah?” Jisung knew a final decision when he heard one, a pout overtaking his face. Good thing you had already taken measures to soften the blow. Years of being with each other gave you the confidence to play your plan as you intended. “I might know a way to make the wait worth our while.”

You smirked as you retrieved a round object from your pocket and pushed it into Jisung’s hand on your thigh. A kiss to his cheek concealed your action, his eyes widening once he realised what you had handed him. A remote control. And not just any old remote control. Connecting the dots, Jisung soon understood that it controlled the matching vibrator inside you. The very same one you had bought for his most recent birthday.

Happy Birthday, indeed, and to both of you.

Judging from his expression, you figured your plan to make his patience worthwhile erected the awaited reaction. Then again, that could have also been him pocking you from below.

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[livinginshambles]

Preview: I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: A Cinderella Story, but Hogwarts. (Enemies? to lovers)

Notes: Sorry I've been mia; i wrote this today, it's all I have so the full fic will probably take a while, not proofread, mistakes blah blah, enjoy!

PS. I am currently no longer making a taglist because I can't keep up with it, I'm really sorry!

Masterlist. Taglist

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You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory.

That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you closed your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what you sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments.

A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard.

“Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eyeroll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step.

To be petty or not to be petty, you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you decided.

The two marauders started to protest.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” It effectively shut them up, and with a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner.

He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air. Of course, levitating stuff wasn't that strange, but it had intrigued him nonetheless.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl who was crying on a bench under the tree, appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams.

(Credits to Professor McGonagall who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.)

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Full fic

[baileyblethen]

COMPENDIUM OF A MADMAN

Preface:

Desmos, the Greek name for shackled, is how I have often felt. It is only in writing this tale that I can feel the bonds loosen unto snapping. For, my life has been near to Phaethon’s journey. Emerging from a semi-hedonistic youth entwined with vague Catholic guilt, to eventually arriving on the platform of doubt, a stop before my way to truth. For, as with Iris, the beauty of the rainbow leaves me in wonder, and I can confidently affirm that wonder has given me closure. This tale is the truth, just from one side, mine. I do not attempt to hide any bias, for another’s story is not mine to tell. As with my real life, the story is turbulent, for in the beginning you find a youth disturbed, grasping for what he believes dearest. Pains and joys are found, but from both he does that which Ovid had his cast do, change. To metamorphose as a man is not a quick or easy affair. The trials and tribulations of life often seem to stymie the change, or even more often, sink you back further into your original state. Being twenty-eight at the time of writing this preface may mean that I undergo many more changes in my life, as long as it goes; but while it does I shall strive to align all towards what I truly seek. That is what this tale attempts to tell, a story of grasping beyond the passion driven and intemperate self, to find something sustaining, which not only sustains, but breathes life in return. Yet, ambiguous language is dangerous, so frankly the tale shows Bailey begin to ascertain the truth of life, and realize that there is a worthy life within this sphere. Contrary to Jacques Maritain, I may not have a habitus, and this may detract from the tale and attempt at art, as for especially with the beginning, it tells the story of a life lacking virtue. Yet, as Jacques Maritain, I seek to make perfect that which I create in its own image. And to do so I must be honest. Honesty for me includes creating how I recall my own life into my work, which will riddle or enhance the journey with allusion. However, I seek not to simply give an autobiography, or a dull recounting of my life. For if I were to simply retell it, I, myself would lose attention fast and label myself as an outcast sinner. I do not have the imagination to produce fantasy, but what I lay on these pages satisfies me, for it is as it was, and exacting replications can be left to the naturalists and biographers. It is also vital to emphasize that what is written is not any attempt at a progressive history, or guide in any sort of ethics. No, I believe I would be one of the poorest guides, and what I have poured out in these pages is a plea. A plea to think on the good life, as well as the bad. There is no answer given, only prompts which one may form on his own. I was born into a faith but had never embraced it, and even rebelled in some manner, until I started to become faithful, which to this day I find myself still becoming. This is evident in the writing itself, for answers were waning when I began this novella, yet I still sought to find the best of life. And now at the end of the book, I like to think of myself as a very bad Christian, but I still try. And I do sincerely hope that one day I may in good conscience write a redeeming sequel to this novella, if I am ever held fast by virtue. So Christians, atheists, agnostics, and all, you have every right to find fault with my tale, but I will hold fast to it, for what has been done can not be undone. The uplifting part I find is that what unfolds beyond this page is the chance to reflect, and perhaps there will be others who enjoy, as I do, evaluating actions and beliefs, so as to adopt, or even perfect ones learned. Looking back helps me move forward, and only then am I happy in the present, and perhaps the eternal.

I am now thirty and looking to promote my book. This piece has been for me the most honest introspection I have ever done, which prompts me to wish to share this, and hopefully has some merit to the insights found within.

It is currently free for kindle and the paperback is for sale here: https://www.amazon.com/Compendium-Madman-Bailey-Blethen/dp/B0BT6V58SM/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?crid=54JQN47XBH4Y&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.EixqhUr1p5LCgz7S4bIxPJbiIxd5ox6pLxjG0384pXM.x6U6I6JzYvFo-vkP-C81K3Ae9sriPc52GanSAIhorF4&dib_tag=se&keywords=compendium+of+a+madman&qid=1717697114&sprefix=%2Caps%2C116&sr=8-1

[hero-nerd]

The Symbol of Peace: An Analysis of Masculinity in My Hero Academia

Izuku Midoriya runs through the city toward the site of a villain attack, excitement on his face as he knows what this means. He elbows his way to the front of the crowd and up to the very front line the heroes set up as they battle their foe, watching in awe and excitement as the heroes he looks up to are locked in battle.

This scene plays out in the beginning of the hit anime series My Hero Academia. Set in a fantastical version of Japan in which heroes are a part of every day society, the series follows the story of Izuku Midoriya, also known as Deku, as he strives to become a great hero using the power passed on to him by Japan’s number one hero, All Might. The first chapter of the manga series was published in Shonen Jump in 2014, and was adapted into an anime in 2016. Both the manga and anime are still in progress, and have a great level of popularity. According to Parrot Analytics, My Hero Academia is “ranked at the 99.9th percentile in the action genre, indicating that it enjoys exceptional demand compared to 99.9% of all action titles in the United States” (My Hero Academia YTV). Due to its outstanding popularity, I believe this is a relevant text to analyze.

