#totally not supposed to be getting on with university work or anything right now

[chrispdoodles]

hi, could you draw a Thundurus?

Sure! : )

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[shuafiles]

lie to girls [l.jn] preview

SUMMARY | it was hard watching jeno struggle with his relationship, but it was even harder when he ran to you for comfort every time. especially when you, his long-time best friend, have been in love with him for the longest time. but when jeno starts lying about where he’s going and who he’s with, you realize the biggest lie might be the one you’re telling yourself—that he’ll ever choose you. or girls will cry, and girls will lie, and girls will lose their goddamn minds for you.

PAIRING | nonidol!jeno x afab!reader

CONTENT | university au, angst, best friends to ?, aespa members included, cheating, swearing, drinking, smut (not everything is included in the teaser yet but just so you know whats in store)

WORDS | 855 (just this teaser)

A/N | sneak peek of what im working on! im planning on making this a looong one but i was too excited so i decided to share without spoiling too much. let me know if you like it! total wc is still unknown and the release date will hopefully be before november ends. also its my birthday today so heres my gift to you :D

“hey.” jeno greeted you, standing at your front door, which only meant one thing. they fought again.

you pushed the door wider, letting him inside. he looked like a mess, his shoulders slumped, dark bags around his eyes, hair disheveled. even from afar, you could tell he was going through something. his phone was in his hand, checking for notifications, but he let out a huge sigh when the home screen was empty.

“do i even want to know?” you prodded, eyes watching him as he plopped down on the couch. his head tilting back on the headrest, head filled with thoughts.

“you know how she is.” jeno mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. “said she needed some space.”

unfortunately, i do know how she is. jeno’s girlfriend, karina. they’ve been together since first year of college when jeno met her at some random party. they were the kind of couple on campus that, at first glance, seemed perfect, but you knew all too well what kind of chaos haunted them in private. you were too familiar with how she behaved with jeno; most of the time, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

jeno didn’t even have to say anything when you saw him at your front door. you have grown accustomed to this pattern: the same heartache, apologies, and cycle of hope and disappointment. and every time it occurred, jeno ended up here—at your door, at your couch, sulking.

you wanted nothing more than to scold jeno for letting himself get run over by her, but you kept your lips sealed. deciding that giving him comfort and support was probably what he needed right now.

“again, huh?” you sat down on the opposite side of him, tucking your legs beneath you.

“i don’t even know what that means, y/n.” jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. he lifted his head to face you, gaze soft as he held eye contact with you. “one minute, everything’s perfect, and we’re fine, but suddenly, i’ve apparently done something wrong, and she won't even tell me.” his voice cracked, hopelessness evident in his tone. it pained you to see him like this. how many times is he going to let her do this to him?

“well, did you do something wrong?” you asked, but you knew jeno too well, he wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship. sure, he has made mistakes in the past, but he was a good person, a good friend, and a good lover, you suppose.

jeno stayed silent for a moment, recalling if he had done something to make his girlfriend upset. “i–no, at least i don’t think so.” he shook his head, “i’ve just been busy with classes, but i always make time for her. and everything we’re together, i always try to make it special. you know?”

you nodded along to his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you have heard this story countless times, so you could probably recite it to him. it wasn’t unusual for karina to act like this; she’d get upset over something vague, and then jeno would beat himself up for it, but he’d still bend over backward to get her back.

“maybe she’s just going through something?” you said, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind.

you and karina were acquaintances at best. it’s not like you didn’t try to be her friend, but something about her attitude just seems so off-putting to you. you weren’t entirely sure if karina was fond of you either. of course, you never told jeno any of these. you knew he wouldn’t listen, not when it comes to her. he loves her. he’d return to her every time, like a moth to a flame. and you’d be there, picking up the pieces when he got burned.

“i wish she’d just tell me what’s on her mind instead of leaving me wondering what i did wrong.” his face twisted into frustration with a mix of confusion.

“jen, you know i can’t help you if you don’t tell her what you’re feeling.” this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you’re supposed to tell her these, not me.”

jeno flinched at your words, somehow unsatisfied with your advice. “yeah… you’re right.”

you watched his expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he was deep in thought. “i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.” you hesitated, knowing you were treading dangerous waters. “i just think… you deserve someone who actually appreciates you.”

jeno stayed silent, processing your words as if he hadn’t told himself that a million times. but for some stupid reason, he couldn’t keep it in his head. he looked down at his phone, tapping the screen once more, but to his disappointment, there was still nothing. “i know you’re just looking out for me, y/n. but… i just can’t give up on her. not yet.”

and just like that, you could feel him slipping away, back into her orbit, leaving you alone with all the things you couldn’t say, wondering when he would run back to you again.

[itneverendshere]

okay we know rafes help reader in situations like with electricity and no car and such. but maybe it’s the first time where he knows he’s in love with her and she’s the one for him, where she doesn’t go to him for any help. and it’s maybe like not having enough money to buy groceries for herself, or how she walks to work still bc she can’t afford gas. and he gets so mad, and she thinks it’s an inconvenience to him. but it’s actually because rafe will always be there for her, and no matter what the problem is , he can fix it just for her

you got me overnight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(bartender!reader universe) warnings: first fight and confession 🫂

Rafe knew convincing you he was worth a shot was the easiest part of your relationship.

You were absolutely perfect, made to be his. He could picture you right now, how you’d smile at his stupid jokes, the warmth of your hand in his, or how you’d send him those random "good morning" texts that made his day. You were everything.

You cared about people, about him. You gave a shit, that was something new for him. He never thought he’d get someone like you, you made him want to be better.

Months later, and he was hooked. Totally gone. You were the real deal for him. Every time his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, he smiled like a fucking idiot.

So when you dropped it on him, casually, that you'd been walking to work because you didn’t have the gas money while he’d been away on a family holiday, it set off something inside him.

You said it like it was no big deal, just another part of your day.

He was losing it over the idea of you walking to work, sweating it out while he was chilling on vacation, it made him sick. He didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him earlier or call for help.

Why didn’t you call him? He could’ve handled it in a second, from across the world if he had to, no problem. You didn’t need to be doing stuff like that. 

“You’ve been walking to work?”

“Yeah… it’s fine. It’s not far,” you replied, brushing it off.

It wasn't nothing, Rafe knew how far your walk was. Your house was exactly around the corner, you didn’t have to be doing this. Even if he hadn’t been there for the past week to give you a ride as he usually did, he could’ve taken care of it.

He was always here for you, even when he wasn’t physically there.

Rafe gripped the counter, hoping to keep his frustration under control, for your sake. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t tell me you were low on gas.”

You gave a little shrug, as if that was the end of the conversation.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s not your problem.”

Didn’t wanna bother him? Not his problem? You were his problem, the best kind of problem, and he couldn’t understand why you thought you had to handle everything by yourself.

It pissed him off to no end—not you, but the fact that you were struggling in silence. It felt like you didn’t trust him to be there for you, to lean on him when you needed something.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” His voice came out harsher than what he'd hoped for, and you froze, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Chill,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. “I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it. I can handle it.”

That wasn’t the point, you shouldn’t have to handle it when you had him. You were supposed tocome to him when things like this came up. That’s what being together meant.

It was crazy to him. Every part of him wanted to protect you, make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything like this on your own. The thought of you walking to work—tired, probably stressed out—while he was away doing nothing important...he hated it.

"You don’t have to handle it, though," he argued, still frustrated “That’s the thing. I want to help. I need to help. When you're struggling, that's my problem too. I wanna be there for you. Always.”

You looked at him like he was overreacting, making something out of nothing.

“Baby, it’s not that serious. It’s just a couple of walks. You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. "It's not about the fucking walks. It's the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me. Like I wouldn’t care.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples, tired of this conversation already.

“I didn’t wanna bother you. You were on vacation. I didn’t want to stress you out over something so small.”

He didn’t know why it irked him so badly, but it did. “You’re serious? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” 

You shifted on your feet, already defensive. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I figured I’d handle it.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” he snapped, stepping closer to you, his hand gesturing wildly. “You figured you’d handle it? What the fuck? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about something like this?”

“Because it’s stupid gas money, Rafe!” you fired back, “I didn’t wanna bother you with something so small! You were gone, and I didn’t want to make it a whole fucking thing.”

He could hear the anger in your voice, but it just made him furious.

You thought you were protecting him from being “bothered,” but all it did was make him feel like you didn’t need him. Did you not think he could help? Or worse, you didn’t want him to.

“Small? Are you fucking kiddin’ me? You walked to work for how many days, in the heat, probably tired as fuck, and you think that’s small?” His voice was rising, he hated that he couldn’t control it, but he was too worked up. “It’s not the gas money. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. You kept it to yourself, like I’m just some fucking dude who’s not in your life like that.”

“Rafe, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I didn’t need to tell you because I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not what this is about!” He nearly shouted, eyes wide with desbelief. “This isn’t you being helpless or not! It’s you not letting me be there for you, not letting me help you when things get tough. Shit. That’s what this is, what we are. You don’t fucking get it.”

“I do fucking get it, Rafe!” You gritted back, your eyes burning with misplaced anger. “I don’t need to run to you every time something goes wrong. I’m not gonna fall apart because of a few days without a car.”

He was grinding his teeth now, trying to keep his composure but failing miserably. “You didn’t even think to lean on me! You didn’t trust me enough to just call and say, ‘Hey baby, I’m low on gas. Can you help?’ You shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “I did figure it out! I walked. It wasn’t a huge disaster. I made it work.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the kitchen. “Why can’t you get that? You don’t have to handle shit like this alone! I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re acting like I don’t care about us because I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I care, Rafe. I can deal with things on my own, too. I’m not gonna dump every little problem on you like it’s your job to fix it for me."

