#she's spent her whole life being ridiculed

[sturnioz]

shy!reader has been pretty much m.i.a all week, and fratboy!chris does not care. no seriously, he doesn’t care.

he’s just kept his eyes peeled every night through crowds of sweaty bodies jammed into his living room, and even through the sluggish crowds of tired students in college hallways, yet he couldn’t find you.

it was on the 6th night when chris was seriously considering showing up at your place — for no reason just he needed your lit notes, of course —when he received a text from nick.

nick, the eldest — and no doubt more mature —triplet. chris’ eyebrows furrowed at the notification, why was nick texting him at 10:30pm on a weeknight? kid cares way too much about being on time for class in the mornings

—

Nick: *image attached* isn’t this one of your girls?

—

the somewhat blurry picture was taken from a distance in the old, dusty library on campus. you sat in a corner, a mess of notes, books and your laptop sprawled on the desk in front of you. you looked weak, your hair a mess, bags prominent under your eyes.

before chris could even react, his phone buzzed again

—

i’m not a total creeper, i’ve just noticed her here every night this week and i’m pretty sure she has not changed her sweatshirt once

or pretty much left this library.

i seriously hope this is actually her and not a complete stranger

you know what, i’m talking to her. don’t change my mind.

—

chris groaned, the realisation of finals week dawning on him. sometimes chris forgets how much college actually means to you, and how ridiculously sick it makes you.

he did not have time for this, he had customers to please, yet - he didn’t hesitate. he’s huffing and complaining pretty much the whole time, but he’s quick to make his way over to the library he’s really not too familiar with, saving you from the shackles that is a conversation with a redbull fueled nick sturniolo.

-

you can take it from here, love u pooks mwah

- 🫧

gonna take it from here in shy!readers pov cos i want nick and shy!reader to have some one on one time before fratboy!chris grumpily comes over !!

your back aches with a constant throb, your eyes feel gritty and sore, and a dull headache pulses at your temples, making it difficult for you to concentrate. hunched over in the dimly lit corner of the library, you've spent countless of hours — days — buried in textbooks, scribbles notes and laptop screens, desperately trying to absorb everything before your exams.

the week has been relentless, leaving you physically and emotionally drained, as if the weight of your studies is pressing down on you.

you haven't seen chris in almost a week. the silence has been deafening — no texts lighting up your phone, no calls breaking the quiet, and no facetime calls at late hours. truth be told, you did put your phone on do not disturb, silencing any incoming calls to shield yourself from distractions. it's not that you intended to cut off all communication completely; you simply needed space.

you needed to be alone, to gather your thoughts, and to focus on your studies, to not be distracted by his intense social life.

however, you are distracted when someone slams a stack of textbooks onto the table opposite you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. startled, you lift your tired gaze, and your heart thumps when you recognise a familiar that slumps into the seat across from you.

he runs a hand through his tousled mullet, adjusting the thin-framed glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose before flashing you a friendly grin.

you know who he is. you've seen him in countless pictures and instagram posts with chris and matt. yet, despite your familiarity with his image, you've never met him in person — you never even spoke a word to each other, and you find yourself sliding further down in your seat, a wave of awkwardness and shyness washing over you.

"hello—fuck!" nick curses as he sets his can of red bull down on the wooden table, only for it to topple over and spill a little. flustered and annoyed, he mutters under his breath, hastily dabbing at the tiny droplets on the table with the sleeve of his sweater. his eyes finally meet yours again, and he offers another grin. "hello."

"hi.." you manage to respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i've noticed that you're, like, constantly glued to this fucking seat, like you haven't moved the entire week—" nick pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realises how awful his wording sounds. he quickly holds up his hand, a look of urgency in his expression. "i'm not a creep. i wasn't staring at you. i know you—i think i know you—no, i do know you. you're, like, kinda with my brother. chris. that's you, right? god, tell me that's you, 'cos i'm gonna end up losing my mind—"

"yeah," you cut off his intense rambling, which is probably fuelled by the red bull he keeps fidgeting with. "that... that's me, yeah."

nick blinks at you in silence for a moment before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he bluntly says. "wow, you really are quiet," you become a little flustered at that, tearing your gaze away from him until he asks incredulously. "the fuck are you doing with chris of all people?"

a subtle smile pulls at your lips at that, especially when you glance back at his face and see the shock etched across it. honestly, you don't even know what you're doing with chris, but it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to go into the details with his brother. so, you simply shrug your shoulders in response.

nick suddenly deadpans. "blink twice if you need my help."

now that makes you laugh — a genuine, unexpected sound that splutters past your lips. you quickly cover your mouth, eyes widening as the sound echoes through the library and you glance around, paranoid that someone might shoot you the dirtiest look and demand you to shut up or leave.

but nick waves it off dismissively when he notices your worries, "they can go fuck themselves."

you remain silent for a moment, considering his words, before stating, "we... are in a library."

"then they can go fuck themselves quietly."

another genuine, but quieter, laugh escapes you. you find yourself relaxing a bit more with him, opening up and feeling more comfortable as nick takes charge of the conversation; showing genuine interest in your major, your studies, and your hobbies.

you do the same, getting to know him better, and even getting a little excited when you realise how many similarities you share. the more you chat, the more your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. the tiredness that had once taken over you begins to fade away, replaced by a lightness you haven't felt in days, and your books and notes sit forgotten on the table.

however, your head perks up in surprise when you spot chris walking through the double doors. he's wearing a beanie on top of his head with tuffs of curly hair peeking out, a hoodie that swallows his frame, and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

he glances around the library, his eyes finally zeroing in on you and nick at the far end of the room. you can't quite read his expression — his face stoic as he makes his way over.

he drops down in the chair beside you, and nick immediately pulls a face, shooting you a look that makes you giggle again, and chris huffs at the sound, clearly unimpressed.

"stop botherin' her," chris mutters, his foot hooking comfortably beneath your chair as he settles in.

"m'not."

chris rolls his eyes, ignoring nick's response as he turns his attention to you. he takes you in for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he says, "tell him he's botherin' you, kid."

you can't help but smile gently. "he's not bothering me. he's been fun.. i like his company."

"told you," nick muses across from across the table. chris snaps his head towards nick, shooting him a glare as nick lifts the can of red bull to his mouth, a smirk spreading across his lips as he adds, "bitch."

[cottonlemonade]

Mr Steal Your Girl

word count: 1311 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, University

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Kenma tries to ask you out but has awful timing

It was already hard enough to dress for a normal date but finding an outfit for a blind date you didn’t want to go to to begin with was impossible.

Your best friend was annoyed that she couldn’t take you and your chronically single self on any double dates and so decided to take matters into her own hands. At least once every few months she would close her eyes and pick a random guy walking around the campus cafeteria and ask if he was interested in a “cool, funny, smart girl that was just too shy to ask herself” and most of the time that was enough. The date was set, your friend dragged you along and you had a miserable two hours before being allowed to return to your natural habitat - your dorm room.

In her defense, most guys she selected were actually very nice. And except for the last one who had forgotten his wallet, then ate his weight in burgers, let you pay, and had since vanished without a trace or payback, they all knew how to behave. They kept the conversations going, complimented you, and usually asked for a second date, but you liked being alone and besides, dating was stressful. Who needed the whole hassle of getting dressed up and leaving the house? You wanted someone who liked to spend their time indoors, watch movies, play games, build a Lego set or two, snuggle, and snack.

Kenma was convinced that you were perfect for him. Witty, had excellent taste in games and music, and a figure that put every body pillow he ever received as a promo gift to shame. He spent the better part of any lecture twirling his pen in his long fingers and staring at the back of your head, then quickly snapping his eyes the other way, pretending to look intently at the monitor upfront if you happened to turn around during a stretch. He remembered overhearing one of his former classmates once saying that asking someone out was easy, but now that Kenma absently drew a heart with your initials on the side of his notes, he found he didn’t share that sentiment. Partly because he didn’t like to go out in the first place, so how would he convincingly invite someone to something he didn’t even want to go to either?

None of his friends knew about his crush on you and he wasn’t going to admit it to them. Not because he would be embarrassed if they knew, but because he didn’t want to be grouped together with your small and not-so-secret on-campus fan club - a bunch of desperate boys who all wanted a piece of the chubby queen of homebodies. So he denied any allegations that quickening his sluggish steps on the way to the lecture hall to sit in your vicinity, his sleep-deprived heart eyes and doodle-adorned notepads meant anything. Pondering, he tapped the tip of his pen onto the paper, trying to figure out a way to invite you to play games with him, romantically. He wasn‘t going to stoop as low as to ask Kuroo for help and instead took to the wild seas of the internet for advice.

As he scrolled through the many many forums, sifting through mostly bad ideas, he overheard one of your friends say, “It‘s just dinner and a movie. Give him a chance. He is the captain of the swim team after all.“

Kenma‘s heart sank - and then bounced back up immediately when you groaned.

“Look, it‘s sweet and … a little concerning how much you care about my love life, but I‘m not interested in him. Or anyone really. I just prefer to be alone.“

100% understanding and agreeing with you, Kenma chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking if it would come across as weird and creepy if he were to ask you to be alone together.

“But I worry about you.“, the friend pouted.

You laughed and gently put a hand on her shoulder, “Not everyone meets the love of their life at university.“

In truth, you just didn‘t want your friend to know about your ridiculous crush on Kodzuken. Your heart had almost jumped out of your chest when you first spotted the tell-tale half-dyed ponytail in your class and heard the all too familiar voice during a presentation project. It was silly, really, and you did well pushing your infatuation to the very back of your mind.

After all, whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of him he would look away immediately, making it all too clear that wasn‘t interested in a conversation.

It was no use either way. Your friend wouldn‘t stop pushing until you were social for an evening so you chose your usual - well fitted jeans and a thin, long sleeved sweater to keep the cold and any potential bodily contact to a minimum. Your friend waved when she recognized you getting off the bus. She was already waiting in the arms of her boyfriend with a tower of a guy right next to them, who, when seeing who his set-up was going to be, looked a little disappointed. Oh great.

Kenma felt more pathetic by the second. All day he had tried to work up the courage to catch you in a calm minute to ask you out before your date. If it went well with that guy, chances were he wouldn’t ever let you go (if he knew what was best for him), so this was basically his last opportunity ever. When he didn’t manage to ask during class, then neither during lunch, nor in the library he never went to before, and neither at the bus stop, he thought he might as well face the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. But he found himself a few hours later behind you in the queue at the movie theater, he heard you were planning to go to. He would have to ask now before he’d have to buy a ticket. As he politely waited for a lull in the conversation between you and the Iron Man your friend set you up with, Kenma tried to busy himself with a game on his phone to calm his nerves. But he became so engrossed in a level that he missed his chance and could only watch you walk away with your friends. He should just give up. This was ludicrous.

“One ticket to whatever movie they just went to.”, he said before he could stop himself.

Just turn around. Turn around and leave. Come on.

But his feet had other plans. With the overpriced movie stub in hand, he shuffled to the auditorium and searched in the crowd for you. Unfortunately, the first marker he found was the tall guy next to you, talking to your friend and boyfriend, leaving you to sit quietly and awkwardly to the side.

He walked up the steps and your eyes met. Your cheeks blushed, as did his, and with the confidence of a deflated balloon, he came to a halt next to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey y/n, I’m Kenma. I’m in your business class.”

“I know.”, you said and he was already relieved. First hurdle down. Now, carefully…

“Do you wanna go to a gaming café together?”

“Wha- right now?”

“I mean, yeah, if you don’t have anything else going on.”, he looked past you to the guy who just stared at him in disbelief and added in appeasement of your date, “Nothing personal.”

You exchanged a look with your friend who was just as shocked as the others and she shrugged. You turned back to Kenma.

“Sure thing.”

He held out his hand, then felt silly doing so and was about to lower it when you grabbed it.

“Lead the way.”, you said brightly and he did.

[lucy-moderatz]

[lilyharvord]

I need people to understand that my hyperfixation ships are limited to one thing: a man who is usually in full control of himself meeting 1 woman and losing complete and utter control over absolutely everything he does.

I just like to watch when they go full feral for a woman who could literally chew them up and spit them out, but choses to let them stick around because I don't know, it's nice to have someone carrying their bag or whatever.

[killerlookz]

heyyy💋 so could i request a fic where reader is an eurovision contestant and basically her & joost are attached to the hip. they are seen being all cuddly with each other, flirting, sitting as close to each other as possible, the cameras catching your non so secret glances.. generally acting like a couple. but when the press asks you about this whole situation, you both deny that you have something going on between you two, but deep down you know that those gestures are not so “innocent” at all🤭🤭

a/n: ooooh i love a cheeky little secret romance!! thank you for the request anon <3

Just Friends | Joost Klein

content: gn! reader, very brief allusion to sex, joost and reader are so down bad for each other its a little pathetic, mostly fluff, some angst if you look at it under a microscope. this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 2128

You sit on the edge of your hotel bed, you smile, your cheeks grow hot, letting out a small breath from your nose, replacing a genuine laugh.

Your phone sits in your lap, opened to a message

Joost Klein: When were you planning to tell me that I'm your secret lover 😓

What followed was a screenshot from some European tabloid sight, headed by: Eurovision Contestants Spotted Getting Cozy: Secret Lovers Revealed?!

Below were two grainy photos of you and Joost, taken just moments apart from each other. Taken from behind, they showed the two of you walking side by side, just outside the hotel you were staying in. It would have looked more like a friendly exchange if your hands hadn't been locked together.

You knew you'd have to explain everything eventually, that was the third headline this week that had come out about you and Joost. Another showed the two of you sharing a hug that looked a little too close for it to be friendly, in another you had a hand planted on his chest, and your head tilted back mid-laugh.

It all seemed a little ridiculous. You knew Eurovision was one of the largest events in all of Europe- but still, you couldn't have imagined how interested people would be in your personal life off the stage.

It was nothing too scandalous anyway, you and Joost had known each other prior to Eurovision. And sure, you were more casual friends, despite being from different countries, the two of you had run in similar circles with music and all. You had spent the last few years admiring each other's music, usually from afar, the times the two of you had genuinely hung out before all this were few and far between. Your conversations were usually reserved for more chaotic moments, either backstage at the end of a show or in the crowd for a musician friend the two of you had in common.

You couldn't exactly explain away all of the touchy-touchy stuff, but you never expected that you would have to, it had just always been like that, ever since you first met. Truthfully, the two of you were closer than the tabloid photos led on. But they didn't have to know that.

Hasty fingers tap at your phone screen

apparently it's so secret that i didn't know it either!

You send your response to Joost before closing your phone and tossing it somewhere on the bed. You lay back, landing on the firm mattress with a small bounce.

Your eyelids are lowered, trying your best to keep focus on the woman in front of you through heavy lids- though it seems impossible with the crisp white LEDs shining in your face.

"So, have you made any connections with any other contestants since you've been here in Malmö?" The woman asks, a curious eyebrow-raising as she guides the microphone in her hands in front of your face.

You know exactly what she wants to hear from you, the hunger is evident in her eyes, she licks her lips in desperation for a scoop, before her mouth pulls into a sly smile, it all feels so predatory. You swallow thickly, shifting a quick gaze toward the cameraman before flicking your eyes back to the reporter, who has an equally as hungry look on his face, and you realize, you are their prey.

"Yeah, absolutely," You nod, your face lights up, "I've honestly really connected with Bambi Thug, they're really bringing such a new and innovative sound to Eurovision, I really admire them for that, and don't let the makeup and costumes fool you they are an absolute sweetheart!" It wasn't a lie, Joost was not the only person you had talked to since the competition started. You did make friends while you'd been here.

The journalist loses her grin, her face now twisted with dissatisfaction.

"Anyone else?" She asks, nearly cutting you off, her microphone still stuck in your face.

"Marina has been an absolute joy too," Your smile lingers on your lips, "And Nemo- they're great too!"

"Well," The journalist starts, facing the microphone back to her, "I think we've all been hearing the rumors about some sparks flying between you and the Dutch representative, Joost Klein, is there any truth to them?"