From the very beginning scenes of the series, as Midoriya watches this battle unfold, the audience is shown what the image of a hero looks like. They are strong and powerful, with physiques that look like action figures. They are something for the ladies to swoon over. Notably, they are men. It is not until the very end of the fight we see our first female superhero, who is shown as “stealing the spotlight” from the men in her skintight suit, and immediately subject to objectification and sexualization by the media on the sidelines. To those who know comics and superheroes, these types of hegemonic masculine messages are to be expected. While these messages are seen as such a norm that it’s just a part of the superhero genre, there are real impacts to this. In a study conducted by Coyne et al. about the effects of superhero media on kids, research found that “early superhero exposure was indirectly associated with weaker egalitarian attitudes toward women and greater endorsement of the muscular ideal” (Coyne et al. 634). This shows that superheroes have a real impact and are worth studying. This analysis will look at masculinity in the world of My Hero Academia, as shown through the lens of All Might, the Symbol of Peace.

Who is the Symbol of Peace? All Might is one of the top heroes in the version of Japan this story takes place in, and has been for years by the time the series starts. He is rated the number one hero in the in-universe hero popularity polls, and has one of the greatest powers that citizens in that world have ever seen. As such an important cultural figure in this world of heroes, he is the ideal, the standard, the one everyone looks to when they want to see what it means to be a hero, and we know that what it means to be a hero in this world is to be masculine. That is why I have chosen All Might as the subject of this analysis, and to begin I would like to look at Kimmel’s tenants of masculinity. In his documentary Guyland, Kimmel breaks down four basic rules of masculinity: “No sissy stuff”, “be a big wheel”, “be a sturdy oak”, and “give ‘em hell” (Kimmel). Let’s explore what these mean, and how they are evident in the character of All Might.

When Kimmel says “no sissy stuff”, what he means is that there can be no sign of femininity or weakness. In societies where masculinity is seen as the ideal, femininity and weakness have become synonymous with each other when it comes to the measurement of masculinity. This is apparent in All Might’s appearance. He is the perfect picture of the classic superhero, with bulging muscles and a towering, hulking figure. When he speaks his booming voice resonates and shakes you to your core. It is not just his appearance that this is evident in, however. We can see this line of thinking, “no sissy stuff”, in the way All Might acts, especially toward the beginning of the series. In season one episode 3 “Roaring Muscles”, All Might passes on his power, known as a “quirk” in this world, to the protagonist Izuku Midoriya. As he does this, Midoriya’s eyes welled up with tears as the emotions of all of his dreams finally coming true overwhelm him, All Might says “Seriously! You gotta stop crying so much if you want my quirk” (My Hero Academia). This is a common theme, as Midoriya is very outwardly expressive with his emotions while All Might begins their mentorship with a much more hegemonic view of masculinity.

To “be a big wheel” means to have lots of money, power, and status. This is probably the tenet that All Might intentionally goes after the least, but that does not change the fact that he fully embodies it. As the number one hero in Japan he holds a very important status, and the Symbol of Peace is a name anyone in the world of the show knows. In season three episode 49 “One for All”, All Might is fighting against the main antagonist of the show in a large display that is being televised to all of Japan. He has lost the last of his power that allows him to stay in his superpowered form, but he continues to fight on despite this. His mentor urges him to stay strong, saying “No matter what you look like, you’re still everyone’s number-one hero!” This is just one of many illustrations of the status All Might holds in the eyes of the citizens of Japan.

Arguably the most prevalent of the four tenets in All Might’s story is “be a sturdy oak”. All Might specifically created the idea of the Symbol of Peace to be an unwavering force of help to those in need. This is evident even in his catchphrase. We see him use a variation over and over, a common theme throughout the series, going all the way back to his first appearance as a hero: “Fear not, citizens. Hope has arrived. Because I am here” (My Hero Academia season one episode one “Izuku Midoriya: Origin”). When Midoriya is talking about what he looks up to so much about All Might he says “There’s always a smile on his face, no matter how bad things get. Even when things seem impossible, he never gives up” (My Hero Academia season one episode one “Izuku Midoriya: Origin”).

The last of the tenets is “give ‘em hell”. This comes down to a reckless sense of daring, always throwing yourself in no matter the danger and being willing to do things no matter the risk. This is seen as bravery, the opposite of being a “sissy” as mentioned in the first tenet, even at the cost of the person performing these acts. We see this in All Might’s willingness to throw himself into any battle, no matter the cost to himself, and how he sees that as admirable. In his backstory preceding the events of the show, All Might was injured in a battle with All For One that left him only able to use his power for a finite amount of time each day. During the time All Might first meets Midoriya he has reached his limit on his power use for the day when a villain attacks a student. All Might is on the sidelines in his disguised form, watching this go down while cursing himself for not being able to help because of his limit. When he watches a powerless Midoriya rush in to help, All Might says “I have to do something, no matter the cost” before pushing past his limit to use his power. He tells Midoriya “Pros are always risking their lives, that’s the true test of a hero!” (My Hero Academia season one episode two “What It Takes To Be A Hero”). He uses his great power to blow the villain away with a single hit. After things have calmed down from this battle, All Might talks to Midoriya about this and what it means to be a hero. He tells Midoriya “There are stories about every hero, how they became great. Most have one thing in common. Their bodies moved before they had a chance to think” (My Hero Academia season one episode two “What It Takes To Be A Hero). This becomes a recurring line in the show when people talk about what it means to be a hero, and it truly highlights the reckless and daring action described by the tenet “give ‘em hell”.

These are only a handful of examples of how All Might embodies the tenets of masculinity in each and every episode. However, these tenets do not go without cost to All Might. We can see as his adherence to these tenets broaches the realm of toxic masculinity-”a particular version of masculinity that is unhealthy for the men and boys who conform to it, and harmful to those around them” (Flood).

In season four episode 67 “Fighting Fate” All Might tells his protege about that time from his past. His sidekick, a hero named Sir Nighteye with the power to see the future, warned All Might that if he were to keep fighting, he would die a horrible death at the hands of villains. All Might acknowledges this, but he presses forward despite the warnings in an attempt to uphold the Symbol of Peace. He says “For the sake of this world, I have to be able to say that I am still here” (My Hero Academia season four episode sixty-seven “Fighting Fate”). As he tries to uphold the tenets, particularly “be a sturdy oak” here, he only begins to break himself down and harm himself as he exacerbates his injuries and puts himself at risk again and again. This is often rewarded in the show, saying he is a good hero for doing these things.