Rafe shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time, pacing because he couldn’t stand still.

“It is my job, though. That’s the whole fucking point. I’m supposed to be the one you come to when things go wrong sweets, big or small. I’m supposed to be the one who makes your life easier, not the guy you hide stuff from.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, “Hide? Seriously? You think I’m hiding things from you? It was gas money, Rafe, not a dark secret.”

“It feels like it, though,” he shot back, voice cracking, “It feels like you don’t trust me. I’m not… am I not enough for you to depend on?”

You went silent at that, your arms dropping to your sides. “That’s not fair,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?" He scoffed, "It feel like it is. I’m out here thinking I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back, but you’re out there, dealing with stuff alone. It makes me feel… I’m not even part of your life like that.”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, stepping toward him, the fight drained out of your voice. “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to worry. Not because I don’t trust you. I thought I was helping by not making you deal with it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Helping? You think it helps me to know you’re struggling and didn’t say anything? That’s not helping. Shit, that’s torture, baby. I’d rather know and fix it than find out after and feel like an idiot because I wasn’t there.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, exhaustion settling in.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious to me,” He confessed, the anger ebbing away, leaving only the hurt behind. “Because I love you, and when you love someone, you don’t want them to handle things alone. You want to be there, always.”

You froze, eyes wide as you gawked at him.

What? He hadn’t planned to say it like this, in the middle of a fight, but there it was.

“I love you,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I need you to understand that means I’m here. For all of it. No matter how small it seems.”

He said it. He loved you. It asn’t the perfect timing, but at least it was out of his chest. This man who had always been so intense, fiercely protective, was looking at you like you held his entire world in your hands. And you did.

He loved you, almost too much and it was what you felt for him too.

It's why you didn't ask for help, you didn’t want to burden him with every problem. You thought you were protecting him.

Now, standing there, you realized maybe you’d gotten it wrong.

“You l-love me?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he shook his head, bracing himself for rejection.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning away, “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I just needed you to know.”

“No.” You stepped forward, reaching for his hand before he could pull completely away. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just say it and walk away like I’m not standing right here.”

His gaze shot back to yours, confused and a little bit guarded.

“I love you too,” you said, the words feeling right as soon as they left your lips. You squeezed his hand, needing him to feel it. “I love you, okay? I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought I was being strong, handling things on my own. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t need you. I do need you,” you continued, “And I know now that I should’ve called, let you help me, because that’s what we do. We’re a team, but I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he all but yanked you into his arms, his grip desperate. You melted into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the calming thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re not a burden. You’ll never be a burden. I just—I need you to let me be there for you. I don’t care what it is. Big or small, I wanna know. I wanna help.”

You nodded against him, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his skin calm you.

“Okay. I promise.”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. There was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before—relief, but more than that, love. He felt you relax, your body molding into his.

“Say it again,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled, hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “I love you, Rafe.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I need you to get something,” He said, voice much calmer now “When I say I love you, I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I’m in this, all the way.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide “I—” you started, but he shook his head.

“No, listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re everything. And I love you for it. I love every single part of you.”

He felt his chest tighten as he said it, the words were coming from somewhere so deep inside him that he hadn’t even realized they were there until now. He didn’t just love you—he needed you.

You grinned, your eyes glistening a little. “This… it feels so big. Holy shit, bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“That’s because it is,” Rafe nodded, “It’s the biggest thing in the world to me. You are.”

Your breath hitched as you reached up, cupping his face with your hands, and for the first time since the fight started, Rafe felt like you were really seeing him. All of him—the guy who was scared out of his mind at how much he needed you, but who was willing to do anything to keep you close.

“I love you too,” you said it again, your voice shaking a smidge as you said it. “I’m sorry.”

 “We’re in this together,” he kissed your palm, “No more going through stuff alone. Not you, not me. We’ve got each other now.”

You smiled, and Rafe felt like he could breathe again for the first time all night.

“Deal."

Right there, he knew that everything was going to be okay, you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his person. 

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[domm1etae]

needy pup

mingi x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

Mingi may be the perfect alpha on campus—popular, charming, and everyone’s favorite—but the moment he’s around you, all his composure crumbles. When his need for you gets too overwhelming to handle during a study session, you decide to give your needy pup exactly what he’s been begging for. Turns out, he’s more obedient than anyone would’ve guessed

nsfw tags under

f/m, mention of a/b/o dynam., alpha submissive top mingi, beta dominant bottom reader, pet names, jerking off, pleading, semi-public sex, going down on her, oral sex, quick sex, cumming inside without condom (pls wrap up your piener irl), female reader, and more idk anymore lol

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

Song Mingi is an alpha.

But not the kind you’d expect.

Sure, he’s the campus favorite—everyone knows his name. Whether it’s omegas, betas, or even other alphas, they all seem drawn to him like moths to a flame. But unlike the image most people have of alphas, Mingi isn’t all bark and bite. Yeah, he’s got the size and the presence, but he’s also got this easygoing charm that makes him approachable. He’s not trying to prove anything to anyone. Mingi is just… Mingi.

And that’s what makes him stand out.

It’s not like he hasn’t had his moments, though. Back in high school, he was a total pain—always cracking jokes, pulling harmless pranks, and skating by with his boyish grin. His teachers were over it, but somehow, he had this magnetic energy that kept people from staying mad at him for long. He wasn’t the type to pick fights or throw his weight around; he just had that playful streak that made life a little more interesting.

Now, in his second year of university, Mingi’s mellowed out a bit. He still knows how to have fun, but he’s more focused these days. Or at least, he was until he met you.

Y/N.

You weren’t just some random classmate. From the moment Mingi saw you, something shifted. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful—though you definitely are—it was the way you carried yourself. Calm, confident, like you didn’t need anyone to tell you how amazing you were. For someone like Mingi, who’s so used to people trying to impress him, your vibe was… refreshing.

And a little intimidating.

The thing is, alphas aren’t supposed to feel small. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. But around you? Mingi couldn’t help it. You’d give him one look—just one—and it felt like the ground beneath his feet disappeared. At first, he thought he was imagining it. Alphas don’t submit, right? That’s just not how it works.

Except it is.

Because with you, Mingi’s entire dynamic flipped. He found himself saying “yes” before you even finished your requests, practically jumping to do anything you asked. Grabbing your bag, holding the door, running across campus to get you snacks—you name it, he did it. And it wasn’t because he felt obligated. It was because he wanted to.

There was something about you that made him crave your approval. Your smirk, the way you’d tease him—it turned his brain into static. Every time you praised him, even for the smallest thing, he felt like he’d won the lottery.

Before the two of you got close, Mingi spent way too much time trying to figure you out. He’d catch himself staring at you in class or conveniently ending up in the same places as you, hoping you’d notice him. And when you finally did? It felt like the stars had aligned.

But getting close to you wasn’t easy. You weren’t the type to fall for cheap charm or shallow compliments. You made him work for it—really work for it—and Mingi loved that. Every little victory, every small smile you gave him, felt earned.

When he finally built up the nerve to ask you out, his heart was practically in his throat. He expected you to laugh or maybe let him down gently. But you didn’t. You said yes. And just like that, Mingi’s world tilted on its axis.

Now that you’re his, Mingi can’t get enough. He doesn’t care about what’s expected of him as an alpha. He only cares about you. And if anyone thinks it’s strange that someone like him gets so soft for someone like you? Well, that’s their problem, not his.

Mingi’s eyes flit between the clock on the wall and Y/N, who is flipping through her notes at her desk. They’re currently sitting in the schools library, and while Y/N is busy preparing for an upcoming exam, Mingi is squirming in his seat, unable to focus on anything but the growing ache between his legs.

“I told you to go do something productive,” Y/N says, barely sparing him a glance as she writes something in her notebook.

Mingi shakes his head, his pout growing. “Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but can’t hide the amused smirk tugging at her lips. “Pup,” she sighs, turning in her chair to look at him fully. “You’re distracting yourself sitting here. Go take a walk or something. I’ll be done soon.”

“But I need you,” he whines, his voice soft but desperate, laced with need.

“You’re being dramatic,” Y/N replies, leaning back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. But she knows that look. That glint of need in his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” Mingi mumbles, his gaze darting downward, shame creeping up his neck as he fidgets in his seat. His hand twitches near his lap, and Y/N doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches as he rubs his thighs together.

“Are you seriously getting hard right now?” Y/N raises a brow, her tone somewhere between amused and incredulous.

Mingi’s cheeks flush red as he nods, barely meeting her eyes. “I can’t help it, Y/N. You smell so good, and—and I’ve been good all day! Please…” His voice cracks as his need grows, and Y/N notices the way his hands grip the edge of the desk, trying to ground himself.

“Poor pup,” Y/N teases, leaning closer to him. “You really can’t handle yourself, can you?”

Mingi sniffles, his desperation apparent in the way his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Please, Y/N. I—I need you so bad. Just let me taste you. I promise I’ll be good.”

Y/N tilts her head, pretending to think it over, though she’s already made up her mind. Seeing Mingi like this—needy, desperate, and begging—is enough to make her wet. She stands, gesturing for him to follow.

“Get up,” she commands. “Let’s find a place before someone walks in here.”

Mingi doesn’t hesitate, scrambling to his feet and trailing behind her like the obedient pup he is. She leads him to a small, unused classroom down the hall, locking the door behind them. The second the door clicks shut, Mingi is on his knees in front of her, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Good boy,” Y/N purrs, running her fingers through his hair. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Go on, pup. Show me how much you want it.”