You're a little taken back by her forwardness to just outright ask the question,

"I wasn't aware of any rumors," You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in vehement denial, "But Joost is great too, we've known each other for a few years now, and I've been a big fan of his music, and he's a great friend." You breathe out, silently hoping the answer is satisfactory for the journalist to cease probing any further.

"No potential for anything more than a friendship?"

"Oh no," You shake your head, nearly scoffing as the words choke out of your mouth, and you hope you're as good of an actress as you are a singer, "Again, Joost is great, but he's just my friend."

"Alright," She nods her head slowly, unsatisfied. The way the journalist's eyes linger on you makes it clear she doesn't quite believe you- but it would be inappropriate of her to ask you any more questions on the matter.

"Would you like to talk about my music now?"

"I just don't know why they're acting like we had a sex tape leak- do these people not hug their friends?" You throw your hands up, frustrated. The last two days had been nothing but interviews, but it seemed none of the interviewers were as interested in your actual Eurovision performance as they were in potentially getting the first scoop on what was "going on" between you and Joost.

"I mean that would give them something to talk about," Joost chuckles, standing at the foot of your hotel bed, he's clad in nothing but a white tank top and his underwear. The tight fabric of what little he's wearing clings to his body, leaving just about nothing to the imagination. He ruffles a hand through his already messy hair. You'd wondered what the tabloids would say if they got a whiff of this, "All press is good press"

"Are you suggesting something, Mr. Klein?" You flash a look at him, your eyes piercing his. Your words come out much harsher than you had intended them to, you couldn't help it, your frustration was evident.

Joost placed a hand behind his neck, rubbing anxiously, throwing a sheepish look in your direction as to insinuate he had been suggesting something. You knew he was only joking, but the thought of actually doing such a thing made your face hot. A light pink blush burned on your face as you stared up at him.

"You're filthy," You giggle, and your hands latch on to a pillow that sits next to you, and you fling it in Joost's direction.

He takes a step back as the pillow hits him square in the stomach, a loud thump can be heard in the room as contact between his body and the stuffed object is made. He choked out a breath of surprise, and his face winced as he grabbed his stomach in feigned agony,

"How could you," He shakes his head, "I think you broke every single one of my ribs."

"Shush," You scoff, "C'mon, get over here." You pat the bed next to you, shifting yourself over to one side.

In typical Joost fashion, he practically jumps onto the bed. He adjusts himself in such a way that his shoulder is brushing up against yours. He's warm, and you want nothing more than to crawl into his arms. It was almost pitiful the way you wanted him, completely desperate. And yet, you don't dare to act- not right now.

The room falls silent as the both of you hesitate to say anything. The room is thick with a humid tension, and words left unsaid. Your reccolection of the last few days seemed non-existent yet ever-present at the same time. Everything had left you wondering the same exact questions as every journalist who had talked to you today, what was going on between you and Joost?

"I can feel the stress radiating off of you," Joost finally speaks, "Are you okay?"

You furrow your eyebrows, looking down into your lap where your fingers are not fidgeting and intertwined. Your face twitches.

"Are you really so upset about those interviews? Do you want to stop this, I can lea-"

"No," you cut him off all too quickly, "No stay. Please." Your voice had shriveled down to nothing but a pathetic whisper. As confusing as your feelings had been, the confusion seemed to be better than not having them at all. It was hard being away from home and feeling like you were bracing the weight of the world or at least of Europe against your shoulders. Joost, at least, was a source of comfort, something to come back to.

"Okay," He nods, his head moving up and down slowly.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't felt some sort of way about Joost before all of this. His affectionate nature with you seemed to cross all of the wires in your brain. He had always been affectionate with his close friends, not afraid to spare a hug or an arm around the shoulder when he felt like it, but with you it seemed different, especially taking into account neither of you would exactly consider the other as a "best friend."

Besides, even if you were, best friends don't usually stay up all night, lying on top of each other in some state of undress, lips hungrily pressed against one another. This whole situation had left you feeling like you were a teen again, the prickling feeling in your chest of excitement and anxiety of sneaking around to see a boy you liked. It was addicting, the adrenaline that flooded each and every inch of your body, as the two of you snuck off from the afterparties where your appearances were all but mandatory. You'd be lying if you said it didn't at least help a little to take the edge off of all the stress of the competition.

An arm snakes around your shoulder, and immediately Joost is clicking his tongue disapprovingly

"So tense," He mumbles, "Lay down, will you?" His voice is quiet, nearly pleading, and much more timid than you're used to. You feel compelled to oblige, spellbound, his soft words are like hypnosis.

Joost's arm slips from where it sits around your shoulder as you sink into the pillows below. You allow your body to relax into the support of the mattress.

A hand grazes your thigh, trailing down to your knee, Joost gives you a couple gentle taps, "Put your legs up, I'll pull down the blanket for you."

You oblige, bending your knees to pull them inward, and Joost hops off the bed for a moment, grabbing the thick white comforter in his hands from its neatly made position. You shift as he pulls it from under your body, allowing the blanket to slip down to your feet.

The bed dips as Joost crawls back to his position next to you. He reaches out to the foot of the bed, pulling the comforter up to cover the two of you.

"So," You start, rolling on your side, facing away from Joost, "Did they ask you about me?"

The blanket above you shifts as Joost adjusts himself to lie down next to you. He places a gentle hand against your hip, rubbing careful circles against the fabric that separates your skin from his. His chin rests upon your shoulder, and almost instinctively you nuzzle your cheek against his.

"Mhmm," His gentle hum vibrates against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"What did you say?" You ask and your teeth clench, your eyes shut tight, waiting with anticipation for his response, hoping for it to line up with yours. You could only imagine the suspicion that would arise if the two of you were to have given entirely different answers to the same question.

"I told them we're friends, just friends."

Your jaw slacks at the relief, and you let out a sigh, eyes fluttering open. But something about those words coming from his mouth, just friends, as his words graze your ears your relief is coupled with a stinging feeling in your chest, a sharp reminder of the peculiar position you had found yourself in.

"And are we," You pause, "Just friends?"

Joost picks his head up from where it rests on your shoulder, ghosting the exposed flesh of your arm with a kiss.

"Not if you don't want us to be."

a/n: i added a pt. II to this, read it here!

[chandralia]

Toga saying she loves both boys and girls explicitly, that she loves differently, was ridiculed/abused for FOR loving differently, saying she wanted to be like people around her instead. Twice suggesting her villain name be Carmilla? (THE FIRST LESBIAN VAMPIRE)

Ochako calling herself strange for wanting to save Toga, reaching out and leveling, speaking in a way only Toga can understand, telling her she’s the cutest girl in the whole world, and offering to give Toga her blood for the rest of her life??

Deku saying “I’ve spent my life chasing after you,”“you’re my image of victory,” that he “can’t imagine a world in which kacchan doesn’t exist,” “kacchan and everyone else” over and over again, LOSING HIS MIND WHEN ONLY KATSUKI’S INJURED, being told to control his heart three times (COUNT THEM: THREE) over Katsuki?? Kudou having to use Katsuki to motivate Deku? “their feelings become one” just from locking eyes…???? Deku’s world shifting when Katsuki’s alive again, looking at him in awe (the way he’s only ever looked at him).

Katsuki risking his life for Deku repeatedly, thinking of only him before death, having to imagine Deku in danger to further his quirk, being targeted because he’s the closest to Deku (VERBALLY STATED BY SHIGAFO), avoiding medical care at every turn to get to Deku, always reminiscing about their past, A MISSED HANDHOLD, imagining their future together and breaking down crying in front of Deku at the possibility of that being ripped from him, saying he wanted them to keep doing this forever?

“that’s just how shonen is, everyone’s gay but no one’s canon” SHUT UP PLEASE. we quite literally do not know what Hori is or isn’t allowed to do. He’s been vocal about fighting for what he wants in his story, and even if it is an executive or editor saying “no you can’t do this” look what he’s managed to do so far.

not to mention THREE canon trans characters, toga correcting overhaul at misgendering. kendo saying “I just want to be me” when talking about gender, the entire side plot with discrimination and people fighting for acceptance, Hori reading and approving all the stuff that happens in the light novels/team up missions, AND thanking/praising those authors for knowing his characters so well.

His assistant (nstime23) openly shipping bkdk, drawing fanart of them, blatantly using their ship name, WHILE STILL BEING MUTUALS WITH HORI.

and the reception???

Hori does not live under a rock. It’s not an “oopsie he made it gay on accident” thing, and it’s not done maliciously either.

sharing what I’ve said before because I’m tired:

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 1 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 2

Summers spent cleaning the Georges' pool, mowing their lawn, fixing up their garage door, and giving the odd oil change to one of their cars was the norm for you. Your father had made it big as a self-made entrepreneur, climbing the ladder rung by rung all the way up from rock bottom, but he had ensured your upbringing reflected his humble roots. That meant that while you never had to go hungry like he did, your allowance was minimal. Enough for school lunch and a few dollars to spare.

Doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood had been your primary means of making money for the last couple of years. The block was pretty fancy, so not everybody wanted to hire some twerp with no experience when a professional was easily available. Even so, rich folk were surprisingly stingy. You had your own equipment, didn't ask for much and had a familiar face. The Georges were your longest-standing clients. Mowing their lawn in summer and shovelling their driveway in winter had been your job since you were thirteen.

That was probably the reason why Regina kept her distance instead of ridiculing you like everybody else. You went to the same high school, Northshore, but that was pretty much it. You hung around your own (loser) ilk and she had her (cool) troupe. She had this odd little clique with Gretchen Wieners and Karen Smith. You didn't know much about the two girls and you couldn't really tell if Regina even liked them. They hung out so they had to have something in common, right? You were but an observer at the end of the day, no matter how your neighbourly vantage point gave you a glimpse into Regina's life.

You counted her ignoring you as a blessing. It would've cut deep to fall victim to her new ways. This persona wasn't that new, you had to admit, but when you'd known her since practically diapers, high school was a pretty new development. She'd never been what people would describe as sweet or nice, but this mean girl persona was on a whole other level.

To be fair, you could very well understand why Regina was the way she was. You knew Mr George. You'd sat at the same dinner table as him, had experienced first-hand how his presence weighed on his family. Especially on Regina. Your father was the same way, all sharp edges with no time for tenderness, not even- especially not for his daughter. That'd been the reason you'd gotten so close to Regina in the first place. Most of the time it was just Regina, her mom and you at their house. Mrs George left you two by yourselves a lot 'cause she had to take care of Kylie. You loved being at the Georges' house.

(Expect, of course, those select few times Mr George was also there. But that was rare. Regina didn't invite you over when he was home.)

And now it'd been reduced to this. You, fishing leaves from the pool. Regina, inside with her new friends. Mrs George, lounging on the patio with a virgin margarita, chatting with you when you rounded the pool closer to her. Kylie, probably in the sitting room dancing along to whatever they played on MTV.

You straightened from your slouched position and groaned at the ache in your back. You leaned back with your hands braced at your sides, trying to stretch out the crick.

"Mrs George?" You hollered and waved your arms in her direction.

"Yes, dear?" She brightened up, perching up in her sun bed.

"You mind if I put my headphones on while I mow the lawn?"

"Oh, sure, of course!" She waved a hand dismissively. "Remember the glasses! And once you're done why don't you have dinner with us?"

"I'll think about it, Mrs George." You smiled with thin lips, knowing you'd be turning the offer down. With that, you plugged your headphones into the Walkman at your hip and walked to the shed.

You wore the safety glasses obediently, knowing all it took to blind you was one unlucky pebble to the eye. Your dad had been sure to lecture you about workplace safety over the years, like every time you stepped foot in the shop, so at this point putting on embarrassing safety equipment was second nature.

The Georges had a big lawn. Stingy rich people, couldn't get one of those driveable mowers. You'd be pushing this cart around till nightfall, or something...

Usher's newest album blasting in your ears and the rumbling of the lawn mower muffling all background noise, you didn't notice her at first. By the time you caught sight of Regina standing on the patio stairs, looking your way, hands on her hips and a displeased frown on her lips, you feared you were too late.

You let the engine die and tugged your headphones away from your ears. "What?" You yelled across the pool.

She rolled her eyes before answering. "Mom wants you in for dinner."

"Oh," This had never happened before. Usually, Mrs George would come round to give you your payment, ask you to stay and you'd say no. She'd smile sadly and say "Maybe next time, sweetie".

"She made casserole," Regina said, inspecting her nails. What was for dinner was definitely not the reason for your hesitation.

"Uh, I don't wanna intrude-"

"You wouldn't have been invited if it was an intrusion, idiot." She cut in sharply. "Don't be rude." And so, she swept inside.

"Uh- I- I'll finish up as fast as I can!"

[enhas-pov]

can you make heeseung one but LONGERRR PLSSS MAKE IT SERIES

my stalker

summary: lee heeseung has been obsessing over reader ever since he first saw her. he wants her all to himself, but how is that gonna be possible when she has no idea of who he is.

warnings: stalking, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, secret photography, kidnapping, fake rumors, unwanted touching, unwanted gifts, property damage, drugging, being followed, etc.

word count: 3.2k

note: i’m pretty uninspired but i’ll try my best to make it into a series and make each part as long as i can:(

════════════════════════

lee heeseung had never really paid attention to any girl before. being in a relationship was the last thing on his mind. he thought it sounded ridiculous. being in love? not his thing. well that was until he found out about, ___. she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on. she was perfect in every single way, almost like she wasn’t even real. he couldn’t believe it, had he actually caught feelings for someone? he had never felt this way before. is this what love felt like? it was the best thing he had ever felt. there was one small problem about all of this tho. ___ didn’t know who heeseung was. she didn’t know anything about him, not a single thing. heeseung on the other hand knew everything about her. he had spent his whole life following her and watching every move she made. she was all he could ever think about. heeseung wasn’t gonna give up until she was his.

“ningning. i already told you, i’m not going” i walked out of class along with the other students and my best friend, ningning. “come on! everyone’s going, why aren’t you?” she was begging me to go with her to a party that this guy yeonjun was throwing. i honestly just couldn’t be bothered to go. “i simply don’t feel like going” ningning let out a groan before crossing her arms. “fine. i’ll just go by myself, all alone..” she was obviously trying to make me feel bad about not going, but it wasn’t working. “have fun” i said, walking away from her so i could get to my locker. “you’re such a party pooper!” i heard her say as i walked away. when i reached my locker, i unlocked it and reached inside to grab my books before i noticed something had fallen out. i crouch down to pick up whatever it was. when i took a closer look at it, i realized it was a note from someone anonymous. “i hope you like my gift. it shines as beautifully as your eyes do” huh? i take a look inside my locker and spot a jewelry box. i took it out and looked at it for a few seconds out of curiosity before opening it. it revealed a really pretty diamond necklace. i was both confused and shocked. who bought me this necklace? and why would they buy it in the first place? it kinda made me feel uncomfortable, and i didn’t like that feeling at all. i closed the jewelry box and grabbed the note that came along with it, i then walked over to a trash can and threw both of them in it. i shrugged it off and walked to my next class.

little did ___ know, heeseung was stood right there in the corner watching her. what was she gonna do? was she gonna put the necklace on, would she put it in her purse, place it back in her locker? nope. none of those. she threw it away. heeseung felt himself fill up with rage, why would she do that? he spent a lot of money on that necklace just for her. it was supposed to be a special gift but she didn’t appreciate it. now, heeseung didn’t want to hurt ___. but she had just hurt him, so now she’ll get that same energy returned back to her.

i decided to walk home from school today, the weather was nice so why not. the second i caught the view of my house, i was left in shock. what had happened? the window to my living room was smashed, like someone threw a rock or something. i met my mom the second i stepped foot inside, and she looked really worried. “mom? what happened to our window?” she was on a phone call, and i noticed shortly after that it was the police she was talking to. “excuse me, my daughter just got home” she pulled the phone away from her ear so she could explain to me what had happened. “i was in the kitchen making dinner when i heard the sound of glass breaking. i rushed to the living room and saw this guy with a baseball bat running away. it was really odd, i’m glad you were at school when it happened” she put her phone back up to her ear as she continued talking to the police. i was really confused. i didn’t know why anyone would do that, especially to us. we hadn’t done anything. my mom was right, it was really odd.