This line of thinking gets passed down to his protege Midoriya as All Might trains him to become the next Symbol of Peace. Here we can see the effects of gender socialization on the story. As defined by Dipti, “Gender socialization is a process by which individuals develop, refine, and learn to ‘do’ gender through internalizing gender norms and roles as they interact with key agents of socialization” (Dipti 9). All Might passes down his ideas of masculinity, such as in the “no sissy stuff” point when he tells Midoriya he needs to stop crying so much. In season two episode 19 “The Boy Born With Everything”, Midoriya is competing in his school's sports tournament and is nervous for his upcoming battle. In his pep talk, All Might tells Midoriya “Whenever you’re scared or nervous about a fight, just try to deal with it by smiling!”, passing on the ideals of being a “sturdy oak” that never wavers even in the face of fear.

Midoriya internalizes these messages, and it all comes to a big culmination in season six. The main antagonist appears to be on the winning side, the world has fallen to ruins, and Midoriya is working as a vigilante trying to take on the world and save everyone himself. All Might was initially in contact with him during this, until Midoriya runs off leaving All Might behind to fight the main antagonist alone. In doing so, Midoriya embodies the traits of “be a sturdy oak” and “give ‘em hell'' by rushing off without regards to himself to take everything on his own, and makes sure there is no “sissy stuff” as he insists he is fine, shoving down any emotions and refusing to ask for help. These are all traits he learned from All Might, and in season six All Might has the realization that the messages he passed down to Midoriya were toxic. As Midoriya speeds away, too fast for All Might to catch up, All Might cries after him, saying “I get it! I know what a heavy burden this is to carry alone! Which is why I want to scream at you, ‘Don’t work too hard. It’s okay to take a break when you’re tired.’ Young man, I’m sorry” (My Hero Academia season six episode 135 “Friend”). Later that same season, Midoriya is confronted by his classmates and close friends in a stunning display of emotional vulnerability that warrants an analysis of its own beyond the scope of this paper. Toxic masculinity is broken down as the characters show that it is leaning on others and being vulnerable that shows true strength.

The vulnerability in this show was not lost on viewers. One article details the reaction audiences had to this scene on social media as people shared their thoughts and breaking down their own toxic masculinity. The article states “Many users openly expressed how much they sobbed wholeheartedly alongside Deku and the gang during this segment of the storyline, without a worry in the world about how ‘unmanly’ their confession may be perceived” (Chester-Londt). It is clear that audiences hold a place for this type of breakdown of toxic masculinity, even in superhero stories where that is perceived to be the default.

For a long time superhero stories have been a place of traditional, hegemonic masculine ideals, and My Hero Academia is no exception to that. The leading figure in the hero society, the Symbol of Peace, exhibits clear signs of all four tenets of masculinity talked about by Kimmel. He passes on these masculine ideals to his students, as evident through the character of Midoriya, and the strict adherence to these ideals proves to be quite toxic. What makes this series unique for a hero story, however, is the recognition of that toxic masculinity and a changing of messages saying it’s okay to rely on others, ask for help, and not always live up to unattainable ideals. We know from audience reactions that there is a want for these types of stories, and I hope to see more like it in hero media going forward.

Works Cited

Chester-Londt, Levana Jane. “My Hero Academia Is the Cure for Toxic Masculinity.” Game Rant, 1 Apr. 2023, gamerant.com/my-hero-academia-is-the-cure-for-toxic-masculinity/.

Coyne, Sarah, et al. “Making Men of Steel: Superhero Exposure and the Development of Hegemonic Masculinity in Children.” Sex Roles, vol. 86, no. 11/12, June 2022, pp. 634–47. EBSCOhost, https://doi-org.dmacc.idm.oclc.org/10.1007/s11199-022-01293-2.

Dipti. “Gender and Socialization.” International Journal of Recent Research Aspects, vol. 9, no. 2, June 2022, pp. 9–12. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=asn&AN=158174861&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Flood, Michael. “'Toxic Masculinity': What Does It Mean, Where Did It Come from – and Is the Term Useful or Harmful?” The Conversation, 21 Sept. 2022, https://theconversation.com/toxic-masculinity-what-does-it-mean-where-did-it-come-from-and-is-the-term-useful-or-harmful-189298.

Kimmel, Michael S., and Media Education Foundation. Guyland : Where Boys Become Men. Media Education Foundation, 2015, http://www.kanopystreaming.com/node/144408.

My Hero Academia, created by Kohei Horikoshi, Bones, June 2016.

“My Hero Academia (YTV): United States Daily TV Audience Insights for Smarter Content Decisions - Parrot Analytics.” Parrot Analytics, tv.parrotanalytics.com/US/my-hero-academia-ytv. Accessed 24 Apr. 2024.

I hope everyone enjoyed!! I have so much more to say about this topic that I didn’t get to due to the page restraints on the paper. This version already goes over the page limit and still manages to cut out about two thirds of my initial points. So if anyone wants to discuss further with me, please do!!!! I love talking about this stuff!!

And for those who asked to be tagged:

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@anna-pre

@0im-kinda-dumb0

@ghostspace37

[willowcreektrait]

JULES JACKSON : ❛ P-please but I'm a prom queen! you can't kill me! ❜

Jules and Kazuo's relationship is a complex web of mutual admiration and unspoken tension. As the school's reigning Prom Queen and picture-perfect jock, they are both aware of their respective popularity and their roles in the social hierarchy. Jules sees Kazuo as the embodiment of physical perfection, a symbol of her own elevated status, and secretly appreciates his presence. On the other hand, Kazuo views Jules as the stunning queen of the school, acknowledging her charm and charisma. However, their interactions are laced with a hint of unspoken attraction, and beneath the facade of their individual perfection lies a curiosity and yearning to explore what exists beyond the surface.

Jules and Jackucho share a complex dynamic within the halls of Copperdale High. As the school's Prom Queen and the peppy cheerleader, they embody two very different aspects of high school popularity. Jules, with her poised demeanor, views Jackucho with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, appreciating her vivacious energy but often finding her overwhelming. In contrast, Jackucho idolizes Jules, perceiving her as the epitome of beauty and grace. She yearns for Jules' attention and seeks to emulate her in every way, with a relentless crush hidden beneath her bubbly exterior. The two girls, despite their differences, navigate the complexities of high school, with their relationship characterized by a blend of amusement, adoration, and a hint of rivalry.