Mingi’s hands tremble as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her pants, pulling them down along with her underwear. He groans when her bare pussy is revealed, glistening with arousal. “Fuck,” he mutters, practically drooling. “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

She smirks, leaning back against the desk and spreading her legs. “It’s all yours, pup. Don’t make a mess.”

Mingi wastes no time, diving in with a hunger that borders on feral. His tongue laps at her folds, drawing out a satisfied sigh from Y/N. He’s sloppy, licking and sucking with a desperation that makes her thighs tremble around his head.

“Good boy,” she praises, her fingers tangling in his hair to guide him. “Just like that. Make me feel good, pup.”

Mingi moans against her, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through her body. His hands grip her thighs, holding her steady as he buries his face deeper between her legs, his nose brushing against her clit as his tongue works her entrance.

Y/N’s head tilts back, a low moan escaping her lips. “You’re so eager,” she teases, looking down at him. “You really can’t get enough, can you?”

He shakes his head, his movements frantic. “Never,” he mumbles against her, his voice muffled. “Need you so bad.”

She lets him continue for a while longer, enjoying the way he whimpers and moans as he devours her. Than she pulls him back by his hair, smirking at the way his lips and chin glisten with her arousal.

“Don’t stop, pup,” she pants, her voice breathless. “Make me cum, and I’ll let you fuck me after.”

The promise lights a fire in him. Mingi dives in deeper without hesitation, his broad shoulders parting your thighs wider as he grips them, keeping you spread open. His hot breath hits your core, and the way his tongue flicks out and barely grazes over your folds has you twitching in anticipation.

“Pup,” you murmur, fingers tangling in his hair as you tug his face closer. “Don’t waste time—get to it. You’re starving, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he groans, voice muffled as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He circles his tongue slowly, savoring the taste, before pulling back to whisper, “Tastes so good, so perfect—thank you…”

“Stop thanking me and start eating properly.”

The edge in your voice spurs him on, and suddenly Mingi’s tongue is relentless. He’s licking, sucking, and lapping at your folds with fervor, moaning softly like he’s the one being pleasured. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you even closer to his mouth, like he’s scared you’ll take this away from him.

The sounds are obscene—his mouth slurping against you, his muffled groans, and your breathy moans echoing in the small, empty classroom. You glance down and see Mingi’s eyes locked on you, pupils blown wide as he stares up, completely lost in the act.

“Fuck, pup,” you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is everywhere—flicking over your clit, dipping into your entrance, and dragging along every inch of you. “Look at you, making such a mess of yourself. You really can’t control yourself, can you?”

Mingi whines against you, shaking his head. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard enough to pull a cry from your throat. You feel one of his hands leave your thigh, and when you glance down, you see him stroking his cock desperately, precum smearing over his fingers as he jerks himself off to the sound of your moans.

“Needy boy,” you tease, tugging lightly on his hair to make him look at you. “All you had to do was wait for me to finish my work, but no, you had to act like a desperate little pupyou are. Now look at you—messy and so fucking hard you can’t even think straight, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” he chokes out, his lips red and shiny as he pulls back for a second. “I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You’re all I want—all I need.”

You smirk, cupping his cheek. “Then keep going, pup. Show me just how much you need me.”

With a low growl, Mingi dives back in, tongue thrusting inside you as his nose rubs against your clit. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to prove just how desperate he is. The hand on his cock speeds up, and you can tell by the way his hips are twitching that he’s close.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you warn, gripping his hair tighter. He lets out a muffled whimper, his tongue faltering for a second before resuming its task. “Good boy. Make me cum first, and I’ll let you finish after as I promised.”

And after those words, his tongue is suddenly everywhere, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. The pressure builds quickly, and you throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as the knot in your stomach tightens.

“Right there, pup, just like that—don’t stop,” you gasp, thighs clenching around his head. Mingi groans, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, and with one final flick of his tongue over your clit, you’re falling over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes over you.

Mingi doesn’t stop, his tongue still working you through your high as he whines against you, his hips bucking into his hand. When you finally push his head away, panting and spent, he looks up at you with wide, needy eyes, his lips glistening with your release.

“Can I—please, Y/N, can I cum now?” he begs, his voice cracking as he strokes himself faster. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I? Please let me cum, I need it so bad.”

You bite your lip, pretending to think it over, before finally nodding, turning around and bending over the table. “Go ahead, pup. Show me how good you are.”

With a broken moan, he inserts his dick inside, his head falls back as he spills inside of you with just one thrust, his cock twitching as he comes. You turn around right after to reach out and ruffle his hair as he collapses against you, panting and spent.

“Good boy,” you murmur, stroking his cheek. “You did so well for me.”

Mingi looks up at you with a blissed-out smile, his eyes half-lidded. “Anything for you, Y/N. Always.”

[khrystalsnow]

February to April Jungkook Reading List

🤠Oh hey guys~ long time no see🤠~

I was totally supposed to post a list 2 months ago but i got really busy with school and work SO PLEASE DON’T KILL ME🫣But this reading list is long to make it up. These are the fanfics that got me through the semester, or more like my escape 90% of the time from doing my school work so i hope you guys enjoy it and much love to all of the authors💗

I have also reread a bunch of fics from my past reading list, so you guys can check those out as well!

LEGEND

Fluff - 🌸

Smut -🌹

Angst - 🥀

Crack- 🍄

All Time Favourite - 🌺

-------------------------------LETS BEGIN---------------------------------

ONE SHOTS

Entropy by @youthguk 🌹

“The universe tends towards chaos”

One-shot | college AU | fuckboy!JK

That Night of Graduation by @smartkookiee 🌹🌸 🌺

After a stupid game of Truth or Drink you are convinced into telling everyone about the time you and Jungkook hooked up together the night of college graduation. A missed connection that you and Jungkook hadn’t even talked about. Bringing up some unexpected feeling that you hadn’t realized had been lingering between the two of you

One-shot | friends to lovers | post college story | right person wrong time | good ending

Truth or Dare: Kiss a Friend by @dailynnt 🌹

During the game Truth or Dare, Jungkook kisses you so hard that you can’t think of anyone else but him. But it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him. To forget about him, you start talking to someone else, but Jungkook won’t let anyone take his place

One-shot | Friends to lovers | possessive!JK | unspoken desires

Jungkook’s realization by @champagnevi 🌸

How jungkook realized that he's in love with OC

Carefree by @guksfairy 🌸🥀

y/n is a member of STRLIGHT which has five members but they’re not mentioned much, y/n is under Wonijin Entertainment and JK is under Hybe, JK is head over heels for y/n

we ride by @v-eee 🌸

new neighbor offers you a ride

The Monogamy Monologues by @kpopfanfictrash 🌹🥀 🌺

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

-> The Virgin Volume 🌹🥀

It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity.

nothing like us by @focusonkayjay 🌸 🥀

To help you escape the relentless barrage of blind date requests and the unsettling advances of a creep in the office, your arch-nemesis, Jungkook, boldly declares during a company holiday retreat that you’re in a relationship with him—an audacious statement that couldn’t be further from the truth. Stunned and confused, you’re certain that your rivalry with him is far from anything resembling love. Yet, as the retreat progresses, you start to question whether the "fake" in this "fake relationship" is truly present in the room with you.

enemies to lovers | fake dating | corporate employees

shot glass full of tears by @focusonkayjay 🌸🌹🥀

When your beloved cat suffers a small injury, you're left with no choice but to call your ex-boyfriend, who just so happens to be a veterinarian. But when you see Jungkook for the first time in five months, the weight of the past comes crashing down and suddenly, you’re left wondering if walking away from him was the biggest mistake of your life. Meanwhile, Jungkook, desperate for a second chance, sees this as the moment he's been waiting for and with a heart full of lingering feelings, he’s determined to set things right and show you the love you truly deserve—if only you’ll let him.

veterinarian!jungkook x cat mom!reader | exes to lovers

D&D by @aajjks 🌹🍄

There is a lot to deal with whenever your horny roommate ends up drunk as fuck

roommates!JK and reader

we fight by @v-eee 🌸🥀

a petty fight turns into three days of stubborn silence

miss taken. by @junghelioseok 🌸🌹

you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.

teacher!au | single parent!au |enemies to lovers

historic moments by @moyochu 🌸

“no one’s going to believe we’re together anyway, you’re the super strict history teacher and i’m the chill biology teacher that brings my pets to class”

teacher!au

pour some sugar on me by @yoonia 🌹

Being stuck in the kitchen of your aunt’s bakery late at night is the last thing you had in mind when it came to preparing for Valentine’s day. Although, being stuck with your archenemy, and the most overbearing person you have ever known, teaching you how to bake your aunt’s secret recipe is the exact opposite of what you’d ever have in mind. As the kitchen grows hot, however, you cannot tell whether it’s from the ovens or if it’s something else burning between the two of you. As the night progresses, you cannot help but wonder which one would melt first once you are done. The frostings? Or you?

enemies to lovers au | Baker!yoongi and Baker!reader

the spins by @here2bbtstrash 🌹

you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do

frat boy!jungkook | reader's first partnered orgasm | SMUT

Sweet Inhibition | Park Sunghoon by @scorpieuns 🌹

you know what they say, never answer a call from your boss when you’re drunk off your mind—oh, and never tell him that he desperately needs to get laid

office au

Walk You Home by @angellesword 🌸🌹🥀

general!jungkook x medical practitioner!reader

Hold on to me by @kooklovee 🌸🌹🥀

Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt—about your love, your marriage, and whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered. Can he make it up to you, or is it already too late?

CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader

Lunch Break by @borathae 🌸🌹

“Min Yoongi is many a thing in your life. Coworker, superior, best friend and beloved long-term boyfriend. Yes, that’s right. You are dating your boss. It’s a lot easier than it sounds. You get to live together, get to go to work together and get to spend lunch break together. Problem is, Yoongi decided to wear his pretty blue button-up today and this shirt has a rather lethal effect on you. Thankfully, he has his own private office.“

coworkers!AU | established relationship!AU | office romance!AU

SERIES

before we shatter by @caramelkoo 🌸🌹🥀

dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

established relationship | idol!jungkook | mentions death of a loved one | cheating (not by the main characters)

webbed heartstrings by @focusonkayjay 🌸🌹🥀

For as long as you can remember, Jungkook has been the biggest flirt when it comes to you. Despite being the campus heartthrob with a trail of admirers and girls dying for his attention—his focus has always, inexplicably, been on you. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves friends, not with the way he shamelessly flirts and constantly pushes your buttons, but there’s no denying the way he gets under your skin, making your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. When you finally give in, after enduring his endless date requests and ridiculous antics, you expect something special, maybe even something perfect. What you don’t expect is to be left disappointed and hurt in a way that blindsides you. Little do you know, Jungkook’s time is split between charming you and saving the city. And while you’re questioning everything, Jungkook is desperate to prove that his feelings for you have always been real, even if his reality is anything but ordinary.

spiderman/campus heartthrob! jungkook x reader

Your Universe by @muniimyg 🌹🍄🥀

Regretting rejecting oc, min yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

basketball captain!yoongi x preschool education major!OC | tsudereyoongi x sunshine OC

Chess of Ice by @jimlingss 🌸 🥀 🌺

Jeon Jungkook is a rising star, aka. hockey captain of a team heading for the Olympics. The last thing he expects is to begin a whole 'nother sport, holding a broomstick in his hands, sweeping the ice and throwing dumb stones towards a target. As if that wasn't bad enough, his love life is about to turn into a game of chess as well... and you're his opponent.

Sports!AU

Perfect Plan by @joons-cinnamon-bun 🌸🌹🥀

Life has a funny way of throwing you off course. After enduring the heartbreak of infidelity, you find yourself diving headfirst into meticulous planning, determined to control every detail of your life. But on your 29th birthday, you realize things haven’t unfolded quite as you imagined. So, in a bold attempt to take back control, you craft a new plan: have a baby. And who better to ask for help than the one constant in your life —your close friend Namjoon? Drama ensues.

friends to lovers | friends with benefits?

ON-GOING

Something about you by @ahundredtimesover 🌸🌹🌺

You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you

Friends!au | vacation!au | PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC

Point of View by @muniimyg 🌸🍄🥀

a collection of slow-burn moments

The price of desire by @dreamersparacosm 🌸🌹🥀

What starts as business turns into something far more dangerous; it’s a game of seduction and sabotage, of whispered secrets and stolen moments. He wants more than carefully curated press releases and polite smiles. He wants you. And he doesn’t care what it costs

Miniseries | idol!jk and corporate girl boss!reader | 'we shouldn't but we can't stop' trope | enemies to lovers ish | grumpy girl boss x cocky idol

The Jeons by @justarkive 🌸🌹🥀 🌺

a collection of chaotic familly drabbles

family!au | non-idol JK

Parasocial by @youthguk 🌹🥀

Everyone in your circle knew that where there was you, Jungkook wasn't far behind. It was just your natural state of being - together. Your relationship had this beautiful, messy way of coloring outside the lines of typical friendship. But somewhere between algebra homework and growing pains, his protective streak went from "adorably concerned" to "intensely involved in literally everything."

best friends with benefits | childhood friends | cheating | toxic dynamics

Every Breathe You Take by @focusonkayjay 🌸🌹🥀 🌺

Nine years ago, an argument tore apart the unshakable bond you shared with your childhood best friend of 15 years, Jeon Jungkook, leaving behind scars too deep to ignore. Now, nine years later, unforeseen circumstances have brought you back to your hometown, Busan from Seoul, and fate forces you to reunite with him.

Sharing the same tight-knit friend group means constant, unavoidable encounters with Jungkook... each one stirring up unresolved tension, bittersweet memories and... regret. Torn between the idea of mending what was broken or keeping your distance, you also carry a dark secret: the real reason you’ve returned to Busan, a truth you’re determined to keep hidden at all costs.

restaurant owner!jungkook x model!reader | childhood friends to enemies (kind of) to lovers | slow burn

stuck with you by @focusonkayjay 🌸🌹🥀 🌺

Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

computer sci major!jungkook x econ major!reader | shy/nerdy!jungkook x popular/influencer!reader | college au | roommates au

All This Time? by @jimxnslight 🌸 🥀

Another day, another boyfriend caught cheating. You’re hardly surprised, but before you can even process another one of many betrayals, your best friend Jungkook offers a solution: a blind date. The twist? The guy Jungkook has in mind might not be a stranger at all.

friends to lovers

ego season by @sparklingchim 🌹🥀

your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.

hockey player!jungkook x rich girlie!OC | college au | friends with benefits | brother's best friends

Heartweave by @chrrybbmb 🌸

... in which jungkook realises his heart is caught in your web

spiderman!jungkook | cringefail!jungkook | both are in denial of their feelings

Sexy Disasters With Feelings by @kooppss 🌹

Jungkook is your roommate. Did everyone tell you it’s a bad idea? Yeah. Did you still think you could handle it? Yep. So here you are, trying to keep your promise that 'you’ll never fuck another fuckboy again.' Good luck with that.

I hate you, I think? by @cosmorice 🌸🌹🥀

CEO!Jungkook and you have an odd relationship filled with tension and chaos; but is it hatred he truly has for you?

CEO!jungkook x Reader

Server Room by @mister0ctopus 🌸🌹

Your first impression of your new IT guy? Shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see it, right? Right?

Office au | Mini series

Play you like a game, boy by @lilliankoo 🌹🥀

he looks like an angel but is a devil- well that's what your kingdom thinks. he is also the blessed leader of tribe "lav"; even a leaf cannot move without his permission but here he was in-front of you on his knees. while the whole tribe bows to him- he only bows to you. now, there are two paths presented to you- marry him & return his love or refuse & watch him conquer your father's kingdom. power is an evil yet a tempting apple-and now its in your hands- are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt others? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

antagonist! tribe leader jungkook x princess reader

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Press One for Love, Two for Regret

Chapter 2

Summary: Proper confessions should never happen over the phone. Viktor knows that. So how did he get here?

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Mature (mentions of explicit content, explicit in last chapter)

Notes: This was originally supposed to be a real quick one-shot. And yet, here I stand, offering you a three-chapter fic that is probably going to be a little under 10K total. Like a stray cat proudly bringing you a dead squirrel. I'm bozo the fool and I can't stop writing about Viktor.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4/End)

In theory, you’re pretty sure being a hitman should be fun.

There should be something thrilling about following someone around, tracking their every move in the shadows, finding the perfect opening to shoot them right between the eyes. The hunter and the prey. Riveting stuff.

Except you're not a hitman. And you're not tracking down someone to shoot them.

You're a dumb, stupid idiot. And you're just trying to talk to your dumb, stupid best friend who is doing everything in his power to not talk to you.

And he's quite good at it too; it's like he's vanished from the space-time continuum itself. No one has seen him, no one has talked to him, no one has even heard of where he might be hiding. It's almost annoying how good Viktor is at everything he does.

You hadn't managed to sleep the rest of the night of what you now refer to as ‘The Call’. You watched the minutes pass one by one on your alarm clock, eyes wide open, mind bustling with too many questions to go to bed.

At six am sharp, you deemed you had waited long enough to stomp your way to Jayce's and Viktor's apartment. You weren't even sure of what you were going to say; you just had to talk to him. You couldn't let that conversation end the way it did.

You knocked firmly five times before Jayce cracked the door open with an audible groan, hair tussled, eyes barely open. It seemed he, too, hadn't spent a very restful night.

It took a few seconds for him to even register who was standing at the door; when he did, he visibly straightened his back in an attempt to look awake and composed.

Unfortunately for him, it did not work very well.

“H-hey,” he stammered, leaning against the doorway in false non-chalence. His voice was still heavy with sleep, and he audibly cleared his throat. “It's a little early, isn't it? The ol’ operating system usually only boots up when the sun is out,” he added jokingly, pointing a finger toward his forehead.

A valiant attempt at breaking the obvious tension, but you refused to budge. You glared at him, decidedly looking into his eyes.

“I need to talk to Viktor.”

Jayce made a strangled sound, which he tried to hide with a theatrical coughing fit.

“You… just missed him?” he managed to choke out with uncertainty. He was visibly trying to convince himself just as much as you. “He left to go prepare the lab. You know him, always doing extra research.”

He flashed you a smile, a practiced grin with perfect teeth that might have seemed genuine in other circumstances. But his bottom lip was quivering, and you could see Viktor's daily use cane leaning against the coat rack right behind him. Jayce was not exactly a master manipulator.

“Jayce, the university doesn't even open until seven thirty.”

He deflated at that, his large shoulders comically lowering. You could see he was thinking desperately for anything to say, but coming up empty-handed. Chances were he hadn't had his coffee yet, which knowing him, considerably lowered his ability to formulate coherent thoughts.