i let out a big yawn when i walked into school. i didn’t get much sleep after what had happened. i was kinda scared it would happen again while i was sleeping, but thankfully it didn’t. “___, where have you been?” ningning came out of nowhere, grabbed me by my arm and dragged me to a corner. “sorry. i was too tired to get up on time-“⠀ ⠀ “well, while you got your extra 5 minutes of sleep, everyone here has been talking about you. and it’s not good” what was she talking about? why were people talking about me, and what were they saying? “i’m confused, explain” ningning bit down on her lip. it was like a part of her didn’t want to tell me. “well.. you know how you didn’t want to go to yeonjun’s party?” this can’t be good. “yes..?” she let out a big sigh before she finally told me what everyone had been saying about me. “people are saying it’s because you’re a whore whose fucked not just him, but his four other friends as well. and they’re not denying it either” sorry, what? “that’s the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard. i’m literally a virgin. and i don’t know yeonjun, or his friends!” this rumor was definitely gonna ruin my life, and i didn’t feel like sticking around to watch it happen. “i’m just gonna go home. text me” ningning replied with a simple ‘okay’ before i turned around and left. as i was making my way out of school, i could feel everyone’s eyes on me. they were all judging me and i have never felt more embarrassed in my life.

i was now laying in my bed, scrolling through random messages i had gotten from people around my school. they were all making fun of me for being a “whore” which i was not. whatever. i blocked every single one of them and finally felt better, until i got a phone call from no caller id. i figured it was someone from my school, so i declined it. i felt fine again until my phone started ringing. “no caller id” who was this person? and why couldn’t they just leave me alone for gods sake. declined again. i was gonna put my phone down before i heard that annoying ringing tone again. that’s it. i accepted the call and put the phone up to my ear. “i don’t know who this is, but calling me from no caller id is really creepy. do you not have anything better to do? those rumors are not true, now leave me alone!” i was about to hang up before i heard a guy’s voice from the other line. “calm down, pretty” his voice sounded different from other guys. it made me feel uneasy. “who is this?” when i questioned him, i heard him chuckle which made a chill run down my spine. “the guy who smashed your window and made up those rumors about you” what the hell? was this guy serious? this was really starting to scare me, but i couldn’t show that i feared him. “why did you do those things..?” i could feel my hands starting to shake. i swear i had goosebumps all over my arms. “because you threw away the necklace i got you. it really hurt my feelings, you know?” he did all of those things because of the necklace? i wouldn’t have thrown it away if i knew this would happen. “i’m sorry for throwing away the necklace. it kinda creeped me out. i don’t know who you are” i tried to be as calm as i could, i didn’t want to start freaking out. this guy was capable of doing a lot so i didn’t want to risk anything. “i accept your apology. and as for my identity, i like the fact that you have no idea who i am. it makes this a lot more interesting and fun, no?” interesting and fun? i’d say the complete opposite of that. “well, i’d really like to know more about you” maybe if i started being nice i could get on his good side, and he could stop the rumors. “i bet you do. it was nice talking to you, pretty. i’ll see you soon” and then he hung up. why did he keep on calling me pretty? it was weird how he had a nickname for me. but it was even weirder how he was the one to had done all of those things.

her voice was beautiful. heeseung loved the way he felt when he heard the sound of her voice. it was his first time talking to her and he couldn’t wait any longer. he needed her, he needed to have her all to himself. he looked up at all of the pictures he had of her on his wall. whenever he followed her, he would bring a camera and take pictures of her. oh it was his favorite thing to do. he absolutely loved it. the pictures he loved the most were the ones he took of her when she was changing out of her clothes. he thought she looked so cute in her tiny little pink panties, and that laced bra that held her boobs perfectly. he wanted to touch her so bad, to feel every inch of her body. the thought of it made him excited. he had so many plans for them made.

i haven’t been to school in a few days due to the rumors. i’ve been talking to ningning of course, but i couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call i had with that guy. i wanted to know who he was so bad. why did he even get me that necklace? that obviously means he has a thing for me, right? but why? i can recognize anyone by their voice, and i sure as hell didn’t recognize him. how can he like someone who has no idea of who he is? i’m weirded out by this whole situation. i wanted to tell ningning, my mom, and obviously the cops but it didn’t feel safe. i was scared of what that guy would do if i did, so i decided not to tell anyone about it. i felt extremely bored tho. i didn’t like sitting in my room all day, i needed some fresh air. it was already dark outside but i didn’t mind. i really enjoy going on night walks. i made my way downstairs before putting on my sneakers and heading out. i was still wearing my pajamas, i didn’t think it was a problem since i’d probably end up walking for like 5 minutes before turning back. i found comfort in the silence and nature, but as i made my way down this dark pathway i started feeling weird, like i was being watched or maybe even followed. no, i was definitely being paranoid. it’s late at night and i’m on my own so of course those thoughts will start taking over. i quickly turned around when i heard the sound of footsteps that weren’t mine, this was really starting to creep me out. i could barley see anything due to the darkness, i was now sure that i wasn’t on my own. i wanted to turn around and go back home, but i heard the footsteps coming from behind me so i couldn’t. i decided to walk faster and further down the pathway, i didn’t know where it would lead me since i had never been here before, but i was willing to take the chance. i was hoping i misheard and that there were no footsteps, but when i heard them again and this time closer to me, i panicked and instead started running. i felt myself getting out of breath, i needed to stop running. i looked behind me and saw absolutely no one. i stopped running and took a few seconds to catch my breath. “you’re a fast runner” i jumped at the sound of a guy’s voice. i turned around to see a tall figure standing over me, i felt extremely terrified at that moment. but wait, his voice. i’ve heard it before. who’s voice was it? … it can’t be. before i got the chance to start screaming for help, my mouth was quickly covered with a cloth by the guy. i yelped into the cloth and tried to get away from him by pushing at his chest, but i felt myself getting tired out of nowhere. “shh. don’t be scared, pretty” i could feel him wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer to him, and before i knew it.. i had lost consciousness.

finally, heeseung thought to himself. she was right there, unconscious in his arms. she looked so pretty like this, weak and helpless. he removed the cloth from her mouth and placed it in his pocket, he then lifted her chin up so he could get a better look at her. “what a beauty..” he couldn’t hold back, he needed to feel her. even if it was just for a second. he leaned in closer, and the second his lips touched hers, he moaned into her mouth. he pulled away after he had felt his lips on hers, that was all he needed for now. he had one arm around her waist and brought the other one under her legs so he could lift her up. he walked all the way over to his car before opening the trunk and slowly placing her down. he took a moment to admire her beauty before placing a kiss on her forehead. he closed the trunk and got into the driver’s seat. she was finally his.

my back felt extremely uncomfortable. i blinked a few times before i was finally able to fully open my eyes. i was laying on the cold hard floor, no wonder my back was hurting. i looked around and saw nothing familiar, where was i? i tried standing up, but my legs felt numb. i remained sat on the floor while i was looking around trying to figure out where i was. how did i even get here? i don’t remember anything. maybe this is all just a dream- i turned around when i heard the sound of a door creaking, i watched this tall unfamiliar guy walk in. i could barley see his face. “look who’s finally awake” he crouched down in front of me, but i moved backwards until i felt my back hit the wall. i was scared of him, i didn’t know who this random guy was. did he put me in here? he chuckled before he moved closer to me. “are you scared of me?” he leaned down until his lips were almost touching mine. i lied and shook my head. he hummed while he brought his hand up to put a strand of hair behind my ear that was in front of my face. “you’re lying” he said, his eyes looking right into mine. his eyes alone were intimidating. i shook my head once again, no words leaving my mouth. he tilted his head slightly. his eyes looked away from mine, he was now looking down at something. but what? i followed his eyes and noticed how he was staring down at my chest. i quickly covered myself with my hand which made him look back up at me. “it’s okay. you don’t have to be shy around me” he grabbed my hand and forcefully removed it so that my chest was revealed to him again. i saw him biting his lip, and the sight of it made me sick. “please-“ that was the first word that came out of my mouth. i watched him furrow his eyebrows at me. “please don’t do anything to me..” a smile appeared on his face. what was he smiling about? “i’m sorry, pretty. you’re too good for me to resist” i gasped when i felt his cold hand sneak up from under my shirt. he grabbed my boob and squeezed it before he pinched at my nipple. i whimpered at the pain, but he seemed to like that. “shit. make that sound again” i shook my head. he was a disgusting pervert, i wasn’t going to listen to him. “no?” he questioned, removing his hand from underneath my shirt. “no” i mumbled. he didn’t say anything, he just leaned down and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

i was confused until i felt him placing small kisses down my neck. i felt his hand traveling down to my thigh and squeezing it. i felt like this was going somewhere, and since i had never experienced anything like that i needed to stop him. “i’ve never been with anyone before..” i blurted out. he stopped kissing my neck and lifted his head up to look at me. “i know” he said. he knows? how does he know? “i’ll go easy on you. don’t worry” he leaned in, his face getting closer to mine. was he gonna kiss me? i quickly turned my head so that his lips missed mine, but he didn’t seem too happy about that. he grabbed me by my chin and forced me to look at him. “don’t resist me. i wouldn’t want to hurt you” before i could react, he forcefully smashed his lips onto mine. i felt his tongue enter my mouth, i had never kissed anyone like this before. but since i didn’t want him to hurt me, i was forced to kiss him back even tho i didn’t know how to. when he finally pulled away to catch his breath, there was a smile on his lips. “i advise you to listen to me and do what i say. if you don’t, i’ll get angry. and i do bad things when i’m angry” his hand was still holding my chin while he was looking at me. “okay?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me. i nodded which made him remove the grip he had on my chin. he got back up on his feet and was now looking down at me. “unfortunately, i can’t trust you yet. you’ll still have to stay down here until i can” how long was he gonna keep me here for? i didn’t like the thought of being left here on my own. i just want to go home. “you can’t stay down here with me..?” i asked in a shaky voice. he smiled down at me, “as much as i’d love to, i’ve got plans for us to make”

taglist: @simjungwon (lmk if u want me to tag u)

[yeeterthek33per]

Loved and Landed (Steph Catley x Reader)

A/n Requested

-------

Steph lives a busy life.

There's her football life. Obviously.

There's her schooling life.

There's the life she lives with her friends and family.

And then there's the life with-

"Steeeeeph, come on, I wanna get there early, I'm not dealing with Katie leaving something for me to find, again."

There's incessant tugging at the sleeve of her red Arsenal hoodie.

Of course, her football life keeps her the most busy.

Especially when she has to drive it to and from home all of the time now that Kyra's living in the house as well.

It had been a hectic process, but the young midfielder had settled in quickly, taking in the familiarity of the Aussie herself and her club teammates' closeness around them.

Quickly becoming a child amongst the older girls on the team, much like a sibling to them, within but a few months.

That being said.

Kyra was a little shit.

And she knew it too.

A demanding one at that.

Hence why Katie had taken to knocking the young brunette down a few pegs.

Her cockiness was starting to show under the protection of the older girls, so the Irish captain had been messing with her enough to take the invincible mindset away from her.

Leaving her ultimately latched onto Steph now.

A lot.

"Seriously, Steph, please, I can't deal with her leaving shaving foam in my boots again."

The older woman raises an eyebrow at the pleading look on Kyra's face.

"You did this to yourself, Ky. Katie's only retaliating because you decided you were king shit enough to put hair dye in her shampoo."

The younger girl whines.

"Don't you think she's retaliated enough? I've had my shoes violated, my shin guards replaced with slightly smaller ones. I mean, the other day, my water bottle was filled with pickle juice. Pickle Juice! For gods sake."

Steph sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, grabbing the last of her stuff to shove into her pack, she gestures to the front door, to which the midfielder eagerly hurries out of and towards the car, waiting impatiently for the defender to unlock it.

"You've seriously gotta apologise to Katie or something. The girl has ten siblings, I can't imagine she hasn't spent her whole life dealing with bratty behaviour from little shits like you."

Kyra scoffs as she hurriedly buckles herself in.

"Rude."

"The truth."

Steph smirks at the small pout that forms on the other girls lips.

"Hurry up and drive."

"So bossy."

-------

As expected, they arrive with hardly any other people around, decidedly much earlier than any of the other girls. Katie wasn't the earliest of player's anyway, so Kyra really shouldn't be worried about her beating them there.

Still, the youngin looks exceptionally nervous as she peaks into the changing room and gingerly makes her way over to her cubby, scanning it with a ridiculous level of detail.

Steph can only shake her head, watching the young girl sheepishly wander around the room, checking for what may well be hidden traps.

Maybe she should talk with Katie about getting her to take it down a notch.

The Irish woman was nothing if not relentless when it came to getting back at someone.

The last thing the team needed was a midfielder with serious trust issues stemming from their infamous yellow card magnet of a winger.

"Ky, relax. She's not even here yet."

"Yeah, but you never know."

"Seriously, it's game day, relax, she won't-"

"Oh, hello, you two. Stephy. Kyra."

The ever so loud and joyful Katie enters the changing room with a bang of the door as it slams open and hits the wall.

Her smirk quirks up a little wider at the sight of the midfielder, who's looking rather sheepishly around her rather than at the Irish woman herself.

"You two extra early today, eh?"

"Ha, something like that."

Steph gives her a look as she nods in Kyra's direction.

"Give the poor girl a break, would ya? I think she's been thoroughly humbled."

Katie snorts in amusement, eyeing her up.

"Eh, she’s fine. I wasn't gonna do anything."

Steph raises a brow at that.

"....Yet."

There it is.

"Of course. Don't mess around too much, though. We still have a game to play, McCabe."

She lets out an unconvincing hum in response, right as some of the other girls start to filter in, Caitlin one of the ones to settle into her cubby beside the defender.

"What's up with the kid?"

Steph snorts.

"Ask your girlfriend. She's been torturing the poor girl."

Caitlin rolls her eyes, turning to Katie, who's now got a cheeky glint in her as she eyes up the younger of the three.

"Katie."

"What? I didn't do any-"

She stops at the look she gets from the Australian, grumbling as she relents and turns back to her cubby.

-------

Kyra's finally able to escape the locker room out of sight of the defender the moment the Irish woman is distracted.

Heading down the hall towards the physio room, she ends up coming face to face with and bumping face first into someone.

She groans when she rubs at her face and her backside from where she landed on it as she stands up again with the help of her assailant.

The person is stood in a royal navy uniform, a patch on her shoulder with three horizontal gold stripes and a small circled loop on the top, hair slicked back and tight into a bun behind her head.

'L/n-Catley' the name badge reads.

Confusion crosses her face which you quickly notice.

"You're Steph's teammate right?"

"Uh yeeaah? Who are you?"

"It's a long story and sorry about the bump there. I uh, I don't know if y'all know yet but I might need your help. The staff were nice enough to let me in but I need an escort here."

"Where are you going?"

"I got told to wait for one of the trainers in the staff room?"

"Can I ask what you're doing?"

"Waiting to see Steph, but don't tell her, it's supposed to be a surprise."

Kyra is extremely sceptical, but she leads you down the hall to where the trainers are situated and one of them recognises you immediately, hugging you and dragging you into the room.

She's even more confused when the staff member is nearly in tears.

Wait.

Navy uniform.

Here to see Steph.

L/n-Catley on the name badge.

There's no way.

"Are you... Are you married to Steph?"

You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yes I am. If you can't tell it's been a little while since we've seen each other."

"Yeah, I can tell, her house is far too empty for the size of it."

"Ah, so you're the new roommate. Kyra, right?"

"She's been talking about me?"

You nod.

"We would call every two weeks. When she found out you were moving to Arsenal, I couldn't tell if she was happy or mad because you'd already trashed her white towels."

"Hey! That was not my fault, the wine just fell... on it's own."

There's a sheepish look on her face.

You chuckle softly.

"She'll be fine, the pattern was ugly anyway, we needed new towels... Don't tell her I said that."

Kyra smiles at that.

"It's great to meet you, then... How are we planning this out?"

"I'll have my sister here sneak me somewhere I can wait and surprise her at the end of the game."

She nods.

"Alright, I better get going then before the girls come looking for me for pitch inspection."

You nod back and give her a warm smile.

"Oh, I'm Y/n, by the way, Lieutenant Commander Y/n L/n-Catley."