In the eerie and nostalgic setting of "The bay has eyes," Jules embodies the essence of the "Prom Queen" stereotype, echoing the themes of 80s and 90s slasher horror. Despite her seemingly untouchable popularity and poised exterior, her survival in the face of terror is far from guaranteed. Jules doesn't meet her fate early on, but her status as a potential final girl hinges on her resilience and resourcefulness, qualities that become evident as the story unfolds. While she isn't a scream queen in the traditional sense, her charisma and captivating presence lend an air of drama to the unfolding horrors, making her a compelling character.

Jules starts off without a conventional weapon, relying more on her wits and adaptability. Her stats reflect her personality, with high charisma and a good balance of physical attributes, showcasing her athleticism and presence. As the story unfolds, Jules unveils her survival instincts, shedding her prom queen exterior to reveal her inner strength.

Her character is more of a red herring than oblivious, her determination to be crowned prom queen occasionally overshadowing the true nature of the threat. Jules is willing to fight fiercely to attain her desired title, even if it means facing the terrifying dangers of the bay.

Her speed in pursuit is remarkable, a reflection of her athletic prowess and determination, enabling her to outpace danger when the need arises. In the complex world of "The bay has eyes," Jules' character is a layered portrayal of a seemingly perfect prom queen who must dig deep within herself to confront the horrors lurking in the shadows.

[edenesth]

Undying Bonds (Part 13)

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader, Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: zombie apocalypse au

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: What could be worse than being separated from the love of your life in a zombie apocalypse? Hongjoong was forced to leave you behind with his friend, Seonghwa, as he ventures out alone to search for the rest of his missing group members. Will Hongjoong be successful in his solo mission to find his members? Will he be able to return to you unscathed? And what happens when you're stuck with his caring best friend, who is hopelessly in love with you, for too long?

Part 12 | Masterlist | Part 14

"Listen to me, noona. I think you might all be in danger."

You furrowed your brows at his frantic state, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face while offering a comforting squeeze to his trembling arms.

In response, Jeongin's eyes welled up with tears, overwhelmed by your unexpected kindness.

He had braced himself for disappointment, especially considering your initial reaction upon discovering his affiliation with Stray Kids. To him, receiving even a smile from you was a stroke of luck, let alone this heartfelt comfort.

Had it not been for the urgency of the current situation demanding attention, he would have gone down on his knees and begged for your forgiveness.

"Whoa there, breathe, Jeongin. Calm down first and you can tell me all about this danger." You tried to soothe his evident distress.

But he shook his head and a pang of sympathy tugged at your heart as you noticed his pitiful, watery eyes, "It's a long story and I'm afraid we don't have much time but Minho hyung, he's mad about you distracting Chan hyung from work, I saw him-"

The presence of a gang member outside the furniture store caught the attention of Hongjoong and Jongho, who quickly positioned themselves protectively beside you.

Jongho sneered at the poor boy accusingly, "What do you want, Yang Jeongin? Here to throw yourself a pity party? Don't tell me you're here to ask for forgiveness too, after watching your leader have his moment."

In frustration, the youngest member of Stray Kids stomped his feet, "No, Jongho hyung! It's not like that, I swear, I'm here to warn you about the danger that is coming!" You gripped Jongho's arm tightly, "Jongho, please, I think he's telling us the truth. I know he's not like the others, he felt really bad all throughout the convenience store operation."

Jeongin sniffled and wiped away his tears upon hearing your words. It was almost unbelievable that you were defending him.

He hadn't even had the chance to offer a sincere apology for the harm he inadvertently caused Seonghwa, let alone explain his side of the story. Given the opportunity, he truly hoped to ask whether there might be a chance for him to become a part of your group instead.

Observing quietly from the side, Hongjoong felt a surge of empathy for the boy. Unlike the other gang members, Jeongin still retained a degree of innocence in his demeanour, struggling to conceal his emotions. Besides, he recalled seeing the boy sitting all alone during dinner too.

At this very moment, the captain saw nothing but genuine anxiety, worry and urgency in his eyes, "Enough, Jongho," He urged, his voice laced with sympathy, "Give him a chance.  I heard he's only their newest member, he hasn't been here much longer than you. Let's hear him out."

Gathered around the main area of the store, everyone turned their attention to Jeongin.

He cut straight to the chase, providing only the important details to convey the gravity of the situation, doing his best to ensure you could all follow and get a clearer picture.

He began with the development of Seungmin's latest super zombie, then gave you all a bit of context by delving into Minho's ruthless nature, his displeasure with Chan's perceived distraction (which happened to be you), the confrontation that had unfolded in the leader's office, and finally, the decision by the right-hand man to unleash the unstable zombie prototype within District 9.

"I saw him attempting to take the zombie out of its confinements from Seungmin's lab earlier and I came here immediately!"

Mingi, crossing his arms sceptically, questioned Jeongin's motives, "Why did you come here first instead of going to Bang Chan? What are you trying to achieve?"

Jeongin let out a deep sigh, the urgency of the situation weighing on him, "Look, I wish I had the time to explain but please, listen to me. You all need to prepare immediately. Gather your essentials and arm yourselves. I'll go get Jisung hyung, we'll return with additional weapons. I know a way out of here that won't alert the others."

Hongjoong, his expression serious, pressed Jeongin further, "Jeongin, why are you really helping us? Are you not worried about the consequences if Minho finds out you're on our side?"

Jeongin clenched his fists, his resolve was unwavering, "Let's put it this way—I've been alone since the virus outbreak and I joined Stray Kids solely for survival. The convenience store operation was my first, and it was also the moment I realised it had to be my last. I can't continue down this path. What's the use of all this luxury if I have to live like a complete monster? I... I'm done with this gang shit, okay?"

Your heart ached as you heard Jeongin's voice crack at the end of his admission. You wanted nothing more than to pull him into your arms, recognising the absence of affection in his life. You wished to shower him with the warmth and care he so desperately needed.

It was clear now that Jeongin had joined the gang out of necessity in this unforgiving zombie apocalypse. Who could blame him, really? In a world where survival was paramount, his choices were only a reflection of the circumstances he had been thrust into.

Stepping closer, you gently took Jeongin's hands in your own, caressing his knuckles with your thumbs, "Hey, it's alright," You reassured him, your voice carrying a soothing tone, "I believe you. The others might need a bit more convincing but they'll come around, I promise."

Jeongin nodded and offered a small, appreciative smile, returning the squeeze of your hands, "I know, noona. I don't blame them at all."