You were starting to feel bad; the poor guy was stuck being the literal last defence to his roommate, and he was genuinely giving it his best. Jayce might not have a career in acting, but he was a good friend.

That was more than you could say about yourself.

“Ok. I get it,” you sighed. “He needs space. I can respect that. Just… tell him to call me later, alright? Even just a text would be fine.”

Jayce seemed profoundly relieved you had agreed to back down, something you almost always refused to do under any circumstance. Yes, technically, you could stay put in front of that door and progressively chip away at Jayce's still barely conscious mind until Viktor decided to show himself.

But you felt guilty. Guilty for not realizing how he felt, guilty for treating him like your personal diary over the phone, guilty for not saying how you felt sooner. The conversation should be on Viktor's terms rather than your own.

“Yeah, I'll tell him,” Jayce gave you a small smile, comforting and honest. The next words came out less encouraging than he likely intended: “I'll try.”

But now, it's been a week since ‘The Call’, and Viktor has still shown no sign of wanting to talk. Your phone is frustratingly devoid of unread texts or missed calls no matter how often you check it. Your world feels like it's been spiralling out of control a little more every day, the uncertainty of everything left unsaid weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It's torture, and you can't help but feel like you kind of deserve it.

You should have known better than to call Viktor when you were drunk, and yet, you still did. Because there's nothing more natural to you than talking to him. It's become second nature, as natural as breathing or blinking.

Viktor is always so smart, and so composed, and so understanding, and so helpful- and he's probably the only person who likes hearing you go on rants for hours on end. How could you ever want to talk to anybody else after a breakup?

But when you're drunk, you lose the already feeble control you have over your verbal on-and-off switch. Everything spews out of you without a filter, as if you're vomiting all the thoughts that go through your mind one after the other. It's cathartic, for sure, but then you end up saying things that should never be said to the best friend you've secretly been in love with for years now.

Things like how your ex never took time to finger you properly, or how he had this stupid obsession with men not going down on women because he was an ungrateful asshole.

And then, those two little words.

“I would.”

There was no hesitation in his tone, no uncertainty. It was like he had the sentence on the tip of his tongue for the last two hours you had been whining to him. Like he had been waiting to say it for too long to contain it anymore.

The irony was that you had spent the last four years trying everything in your power to not let those stupid little words out too.

—

You met Viktor at your first university's faculty Christmas party.

You hated work parties.

You had only gotten the position of academic advisor a few months prior, and in that time you hadn't managed to form a single bond with any other employee in your entire department. It was always the same; you talked too much. You were too intense. You were tiresome.

You were you. And that was something a lot of people didn't like.

Needless to say, you didn't want to go to that stupid party. Everyone would split up into groups of friends and previous acquaintances, and any attempt at joining the conversation would result in discreet sighs and rolling eyes. Yet you still went, partly out of obligation, but also in the hopes something that night might be different for you.

But it hadn't been, and you were alone.

So you did what any well-adjusted adult did when they were faced with the indisputable fact they were the party outcast; you drank.

After one glass of cheap white wine, you felt more relaxed, less stiff. Just a nice amount of mellowed out.

After two glasses, you started to forget the self-preserving instinct of not approaching others. ‘Maybe you could try talking to someone, after all. It could be worth a shot.’

After three glasses, you forgot why you were so apprehensive in the first place. You were great! You rocked. You had so many things to say there was absolutely no way someone wouldn't love to hear all about it.

…but maybe you could get a fourth glass, first.

You headed back towards the drinks table, a little less steady and a whole more lot confident. So confident, you didn't realize you bumped right into someone's chest until a hand grabbed your arm to keep you upright.

“Ah, are you alright?” came a heavily accented voice above you. ‘Eastern European,’ you thought absentmindedly. ‘Ukranian, maybe Czech. I wonder if he knows they created the sugar cube…’

You took an unsteady step back, peaking up at the man blocking your way to the wine bottles.

‘Wow, he's handsome’, was your first, immediate thought.

“Wow, you're handsome,” were your first, immediate words.

The man spluttered in surprise. In all fairness, he probably hadn't been expecting for a stranger at a faculty party to be so direct. If you were still at glass number two, you might have realized it wasn't a very appropriate thing to say in this specific context.

But you were at glass number three and unabashedly staring at the man's face, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose.

That was the moment you realized he wasn't a stranger.

You knew him. Not his name, or who he was, but you felt absolutely certain you had seen him before. You scanned your jumbled brain for the memory of his face. So beautifully sculpted, like he was made of stone. You knew him, you had it on the tip of your tongue-

“Miss?” the man asked, seemingly unsure whether to be perplexed or worried at your silent glaring. “Would you like me to help you sit-”

“Tuna sandwich!” you yelled with a huge grin. A few other partygoers turned towards you in confusion, but you were much too overjoyed at the epiphany you were experiencing to realize.

The man blinked slowly. Then once again, like he was trying to process whether or not he had understood correctly. His head cocked slightly to the side in bewilderment.

“… I'm sorry, what did you say ?”

You poked his chest with an insistent finger, beaming: “You're tuna sandwich! The tuna sandwich guy!”

The man looked to the side warily, mouth opening and closing, visibly searching for some kind of help. When he found none, his golden eyes fell back to you, catching the glow of the ceiling lights. The spark of an aurora through the night sky.

“I'm… afraid I truly have no idea what you're talking about,” he explained gently, the warmth of his hand leaving your arm. You deflated a little at that, the notion of embarrassment creeping back in you.

But he hadn't left. He was still here.

He was listening to you.

“My office is next to the cafeteria,” you started, straightening your dress and trying to appear more professional. “I see you, every day, at eleven forty-five, before morning classes end. I always thought that was smart, because you get to skip the lunch rush and there's still a lot of choices for meals.”

The man seemed bemused by the comment, but didn't show signs of wanting to take off. That made you regain some of your drunken confidence.

“But you always take a tuna sandwich,” you continued. ”That's it. Every day. You never buy anything else. It's always the tuna sandwich at eleven forty-five.”

He let out a confused chuckle, the ghost of a teasing smile on his lips.

“I didn't realize I had an audience.”

His presence had been so hypnotic you barely even realized what you had been saying.

‘Oh God, that sounded creepy, didn't it?’

“Don't flatter yourself,” you quickly added, embarrassed, looking away to stare at a particularly interesting stain on the floor. “I look at what everyone's doing. It's my job to.”

He hummed mirthfully, his golden gaze fully amused now:

“And what job would that be? Voyeur?”

You almost choked on your own spit.

“Guidance councillor, smart guy,” you countered, feeling your cheeks heat up. How was a stranger rattling you this much? You were usually the one whose words left others confused. “I look at people, and I figure out what they want in life. I help them find careers. I’ll have you know that's an extremely important task, mister-”

You squinted at the sticky nametag on his chest, trying to decipher the very slanted handwriting. You vaguely remembered the blue stickers were reserved for teachers.

“…Professor…?” you struggled weakly, hoping he would fill in the illegible part.

He thankfully seemed to find your attempt more endearing than insulting.

“Just call me Viktor,” he answered with a sincere smile. His lips were slightly crooked, the left dimple just barely more present on his left side than his right. There was a tiny little beauty spot next to his cupid bow; the thought that it would be nice to lick it just to confirm it wasn't a speck of the chocolate cake flashed in your mind.

‘Focus, focus!’

“Tell me, Viktor,” you cleared your throat. You had to get it together. This was the longest conversation you had been able to maintain with a fellow faculty member without them looking like they wanted to run away. “Why tuna? There's so many other sandwiches to choose from. You could take the egg salad, or the turkey sub, or the spicy chicken…”

You were definitely being too insistent on the tuna thing. If he didn't think you were weird before, he would now.

And yet Viktor still didn't leave. He considered your question seriously, taking a few thoughtful seconds to answer:

“It's the only one with multigrain bread. Very low fat for a good source of omega-3 and protein. And I don't dislike it, so it makes the most sense as a daily meal,” he mused, almost like it was the first time he had ever thought about it, too.

Huh.

“That's a sad way of looking at things,” you commented before thinking.

Before you could mentally swear at your debilitating lack of restraint, Viktor countered the statement with seemingly genuine curiosity:

“How so?”

You had a chance to say something cute and short, and leave the topic at that. It would be a major win for you; your first enjoyable talk with a coworker. Maybe you would even exchange email addresses by the end of the night.

Or…

You could be yourself. Let the floodgate of constant thoughts and observations pour out for a minute. Show this random handsome man who you were, really.

Had you not been drunk and sound of mind, you would have gone for the former. But as it happened, you were quite drunk, and you chose the latter. You took a deep breath before speaking:

“Means you only value food as something that's needed, like taste and flavour isn’t important. You deny yourself basic pleasures out of fear you'll get used to them and grow complacent. You're probably the type of guy who slaves away in his office for hours, not even realizing he's hungry, because it's lost all relevance to him.”

The silence that followed felt eerie. The expression on Viktor's face was blank, mouth barely agape, brows slightly furrowed. You had fucked it up, again.

“Sorry,” you muttered, feeling incredibly foolish. “That was overstepping.”

“No, actually,“ Viktor responded almost eagerly, the sparkle in his eyes bright, “Keep going. What else can you tell?”

There was palpable interest in his tone, in the way his body leaned slightly closer to yours. He wanted to know. He wanted to listen to you.

“The tuna sandwich is twenty-five cents cheaper than all the other ones,” you continued slowly, afraid of breaking the spell that was keeping him attentive to your words. “Usually a sign of a lower class upbringing, shows that you're used to thinking with a controlled budget, even if you don't need to anymore. You likely value hard work and commitment.”