-------

The roar of the almost entirely red and white crowd as the girls enter the pitch is as usual, deafeningly loud.

Home games are always the most adrenaline instilling games, ones where their fans are always the loudest, chanting and screaming every time one of their own touches the ball.

Steph can still hardly believe it.

The growth in the game. Breaking records every single home match so far.

The FA Cup semi-final was no different it seems.

Her eyes subtly scan the crowd as she jogs out behind the others, shifting from clapping fan to clapping fan. There's an air about the crowd.

A massively high inducing air, one that she can feel in every nerve ending in her body as she practically bounces around the pitch in warmups.

She brushes it off as it being a semi final type of high.

Aston Villa would be a difficult opponent and she assumed that was the reasoning.

-------

It seems she's proven wrong in the first ten minutes.

It doesn't take long for Stina to score, the home crowd immediately losing their minds, and they barely have time to recover just two minutes later when the Swede swoops in for the double.

By the fourty-fifth minute, they know they have the game. Four to nil over the Villans thanks to a Stina hattrick and a goal from Frida. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears as they approach the final minute.

This is the part they're in the dark. How many minutes left of stoppage? How much longer does she have to defend?

The players are taught not to worry about that. To just play until the whistle blows. And she does.

But she can't help the nagging awaiting of the whistle, wondering when it will go.

The moment it does, there's celebration, relief, and a lot of cheering and screams and congratulation from the air around.

A pair of arms and legs wrap around her from behind as Kyra jumps on her back, the young Australian whooping into her ear.

"Onto the finals, Stephy!"

The defender chuckles and celebrates with the team, the announcer shouting out the home teams win to wind up the crowd once more.

As they do the celebration walk around the pitch, the announcer announces player of the match, and then one more announcement catches her ear.

Her head snaps toward the tunnel the moment she hears it, heart stopping at the words of the female announcer.

"And finally, one last round of applause. Let us congratulate and welcome back someone very special to one of our own. Lieutenant Commander Y/N L/n-Catley returning from fifteen months of duty at sea with the Royal Navy."

And truly, there you are, her wife.

Dressed to the nines in your Black, long sleeved uniform, hands clasped behind you, standing with a wide, almost teary smile as you watch Steph bolt across the pitch towards you, catching her with little effort as she jumps into your arms, knocking the cap off your head with the force.

The rest of the Arsenal girls stand shocked, looking between themselves and their left back at the sudden appearance of a totally new member of the Catley family.

Before they can even try to work out who you might be to Steph, the defender has her lips pressed to yours tightly, tears streaming down your face.

The sensation of finally being able to kiss you, her wife. HER wife, has her trembling against you, her stomach twisting and curling as you hold her tight against you, your own hands shaking as they rest on her back.

It had been the longest stint you'd gone without seeing each other, having been on a cramped ship for the majority of that time.

Even having been used to long times apart, the immense relief of being able to hold your person, your love, YOUR wife, after so long. was like nothing else you'd ever experienced.

And you were glad you had all the time in the world to experience it now.

When Steph's finally able to pull back and look you in the eye, hands holding your face, eyes scanning your features, noting a small scar under your right brow, and then returning to make eye contact again with you, albeit very tearily, much like yourself.

Lifting your own hands, your thumbs swipe away the tears on her cheeks, leaning down once more to kiss her, forehead leaning against hers.

You take in the immensity of the screams of the crowd all of a sudden, especially the crowd around the players' tunnel.

With that, she buries herself back into your hold, her nose buried into the crook of your neck.

Your eyes scan the pitch, watching the applauding or shocked expressions of the players.

You'd already known her teammates didn't know she was married, however their shocked expressions still have you chuckling.

All except Kyra's wide smile as she watches the two of you and you give the girl a wink.

"I can't believe it. You're here."

It's half whimpered into your shoulder, and you just barely hear it over the crowd.

"I'm here. I'm home."

"They finally let you on leave?"

She's using a half joking tone beneath the watery chokes and sobs.

"Better than that, Love."

She pulls away shocked.

"You mean.."

You smile down at her teary eyed.

"I'm home for good, not retired but they're giving me an office in London. Full time hours still but I won't be needed for duty anymore."

She frowns softly after a second.

She knew you'd always hated the idea of an office job.

Catching the look on her face, you knew what she'd be thinking about.

"I don't care where it is, or what I'm doing. I'm just glad I'm home, with you. I've had my fill of travelling and front line work for a lifetime."

Leaning your forehead back against hers, you let the moment sink in.

You'd known it was coming for months now, haven spoken to your superiors, and them letting you know there was a position available remotely, you'd taken it in a heartbeat.

If it meant coming home to your girl, you'd have done anything.

A small throat clearing a couple feet from you, the team had moved to stand around the pair of you, eager to ask questions of the brunette in your arms.

You nudge her softly with a small giggle in her ear.

"Babe, I think they have questions."

"They can wait a little longer."

You don't fight her on it just letting her settle into you again, holding you tightly.

The moment she does let go, she's grabbed by the shoulders and interrogated by the team rather swiftly.

Leah stands arms crossed.

"Now Stephy, when did this occur?"

Steph sheepishly smiles around her at her.

"Alright alright, Gunners, meet my beautiful wife, Y/n. She's been in the navy since she turned eighteen, we met five years ago when she was on leave in Australia. We started dating less than a month later and she left on duty about four months later. We got married after three years, bought a house right before she left a year and a bit ago. We haven't seen each other in person since then. Until now, that is."

And just like that, you're immediately dragged into the group rather swiftly, squished into several hugs.

A firm handshake and then a tight hug from their captain, especially. The Scot making firm well you know how quickly she'd bury you should you hurt their defender, despite the fact you'd known Steph longer and you chuckle, nodding in agreement at the stern look turned cracked smile she lets go.

When you're finally free, Steph takes no time tucking herself under your arm and wrapping hers around you, looking up at you slightly with a proud, elated smile, eyes still slightly teary.

Returning the expression, you press a small kiss to her nose.

"Welcome home, Baby."

You shake your head.

"Congrats on the win, Baby, this is your moment right now. Go celebrate for a bit, we've got all the time in the world now."

She pouts but relents with a small peck and nudge.

"KYRA, YOU KNEW?!"

The shouts of the Irish captain make her jump but chuckle a little as a gloating midfielder teases the rest of the girls.

Yeah. She was in for it.

-------

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fifteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: we finally get a JinKook showdown in the most ridiculous way possible, the tiniest bit of angst, CONFESSIONS!!, followed by post-confession sex, JK hits it raw, OC in lingerie, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lots of talking about feelings, I'm sorry but this gets a little soft because I love these two

Word Count: 6.3k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: We're back and we're nearing the end! Thank you to everyone who has been waiting patiently for the next chapter - I didn't mean for it to take so long, but, well, life 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, I'm very excited to share this chapter with you finally - I hope you enjoy!

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Despite his words earlier, Jungkook is in fact one of the first people on the dance floor when it opens. And of course, you’re right there with him. How could you say no when he holds his hand out and smiles at you like that - like nothing else would make him happier right now than you in his arms?

After all the time you’ve spent admiring Jungkook’s moves when he dances for you, it’s a whole new perspective to get to experience them when you’re dancing with him. Part of that difference is due to the deejay keeping it wholesome with the song selections, since Jennie and Yoongi’s family members are the majority of the revelers surrounding you. So there’s a lot less grinding and a lot more distance between the two of you.

You don’t really try to keep up with him - it’s not that you’re a terrible dancer, it’s just that he’s so fucking good. His every movement is so natural, like he’s not even trying. He does show off just a little bit, when Jisoo eggs him on, slipping into a freakishly accurate robot that has a small ring of guests gathering around to cheer him on. The giant grin on his face tells you he’s enjoying the attention just as much as the faint blush on the tips of his ears tells you he’s just a little bashful about it. 

After a few songs, the music finally slows a little, the crowd thinning as only couples are left. Jungkook draws you close, one arm sliding around your back as the other clasps your hand, holding it to his chest. The room around you falls away as he takes the lead, swaying with you around the floor.

“Are you having a good time, jagi?” he murmurs after a moment. 

“I am, Kookie.” Lifting your head from his shoulder, you gaze into his eyes, feeling that familiar warmth overtake you when he returns your smile. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

“Like I’d turn down the chance for free food and drinks,” he teases, laughing when you huff and try to pull away, tightening his grip to keep you locked in place. “What? I’m just being honest.” 

“Ass,” you mutter, but you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. He lifts his arm, hand pressing lightly on your back to guide you in a spin, then brings you back into his embrace. You spot Rosé across the room, watching you and Jungkook dance, and she politely claps as you shake your head, grinning. 

The beat picks up again, and your friends surround you and Jungkook. Rosé, Jisoo, and Jin all dance together as Lisa introduces Yi-Jeong to the group. Even Jennie and Yoongi join in, and it’s true what Jennie told you yesterday - her man definitely has moves. Everyone’s happy and laughing, and you’re so full of joy you could just burst.

Jin suddenly twirls, facing Jungkook with an intense look on his face. The younger man takes a step back in surprise as Jin starts to rock his body back and forth, like he’s about to bust out a breakdance move. Is he seriously about to - 

“Ooh, dance battle!” Jisoo cups her hands around her mouth, yelling. Your other friends start whooping, forming a circle around Jungkook and Jin. Jisoo pulls you next to her from where you’ve been standing, so you’re not between them anymore. “Get it, Bambi!” 

While the others around you are shouting encouragement, you just gaze silently between the two men, unsure if you should be joining in. Unsure if this is a friendly competition or if the tense vibes you feel radiating between them is something more. From the expressions on their faces, it’s clear that they’re going to do this, so you just sigh, bobbing along to the beat, waiting for the show. 

Jungkook stops gawking at Jin and begins bedrocking, swinging his hands as he faces Jin with a fierce look. Jin glares back, sticking his arms out as he undulates in a rather impressive wave, rolling his long limbs from left to right. 

It’s not until you hear clapping behind you that you realize that more people have joined the circle, crowding in behind you, shouting Jin’s name. Jungkook hears it too, his brow furrowing slightly. It’s clear his competitive nature’s kicked in when he peels his suit jacket off. You hold your hand out for it automatically, feeling a swoop of heat in your stomach as he gives it to you with a wink. 

The tip of his tongue slips out as Jungkook suddenly throws himself towards the ground, landing on one hand like he’s doing a handstand, and then kicks his legs out in a cartwheel kick. He’s so smooth with it, inverting himself like it’s nothing, that you actually gasp.

It’s like he cranked the volume up on the crowd, and someone - Rosé, maybe? - starts chanting Jungkook’s name. You can’t help but add your voice to the mix. 

Jungkook lands back on his feet and motions for Jin to go. Jin also takes his jacket off, jaw clenching firmly. He rolls his body a few times before bouncing into the Roger Rabbit, feet stepping quickly, arms flapping at his side like wings. It’s surprisingly loose and funky, two words you don’t typically associate with Jin. 

Lisa yells, “Go chef!” and the crowd divides itself into two chants. Jin ends his turn with a little flourish, dusting imaginary dirt from his broad shoulders. But you know from Jungkook’s smirk that he’s undaunted, and without a second’s hesitation, he swiftly dives to the floor, launching himself into a windmill.

Your friends explode into cheers, watching Jungkook roll round and round the floor. As he picks up speed, he tucks his arms up onto his stomach, doing the trick with no hands. Then he comes to a stop with a freeze, legs hanging in the air. 

The crowd chants Jungkook’s name only as he rises to his feet. He straightens his tie, then gestures to Jin. Jin rocks for a few beats, a strange look in his eye. 

Then he throws his hands out in front of him, holding one steady while the other mimics winding a reel. 

“Is he - is he fishing for Jungkook?” 

You don’t answer Rosé as there’s no need to. Jin’s clearly doing the fishing pole move. One by one, the voices around you grow quieter. Jungkook blinks at Jin for a few seconds, obviously thrown by this decision.

Then he grins, flapping his hands by his face like fins.

“Oh, wow, they share a brain cell,” Lisa says. “Did not see that coming.” 

Jisoo groans. “Well, this is anticlimactic. I was promised bloodshed.” 

“Who promised you that?” you ask, laughing. Feeling a tiny bit relieved. 

The crowd departs, but the two men keep dancing. Jungkook pretends he’s been hooked, thrashing from side-to-side before dropping to the ground in his signature dolphin kick. Always a performer to the end, you think, as he hops back to his feet, and he and Jin take turns bowing to one another. 

The smile on his face gets wider when Jungkook sees you clapping for him. He reaches for his jacket, and you impulsively press a kiss to his cheek, biting back a laugh as his eyes widen slightly.

“If those are the moves you pull out for a dance-off, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for later,” you whisper. Jungkook’s arm grips your side as he tilts his head to look at you. His touch is warm, but it can’t match the heat in his eyes. 

“Careful what you ask for, jagiya,” he replies, gaze dropping to your mouth so briefly that you almost miss it. “I need some water. Do you want anything?” 

You shake your head, and he disappears towards the tables. As soon as he’s gone, you feel someone brush your arm. 

“Okay, I’ll give it to the kid - he’s got moves,” Jin declares, holding his hand out in an offer to dance. You silently take it, letting him pull you close as the deejay cues up a ballad. 

Jin’s quiet for a few beats, leading you in small circles around the dance floor. It strikes you that this is the first time the two of you have really been face-to-face since yesterday, that weird standoff in the hallway earlier notwithstanding. You haven’t had a chance to talk to him alone since - 

“So what’s up with your boy?” 

You meet Jin’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Jungkook? What do you mean?”

Jin shrugs, the movement jostling your hand where it rests on his shoulder. “I mean, he looked like he was ready to throw hands when he introduced himself earlier. Like he was just itching for a fight.” 

“And you’re not?” You snort when he blinks in exaggerated confusion. “Oh, come on, all those snide little comments you were making at the table? Arguing with him about who has it worse? What was that all about?” 

Jin maintains his affronted expression for half a minute longer before he starts to laugh. “Okay, fine, I admit I was just pushing his buttons at dinner. In my defense, he made it too easy!” He laughs harder when you roll your eyes and start to pull away. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But I had to do something to cheer myself up. It wasn’t easy for me to sit there and watch the two of you together, to see the way you look at him.” 

Your curiosity tampers down your annoyance for a moment. “How do I look at him?” 

Jin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Like there’s no one else in the world.” 

You glance away, unsure what to say to that. Your gaze flits around the room until it lands on Jungkook, finding him at one of the tables, chatting with Lisa and Yi-jeong. His nose crinkles as he laughs with your friend, tattooed hand coming up to swipe away the hair that falls into his face, and you hear Jin sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s the look,” he says, shaking his head. He shifts his arm from your back, leading you into a gentle spin. “I was honestly surprised at how easy it was to antagonize him. Figured nothing I could do or say would bother him, knowing he won your heart.”

When you don’t respond to that, staring at Jin’s bowtie instead of meeting his eye, he hums. 

“Oh, I see. You haven’t told him yet.” 

Without warning, Jin dips you. You gasp, clutching his bicep to steady yourself.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he murmurs. His hand grips yours tightly, arm cradles your back, keeping you in place while his face hovers a mere breath above yours. 

It’s an intimate pose, the way he holds you now, yet just like yesterday, you feel nothing.

“No. No second thoughts.” You’ve recovered from your momentary shock, voice steady as you reply. “I’m sorry, Jin, but like I told you yesterday, it’s Jungkook I want.” 

Immediately, you’re back on your feet. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Jin grins a crooked grin. “Had to ask, though.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to regret this whole ‘let’s be friends’ idea.” 

He ignores your jibe. “Can I ask you a serious question?” 

You take a moment to study his face before answering. All traces of humor have vanished as he waits for your response. Slowly, you nod. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

The rooftop garden glows softly in the night air, lit by tiny lights strung along the trees and flowering plants. Hidden speakers strewn around the open space bring the music from the reception outside, providing a gentle soundtrack for a beautiful summer evening. 

“Where are we going?” Jungkook asks, hand clasped firmly in yours as you lead him out of the reception and across the garden. 