Seonghwa, who had been quiet this whole time, seemed to finally empathise with the younger boy, "I believe you too, Jeongin."

The boy's face lit up at Seonghwa's words.

He had carried a heavy burden of guilt, especially when it came to Seonghwa, who had gotten hurt while trying to save his life, only for it to all be part of the gang's scheme, "Thank you, hyung-nim. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Hongjoong sighed, witnessing Seonghwa's trust in Jeongin. He recognised that it wouldn't be wrong to believe his best friend. After all, Seonghwa, the eldest and the wisest among them, had always been like his advisor.

"Just answer me this, Jeongin," Hongjoong inquired with a measured tone, "Can we really trust you and Jisung?"

The captain had already decided to believe in Jeongin but wanted this final confirmation for the sake of his group members who might still be sceptical.

Nodding fervently, Jeongin locked his desperate gaze on Hongjoong.

"I swear on my life, you can trust us! Jisung hyung has actually been sharing the same thoughts as me since his encounter with Jongho hyung. He'll be more than willing to help us, especially once he learns of Minho hyung's plans, trust me. Besides, I overheard your discussions about leaving District 9. Perhaps we can make that happen sooner now."

Taking a look around him and surveying his members' faces, Hongjoong nodded when he saw their acceptance, "Fine, we'll trust you this once, Jeongin. But if we find out you're lying to us or if this is part of any scheme, things won't end pretty for you and your friend."

You shot a disapproving look at your boyfriend, you didn't agree or thought that the threat was necessary. You thought it was evident that Jeongin was trustworthy.

Nevertheless, Jeongin nodded with determination, "You have my word, hyung-nim. I'll do my best to prove myself to you."

"Very well, we'll be prepared. You go fetch Jisung then."

Once Jeongin was out of sight, the captain turned to face his group, "Well, you heard what the boy said. Let's all pack up and arm ourselves. If what he said about that super zombie is true, we're going to have to be ready for a fight."

He couldn't help but notice a flicker of fear that passed through his friends' expressions, a sentiment he shared entirely.

These people they were up against were genuinely terrifying. The fact that they had resorted to creating their own version of a super soldier, one both lethal and obedient, was beyond unsettling.

If there was one thing he'd never be able to forgive Bang Chan for, it would definitely be the invention of this monstrosity.

But his biggest fear was not being able to protect you.

His gaze remained fixed on your figure as you meticulously checked on Seonghwa's wound dressing while trying not to cause him too much pain.

What scared him even more was the realisation that Seonghwa, now injured, would require protection as well. The eldest had always been one of their most skilled fighters and now they would need to be concerned about his safety too.

God help us.

So much for trying to get out of this place with minimal trouble.

"With all this... wealth that you now have, you could do so much good and help those in need for a change, you know? To make up for all the sins you've committed?"

Those words lingered in Chan's mind as he settled back into his office for the night. It was something that weighed heavily on him.

Truth be told, he was willing to take that step if that was what it took to earn your forgiveness. But he had all his members to think about too, this wasn't solely about him.

The mere thought of Minho's reaction sent a shiver down his spine. The right-hand man was already so infuriated by the interruption of their work, let alone the idea of disbanding the gang and redirecting their wealth to help others.

Taking a deep breath, Chan leaned back in his seat, reflecting on his journey from founding the gang to achieving unimaginable success, albeit at the cost of committing a lot of unforgivable sins. Now, it all teetered on the brink of collapse, all because of a certain female.

He could imagine the anger and frustration that would consume his gang members when he eventually makes the decision to quit all this.

Ultimately, he worried about your safety, fearing what his members might do in a fit of rage. But at this very moment, his heart longed for one thing above all else: your forgiveness.

In the unforgiving world of the zombie apocalypse, Stray Kids, led by the once ruthless and pragmatic Bang Chan, had clawed their way to dominance through robbery and brutality. They were a gang of survivors who thrived on chaos and fear, taking whatever resources and supplies they wanted from others who struggled to stay alive.

For Chan, this life had become his only reality, a bleak existence devoid of hope.

However, all of that changed on that one fateful day when he stumbled upon a face from his past—a face he thought he'd lost forever.

It was his first love.

The girl who had once captured his heart and filled his world with warmth and purpose. You were a symbol of the life he had long abandoned, a reminder of the man he used to be before his world had fallen apart with your supposed death.

Desperation ignited within him, a burning desire to win you back and to somehow make amends for the darkness he had embraced.

He knew that he had to put a stop to Stray Kids and their merciless ways if he ever hoped to stand a chance of earning your forgiveness. The love he had once felt for you was rekindled and it was a force powerful enough to drive him to confront his own gang.

While a small part of him felt it to be a shame to give up on Stray Kids, considering the immense effort he had invested in bringing the gang to its current level of success, he understood that things would never be the same from this point onward.

Now that he learns the truth of you still being around.

The thought of moving forward, pretending as if you had never reentered his world, was simply impossible. His heart would forever ache to be near you and he would carry an everlasting worry for your well-being, no matter how much he trusted your boyfriend and friends to take care of you.

Chan yearned to be a pillar of support in your life, to redirect all the attention he had once dedicated to his gang solely toward you. He needed to find a way to make amends for his past actions.

It felt like an agonising battle between his rational mind and his impassioned heart.

His mind tells him he cannot abandon everything he's painstakingly built so easily while his heart screams for him to care for nothing else but you.

Caught up in his own inner turmoil, he remained entirely oblivious to the events unfolding in the other wing of the building.

Jeongin sprinted toward the escape rooms where Jisung was held, driven by a newfound determination to start afresh once he managed to break free from this place with all of you.

Whether or not Hongjoong was going to accept him and Jisung, they'd still choose to leave District 9.

This life, it simply was not meant for people like them. To hell with Minho's twisted ideology that claimed 'in this selfish world, only the selfish succeed,' success held no value if it didn't bring happiness.

Jisung looked up, the sound of Jeongin unlocking the door to the timeout room catching his attention, "Oh, Jeongin-ah? How did dinner go with the new residents?" He rose from his seat, puzzled, as he observed the younger boy panting heavily and gesturing urgently for him to step outside.

"Hyung! There's no time for explanations. We need to move, right now! Minho hyung's planning to release the latest super zombie inside the mall!"

Jisung's eyes widened to the brink of disbelief, "What?! Why on earth would he do that?"

Jeongin let out a heavy sigh, "He hates noona for diverting Chan hyung's attention and he's doing this to create chaos intentionally. You know he's kind of a psycho like that. But hyung, this is our chance to escape District 9 with them. I overheard them talking, Jongho hyung is withdrawing from Stray Kids."