You paused once more to gauge his reaction, but he didn't say anything, clearly waiting for you to continue. So, you did.

“It's always eleven forty-five sharp. You're precise, mechanical. Probably in the department of medicine, or some form of applied science. Am I right?”

“Biomechanical engineering,” he specified with a baffled smile. “Incredible. All that from a sandwich?”

You shrugged, feeling giddy under the weight of the compliment. It was so utterly rare that anyone would actually enjoy your rambling.

“I notice things about people, and I tell them. Couldn’t quite cut it as a detective or a psychologist, so it makes me an ok guidance counsellor,” you smiled, adding an audible wince. “But the person you really gotta avoid at parties.”

He laughed at that, a pretty, earnest sound, slightly low and nasal. The kind of laugh that would make the heart of a weaker person skip a beat.

You blamed the fact that yours did in fact skip a beat entirely on the alcohol.

“I-I'm sure what you do is a lot more impressive, though,” you quickly stammered out. Why were you stuttering?

He shrugged, bony shoulders visible through his button-up shirt. A few beauty marks decorated his neck where the collar didn't reach; you wondered how many more the fabric was hiding.

“Eh, I wouldn't bet on that. Gait analysis, prosthetic limb design. Much less creative than one might think,” he commented with a certain indifferent boredom; yet there was a certain light in his eyes that spoke otherwise. Maybe he was also the type of person people didn’t listen to much. “But it does feel rewarding to do something for others who might not have my luck.”

He pointed down with his chin, and for the first time since you began talking to him, you realized he was holding a cane.

You, whose only redeeming quality was having good observational skills, hadn't noticed the man you had been talking to for the last ten minutes was holding a cane. A refined-looking one at that, with a deep burgundy tainted wood for the shaft, and a sleek handle the colour of tarnished gold. ‘Maybe if you stopped looking at his face for a goddamn second you would have noticed’ you scolded yourself.

“Ah,” you blurted out pathetically. “That's… that's really cool.” You were looking at his fingers. You were looking at his long, slim fingers holding his cane, calloused yet delicate, and you were imagining them in places they should definitely not be in.

You had absolutely no idea what you had just said to him.

Yet Viktor only seemed more amused, his smirk growing ever so slightly.

“Yes, I also like to think of it as ‘cool’, from time to time.”

A drink. What you needed was another drink. Then perhaps you would reach a level of enlightenment where you would remember how to not look like a complete fool in front of attractive professors, who probably did quantum physics as a hobby.

As if he had read your mind, Viktor shifted in the direction of the drinks table, giving you a knowing smile. Were you so easy to read, or was he simply so good at reading you?

“I’d offer to bring you a glass of wine, but I believe that may have been your original intention before reading my palm,” he joked.

‘It's nothing like fortune telling, it's just logical analysis !’ part of you wanted to retort.

‘Give me your palm and I'll show you what my real fucking intentions are,’ purred the other one.

If you didn't get out of here now, you would say something that would definitely end your career before it had even taken off.

“I think I'll probably head home for the night. I've already had a little too much to drink,” you smiled hesitantly. Understatement of the century.

You could have sworn you saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Then again, you had probably imagined it. If anything, he was likely relieved he had finally managed to escape the babbling lunatic. Someone like him, so brilliant and accomplished, had no reason to willingly listen to the ramblings of a glorified high school school councillor.

But…

“But… maybe you could give me your number?” you asked hesitantly, taking one final, vulnerable leap of faith. “Just for work, of course!”, you added hastily.

Viktor did not seem angry or disgusted at the proposal; in fact, his smile widened, revealing a slightly uneven row of teeth. Cute. Everything about him was attractive.

“I would like that,” Viktor said softly, amber eyes warm. “I did enjoy hearing you talk.”

Your heart made a heavy, dull thud. With a small wave, he was gone, disappearing somewhere into the crowd like he had been nothing more than a hallucination conjured up by the cheap wine.

Your first work friend.

A potential real friend. Someone who genuinely didn't seem to hate the sound of your voice.

It was much too precious to lose over some passing, drunken attraction. You absolutely had to crush these emotions now to prevent them from becoming anything serious. After all, it wasn't like you had a shadow of chance with someone like him.

Perhaps for the first time in your life, you decided to stay silent about something, no matter what would happen in the future.

He couldn't know.

You would never let him know.

[sarahsmi13s]

Please, Be in the Chair, Dad

Tell Them Universe

pairings: jake 'hangman' seresin x wife!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n seresin, grayson seresin, kennedy seresin

warnings: third person pov, parents fighting, arguing, mentions of canon dangers of being a pilot, anxiety, please let me know if missed anything

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: this is based on a request! thank you @tia--2323 'Tell Them' Universe

summary: the first time grayson stood up for his mom

Grayson sat on the couch, trying his best to flip through the channels and find something to watch. He had been tasked with keeping Kennedy occupied while his parents talked in the other room.

He wasn’t quite sure what his mom and dad were talking about, but apparently it was very much an adult conversation – given that they told him to take his sister to the living room and turn on the TV. The volume was turned up loud enough that it muffled the sounds of the conversation, but didn’t totally drown it out.

While he had been raised to respect privacy and not eavesdrop on conversations, Grayson couldn’t help it this time. When Y/N told him to take Kennedy to the living room, her voice sounded tired and strained. It roused a fear in his stomach, an unsettling churning somewhere in him that told him he needed to pay attention to this one.

Eavesdropping one time wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Jake, all that I’m asking is that you stay home! I know you’ve been working late, I know that. But one night, that’s all I’m asking.” His mom’s voice was desperate – pleading even.

And she was right, Jake had been working late. He was coming home well after dinner completely exhausted. Y/N was staying up after bathtime, putting Kennedy to bed and sending Grayson to his room to wind down before bed.

“Y/N, it’ll just be one drink. I should be back in time for bedtime,” Jake said, his tone bordering on dismissive. It made Grayson ear twitch, his fingers making quick work to turn the volume down.

“The kids miss you, Jake – I miss you.” There were tears in his mother’s voice as she spoke, a punch to his gut. He hates that sound, the sound of his mom hurting.

Grayson’s stomach dropped in anticipation, straining his ear to hear what his dad had to say. Jake had always been good with conversations, at least that Grayson is aware of. So surely his dad wouldn’t say anything to make his mom feel worse.

Right?

“You miss me?”

The tone in his father's voice made Grayson sit up straight. He didn’t like that.

“Yes! Of course I miss you! You’re my husband for God’s sake. I’m not trying to control you or saying I don’t trust you. I just want you at home.”

“Then I need you to show me. Because to be honest, home doesn’t feel much like home lately.”

“I do show you, Jake. Every night, I’m waiting for you to get home so you can have dinner. I sit with you even though I am exhausted because I love you and I want to hear about your day. If I didn’t miss you, I wouldn’t do that,” Y/N drew in a shaky inhale, tears closing her throat as she tried not to sob out the last sentence. “And you’re right, home doesn’t feel like home – because you’re not here.”

If his mama’s broken, tearfilled voice didn’t push him off the couch, what Jake tried to pull next certainly would have.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? You know damn well-”

“Don’t talk to my mom like that.”

Both of his parents looked at him, watching his moves carefully as he put his 12 year-old frame in front of his mother’s. 

“Gray-”

“No, Mama, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” Grayson said, feeling bad for interrupting her but knowing that he couldn’t let his dad get away with the tone he used.

Grayson fixated his eyes on Jake’s, the similar shades of green meeting each other in a battle.

“You may be the adult here, Dad,” he almost spit the name out, almost mocking the authority it held. “But I’m the son that isn’t letting anyone disrespect his mom, especially not her husband. Not the man that’s supposed to love her.”

Despite the anger in his throat, a twinge of anxiety roused in his chest. He wasn’t worried about anything getting physical, even now he knew his dad would never raise a hand to him. But he didn’t want a verbal argument to ensue, scaring his mom and his baby sister. 

But, all Jake did was cross his arms, nodding for Grayson to continue.

It didn’t quell the anxiety, but it helped Grayson to stand up straighter and hold his ground a little firmer.

“I’m here every night. I’ve sat at that table every night for the last eight months and stared at an empty chair. I watched Mom check her phone habitually, waiting for a text or a call from you. Do you know how often she checked the door? Praying a chaplain wasn’t about to ring the bell? How many times I got to the mailbox first so she didn’t have to be the first one to see the letter telling her you weren’t coming home?”

Tears stung Grayson’s eyes and he clicked his jaw as he shook his head. “No one is saying you not being home is your fault. We understand that this is your job. But please, be in the chair, Dad. One night, please.” 

Grayson’s vision was slightly blurry, tears clouding his vision as he looked his dad over. He wasn’t sure what to expect from him now. 

Jake’s jaw flexed before he cleared his throat. He looked at the floor, hiding his face as his eyes began watering as well. He sniffled, his arms uncrossing so he could put his hands on his hips.

“Okay…”

A weight lifted off of Grayson’s chest and he let the tears fall. He nodded, not bothering to hide his feelings as his voice cracked. “Thank you…” 

And, while he was glad he was able to get through to Jake, the issue wasn’t resolved yet.

“Please apologize.”

Jake nodded and patted Grayson on the shoulder, letting him know it was okay to stand down. Grayson took the hint and stepped to the side, his arms now crossing over his chest as he watched his parents interact. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew his mom was okay.

Y/N looked up at Jake, a waiting but patient look on her face. Her arms stayed wrapped around her stomach, clearly still upset.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix it and I can’t make excuses. Grayson’s right. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. Not when you do so much for me, for this family. I was out of line, accusing you like that. I’m sorry, I’ll work on it. I love you.” 