In the corner of the roof, there’s a small nook carved out between two potted cherry blossoms, their branches obscuring the two of you from any of the other guests milling about. Right now, you need a little privacy.

You also need a moment to gather your thoughts. Your stomach’s jumped into your throat at the thought of what you’re about to do, and your anxiousness makes it hard to think straight. It doesn’t help that you’re slightly distracted by the sight in front of you. 

Although the sun’s long since set, the air is still warm. Jungkook’s shed his jacket, has his tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hand still in yours as he looks at you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to speak. You can see the moon reflecting in his bright eyes, and for a moment, you’re back in the elevator at your apartment, staring at your handsome neighbor, that shy man with the sweet smile.

It wasn’t that long ago that he was a total stranger. Someone you saw occasionally at the mailboxes, someone who regularly ran away when you tried to talk to him. You didn’t know anything about him back then - what he did, what he liked, what made him laugh. What his kisses felt like. 

It wasn’t that long ago, yet it already feels like a distant memory. One that you never want to return to. Knowing everything you know about him now, feeling everything you feel - you can’t go back. There’s only one thing you need to do now - tell him. 

No reason to wait a second longer. 

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand. “Jungkook, I brought you out here because I wanted to tell you something. I’m… ah, I’m not very good at this kind of thing, but I’m gonna try because I don’t want to drag this out when I don’t need to.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows twitch slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, so you go on. 

“You know how I went to Jennie’s yesterday? Um, Jin was also there, with Yoongi. He pulled me aside and told me that the job Wendy asked me to interview for is actually his show for Nosh. And then he started talking about the two of us working together and traveling and -”

“Choose me, jagiya.” 

“Huh?” 

His interruption throws you off from the rambly mess you were attempting to say. Jungkook reaches for your other hand, holding both against his chest, and gives you a shaky smile. 

“Choose me, jagi. I know I don’t have a career like Seokjin does, or his money, or - or even a guarantee that I’ll ever have either of those things. I probably can’t promise you most of the things he can.” He pauses to draw a long breath, like he’s trying to slow himself down and not rush over his words, and oh, you want to kiss him so much right now. Even if this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “But I can promise y-”

“No no!” It’s his turn to look surprised as you raise your hands to his mouth, muffling his speech. “Jungkook, stop! I was trying to tell you that I ended things with Jin yesterday. You don’t have to say another word because it’s over.” 

“Mmt’s omer?” he mumbles against your fingers, eyes widening. 

“Yes, it’s over,” you giggle, uncovering his mouth, and suddenly all of your nervousness floats away on the evening breeze. “Come on, Kookie. Don’t you know? I’ve already chosen. It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

Jungkook continues to stare at you with those big doe eyes as your words slowly sink in, and you can’t help but smile, fondly, so, so fondly, that familiar sensation of warmth surging up from your chest, and you know now that it has a name, that buzz, that elation, that euphoria, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, just waiting for you to breathe it to life. 

So you exhale. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

For just the slightest of moments - a fraction of a second, a single heartbeat - when he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t so much as blink or breathe, you’re scared you’ve said too much. It’s too soon, too fast, too everything. 

But then he wraps his arms around you, holding you close enough that you can feel his own heart thumping wildly within his chest, and puts your fears to rest with four simple words, whispered softly against your lips.  

“Jagi, I’ve already fallen.” 

He kisses you, soft and slow, every touch so full of tenderness that you could cry. You tangle your fingers in his hair, desperately seeking something to hold onto, to keep you from floating right off the roof. He’s fallen for you. Jungkook’s fallen for you. 

You never knew your heart could hold so much. 

All your nervousness from before has dissipated. Now the only reason your pulse races is the nearness of him.

“Are you in any hurry to get back in there?” he asks, tipping his head towards the party.

You shake your head. 

He smiles. “Good.” 

He takes your hand again, locking his other arm around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, listening to him sing along lightly with the music drifting across the rooftop. Even when the song changes to something more uptempo, he doesn’t let go, just laces his fingers through yours and continues to sway with you beneath the stars. 

Many songs later, when the two of you finally return to the party, you find that it’s already winding down. Jennie and Yoongi are making their rounds to say goodbye, needing to go home  and pack for their trip to Jeju Island in the morning. 

Jennie grabs your arm and pulls you away from Jungkook, waving the other bridesmaids over. “I’m gonna do it tonight!” 

Jisoo pinches her cheek. “Babe, you’ve already done it. That’s why you’re late, remember?” 

“Ha, ha.” Jennie smacks her hand away. “I mean I’m gonna tell Yoongi I’m pregnant, smartass.” 

“Ah, I’m so excited for you!” Lisa gives her a hug, and then you’re all hugging. 

“Have you all had a good time tonight?” Jennie asks, not waiting for an answer. “This has been the most amazing day! Thank you for everything, I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Yes, you could have,” you grin. 

“Okay, true, I could have. But it wouldn’t have been as much fun without you all. I love you so much!” 

“We love you too. Now go celebrate with your husband!” Rosé giggles, emphasizing the last word with an energetic wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, get out of here. Some of us have plans tonight but we can’t leave until you do.” Jisoo declares. 

“She makes a good point,” Lisa chimes in, glancing over her shoulder at where Yi-jeong sits alone, clearly waiting. 

“Wow, okay,” Jennie laughs, but she’s flying too high to really be mad. “I’ll see you all in a week!” 

It’s as you turn to walk back to Jungkook that you remember. 

“Oh! Lisa!” 

Your friend glances at you as you back away with a giant grin. 

“Pay Rosé her fifty bucks.” 

“Why are your friends screaming like that?” Jungkook asks when you rejoin him. 

You just smile and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ready to get out of here?” 

Riding Jungkook’s motorcycle is a much more pleasant experience tonight than it was on your way home from your first date. The sky is clear above you as Jungkook expertly weaves through traffic, and you’re warm and dry sitting behind him, wearing his suit jacket, arms tight around his waist. You spend most of the ride hugging more than holding on to him. 

Every few blocks, he releases the hand grip to let his palm rest on your thigh for a moment, squeezing gently. You think he means it as a reassuring touch, knowing how shaky you are with the entire concept of motorcycles to begin with, how just the thought of riding one still makes you nervous, but the actual effect he's having on you is far from comforting. It’s driving you insane.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’re feral with need. You toss Jungkook’s jacket onto the floor and Jungkook lets out a surprised yelp when you tug on his arm as he’s closing the door. He barely has a chance to turn the lock before you’re pulling him down, passionately kissing away his confused noise. 

“B-baby,” he finally manages to stammer out after a few minutes of intense making out, “baby, do you wanna move to the couch?” 

You shake your head. “Need you now.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes are so dark that it makes you shudder when he catches your gaze. “Always so needy for me, huh? Just like the first time?” 

You remember that night, the way he’d fucked you against the hallway wall, both of you too desperate to even make it another ten feet to your bed. That same greedy desire burns through you now. 

Thank god for the slit in your dress. Hitching your leg up, you wrap it around his back, guiding him back down on top of you. 

“Just like that,” your voice trembles, back arching as Junghook’s hand snakes between you, rubbing at you through your dress. “Ahh, fuck, just like that!” 

You grasp at the side zipper on the dress, fingers fumbling too much to yank it down as quickly as you want. Jungkook has to do it for you, helping you sit up long enough to shed the entire gown. 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Jagi.” 

If you weren’t already dying for him, the expression on his face when he sees you in the lingerie you’re wearing beneath your dress would do it. 

“Does it look better in person?” you ask, running your fingers over your chest, thumbs pressing in slow circles to wake your nipples, feeling them swell beneath the lace. 

With a pained groan, Jungkook starts hurriedly tearing at his suit, throwing the items nearly halfway across the open space of your living room in his urgency, not stopping until he’s completely naked, cock already hardening between his legs. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, biting his lip to let his hands do the talking. They travel over your torso, up across your breasts, squeezing your hands so you grip yourself harder. He laughs at your little gasp, and then he’s swallowing your sounds with his eager mouth, knocking your legs apart with his knee so he can press his body to yours. 

Your own impatience has you hooking your calves the backs of his thighs, bending your knees to urge him nearer. But no matter how close he is to you, it’s not enough, an itch you can’t scratch no matter how much you try. 

“I think this is going to have to come off now,” you frown, tugging at your bodice. You need to feel him, skin-to-skin. 

“Oh, not yet,” Jungkook says, voice near enough to be a growl. “Please, jagi, keep it on a little longer. For me.” He looks at you with such a lustful gaze that you find yourself nodding, immediately caving to his wish. If he wants to fuck you in your lingerie, fine. There will be more time to feel him later. 

There will be more time for everything you want with Jungkook. 

His mouth reconnects with yours. You sigh into him as his fingers find the snaps at the crotch of the teddy. He’s not gentle with them, practically ripping them open, but he’s more delicate as he slides his finger into you, finding you just as wet as always. He plunges two fingers in, and you know he’s trying to take his time and make sure you’re ready, but you’re too impatient for his consideration right now. 

“Come on, Kookie,” you plead, cupping his chin to draw his gaze away from his work, “I’m ready. I need you now.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, clearly reading your frustration. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I wanna feel you.” 

He reaches for his pants, which have been flung over the back of the couch, and you stop him.

“No, I mean, I want to feel you.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “Jesus Christ, jagiya, you’re going to kill me.” He kisses you again, before his expression turns serious. “Can we? I mean, are you on something -” 

Laughing, you grab his face again, pulling him back to you for another kiss. 

“I have an implant. And I haven’t been with anyone since you and I have been…” you trail off, unsure what to call it. Dating? “Not since the last time I was tested.” 

“No one?” He doesn’t say the name, but you know what he’s asking. 

“No one.” You and Seokjin never got that far.

“I haven’t been with anyone either.” Jungkook strokes his thumb along your cheek. “It’s just been you. You’re the only one I want.” 

“Then have me.” With another sigh, you lift your hips, rolling against him. 

Jungkook groans, and you barely have a second to breathe before his lips take yours again. There’s some shifting, you spreading your legs while he’s propping himself up on one elbow and lining himself up with his other hand, and then he’s sinking in, slowly, filling you up hot inch by hot inch, until he’s completely sheathed. 

You got your wish. You can feel all of him. It’s a new sensation, and it’s intense, but you can tell it’s even more so for him. 

“Oh, goddamn, jagi.” Jungkook presses his forehead to yours. His chest heaves as he holds himself completely still. “You’re so - fuck.” 

“Yeah? Is it that good?” 

He nods a little, eyes squeezing shut, and you run your fingers through his hair, trying to impart some comfort. As much as you want him to rail you through the floor right now, you don’t want to rush him anymore. 

“Does it really feel that different?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s not that. That’s part of it - you feel so fucking good, baby - but it’s - it’s…” He huffs out a short breath, shaking his head again. “I don’t know how to say it. It’s everything.” 

And you understand exactly what he means, not by whatever he’s trying and failing to say, but by the look in his eyes. 

“Oh,” is all you can say, feeling your own words slipping away from you, as he starts to move. 

His cock drags slowly, so slowly at first, his head bowing as he concentrates on the feeling of you, the way your cunt seems to suck him back in eagerly, walls clenching when he snaps his hips experimentally. He observes every breath that escapes you, every mewl and whimper, and adjusts his pace, the strength of his thrusts, all the while drowning in his own perception, the tight heat and wetness of your core making his eyes roll back in his head with each pump. 

Neither of you speak after that, but you don’t need to. Your bodies communicate everything you’re feeling, punctuated by the unrestrained noises you both make. Your nails rake down Jungkook’s back as he fucks into you, drawing whine after whine from him, broken cries of desire, of wanting you to hold him, claim him, just as he’s claiming you. Mine, your fingernails declare, inscribing his skin with scratches. Yours, his hips answer in return, powerfully driving into yours, connecting you again and again, faster and faster. 

His hand clutches at the thigh you’ve wrapped around his waist, fingers twisting around the garter straps, and you can tell from his unsteady panting that he’s close. Your own pleasure is nearing the precipice, but you know he’s going to reach his first. Which he confirms with a strangled whimper.

“Jagi, I’m - I’m gonna come,” he grits through his teeth, brow furrowed, like he’s focusing all his energy on not coming right then and there. “‘M sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t - “

“Don’t stop, Kookie, don’t stop!” You don’t care if he finishes first. This isn’t about just sex anymore. All you want is for him to feel as good as he makes you feel, all the time. “Come on, cum inside me. Give me everything, fill me up!” 

“Fuck!” he grunts, moaning your name, and with only a few more thrusts, he follows your command. His hips jerk wildly as he gives in to the burning need beneath his skin and fills you with his hot release. It seems to go on and on, until he’s gasping, sagging against you weakly, too wrung out to hold himself up any longer. “Holy shit.”

You just hum, stroking his sweat-soaked hair, until he finally lifts his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got caught up in the moment. Too much going on in my head and - and, fuck, you felt too good.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

You shush his apologies with a laugh, wrapping your arms around him again, urging him to lay down, so his head rests on your chest. “You don’t have to explain. It’s been… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this.” 

He sighs, moving slightly so he can leave light kisses over your covered chest. “Me too.” His hand trails lazily down your torso, following the swirls in the lace’s pattern. “I’m glad you said what you did. On the roof. I wanted to tell you before how I felt, but I was afraid you’d think I was rushing things.” His voice gets quieter. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

There’s a sadness in his tone, a naked vulnerability that makes your heart ache, so you squeeze him a little tighter. You know exactly what he means. 

He raises his head a little, starts kissing his way down your stomach. “Are you still…”

“Am I still what?” You bite your lip as he reaches the apex of your thighs, gently nudging them further apart so he can lie in between. 

Jungkook presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, one side, then the other, before he looks up at you. “Was that enough for you or are you still wanting more? You were so needy earlier, jagiya.” 

Of course you still want more. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. 

“Yeah,” you say, your fingers combing his hair out of his face so there’s nothing hiding him from you, just as there’s nothing hiding you from him, “I want more. Please, Kookie.” 

The smirk that spreads across his lovestruck face sends your heart racing. Your back arches off the floor when he coaxes the first orgasm from you with his tongue, feels like it might snap in half by the time he pulls the second one with his fingers. 

You melt into his embrace afterward, so thoroughly satiated, so utterly content, that you nearly fall asleep. But Jungkook coaxes you off the floor and into the bathroom, to wash his back in the shower before he tenderly scrubs yours, and then into bed, where the last thing you see before closing your eyes is the smile on his face as he whispers good night. 

“What does this one mean?” 

It’s late. Very late, sometime between midnight and early morning, when you should be asleep. You’d awoken in need of some water, slipping out carefully, trying not to wake Jungkook, only to come back to find him up and waiting for you to return to bed. He wasn’t just awake but up up, and you couldn’t resist, climbing directly into his lap for a slow, lazy ride. 

Now, you’re lying together, back pressed to Jungkook’s chest, with his arm draped beneath your breasts, as he gives you a tour of his tattoos. He tells you that most are symbolic, but a few have stories behind them, and you listen raptly to each one. Even though he’s probably tired, he’s indulging you, answering all your questions without so much as a single yawn.

He tilts his head to look at where you’re tapping on a striped snake. “That one? That’s supposed to represent growth. You know, shedding my skin, like a snake.” He flexes his forearm and the snake moves as if undulating on its own. “Do you like snakes?” 

“I like them a lot more than spiders, I can tell you that,” you reply, giggling. 

He laughs, watching silently as your fingers roam over his skin. There’s so much ink covering him, and you’re dying to know about all of it, filled with a buzzing curiosity despite the late hour. 

“What about this one?” Gingerly, you trace over the orange tiger lily etched onto the inside of his forearm, as if afraid that pressing too harshly will cause the petals to crumple. It’s gorgeously vibrant, the glowing color popping vividly against his skin. 

“Ah, that’s my birth flower.” Jungkook laughs a quick laugh. “That one was actually Taehyung’s suggestion. Do you know what the flower is supposed to represent?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Self-confidence.” He laughs again, shaking you a little as his chest vibrates. “He said it’d be a good reminder when he’s not around, that I still need to be confident.”

“Taehyung’s a good friend,” you remark, and Jungkook hums in assent. He rubs mindlessly at the flower with his other hand, fingertips bumping against yours. 