The elder of the two blinks rapidly as he tries to wrap his head around all the sudden new information chucked at him, "Okay, okay, I think I get it. We can talk more later, so what's the plan now?"

Pulling Jisung by his arm, Jeongin races towards the hardware store where the gang keeps their fancy collection of weapons.

"I've spoken to Jongho hyung's group leader, Hongjoong hyung. They're gearing up as we speak. I told them we'll be bringing them more weapons and then we can make our escape using the secret passageway in the South wing, the one near the aquarium."

Well shit, this is really happening now, isn't it?

A sudden wave of fear washed over Jisung at the thought of everything unravelling but he didn't want to worry poor Jeongin any further and kept his concerns to himself, "So, Chan hyung is completely unaware of all this?"

The younger boy shook his head, hands busy grabbing onto as many weapons as he could reach, "It's just us and Jongho hyung's group, if you don't count Minho hyung and poor Seungmin hyung, who's kind of forced into assisting the psycho."

Jisung gnawed anxiously on his bottom lip, "Do you think it might be better if we at least alert Chan hyung? With his help, it might be easier to stop Minho hyung. We know for sure he won't let noona get hurt, we can trust in his resolve."

"Hyung, have you forgotten our intention to leave with them? How do you think Chan hyung would react to that? Would he still come to our aid or would he leave us to face the consequences of our betrayal?"

The realisation dawned on Jisung as he bowed his head.

Jeongin was right.

He silently prayed that no more innocent lives would be sacrificed in this unnecessary conflict, instigated by Minho for his own entertainment. Once again, he recalled exactly why he wanted no part in this gang any longer. He's had enough of taking lives for their own satisfaction.

Jisung wonders to himself if there was ever any point when Chan or any of their fellow gang members ever felt genuine care for one another.

As much as the leader enjoyed preaching about brotherhood, it often appeared as little more than a form of propaganda, a means to motivate them to perform better. Because of that, his level of loyalty toward Chan can never measure up to Jongho's loyalty toward Hongjoong.

I'm sorry, Chan hyung. Jeongin and I cannot take any more of this for much longer.

With no time to waste, Hongjoong goes around to check on all his friends to see if any of them need his help when he was done equipping himself with his armour.

Seeing you share what seemed to be a rather deep conversation with Seonghwa, he decides to leave you two to talk. After your separation, your boyfriend understands that your bond with his best friend might have grown deeper than before.

The captain would be lying to himself if he were to say that he hasn't the slightest clue about his friend's affection for you.

The truth was that Hongjoong had been well aware of Seonghwa's feelings toward his girlfriend for several years now. After all, that was his closest friend and Hongjoong wasn't exactly blind to the way Seonghwa behaved around you.

However, Hongjoong knew that it was his best friend who had met you first and fallen for you.

A small part of him carried a twinge of guilt for pursuing you, even with that knowledge. The captain had felt an attraction to you from the moment he first met you but he had refrained from making a move until he was certain that you didn't reciprocate his best friend's feelings.

He's thought about the many possibilities before.

Seonghwa was his dearest friend and you were the love of his life. But if the day came when you realised that your true love was his best friend, he believed he would respect your decision.

Your happiness matters the most, regardless of whether or not it was him you ended up with.

Unbeknownst to him, those were also Seonghwa's exact thoughts.

Although it would be painful not to be the one receiving your love, he couldn't help but imagine how equally agonising it must have been for his best friend all this time, having to witness the two of you so blissfully happy together.

Taking his eyes off your frame, your boyfriend decides to distract himself with Wooyoung's clumsy attempt to arm himself.

"Hwa, are you sure you're strong enough to wield your metal bat? The last thing we need is your stitches breaking open again," Your friend grins mischievously at your words, "Why? Growing tired of patching me up already?"

You couldn't help but scoff in disbelief, giving his arm a light smack, "You're annoying, I hope you know that," You retorted, only to have him grab your trembling hand, which was carefully securing the armour over his injury, "And you're scared, I can see that."

Releasing a shaky exhale, you squeezed his hand in return, "How can I not be, Hwa? You heard Jeongin; this super zombie can now obey orders too. Do we even stand a chance against that? God, these people are sick to come up with something like that."

Seonghwa pushed some stray strands of hair away from your face, his hand gently resting against the back of your head, "Hey, it'll be alright. I'm here, and so is Hongjoong. We won't let anything happen to you."

You groaned, holding onto his wrist, "It's not me I'm worried about. Look at you; you're still hurt! I'm scared for you, I can't lose you again... Hwa, I really can't."

His heart melted at the vulnerability you displayed in front of him. Your heart nearly stops when his eyes fall to your lips for a moment before gazing back into your eyes.

The veins on his neck faintly popped out and he appeared to be holding himself back, your heart started racing when you realised what he probably wanted to do.

He looks away from you for a bit to collect himself.

"There you go again. Now you're just doing this on purpose, aren't you? You enjoy playing with my heart like this, huh?" In an attempt to divert your thoughts from your worries, he decided to tease you and make you blush instead.

His words worked in his favour as you were rendered momentarily speechless. You blinked fervently and cleared your throat, flustered.

But you narrowed your eyes at him in realisation when he smirked playfully at you before softening, "Look, you know worrying isn't going to change anything, right? We'll just do what we can and try our best to keep each other safe, alright?"

He was right, you nodded at him and finished up with his armour before handing him his weapon.

Smiling up at you, he nods in your boyfriend's direction, "Now, you go and gear up too. We should all be ready by the time Jeongin returns with Jisung."

As if he could sense both you and Seonghwa watching him, Hongjoong looked up, locking eyes with you. He smiled warmly, opening his arms as an invitation for you to rush into them.

A gulp caught in your throat as you felt both of their gazes upon you.

If Seonghwa hadn't been watching so intently, you wouldn't have hesitated to run into the captain's embrace. But you now felt a tinge of uncertainty, being hyper-aware of Seonghwa's presence and not wanting to hurt him.

Recognising that your hesitation might be hurting Hongjoong, guilt clenched in your heart. You gave Seonghwa a final nod before swiftly making your way to your boyfriend to avoid upsetting him.

Nestling into Hongjoong's protective embrace, you hear him release a soft sigh before his lips pressed firmly against your temple, "Is Seonghwa all good to go?" You nodded and he offered a reassuring smile, his hand gently rubbing your back, "Thanks, baby. Now, let's get you prepared too."