Y/N nodded, sniffling as they pulled each other into a hug. “Thank you, Honey. I love you, too.” Jake kissed her head, holding his lips there with his fingers in her hair. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie? I want to talk to Grayson for a minute, we’ll be in there in a moment.” She nodded again and pecked his chest before turning to her son.

“I love you, Gray,” she said softly before hugging him and kissing his head. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling against her shoulder. “I love you too, Mama.” 

She walked away, shaking out the tension in her hands before wiping her tears and walking to the living room. “Oh, hi baby girl…” Her cheery, motherly tone eased Grayson’s anxieties significantly as he looked at his dad.

Grayson stood up straight, his chest puffing out a little in pride. He didn’t know what Jake was about to say to him, but he would walk away knowing he did the right thing.

Jake leaned against the counter, arms crossed again as he looked at his boots. “That must have been a lot, hearing me talk to your mom like that…” Grayson nodded, his arms crossing as well, “Yes sir. You shouldn’t talk to someone you love that way. Even in arguments.” 

His dad nodded, looking up at him. “You’re right, they shouldn’t. Thank you for reminding me of that.” Jake rubbed his jaw, sniffling a little. “I know you know that life won’t always work out that way, and me and your mom won’t always say the kindest things to each other – it doesn’t mean we love each other any less. I’ll spare you that talk, for now.” 

“I know,” Grayson said softly, an airy sigh behind his words. “But I don’t like it when she cries. And you shouldn’t be the one making her cry, Dad.” 

“You’re right. And I’ll work on it. I’m tired and I’m stressed, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have used that tone, I was only making us both more stressed.”

Jake stood up straight, grunting a little as he clapped a hand down on Grayson’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m proud of you, son. For standing up to me like that, standing up for your mother like that.”

Grayson felt the emotions surge in his chest, his arms falling to his side as he swallowed the lump. “I learned from the best.” 

Jake gave him a watery smile before pulling him into a hug. “I love you, kid.” 

He hugged him back, tightly. “I love you too, Dad.”

it's been awhile since i posted something related to this series! it was really fun jumping back into it! i hope you all enjoyed and i'm so sorry if i missed any tags!

thank you again @tia--2323 for the request! this was so fun to write!

tags <33 ( you can also follow @vinnys-recordcollection and turn on notifs!):

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[kazuhahalol]

— workplace sunshine | five hargreeves x f! reader

five gets a new partner on the job and wonders if life is really worth living.

warnings: nsfw implications

Disclaimer: Everyone is welcome on my page and I will not turn you away. However, it is your fault if you’re uncomfortable or peeved with my writing because I give multiple warnings prior to my content. thanks!

masterlist

The CIA office smelled like burnt coffee and old carpet—about as thrilling as Five had imagined it would be when he begrudgingly accepted the job. He was neck-deep in evidence on a group he’s been keeping tabs on, “The Keepers”.

“This is your new partner,” came the deep voice of his boss, Lance Ribbons.

He didn’t bother looking up. “Great,” he muttered, flipping a page. “Maybe they’ll know how to file these without stapling everything upside down.”

When he finally glanced up, there you were. You practically bounced into the room, all soft eyes and bright smiles. During your training, you’ve had the pleasure of hearing all of his stories from Ribbons, and you could only be amazed seeing him in person.

“Hi! You must be Five! It’s so great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you!”

He stared at you, unimpressed. “That’s unfortunate,” he said dryly, turning back to his papers.

Your smile didn’t waver. “Don’t worry! I’m great at teamwork, communication, leadership, yeah, just ask and I totally got it! We’re going to make such a good team!”

“Mm,” he replied, already wishing he could fire you.

Ribbons smirked from the doorway, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Don’t scare this one off, Hargreeves,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice. “You’ve gone through three partners in six months. Derek is barely holding on.”

“Not my fault they couldn’t keep up,” Five replied without looking up, his voice as sharp as ever.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m broke and I really need this job.”

Five glances at you once more before shaking his head in annoyance.

Over time he’s found himself able to rely on you for simple tasks like taking over his shift. Right now, he was at his niece’s birthday party, so you took over for him. You picked up on his habits faster than his previous partners, handled your work with ease, and even covered for him when he needed to step away. It takes a few months for him to fully trust you, until you get a call from him.

“We’ve got a problem.” Five’s voice sounds out through the speaker.

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your leg over the other. “Apocalypse-level problem, or chicken wing-level problem?”

“Oh—shut up.” Five snapped. “Cant you be serious for once? The fate of the universe is about to collapse and you’re making jokes.” You could tell Five just rolled his eyes behind the phone.

You grinned. “What else am I supposed to do?Crash out and curse at everyone around me? That’s your job.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen carefully. I was right. The Keepers are an organization that knows about the time jumps my family and I have done in the past. This situation is not as tame as we thought it was. This isn’t just some fan club. I’ll explain when I get back, but I need you to pull the most recent voice recording I took from the gym—everything on their meeting. Got it?”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Yes,” he muttered. “Don’t screw it up.”

Five returned to the office after dispersing from getting drinks with his siblings, his usual scowl firmly in place as he made his way to his desk. It was late, and most of the building had gone home for the night. But you were still there, sitting cross-legged in his chair, listening to the voice recordings from his hidden mic.

“You’re in my seat,” he said flatly.

You glanced up, grinning. “You’re welcome, by the way. I worked on saving the fate of the universe while you were eating cake.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied, brushing past you to check the files. “You saved me time. That’s all.”

You spin around in his chair, staring up at him. “Stressed, aren’t you?”

Five didn’t even glance your way, his eyes fixed on the manila folder. “I’m always stressed. It’s called existing in a world full of idiots.”

You feel the sides of your lips twitch up as you stare him up and down. As he always looked like that? You stand up and approach him, lifting a hand towards his hair. You mess with the brown locks of his scalp, causing him to stiffen.

The reaction was immediate. Five stiffened, his shoulders going rigid as his hand froze mid-page. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, his voice sharp, but the undertone of surprise betrayed him.

“You look like a mess.” You smirk, smoothing his hair down. Your faces were dangerously close.

He glared at you, though the faint pink creeping up his neck didn’t escape your notice. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am, still your partner.” You leaned casually against the desk, tilting your head as you watched him return to the files. “Admit it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on the documents. “Miss you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But you noticed how his fingers fidgeted slightly with the papers, a rare crack in his unshakable demeanor. The silence stretched between you, charged with something unspoken.

After a moment, he finally looked at you, his green eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something softer. “You’re lucky I’m too busy to deal with your nonsense.”

“Lucky, huh?” you said, smirking as you leaned in closer, your voice lowering slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Well don’t,” he replied, his voice was soft, but quick.

You stayed there for a moment, the air between you thick with tension. For once, Five didn’t pull away, and the way his gaze lingered on you felt different—less like irritation and more like curiosity.

“Well,” you said, breaking the moment with a low tone, “if you ever need some stress relief…you know where to find me.”

Five’s eyes narrowed, the sharp retort you expected faltering on his lips. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

“You should be careful with offers like that,” he said finally, his voice quieter, more deliberate. He stared at you for a beat longer, his jaw tightening as though weighing a decision. Then, with a barely perceptible smirk, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.”

[that-hazbin]

Happy New Year's, have an AU

AU where Alastor wasn't doing the horrible things that would land him in hell, and God panicked and realized that their Grand Plan of Redemption was falling apart from this single divergence. After all the hassle and headache of getting Charlie Morningstar into existence (TEN FUCKING MILLENNIA, LUCIFER, IT TOOK YOU THAT LONG TO SHAPESHIFT A DICK???), the Grand Plan can NOT be ruined because this one soul refused to go down and play their part.

Apparently, divine omniscience isn't good enough because it can't predict a Mama's Boy. Alastor promised his mama that he'd see her at the pearly gates, and he's damn well going to keep that promise. He's channeling all of his homicidal tendencies by airing out the dirty laundry of immoral scum on his not-so-legal radio broadcast. And anonymously sending the evidence to the news. And hey, you know what? Ruining people's lives seems to be a fate worse than death, because they're forced to live in misery! Mama was right, resisting temptation DOES grant reward!

(The temptation being homicide, and the reward being a fate worse than death, if he wasn't being clear.)

God is, of course, losing it, because one of the big pawns in getting The Grand Fucking Plan to work is not doing what they are supposed to, and seems to be on the track towards heaven. Which, what the fuck? HOW. That should not be POSSIBLE with a soul like this!

(Mama Alastor is just THAT good of a parent.)

So. God has to do something drastic here, obviously. They are NOT going to wait another ten thousand years for redemption to become possible, they've already waited long enough for shit like the EXTERMINATIONS to happen, and it'll just get worse in the future if they don't hurry this along.

God decides to do as their darling son Lucifer does, and makes a deal. With Alastor.

Alastor rejects the deal. Sorry, sir, his mama's waiting for him in heaven and he refuses to disappoint her.

God: Are you serious right now. Are you serious. I'm God.

Alastor: Yes, and?

God: I could literally grant you anything??

Alastor: I want to go to heaven and spend the rest of my afterlife with my mother. YOU want me to go to hell. Literally.

God: Well, yes, BUT. Once The Plan is finished, you can totally go to heaven afterwards?

Alastor: Uh huh. And how long do you anticipate this plan to take?

God, knowing full well that Charlie is mentally a teenager right now and is in no position to be making her dreams a reality for at least another century: UM.

Alastor: No deal, I'm not leaving my mama waiting.