“You know, there’s another reason I got this one. A hidden meaning that tiger lilies are meant to express.” 

“Ooh, a hidden meaning?” You tilt your head to peer at him. “And what’s that?” 

Even in the dim light from your bedside lamp, you can see the tips of Jungkook’s ears turning red as he smiles bashfully, his eyes crinkling when he answers. “Please love me.” 

It’s impossible to resist kissing him, kissing that shy bunny smile that you’ve adored all this time, so you don’t even try, cupping his cheeks gently while you brush his lips with yours. When you pull away, his face is flushed, and he laughs, dipping his head in embarrassment even as he whispers, “Keep going.” 

You giggle, and kiss him again, and then stop. “Oh! Wait a minute.” 

Jungkook lets out a small grunt of displeasure when you leave his embrace, but you return quickly, handing him a small frame from your desk. 

“Jagi, you framed this?” He stares through the glass at the tiger lily sketch he’d drawn for you, back when he asked you out on your first date.

“Well, yeah. It was too pretty not to.” 

You take your place between his legs again, his arm automatically sliding around your waist while he gazes at the picture. “But it was just a quick little drawing. It’s not my best work.” 

“So? I think it’s beautiful. And… it’s from you.” You can feel your neck warming as you speak. “I like to keep it on my desk when I’m working. Every time I get annoyed by something, I look at it, and it calms me down.” Your lips quirk in a little smile. “So you can imagine that I look at it a lot,” you say, half-joking, half-not. Because it’s true, you do stare at it a lot. The drawing always brings you peace. Because it reminds you of Jungkook. So fiery and bright, but also so lovely and delicate. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook says again, swallowing thickly. His arm squeezes you closer.

You take the frame from his hand, placing it on the nightstand, before shifting to face him, legs straddling his as you loop your arms around his neck. “Be honest - were you sending me a hidden message with this?” 

His ears are burning red again. “Maybe. Guess it worked.” 

You surge forward, kissing the cheeky smile right off his face. His hands settle on your hips, holding you tightly, as if right now there’s any danger of you leaving. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, with no one else. 

But you’re also wondering something you’ve been wondering for a while now, and since he’s been so obliging so far, you decide to ask him one more question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Jagi, all you’ve been doing is asking me questions,” Jungkook grins. 

You roll your eyes at his teasing tone. “Yeah, okay, I just mean, can I ask about something that doesn’t have anything to do with your tattoos?” 

He nods. 

“If I hadn’t come to Paradise with my friends that night, would you ever have made a move?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that question, judging by the look on his face. His eyes fall out of focus as they stare unseeing at you, and you know he’s lost in thought. You give him the time to find his way to an answer, running your fingers through his hair soothingly while you wait.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I’d like to think that yes, I would’ve gotten up the nerve to talk to you. But it might’ve taken a while. Seeing you at Paradise kind of gave me an opening.”

“I think this still would’ve happened,” you tell him, suddenly filled with an unusual amount of confidence, bolstered by his hands on your waist, his eyes locked on yours, “all of this. I think we would’ve ended up just like this.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I would’ve worn you down at the mailboxes,” you grin. “At the rate we were going, it probably would’ve taken a decade, but we’d get there eventually.” 

He laughs, hands locking behind your back as he holds you close. “Or maybe I would’ve shown up at your door one night and danced for you. Maybe that’s what I did in another universe.” 

“I’m sure it worked,” you murmur, leaning closer to his lips. “I think in any universe, we end up like this. We’re just lucky that we got here so fast.” 

“The luckiest,” he agrees, closing the space between you. 

When you finally fall asleep again, you dream of falling through other universes, following the same dark eyes and wicked smirk through each.

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© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[pythoria]

feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.

imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.

and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.

maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.

except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.

gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.

[ceesimz]

Leave Before The Lights Come On

Title is a Arctic Monkeys song! This trope has been done more times than I've blinked my whole life but this is my version, enjoy :) (ps it's not long but it's a lil bit spicy and slightly ridiculous)

Award shows, charity events, dinners with red carpets. It's how things started months ago, and it's still how the story goes now.

Everyone knew what private but not secret meant nowadays, it seemed to be the go-to for basically all couples. Yet, very few understood the thrill of private and secret.

Every night spent at these things was a new performance for you both, dancing around each other with fleeting glances and lingering, teasing touches. A chance to start fresh over and over, something most couples never endeavour in anymore, but it's so addicting. A game of cat and mouse that always ends in the same way, and despite that fact, it's still intoxicating all the same.

"One beer please."

"Just a beer'll do."

You know who is next to you, there's no use guessing. It always starts like this. And when she slithers closer, elbows rested on the bar that she's slumped over compared to you standing with perfect posture and hands clasped around your own arms that crossed over your chest, the cuff links of her suit sleeves glimmer in your eye line. Her hands purposely move to fiddle with them, knowing your attention is on her hands and the rings that are scattered across her fingers. She knows you too well, knows your eyes unintentionally fall to that part of her whenever they're on display, and it causes the first simmer of something to bubble in your abdomen.

At once, the bartender places the beer bottles down in front of you both, each reaching out to grab it and turning to the other. With eyes holding the other's gaze, you and Leah take a swig of your drinks, a silent agreement that the night has begun.

To your dismay though, the scales have already tipped in Leah's favour as she gets the first laugh. She takes another sip of her beer, first moving her eyes from your face to the way your hands make the bottle look bigger than it is as you hold it with both, rather than Leah who holds it with just one. Then, she trails her eyes downwards and up again, smirking smugly at you before walking away, not without a brush against your shoulder.

You shake your head just as the host announces the event will begin in ten minutes and advises everyone to find their seats. Working with one of the most well-known magazines got you great seats surrounded by good people to network with, and though if your manager found out she'd probably retract all future invites, you couldn't care less about networking. Not when you were stuck in the most mind-numbing game of back and forth, push and pull, take and give. You could be seated beside some random Tom, Dick or Harry from a no-name town in England, or you could be sat beside someone like Serena Williams, and it'd make no difference.

Leah Williamson, your new girlfriend and possibly the most frustrating yet attractive person you'd seen, was in the room. That was enough incentive for all thoughts to fly far from your mind.

The last event you went to was probably the most notable for your relationship. It should have been a pretty important one for you to pay attention to, considering it was hosted by GQ, but how could you when a certain blonde in a scantily clad dress was begging to be your girlfriend all night? She had asked in just about every way possible, and you would have said yes from the first instance if it weren't for her attention being pulled away before you could get a word in.

From whispering it in your ear as she slipped past you during a conversation with some of GQ's most important employees, to handing you a serviette with words written on that still send shivers down your spine when you think back to them, and even meeting your eyes from across the room in your respective seats and mouthing the question 'Mine yet?' with an upward quirk of her eyebrows. If you thought that part of the night was memorable, you didn't want to talk about the visceral reaction you got thinking back to the after events that occurred in the comfort of your hotel room.

But now, here in the present, you found your seat at a table with shareholders and employees and celebrities scattered around it, distinctively uninterested in every single one of them. They try to strike up conversation and you let them, your workaholic autopilot kicking in to entertain their interest for some time. These things are always boring, that's what makes them the perfect environment for this kind of thing. Sure, some were more fun than others and both yourself and Leah had found them enjoyable in the past, but there was an added element to them now that you were quite sure you could never give up.

The host drags on far longer than needed and to you it seems they're rather self-indulgent, revelling in the fact they've got the attention of the room. They talk as if everyone is hanging on the edge of their seats, grasping onto every word they said, when in reality it couldn't be further from the truth. Or at least in your case anyway. Apparently your boredom showed a little too much, because the person beside you asked if you're alright at a lull in the first speech of the evening. You reassure them you are fine, just in need of a drink since your beer had already gone down by now, and with a thanks from yourself they turn back away from you.

Your eyes search the room then, giving in to the temptation of her, only to find blue eyes staring right back at you from a few tables over. Her hair is slicked back into a low bun and she has one too many buttons of her white shirt undone - she's hot and she knows it. You still can't figure out if that's annoying or, unfortunately, attractive. The aura that exudes off of her hits you even from across the room, a combination of confidence and a smugness that gets under your skin in the best way.

It's at this moment that a short intermission is announced, allowing for people to go to the bathroom or fetch a drink and some snacks, or whatever they care to do. All you know is that there's a certain person in the room you've got to see and you need a new beverage, so you head to the bar.

Except, you're stopped in your tracks along the way. A body blocks you from going any further as she side-steps in front of you and shoves a champagne flute into your hand. In her hand is a sweet Manhattan cocktail, one with a cherry in it that immediately catches your eye. This is your chance to equal the score.

Maintaining eye contact with her, you delicately take the cherry and, with the most innocent look you could muster from under your eyelashes, you bite it from the stem. Those same piercing blue eyes track every movement of yours, from the moment you snatched it from her drink to the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed. In the low light, you manage to make out the sight of her pupils tripling in size, and just like that, the cards are in your favour again.

Before Leah can react, you're sauntering away without a word having been exchanged, and you can feel her staring incessantly at you as you drop back into the ocean of people in the room. She curses under her breath, downs her drink, and heads back to the bar.

After that interaction, you actually did fall into an invigorating conversation with the people on your table. You discredited them, in the midst of your tunnel vision you didn't realise who it was you were sat with. Turns out, they're some fascinating people who you could really do with speaking to again soon.

It's as you're talking to one of them, offering to go collect a tray of drinks for the table, that someone leans over you and refills your glass with more champagne. Initially, you guess it's just one of the event workers, but then those damned Arsenal earrings jump into view and your senses are overcome with her perfume. If she asked why there were goosebumps on your arms, you'd shrug and blame it on the chill of the hall. But, your question is, where the fuck did she get a whole bottle of champagne from?

She leaves as quickly as she arrived, leaving only a trace of her signature scent in her wind. You jut your tongue into your cheek momentarily - that was a bold move by the defender. It obviously caught the attention of the people on your table who were feeling as if they may have interrupted perhaps a private moment, but you wave them off and swiftly switch topics.

To their rather inquisitive annoyance, they demand you go get the drinks you'd offered to get since you weren't going to tell them about... whatever had just happened. So you do, you take your champagne flute with you and wander over to the bar with a focused look on your face, waiting for the right time to strike and get your payback.

That happens sooner than you could have guessed, and it forces a smirk upon your face as you approach your prey that's trapped in a seemingly boring conversation, judging by the unimpressed look on her face. She doesn't see you coming, her arms are crossed over her chest and her mouth is down-turned into a frown, another beer bottle in her hand. You see her sigh as you get closer, her head on a swivel but looking in entirely the wrong direction.

The set up is perfect, perfect for you to be able to walk past her straight to the bar with a little taunting. However, you're feeling bolder now, urged on by the alcohol in your system. Instead of a simple brush along her body, your free hand drops down to slide under her blazer and sleaze dangerously low across her toned back. It's a lingering touch, you don't pull your hand away until the very last second. You don't have to look back at her to know she's watching you go.

To both your individual irritation, the next hour or so of the night doesn't allow for anymore sly digs and heated encounters. It's so unbelievably dull, just ramble after ramble of people bragging and kissing each other's ass as they speak. It gets to around forty-five minutes of this bullshit before a spiteful plan forms in your head.

A few of the people on your table had switched seats, ensuring they get the most out of the night. You didn't care for it all, zoning out countless times so far, but when the guy beside you turns to you with a blissfully oblivious smile on his face, you know what you have to do.

The next however long, you converse with this guy more and indulge him in pointless topics that really are so fucking stale and tedious, but you have to play the long game here. And before you'd even done anything half as interesting yet, there's already daggers being forced into the side of your face.

It all comes to a head when you laugh and swat his shoulder in an exaggerated manner, giggling like a school girl at... honestly, you couldn't even remember. But he lavished in your amusement, shuffling his chair ever so slightly closer and throwing an arm around the back of your chair. He brushes his hair back with his other hand, exposing his less than favourable hairline, and really you have to hold back a gag at the fact you're doing this.

At that point, you decide you have to get away from him and his dreary, lifeless, and nonexistent charisma. So you throw one last look at Leah's direction, stifling a grin at her flared nostrils and completely unimpressed demeanour, before excusing yourself from your conversation and sliding out from your seat. Whether Leah had the guts to follow you or not, you weren't sure, but you were just glad you were away from that guy.

Unbeknownst to you, Leah had suddenly gotten up from her chair the second she saw you rise, and she was marching through the room to pace after you. The game was entirely forgotten for her at this point, the image of you with him tattooed on her eyelids. Immaturely, she had to stop herself from spitting at him as she walked past, settling for a warning glare instead.

You have all of two seconds to yourself in the bathroom, checking yourself out in the mirror, before the door slams against the wall with a resounding thud. A gloating smirk is on your face from the moment she walks in, and you stare at her for a moment then turn back to the mirror, pretending to fix your lipstick.

"Really?" Leah shrugged her shoulders more aggressively than you had ever seen anyone before, holding her hands out in an outraged gesture. "You really did that?"

"S'just the game, Leah. You know that." You replied simply, resisting the urge to meet her stare.

It's silent between you both then, possibly the most charged silence you've ever found yourself in. Leah takes a few mindless steps around the room without a particular direction, eyes flicking back to you every second. At once, she stops, just off to your side, and slips her hands into the pockets of her black slacks, kissing her teeth and raising her eyebrows at you. The moment she goes to say something, there's voices coming from the corridor leading to the bathroom. You turn to look at her then, daring her to act first.

She does.

She takes full advantage of the moment, gripping your upper arm tightly and tugging you into one of the cubicles. You gasp quietly in shock, caught off-guard by her actions, and you grumble unintelligibly at the triumphant grin on her face. Her hands are tight on your hips, meanwhile yours are crossed over your chest in disapproval.

"Flirting with a guy? That's a new low." Leah taunted, each stroke of her thumb unintentionally raising the fabric of your black dress.

"Says the one that's so riled up, she dragged me into a toilet cubicle." You hit back, refusing to give in. Leah just shrugs, purses her lips, and takes a quick glance down to your now exposed thigh before looking back at you.

"I'm not riled up. You're the one getting antsy here, you know I'm winning and that's why you had to start feeling up that scraggly arsehole out there. Think again, sweetheart." Fuck, she might have gotten you there.

"Maybe I found him attractive." It's a weak defence, even you know that. Leah knew it too, if the slight raise of one eyebrow was anything to go by.

"Okay. One, you're in a relationship. Two, you're in a lesbian relationship. Three, you hear that?" She looks around in feigned confusion, cupping her hand around her ear briefly before turning back to you in what looks like a stupid, cartoon light bulb moment. "Oh yeah, you're pretty fucking gay!"

You roll your eyes and huff, shaking your head at her idiocy and turning your attention to the wall behind her.

"What was his name? Tell me about him, if he was attractive enough to feel the need to flirt with him." She was picking and choosing every teasing remark from the file in her mind to get under your skin.

"...his name was Dirk." The bark of laughter she lets out at that makes you flinch a little. Maybe his name was a little amusing, but right now to you there wasn't a single funny thing on earth.

"Dirk? Really? Did he come with a Swiss army knife and a granola bar in his pocket? Did he have a flannel shirt under his knit sweater? And a tent in his car, ready for a hike through the Grand Canyon?"

As it turns out, your last thought was a little far off.

The giggle bubbles out of you before you can think to stop it, and you lightly push Leah's face away from you with a hand to her cheek. She turns back to you with a grin, knowing she had won this evening. To be fair, she has won nearly every evening so far. She was on a winning streak you really had no plans of stopping. Not when it got you to this moment here, at the end of it.

"Out of all the guys in the room, I chose a pretty shit one." You surrendered in a murmur, Leah nodding.

"It's alright, look who you get to go home with."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper as she stepped further into your space, her nose nudging against your jaw where her mouth rested just above your pulse point. The shivers you got without even barely being touched were enough of a reaction for her. But, she was greedy when it came to you.

One arm slipped around your waist, holding you to her tightly as her large hand splayed out across your lower back. Her head dipped further down, her lips moving to press open-mouthed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

"Let's get out of here. I'm done now." She murmured into your skin, turning her face more toward your neck and leaving softer, slower pecks there.