You pushed aside any lingering concerns about your feelings for now.

No time to worry about my feelings now, we'll sort that out later.

Once you were all fully equipped and ready for action, you waited around anxiously for Jeongin's return.

You perked up when you thought you heard the hurried pattering of footsteps approaching, only for your face to fall at the sight of Chan.

"Oh, it's you."

Putting aside the hurt he felt at the disappointment in your tone, the gang leader's brow furrowed in confusion as he took in your determined group, all geared up as if ready for battle.

"Wait, what's happening here? What's the meaning of all this, Hongjoong? I thought you'd stay put until I had a chance to speak with Minho first."

"Forget speaking to him, he's already plotting our deaths as we speak!" Jongho scowled, his expression darkening further, "He's unleashing your newest super zombie right here in District 9."

Chan froze in place upon hearing this revelation, "Whoa, wait-what?! Where did you even hear that? But it can't be, I didn't authorise that! There must be some misunderstanding-"

"Oh, there's no misunderstanding, Chan," Minho's sly voice echoed from the entrance of the furniture store, sending shivers down everyone's spine. The group of guys collectively tensed as you laid eyes on what was supposed to be the famous super zombie, obediently standing beside him, "Surprise, everybody."

If you thought you had a clear idea of what zombies looked like before, you were all astounded by what you were looking at, for this particular specimen defied all expectations.

The super zombie is a monstrous aberration, a gruesome fusion of nightmarish mutations that have rendered it an unstoppable force. Its presence alone is enough to strike fear into the bravest of hearts.

Its appearance is a grotesque combination of all sorts of horrifying.

Its skin is mottled with necrotic patches, and it wears its decayed, exposed muscles and sinews like a gruesome suit. Its eyes, if they still exist, are sunken and glazed over with a malevolent, otherworldly light. Jagged bones protrude from its flesh, making it appear even more monstrous.

Aside from its existing enhanced strength and agility, this prototype includes new regenerative powers as well as intelligence.

Unlike the mindless horde, it can comprehend orders and follow commands from its master with chilling precision. It doesn't just attack at random; it waits for the deadly directive, and when it comes, it pursues its target with relentless determination.

This makes it a sinister weapon in the hands of those who control it, as it can be ordered to kill on command, making it an even more menacing threat in the post-apocalyptic world.

The super zombie is a relentless, horrifying force of nature, a grotesque testament to the twisted experiments of a world gone mad. Its presence alone is a reminder of the terrors that lurk in the darkness of the zombie apocalypse.

Your body quivered like a leaf caught in a storm as Minho's eyes fixated on you, his lips curving into a Cheshire-like grin, "Oh, don't tell me you're all thinking of leaving already! I've brought a new friend along and I thought we could all enjoy some fun together!"

Instantly, the protective instincts of your friends sprang to life.

They formed a defensive wall, positioning themselves between you and the approaching horror. You found yourself eventually standing beside Seonghwa and you looked up at him, terror in your eyes. Without a word, he tightly clasped your hand in his, offering a reassuring anchor in this scary moment.

Chan's fists clenched involuntarily, and his blood ran cold as he realised Minho's malevolent gaze had fixed upon you and only you.

He cursed himself for not intervening earlier, for not putting a stop to Seungmin's dangerous experiments when he had the chance. He knew that Minho was dissatisfied with him but he had never imagined that his second-in-command would go to such extreme lengths.

"Minho, what on earth do you think you're doing? This isn't funny, we have to return it to its confines immediately," Seungmin emerged from behind Minho, his breath laboured as he spoke, "Chan hyung, I'm so sorry! Believe me, I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen."

Jeongin and Jisung came to an abrupt halt just behind Chan, their eyes widening with the realisation that they were late to the scene. Not only had the gang leader arrived, but Minho had also appeared, accompanied by their monstrous creation.

The right-hand man wore a smirk of amusement as he observed Chan, "Aw, don't you find this funny? I personally think it's rather entertaining. Isn't that right, Jeongin?" The youngest member froze, his grip on the weapons and supplies meant for Hongjoong's group tightening.

The gang leader screws his eyes shut when he realises what Jeongin and Jisung had planned to do behind his back but his immediate focus returned to Minho; his mission now was to protect you and defuse the situation before it escalates.

"That's enough, Minho. I get it, you're unhappy with me. Stop all this and we can talk."

Minho shook his head, a wicked grin on his face, "No, I don't think so."

His gaze shifted back to you. With a sinister gesture, he patted the zombie on the head before pointing a menacing finger directly at you.

"Attack."

Sorry if this part felt a bit like a filler chapter, I promise the next part is where shit goes down for real HAHA. As always, thank you for reading and don't be shy to share your thoughts with me! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @tmtxtf @park-simphwa @sunnyhokyu @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @marievllr-abg

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[serenpedac]

Tales of Fate and Fortune

Words: ~4000 Rating: Mature Relationship: Female OC/Nate Sewell Warnings: Mildly spicy (very mild tbh)

It becomes a ritual: a smiled greeting to the storeowner, who already starts preparing his tea while Nate wanders between the shelves, sometimes picking up and browsing a volume or two on his way, but always ending up at his book. Or not really his book, is it? Their book, belonging to both him and this mysterious notewriter.

Read on Ao3

He finds the book much like he had found the bookstore: tucked away in a secluded spot, nearly going unnoticed, yet drawing him in as soon as he lays eyes on it. It’s a small volume, unassuming and well-worn. Nothing special.

(“Why did you pick it up?” she will ask someday. To which he will reply, “Fate.” She will scoff at that and roll her eyes, a smile dimpling her cheek.)

All of that will happen later, though, much later, and he is not one to skip ahead. Oh, no, he prefers to take his time, to let the story unfold itself word after word and let the tension build. So in the present, Nate takes the book from where it is squeezed in between two larger ones and brings it with him to the reading nook at the back of the store.

Copper-coloured reading lamps soak the mish-mash of armchairs in their warm light. A few small tables stand between them, each with books stacked on top.

Nate settles on a chair closest to the tall windows. They do little to let in light, the sun being hidden behind the clouds, but together with the draped curtains, it’s almost like sitting in a cosy living room. A home, of sorts, however temporary it may be. While his unit has become his family, the Agency facilities have never come close to a home. A place like this is exactly what he needs after having travelled from one side of the world to the other and back again for their last mission.

He leans back and starts to read.