"Don't you wanna get your payback? Otherwise you're giving up the win. I was more than ready to get back out there, the night isn't over." You were lying, you were more than ready to get the hell out of here, but you also weren't going to pass up on the chance to tease her just once more.

"I'll get my payback when we get to the hotel."

That's all she needed to say.

These nights had a certain characteristic to them, and that was possibly the most anticipated time of the evening. As the hosts draw out the end of the event, thanking people you've never heard of and have a large lack of care for, you and Leah were already gone.

Normally, it was a fierce wait, hanging on to the other's every move, everything else in the room simply just background noise, as you wait for who blinks first. Who gives in to the tension and ends the night before the lights come up, before the eyes of the room see you chase one another to the exit.

Tonight though, neither of you have the patience.

Regardless of the time you leave, it's the same situation every time for your organised driver; he drops you off and, under strict instruction by his management, waits for you to come back so he can drive you to the hotel or wherever you want to go. Except, you never come, he doesn't see you for the rest of the night once you enter the building. He's used to it by now, a little in love with it since he's getting paid for nothing, he just has to wait for your inevitable apology text telling him you won't be needing a ride home.

Tonight is just like the others - Leah ushers you into the back of an Uber with a hand on your waist, sliding in beside you and slamming the door shut with a smirk on her face after she gives one last glance around. There's never anyone watching, nobody knows where to look and nobody probably even cares, but she does it anyway. She could imagine the articles that might get written about her if the pair of you were ever spotted, and that fuels her even more. Maybe that's the alcohol in her system, but the thoughts run through her veins and she can't help but turn to you, grab your face, and dive into a kiss that's desperate and hot, and the tension of the night reaches its peak.

The cab driver just shakes his head, pulling away from the curb as the pair of you stay stuck in your own world. It's a few minutes later when you both pull away, cheeks flushed red and lips a tad swollen as you put your belts on. Straight away, Leah's hand falls to your lap and you hold it tightly with both of your own, looking up at her with a certain feeling swirling through your eyes that drives her crazy. Her hand moves, then, to the back of your neck as she pushes you towards her for another urgent kiss.

"You're lucky I'm not really the jealous type. I could have done a lot worse in there when you started flirting with Dirk." She comments breathlessly after, a displeased quirk to her mouth that hints she is in fact somewhat jealous.

"I'll make sure to do a better job next time then." You tell her in a feigned nonchalant way.

Leah stared at you then, her hand clutching the back of your neck as she gave you a look that warned you to not even think about such things. To be honest, you couldn't. You were hers just as much as she was yours. There was no other way to live than like that.

[justauthoring]

Shoko Just Can't be Right [2]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if shoko's convinced and maybe she's just right?

a/n: finally wrote the second part.... hehe.

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

"There is no way."

"Uh, yes, there is."

Sending Shoko a blank look, you scoff.

But, as per her style, she doesn't relent.

"Y/N," she deadpans, reaching across the desk to take your hands in her own, squeezing them enough to pull your gaze on her's once again. "I say this with complete and utter confidence, they're in love with you."

"Shoko," you call back, mimicking her tone; "they're in love with each other."

"True," she offers with a light shrug. "But also you."

Your mind blanks with the utter disbelief and ridiculousness of it all. "Is that even... possible? I mean, to be in love with two people at once?"

You didn't think so.

"Probably," she shrugs, "I mean with love anything's possible, right?"

And you can tell with the shit-eating grin on her face, she's finding this all too funny. Honestly, if you were on her side of things, you'd probably get a kick out of the whole thing as well but alas, you weren't and it wasn't easy to ignore the crushing of your heart as the hope you're desperately trying to hold back tries to sliver it's way past.

Ugh. Hope. What an entirely stupid and ridiculous--

"They do say that."

Back straightening, every muscle in your body tightens at the sound of Gojo's voice. It was, honestly, the last person you wanted to hear right that second; by default just because it was, well, him, but also because with Gojo, Geto was usually trailing behind...

A glance over your shoulder tells you you're correct.

Just as you thought.

You catch Shoko perking up out of the corner of your eye, and instantly a sense of dread floods you; this cannot be good.

"What are you two talking about?" Geto asks, coming to a stop next to Gojo, hands shoved leasurely into his pocket, brow raised with curiosity.

"Well—"

"Nothing!" You cut in sharply before Shoko can finish, sending her a glare over your shoulder (to which she rolls her eyes), pushing yourself to your feet. "Actually, we should be going because we—"

"Awehhh!" A loud whine cuts you off, eyes flickering over to Gojo whose slumped over dramatically; "but I was hoping you'd wanna hang with us."

Hang with them?

Alone?

That sounds like both a blessing and absolute nightmare. Especially with the thoughts that Shoko has invested in your mind—you could barely look at them now without thinking about her words; they're in love with you. God, why did she have to go around telling you that?

Making you think—for even just a second—that that could ever be true.

Because it wasn't. Obviously.

Geto and Gojo loved each other. That was true. Yes, that had been true since the very first moment you'd laid eyes on the both of them. The last to join them in their first year. The two of them, including Shoko, had already gotten aquainted with one another (some more than others). The three of them had spent four whole months with just them and no one else and had been able to bond.

And then you came in.

Clueless about the jujutsu world and about what a jujutsu sorcerer even was. Your whole world had been turned upside down and you were far outside of your element.

And yet, despite all that, you'd walked into that classroom that day and amongst Gojo's rather cocky greeting, Geto's simple one and Shoko's enthusiastic one (she'd expressed her fondness quite plainly for no longer being the only girl), you'd seen how much Geto and Gojo loved each other.

They were pretty obvious about it, even if at the time neither of them had known about the other's feelings.

So, yes, Shoko couldn't be right. She knew she wasn't saying it all to be mean, she wasn't like that—clearly she'd seen or heard something that had lead her to this incorrect assumption.

Because that's all it was.

An assumption.

One you wouldn't let yourself be swayed by for one second.

"Y/N?"

Blinking, you're pulled from your thoughts with a snap, focusing in on Geto who's leaning down to meet your gaze, concerned, with a baffled Gojo slightly behind him, the both of them looking at you rather intensely.

And, when you turn your head to the right, Shoko's gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Where..." Your words trail, in disbelief.

"Oh," Geto mumbles, pulling back as he realizes where you're looking. "She left for a smoke, said that she didn't mind rescheduling your plans. I do believe she added to the end of it, 'anything to get Gojo to shut up'."

"Hey!"

That sneaky little—

You turn to face both boys, quite honestly dumbstruck.

But then Gojo is shoving his face in yours, grinning; "so? Let's go!"

You sputter; "wh-where?"

-

To a sweets cafe. That's where.

Gojo all but drags you there, ignoring your protest to at least let you change, simply calling over his shoulder that; 'you look adorable!' which absolutely was not true. You hadn't worn your uniform that day since it wasn't a school day, and you and Shoko had had plans to spend the day together campus which had lead you to wear a simple skirt with an oversized sweater over it. You weren't expecting to leave or go out or least of all be going out with both Geto and Gojo or else you would've probably dolled yourself up at least a little.

Which, yes, Gojo's words, albeit simple, did leave you even more flustered, cheeks flushed and stuttering for a response all whilst Geto chuckled lightly behind you, clearly amused to himself.

But both Geto and Gojo are dominating of your time and don't allow you even a second of an escape, chatting your ears off happily whilst Gojo goes to the counter to order an array of sweet, leaving you and Geto to find a table.

You have to admit that the cafe is quite cute and the sweets you'd managed to grab for yourself (with the help of Geto, who promptly slapped Gojo's hand away when he tried to steal one of them) were delicious. Geto had gone back to the counter to order you a drink and although you weren't always used to be with either of them alone, the two of them were chatty enough that you didn't feel awkward or tense with silence.

It wasn't that you didn't get along with them. You did. Despite your rocky first impression of Gojo, you got along with the both of the extremely well.

But that was at school. In class. Or, at the very least, with Shoko. You weren't used to having to fend off the both of them and although you cared for them both greatly, they were both intimidating in different ways.

In ways you weren't.

Shoko always said you were too quiet. Too easy. You said yes to anything someone asked you of and you didn't often argue even if it wasn't something you weren't comfortable with. It had taken Shoko months before you properly opened up to her, but Geto and Gojo were confident and skilled and people seemed to bend over backwards for them just because, well, they were them.

People treated them differently than they treated you because you were quiet where they were loud, nervous where they were confident, and soft where they were hard.

(Little did you know that Geto and Gojo absolutely adored this about you—despite how incredibly self-conscious you were about it yourself).

Still, the day goes on well. And you find yourself rather enjoying their company.

You've all been there for just over an hour when you excuse yourself to the washroom, slipping past Geto in a way that has your cheeks burning red and flustered as you make your way to the ladies room.

It's on your way back that things take a bit of a downward shift.

A firm hand wraps itself around your upper arm, halting you in your tracks and pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as your world is tilted on it's axis briefly.

Then, suddenly, there's a group of boys surrounding you.

"Hey," one of them smiles at you, though it's all cold and no warmth. "Do you go to school around here? Don't think we've seen you before."

"And I think we'd remember a face like yours." Another one pipes up, your head shifting to the right to find him towering over you.

The one on your left steps closer, smirking down at you. "Noticed it as soon as you walked in here," he grins, wide and menacing. His eyes drift across you, low in a way that makes your chest tighten uncomfortably, then back up to your eyes. "You new?"

They're too close.

"N-No," you force out, shaking your head as you try to push them away. "Sorry, my-my friends are—"

"Yeah, those two guys, right?"

A hand falls on your back, and you tense.

"We could show you a far better time, you know?"

"Yeah," a laugh, "why settle for them, when—"

Another hand falls on you. But it's different. Warmer. Familiar.

You're pulled away and tucked against a chest, glancing up to see Geto's familiar figure looming behind you, his gaze threatening but it instantly softens as he glances down at you.

Gojo steps in front of you, blocking you from their view.

"I do believe you're making Y/N uncomfortable," Gojo grounds out and his voice is so unlike anything you've ever heard. It's dark, cruel, all trace of his usual goofiness and teasing gone.

You can't see his face, but if it's anything like Geto's, you're sure the face matches his tone.

"I would fuck off now." Geto growls from behind you, low enough you feel his chest rumble in reaction. "Before we make you."

You don't see it. Geto doesn't let you. But none of the three boys even get a word out before they're scampering off with paled skin and pleading cries of mercy, racing out of the cafe and not sparing another glance back.

What—

Gojo spins to face you and he's grinning, wide and bright, stepping towards you. "Sorry about that darling," he calls out, ruffling your hair. "We got worried when you took a while to come back."

"Should've called for us," Geto mumbles, squeezing your shoulder in a soft, reassuring sort of way. "Let us know you were in trouble."

Gojo's hand falls on your cheek, cupping it, face suddenly serious but not in the same menacing way as before but concerned. "We'll always come when you're in trouble."

Geto nods; "so, don't feel afraid to rely on us."

They're in love with you.

Shoko's word taunt you in the back of your mind, completely stunned by Geto and Gojo as they move to walk, neither of them letting go of you, Geto's hand on your back and Gojo's hand wrapped around yours, leading out of the cafe.

They're close. They still close. Refusing to slip away.

I mean with love anything's possible, right?

Shoko just couldn't be right. She just couldn't...

Could she?

[semisolidmind]

How do you think season 5 would’ve gone in your Bad End or Twice As Bad AU?

ok, so

y'know how, since season 4, mk has been going through the whole “i don’t want to use or even acknowledge my monkey form because it makes me feel like a monster” thing? well, bad end/twice as bad mk doesn’t have that hangup to address, because he’s spent his entire life up until the shows’ events in that form, training and living in it. he knows no other way.

he is an incredibly powerful monkey demon; he is the harbinger of chaos, and he's fine with it.

his “mortal” form is the one he’s been having visions and confrontations with. (i imagine the ink curse in s4 using his mortal form to taunt him about being weak now that he's got mortals he cares about– "keep on compromising for them, and you'll end up just like them; too small and insignificant to ever make a difference.")

instead of having to face his fear that he may be dangerous (because as a crazy powerful monkey demon trained by the two other most powerful monkey demons in the universe, of course he is), his mortal self is trying to tell him that he doesn't have to be a monster like wukong. death and rampant destruction don't have to be his legacy.

the mortal mk in his meditative visions tells him that caring for his friends doesn't make him weak or undeserving of his power and lineage. the visions he has during the guardian trials (and the guardians themselves) tell him that in order to be a real hero, he has to care about those that his training would tell him are "lesser" than him (also that his friends aren't worth less just because they don't have a ridiculous amount of power).

mk would learn to accept that every being in the world has value, regardless of their status. nuwa would tell him this as well, when he meets her.

season 5 would be bad end/twice as bad mk's journey of accepting that he has a mortal heart, and that caring for others has immense power all on its own. he must choose to be the change to the status quo.

he'd always known he was an "agent of chaos," but the events of season five cement in his mind that he was brought into the world for a reason. just that now, he alone gets to decide what that reason is.

----------

as for his mentors...

getting captured and re-bound by the gold fillet wasn't exactly on the monkey king's itinerary, and he's majorly pissed. he levels the surrounding area about it, and decimates all of the soldiers sent to subdue him (regardless of how agonizing the tightening spell is; the pain just makes him angrier). he breaks every ward and barrier placed against him, tears apart any enemy who dares to come close. his rage is a force to be reckoned with.

wukong had sworn he'd never be subjugated by heaven ever again; he's definitely not just gonna let this slide. the celestial realm will suffer for their breach of the tentative peace they brokered by leaving the monkey king well enough alone.

as the only one that gets captured after his fit of rage, he only has to get himself out of celestial prison. easy, despite how many wards are placed on his cell (it's not like heaven has ever been much of a threat to him before, after all). he has to get back to the group, for his family's sake. nothing will stand in his way.

macaque only barely dodges getting locked into a fillet as well, and uses his advantage to launch a sneak attack on nezha and li jing; this forces them back and gives the gang their chance to escape in the chaos caused by the monkey bros.

the shadow general takes the distraction provided by wukong's rampage to get reader and everyone else somewhere safe. from there, the gang helps mk find all the stones, defeat the guardians trials, and eventually make their way to the pillar.

both wukong and macaque try to stop mk from sacrificing himself (in-between fighting the nine-headed demon), and reader tries to talk him down from it. however, she can't argue with the look of quiet determination on his face..she knows that he's made up his mind. with tears in her eyes she embraces him, then lets him go.

wukong tries to go after him, but one look at reader stops him. she's...she's accepted his decision. just like she always has. maybe...maybe this time, wukong should too. he sheds tears and holds onto his wife... but doesn't follow his son into the pillar.

the world goes silent, before bursting back to life.

the stones are destroyed, the nine-headed demon dissapears, and things go back to almost normal.

----------

—i imagine reader, with her skills as a peacemaker developed from her centuries as queen of flower fruit mountain, is the one who keeps everyone calm and grounded throughout their ordeals. she's gotten to know them all through her adopted charge, and keeps them on track.

—now it'd make sense for reader to be left relatively safe on ffm, but given the state of the universe in this season, the monkey bros aren't about to let her out of their sight (weird end-of -the-world-again family road trip). they don't care much for the rest of existence, but even they have to acknowledge that they'd prefer the world and their mountain unbroken.

—the pagoda sequence is a very emotionally tense one for reader and the boys in twice as bad. reader relives being stolen and the early years of her imprisonment; after they break her out of the hundred eyed demon's spell, she won't look at either of them and flinches away when they try to touch her; little does she know, her husbands relived the same thing (plus all the other bad shit they've done). they've learned enough compassion for her to feel a bit of shame.

[cynthiav06]

The entire Fandom needs to listen to this:

Percy having a thing for Rachel was so absolutely deserved like he should have been head over heels for her. Here's why?

First meeting? Runs her through with Riptide, and where anyone would have spent the whole time yelling and arguing, Rachel quickly gauged the situation, helped Percy hide, deviated the skeletons from their orignal path all at the same time.

Percy is so awed and he should be and Rick Riordan doesn't do justice to the whole thing.

It ends on Percy saying he owes her one, almost an indication that they would meet again.

Yet Percy is terrified of running into Rachel again because he isn't sure if he could answer all her questions, most definitely because he doesn't want to drag her into the whole thing. So much so that when he sees her at Goode, he calls her "my redheaded nightmare " .

Not only has he thought of her since they last met, but he may or may not have dreamed about her, not to mention he remembered her full name after listening just once.

When he does meet her again she yet again warns him about monsters hence saving both of them.

The most important thing is Percy, who all his life has been judged blamed ridiculed, and mocked is for the very first time understood so instantaneously by Rachel. She who has been put in mortal danger every single time she meets him doesn't blame him, doesn't judge him for it, and openly takes the blame for the burning school. Even Annabeth's first response to seeing the smoke is blaming Percy despite being around him and knowing well enough for 3 years; she chooses to blame him as if she doesn't know that it's never Percy's fault. Yet Rachel, someone who he has met only twice and that too for meager few minutes, understands him and his situation so well.

All the people in the Fandom ask yourself this: Will Percy Jackson not for all that he is be absolutely head over heels and in awe of someone like that?

He can barely give her any answers at the moment, but she agrees to a death quest to help him save the world.

Throws a literal hairbrush at the Titan King and stands her ground.

Stays by him and comforts him through his depressive thoughts about dying due to the prophecy.

Falls in love with him despite knowing he has little time left.

Does her best to help him while still keeping his mind off from spiraling into dark thoughts.

Rides a literal helicopter mid-apocalypse to get to him just to warn him of the dangers?

Percy would be so absolutely over the moon in love with Rachel, were Uncle Rick not so fixated on Percabeth agenda.

The last bit is for toxic Annabeth stans:

Rachel is a genius too.

She is ambidextrous and can draw with both hands and legs; probably has exceptional memory, and her composure and quick thinking are on par with Percy himself.

I hate bringing this to looks, but I will if I get to shut up toxic fans. Annabeth is certainly beautiful, and her grey eyes are quite unique, but Rachel is the most underrated and definitely the most beautiful out of all Percy Jackson females.

The woman literally won genetic lottery with red hair and green eyes, and the only reason Uncle Rick doesn't rave about her beauty is to not make Annabeth insecure.

Also, for those overly concerned about the Oracle celibacy thing, I will address that in my next post and how it's not a problem at all. (Now posted link is here:

Expect more Pjo-centric posts along with Perachel headcanons and more.

[heliads]

Hello! If you don’t mind, I would like to request a Rebekah Mikaelson x reader?

Something like, reader is human but is the key to one of Klaus’s plans, so he takes her to the Mikaelson mansion and keeps her there. She’s kind of a prisoner, but Rebekah has seen this film before, so she’s just expecting one of her brothers - or both of her brothers - to fall in love with yet another stupid human and make everything complicated again

However, reader starts to get affectionate with her. She starts looking for her when she needs something, when she has to make a decision, she looks at her for reassurance, she goes to Bekah’s room late at night to talk and very often just falls asleep there, it’s a whole thing, but Rebekah is always expecting the moment she’ll leave her for her brothers, not really opening her heart, she’s scared because she has been fooled so many times

So, one day she sees reader talking with Elijah and she’s even giving him those pleading eyes she usually reserves for her and they both shut up immediately when she gets close, and she knows the moment came, Y/N will be Elijah’s, Klaus will freak out and hell will break loose. She’s hurt but pretends no to be and just starts keeping reader away

But reader was only talking to Elijah because in one of these late night talks, Rebekah told her that no one has ever baked for her even though she has been doing it forever, so she was just trying to convince him to get everything she needed to bake for her, she’s completely in love with Rebekah

So, that’s it! I hope you like the request, thanks anyway!

'didn't like the ending' - rebekah mikaelson

masterlist

God, Rebekah Mikaelson has seen the same scene play out so many times, she’s starting to feel like she’s spent half her immortal life in deja vu. For a family of Original vampires that prides itself on being leagues beyond the rest of their bloodsucking proteges, the Mikaelson brothers can be a little, well, predictable. Especially at times like this.

If there’s one perfect example of the Mikaelson men repeating themselves, it would have to be the hostage problem. Rebekah can’t even begin to count the amount of times she’s witnessed the same damn thing over the centuries. At this point, it’s starting to border on ridiculous, yet the only one who seems attuned to this problem is Rebekah. And it’s not as if her brothers are really that keen to listen to her, anyway. Certainly not about something like this.

Every time, it starts and ends the same:  one of her brothers, maybe even Rebekah herself, will drag in some human or vampire or witch to serve as a hostage during one of their many disputes with the neighbouring supernatural beings. They’ll chain up this poor sap in a cell, or lock them in one of the many rooms of the Mikaelson mansion. At first, all will be perfectly ordinary. The hostage will beg and plead to be rescued, Rebekah’s family will laugh scornfully from atop their ivory towers, and everything will go as planned.

But then the negotiations don’t happen as quickly as they would like, and the Mikaelsons end up spending a lot more time with their hostage than initially envisioned. They have to tolerate the company of this foreign presence more and more, especially since the hostage often ends up being a key part in someone’s plans, and information is required from them. Then, Elijah or Klaus, or heavens, even Kol sometimes, will end up spending far more time with this hostage than ever before, and they’ll do the unthinkable and fall in love.

Rebekah is no stranger to the plight of the lovestruck Mikaelson. Although it seems impossible, one of her brothers will fall in love, and then face the unsightly issue of having to wrestle with their guilt over letting the hostage go, or the more likely option, they’ll keep the hostage forever as a little trophy or token of their affections until they fall out of love again and the hostage is set free.

This has happened many times over the centuries. No matter how much her brothers love to talk about how they’re so above mortal things like feelings, Rebekah has watched them fall victim to their hearts until an affection becomes an affliction. Normally, she wouldn’t have a problem with any of this, it is rather amusing to watch her brothers fall over themselves in an attempt to woo a human of all things, but more often than not she ends up being the reluctant ear to their monologues, so the whole affair has grown rather wearisome over the years.

And so, when Klaus drags yet another human hostage into the Mikaelson mansion as a cog in one of his many elaborate plans, Rebekah just sighs and mentally starts planning when she’ll take an extended vacation out of New Orleans yet again so she won’t have to deal with all of this. It’s a shame, too. She was just starting to put herself back out there again, and now all of her hard work is for nothing.

Rebekah watches from the balcony as Klaus dramatically announces to the hostage that they’ll have nowhere to go unless they help him. This time, he’s allowing the hostage free reign of the place, since he’s had a witch charm the hostage into being unable to leave the mansion unless Klaus directly allows it. That way, he won’t have to deal with pesky things like vervain getting in the way of his commands.

Rebekah sighs, rolling her eyes at the scene. The hostage seems like a perfectly nice young woman, albeit one that has absolutely no idea what’s coming for her. Inwardly, she wonders if she should start issuing ominous warnings about staying away from the Mikaelson brothers, although if this hostage is in any way involved with the vampiric communities of New Orleans, she supposes they would already know more than enough about that.

A sudden whoosh of air by her side; Rebekah looks up to see Elijah suddenly emerging from the shadows of the hall to stand next to her. “Something seems to be troubling you,” he notes. “Should I be afraid to ask?”

Rebekah just groans. “Klaus has gone and conjured himself up yet another hostage. This is not going to end well.”

Elijah arches a brow. “You don’t mean to tell me you think Klaus will harm her already? He should hold off at least a week or two, he needs her alive.”

Rebekah shakes her head. “Worse. I think he’s going to grow to care for her. Either you or him.”

Elijah chuckles. “Well, I hardly think that being under the protection of a Mikaelson is cause for concern. If anything, it should extend her lifetime a few decades or so.”

Rebekah scoffs. “I couldn’t care less about how long she lives. I just don’t want you two to bother me when you fall in love again.”

Elijah gazes down at the hostage. “You don’t even know if she’s our type. We might not like her in the slightest. Rebekah, have you even bothered to learn the poor girl’s name? That’s meager hospitality on your part.”

Rebekah almost laughs. “Dearest brother, I do not give a damn who this girl is or what she’s done wrong to get herself on Klaus’ radar. The more she stays out of my way, the better.”

With that, she spins on her heel and heads back towards her quarters. This plan is one of Klaus’ mad schemes, not hers, so Rebekah is determined to avoid the whole matter as much as she can. Maybe then she could finally manage a moment or two of peace and quiet around here.

Peace and quiet, as it turns out, are not the sorts of things to hang around the Mikaelson estate, certainly not when Klaus has a few tricks up his sleeve. Try as she might to stay out of the way, Rebekah finds herself brought back into the mix not by Klaus, or even Elijah on one of his many attempts to bring the family together, but by the hostage herself:  Y/N L/N.

Rebekah had been honest with Elijah when she said she couldn’t care less about the hostage. Really, she couldn’t. For some reason, however, Y/N seems to have decided that Rebekah is her best bet when attempting to navigate the complex relationships of the Mikaelson extended sphere. She’s not wrong, really, Rebekah can be level-headed when she decides it’s interesting enough for her, but she can’t fathom why Y/N would seek her out intentionally.

Yet this is precisely what happens. Y/N takes it upon herself to introduce herself to Rebekah out of the blue one day, then keeps tracking Rebekah down to ask her questions or seek advice on how to deal with Klaus. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Rebekah does not need new friends, nor would she try to find them in a human.

That being said, she doesn’t entirely mind Y/N, not really. As far as humans go, Rebekah would be kind enough to say that she’s one of the better ones. She doesn’t annoy Rebekah like some of the Mystic Falls crew did, and she listens intently whenever Rebekah speaks, as if she truly cared about what Rebekah had to say. After many lifetimes over her brothers overruling her every thought, Rebekah can’t deny that it’s nice to have her opinion valued every now and then.

Just as expected, Y/N’s tenure in the Mikaelson mansion drags on for longer than planned, and what was meant to be a stay of just a couple of weeks turns into one month, then two. Y/N remains, and she remains by Rebekah’s side. They actually exchange jokes, and secrets, and before Rebekah knows it, she actually looks forward to when she crosses paths with Y/N. They get along brilliantly, and when Y/N isn’t with Rebekah–

Well, when she’s not with Rebekah, she’s with Elijah. Practically glued to the hip. At first, Rebekah would jealously tell herself that Y/N would never get along with Elijah, but inside, she knows it isn’t true. If Y/N can win over Rebekah when Rebekah was firmly opposed to the whole idea, then good-tempered Elijah would be a walk in the park to Rebekah’s bloody battlefield.

It makes Rebekah sick. She knows how this play turns out, doesn’t she? Rebekah has attended many showings, and no matter the venue, no matter the star actress, it always turns out the same. The hostage falls for a Mikaelson brother, not sister. In the end, there is love to be shared, but not with Rebekah. Never with Rebekah.

She wants to tighten her hold, but afraid of pushing Y/N away for good, she pretends as if nothing is the matter. Y/N doesn’t seem to notice the war brewing between Rebekah’s ribs. She spends more and more time in Rebekah’s room, talking over some issue or other. Sometimes, when the nights get low and Y/N forgets to leave, she’ll even fall asleep on Rebekah’s bed, or when leaning against her shoulder. It feels personal. It feels like maybe, it might even be Rebekah’s turn to fall in love.

She knows better, though. Of course Rebekah knows better. Rebekah has been through enough lifetimes to know that hope is a very rocky fissure upon which to build one’s aspirations. Even if a lot of her life has been spent daggered in a box, she still knows enough to not be naive. This story isn’t going to go her way. It never does.

She’d like it to, though. She really would. Y/N gets along with the whole family, and Rebekah can’t stop herself from imagining how nice it would be to have a significant other that wasn’t in danger of getting murdered by Klaus or Elijah for once. Klaus, with admittedly great reluctance, has come to value Y/N’s input. And Elijah’s conversations with Y/N seem to increase in number, but mainly whenever Rebekah isn’t around.

That happens a lot, actually. They’ll be getting along, thick as thieves, and then the moment Rebekah turns the corner and comes into their direct line of sight, the two of them mysteriously clam up. Keeping secrets, it seems. From her. And Rebekah reckons she can guess the subject matter quite well.

That’s it, then. That’s the mystery sorted, the grand question of which Mikaelson their latest hostage would fall for. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, but Rebekah finds herself far more disappointed than she had for any of the others. Vampires are protective and jealous and selfish, and Rebekah is the worst of them, but still, she swears she had never wanted anything quite like this before. Now this thing, this love, this woman, is out of her reach, and Rebekah’s entire existence has suddenly turned tragic.

Although she should take the high road and pretend that nothing is the matter, Rebekah has never been good at brushing off trivialities. Once, when she was younger, Klaus had told her that she had a ‘gift for theatrics.’ At first, she’d been delighted, assuming her brother believed her to be a master actress, and then she’d realized that Klaus’ words, as they always seemed to be, were nothing but a barb meant to wound her. Then she’d stomped around as usual, doing nothing to raise her spirits and only proving him right.

Stomping around can be rather satisfying, though. When Rebekah runs into Y/N and Elijah deep in a heated conversation one day, she just can’t take it anymore. This time, instead of running away and pretending as if she hadn’t seen a thing, Rebekah purposely walks towards them. Just as before, Y/N’s eyes go wide, and she hurriedly shuts up. 

Rebekah isn’t willing to let it slide, though. She stops in front of them and folds her arms across her chest. “What’s all this about? You look as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Which, I suppose, you have.”

Y/N grins weakly. “Nothing. We, uh, aren’t doing anything.”

Rebekah arches a brow. “That’s hardly believable, now, isn’t it? How about you try telling me the truth for once. I’d certainly like to hear it.”

Elijah claps his hands together. “Actually, I think this is a matter just for you and Y/N, my dear sister. I don’t believe this concerns me at all.”

Before either of them can stop him, Elijah disappears down the hall, gone in an instant. Y/N glares after him. “For an immortal vampire, he’s absolutely terrible when you want someone to stand by you.”

“That’s Elijah for you,” Rebekah murmurs. “He never likes it when we fight.”

“Yeah, well, I can hardly blame him,” Y/N muses. “Fighting with your family seems rather painful.”

“It is,” Rebekah instantly agrees, then remembers that she’s supposed to be upset. “Now, you can’t distract me anymore. Tell me what’s going on, I mean it. I know we’re friends, but you don’t have to hide things from me.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide. “You mean– you know? And you’re okay with it?”

Rebekah feels as if she’s been daggered. She almost wants to turn around and see if her murderous brother is standing behind her, ready to put her in a coffin again for another century or two. Y/N does like Elijah, then. How utterly heartbreaking. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” She asks listlessly. “I know my brothers, and as far as Mikaelson men go, you chose the one who tends to be the most stable. Nothing wrong with that.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Rebekah looks away. Thinking it is one thing, but admitting the painful truth aloud suddenly seems far worse. “You know. You’ve fallen in love with my brother.”

She isn’t sure how she expects Y/N to react. With relief, maybe, that she won’t have to hide anymore. What Rebekah certainly isn’t expecting is for Y/N to start laughing. “What? No, Rebekah, I’m not in love with Elijah. I’m in love with you.”

The floor seems to have fallen about beneath Rebekah’s feet. “With– with me?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s a lovely sound. “Yes, Bekah, I love you. It’s very easy to do, you know.”

Rebekah shakes her head, still not entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming or something. This certainly feels like a dream. “But– you’re always with Elijah– and you keep sharing secrets with him that you won’t tell me–”

Y/N grins. “That’s because I’m trying to make sure he won’t tell a soul. Elijah figured me out a few weeks ago. Mainly, though, I’ve been trying to persuade him to get me a few things. I want to bake something for you, and Klaus only ever keeps this house stocked with blood and alcohol. It’s sort of horrific, actually. You don’t even have baking soda.”

Rebekah’s brow furrows. “You wanted to bake me something? Why?”

Y/N’s smile turns quiet. “You mentioned it once. You were sad that no one had ever baked for you even though you were always making things for your brothers. I didn’t want you to feel that way anymore.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Rebekah says softly. “I only mentioned it once.”

“I like listening to you, Rebekah.” Y/N tells her.

And at last, at long last, Rebekah knows why. She’s seen this play before. For once, she gets her happy ending.

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