Before long, he finds the first note: a faded ballpoint-blue scribble in the margin near the end of the prologue.

That’s really all she got? Some “wisdom” that sounds like it came from the label on a teabag? At least that would have given her a drink to enjoy.

Nate chuckles. True enough, the message from the fortune teller to the protagonist had been far from original, but those age-old wisdoms often hold some truth. And if it are the same ones that get told over and over, well, isn’t that like just like stories? The same tropes and archetypes woven together into countless different tales. Heroes fighting bravely for their cause and strangers turning to lovers.

Later he will tell himself it was the homely feeling of this place, combined with a bone-deep tiredness, that makes him forget himself and take a pen out of his deep brown leather briefcase—a gift from Adam, who had merely stated it was practical, but Nate knew the effort it must have take his friend to get this exact one, so similar to the one he lost years before.

He sets the tip of the pen to the paper and writes, neatly below the note,

Don’t you think words given in-person hold more weight than those that are mass-printed and impersonal? Certainly more than those on tea of debatable quality.

He jolts at the ding of the old-fashioned shop bell.

“There you are!” Farah’s voice carries all the way to the end of the shop, making Nate wince. “Found him,” she shouts back towards the street.

Through the window, he can just make out the figures of Adam and Morgan.

He quickly closes the book and slips the pen in his bag as if to hide the evidence of his crime. The shopkeeper is nowhere to be seen, although their footsteps sound from behind the thick curtain that must lead to some sort of backroom. He should buy the book, but—

“Are you coming? We’ve been searching for you for ages.” Farah moves her weight from one foot to another, cold wind blowing past her through the still open door.

“One moment.”

Despite the gloominess of the corner and the amount of books, his eye is drawn to the empty spot where the book belongs. Without further debate, he slides it back into place.

“Told you he was going to be in the dustiest place in this city,” Farah is chattering to Morgan and Adam by the time he makes it outside. “We’re in the most exciting place we’ve been in ages and Nate goes to hide between old books.”

Hiding his smile, Nate says, “You do know that many of those ‘old books’ are younger than yourself?”

Farah scoffs. “It’s not about the numbers, Natey, it’s about the vibes.” Looking back at the store, she wrinkles her nose. “And the smell.”

Read the rest on Ao3

[homoerotic-shonen-rival-showdown]

Round Two Match Eight: Sasuke and Naruto (Naruto) vs Gojo and Geto (Jujutsu Kaisen)

why should you vote for them?

Sasuke and Naruto (autoqualified but still got 4 submissions):

duh

Idk I don’t go here I just wanna help them for all the tumblr girlies

because of every single crazy quote they’ve said

Gojo and Geto (3):

uh…divorced. i love them

STSG ESSAY TIME >:)))))) Warning for Jujutsu Kaisen anime/manga spoilers ahead! I had to explain deep dark depths of the story to prove that they deserve to win the crown. Here I go. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru (also known as Satosugu or simply stsg) deserve to win the crown for the following reasons. Please bear with me throughout this whole essay because I am unequivocally insane about them. First of all let’s get into the rivalry side of things.

In high school, Gojo was an absolute menace. The first time Gojo and Geto met, the latter hated the former because he was annoying, rude, and arrogant. Now eventually they became best friends, but you see, their rivalry returned when Geto was exiled from the school because they had a stark disagreement in moral ideologies, which resulted in a dramatic breakup in front of a KFC (yes, this is actually canon). Gojo was supposed to execute Geto because he did some Bad Things (that we don’t need to get into right now) but as Geto walked away he said (paraphrased) “Go ahead and kill me. There’s meaning to that.” And My Lord is that a line. So for the next ten years of their lives, these two were separated, now on opposite sides, now each others’ enemies. Eventually this came to a climax when Geto declared war on Gojo, but before we get to that, let’s pause for a second, and talk about the meaning behind this all. I’ll try to make this part quick because without restraint this would become excessively long. So technically, Gojo and Geto’s breakup directly caused the plot of Jujutsu Kaisen to unfold. If they hadn’t broken up, then Geto wouldn’t have declared war and then died. If they hadn’t broken up, Geto’s body wouldn’t have been possessed; his body wouldn’t have, completely against his will, trapped Gojo in a prison, as Geto sat back helpless, unable to do anything to stop his best friend from being sealed *by his own hands*. Every single other tragic event that happened in Jujutsu Kaisen would not have happened, because, assuming you have never watched/read Jujutsu Kaisen, no, Gojo and Geto are not the main characters, and the whole rest of the cast was affected by this event. Yes, this homoerotic rivalry breakup is the very Big Bang for Jujutsu Kaisen, because if it didn’t happen, Jujutsu Kaisen wouldn’t have the incredible plot that it has. Butterfly Effect at its finest. Anyway, now that their rivalry is out of the way, I will now get into their homoeroticism.

My first piece of evidence for their homoeroticism is that… it’s in the name. Both of their first names start with “s” and end with “ru”. Both of their last names start with “g” and end with “o”. And both of their full names have the same amount of syllables. There is no possible way that this wasn’t done on purpose to get the point across that they are literal soulmates. Do I sound insane yet? In addition, Gojo called Geto, and I quote, “my one and only”. Now if that isn’t some fruit ass shit then idk what is. And now the most damning evidence of homoness, comes when Geto died by Gojo’s side. This was after the war that Geto declared on Gojo, and Geto ended up on the losing side. Even though they had been rivals for ten long years, they still had an important and heartfelt history together, so as Gojo walked over to his dying best friend, Geto smiled, glad to see not only an old friend, but the most important person in his life, for the last time. Gojo’s last words to Geto as he died were NEVER REVEALED. Only very very few producers of the anime know the words. They will be released soon but for now we don’t know. But it was confirmed that his last words were THREE WORDS. Now I don’t wanna put any words in Gojo’s mouth but the most obvious theory here is that he said “I love you” as his best friend and rival of 10+ years died by his side. This is even further affirmed when, after hearing those three words, Geto BLUSHED, SMILED (as he was in the process of bleeding out!) and described the words as (paraphrased) “embarrassing words that they had never said to each other before”. IT’S BARELY SUBTEXT AT THIS POINT YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THEY’RE GAY AS HELL!

Now before this gets any longer I will cut myself off here. Thank you for coming to my way-too-long Ted Talk about these stupid ass anime men who have been plaguing my mind for months, I hope you take my submission into consideration! I don’t expect them to win but I’m just happy I get to aggressively type an essay about them in this google form :D