To think, The Creator of All is DESPERATELY trying to get the cooperation of a mere mortal. Alastor is completely unmoved, and has made it clear that he only cares about his mother and her happiness. Which brings an idea to mind...

God: I could... make your mother a powerful figure in heaven?

Alastor: What? What use is power in heaven, isn't it already a paradise?

God: Uh. No, actually, otherwise heaven wouldn't be committing yearly genocide. Not all angels are virtuous, despite my best efforts.

Alastor: EXCUSE ME?!

Getting a deal was a lot easier after that.

Alastor kills a man (ONLY ONE, he can't disappoint his mama any further than that...) and then gets himself sent to hell. Fortunately, his deal grants him quite a lot of power to protect himself with! Unfortunately, he has a direct line of communication with God via sound waves. He hears God in his head. All. The. Time.

He has REGRETS.

All God seems to talk about is their favorite child, Lucifer, and The Plan. It is distracting and EXTREMELY annoying. Alastor knows more about Lucifer than any mortal in the universe, and he HATES IT.

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

If given the choice, would the RO's choose to keep their relationship with the MC a secret? :3 and as a sort of kinda follow up question, how would they react if they were walked in on? O.O (not doing anything NSFW or anything just kissing or something)

Not if they didn’t have to—but Kieran will tell mc they don’t care if mc wants to have any relationships outside of their engagement—it’s not like it’s uncommon considering marriages in-universe aren’t inherently romantic. All they ask is that—given the delicate nature of their betrothal—mc keep any other relationships discreet for now. They are of the mind that it would be prudent both for mc to not draw attention to themselves and not to feed into any court gossip/rumors or distract from the engagement; the two should appear to get along as a show of unity even if this is a farcical and forced union—but anything different would only make tensions worse both for mc personally and between their respective countries.

As for if they were walked in on:

Kieran: I mean they don’t really have to keep things discreet considering they’re engaged to mc, but they don’t like having an audience. Very begrudgingly steps back and goes back to ‘business-as-usual’ as if nothing happened, but if you know them well enough you’ll be able to recognize some small signs of annoyance at having been interrupted. >:/

Nihm: They would want to avoid getting entangled in a relationship with mc while they’re still engaged out of respect for mc and Kieran both, but if they were caught in a seemingly compromising moment, they’d be very embarrassed and would probably blurt out an explanation that absolutely does not help their case one bit. They would probably end up avoiding mc for a bit afterwards—mostly just bc they think it would be best so that they don’t make anything harder for mc and Kieran.

Lilith/Lucien: Depends on who walked in on them—if it’s someone who might make things difficult for MC and Kieran bc of this then they paste on one of their trademark kill-yourself-smiles and leave their unwanted visitor with a friendly pat on the shoulder and a black begonia pinned over their heart—most at court are familiar enough with L’s workings to recognize that’s a warning. :)

Samira: Absolutely does not want to be the reason things are any harder than they already are here for mc and so is definitely startled and guilt-ridden/ashamed at first. Hesitates only for a moment as if warring with herself over something before she follows after her unwanted visitor, assuring mc she’ll take care of it. Whatever she did or said to them seems to have done the trick—they’ve kept quiet. Sam is probably a bit more formal and cautious with mc for a while afterwards though.

Aurynn: Mostly views it as a pain in the ass :( bc now he’s gotta deal with whoever walked in before they blab and the mood is also probably ruined, but he’ll shoot his shot anyway; you—wait here, don’t go anywhere. He’ll be right back and don’t worry, he’s got ways of making sure they don’t run their mouth—whatever that’s supposed to mean. And then maybe we can pick back up where we left off, or is the mood just totally ruined now….?

[anzioraa0]

A Harry Potter Series. A Black Severus Snape – and How Human Hypocrisy Saddens Me

I just need to say a few words about this, because some people can be especially annoying.

(I don’t speak English, so if the text sounds awkward, I apologize in advance. 🤲)

Usually, when people talk about racism in the Harry Potter universe, they say there *isn’t* any. That’s how it’s always been — as long as we’ve been in the fandom, the topic just never comes up. Not in everyday conversation, not in the books. And it’s never been a problem. No one minds a Black Harry or Hermione. That’s totally fine.

But now — *now* — when a character who’s been harassed, insulted, humiliated, and discredited throughout the *entire damn saga* for the way he looks is suddenly reimagined as Black, suddenly everyone’s like, “uhhh…” And that “uhhh” really gets to me.

So — classism? Lookism? That's all fine, right? No one cares? But *racism*? Oh no. That’s an issue! “It completely changes the dynamics of the story!”

...But why would it? If there’s no racism in the wizarding world — which, as I recall, even Rowling has said — then what changes?

Assuming nothing changes about Severus except his appearance, that means his personality, his backstory, and how others treat him would all stay the same. So what’s the problem? Why is it so hard to believe that someone who acts like a bitter, adolescent jerk might not be loved by everyone? Why shouldn’t he be disliked, regardless of his race?

Does race grant someone a pass for behaving a certain way? No. It doesn’t.

And if we all supposedly don’t care about appearances, and the issue is with “the story’s dynamics” — what exactly is supposed to change?

He’d still be unbearable. He’d still be obsessed with the same things. He’d still hate everyone, just as before.

Harry hates *him*, Severus, because he’s a kid and this adult treats him like garbage.

“But Harry blames him for everything!”

Okay — and when Severus is white, that’s just... normal? But if he’s Black, suddenly it’s problematic?

I don’t get it. Again — *if* there’s no racism in the wizarding world, like Rowling said, then the dynamics of the relationships stay exactly the same.

So what, really, is the issue?

The thing is, this kind of setup makes almost everyone uncomfortable.

As the saying goes: if you want to see the solution to a problem, look at it from a different angle. And as it turns out, it works the other way around too.

A lot of what Severus represents — his story, his personality — often gets downplayed or viewed through a biased lens, usually through Harry’s or the Marauders’ perspective. Issues like bullying, the prejudice he faced because of his interests or appearance — those things became so normalized that people stopped seeing them as real problems.

And now, suddenly, those who used to enjoy mocking him are being forcefully dunked into cold reality. They’re being asked to accept a new version of the story — one that makes them uncomfortable. Suddenly, everything that happened to Severus becomes a nightmare, an embarrassment for those who used to justify how he was treated.

What changed? Why is this behavior now considered “unacceptable”?

Oh. He’s Black now.

Not because of some big story twist. Just his appearance.

And suddenly — bam — racism, a real and very loud issue in our world, completely recolors the narrative.

Now the loudest voices — the ones who used to shout things like:

“He deserved it for calling others ‘Mudbloods’!”

“He deserved the bullying because he wanted to be a Death Eater!”

“It was mutual hatred, not bullying!”

— have all suddenly fallen silent.

And instead, we get the same whining in both the Russian and English fandoms:

“This changes the dynamics of the story! The Marauders, Harry, Ron, Dumbledore — everyone! They all suddenly look racist! Harry constantly blames him and suspects him — this is a disaster!”

Different words, same excuses.

But has anything about Severus’s actions changed?

What’s different between white Severus and Black Severus?

Nothing — except now we, the audience, more used to seeing racism in the real world, notice the injustice. It becomes clearer. Easier to see.

And sadly, only under these circumstances do some people finally start to pay attention to the issue. It’s unfortunate, but what can you do?

Even a large portion of Snape’s own fanbase dislikes this casting choice. And — oh, the irony — I sometimes hear the same nonsense from them about how it “changes the dynamics” and all that.

But in 99 out of 100 cases, it’s just sadness. Sadness that they didn’t get to see the familiar image of their favorite character.

Massive respect to those who just come out and say, “I just wanted my greasy-haired bastard back” — without piling on all the nonsense about a rewritten plot, changed relationships, racial discrimination, and so on. Because that simply doesn’t reflect reality.

One more important point…

It really doesn’t reflect reality. For the simple reason that the show hasn’t even come out yet. We don’t know the rest of the cast.

What if Harry is cast as Black? Or Lily? Or James? Lupin? Peter?

What are those people — the ones currently screaming louder than a fire alarm about “wrong casting” — going to say then?

“Oh… well in that case, sure, it’s totally fine for them to insult and humiliate Snape like before. Because, uhh… he wanted to be a Death Eater! And he was mean to kids!”

I can already picture it.

We don’t know what the casting will be like, how the story will shift, whether the project will be well-made or an absolute disaster, whether it’ll succeed or flop completely — we just don’t know. So judging it all based on one actor is simply impossible.

But, like I said — this series is being made for a new audience. And whether we like it or not, it will bring something new to the saga. Whether that’s a good thing… we’ll see.

Those who want the canon, or Alan Rickman, know exactly where to go. And I’m one of those people. I was genuinely disappointed that Snape wouldn’t look canon — because I adore the books, and after being let down by the movies, I was hoping for someone who looked and felt more like book Severus — in appearance, in character, the full picture.

But this series isn’t being made for me. It’s looking for something different, and I’ll be happy if the directors really try and end up creating something genuinely good. Even if it’s not a copy of the books — the books already exist.

Rowling, despite all my personal negative feelings toward her, is involved in the production. And while that’s not a plus for me, for those who are especially worried about “violating canon,” maybe her involvement brings some peace of mind.

Considering the state of modern cinema… well.

We’ll see how it all turns out.

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 5 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

warning(s): weed mischief

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

You were sitting at your table, chatting amicably with everyone, when Gretchen finally graced you with her presence. She was glowing, that much you could admit.

"Hey, guys!" She gave an energetic greeting. You smiled and waved.

"Oh em gee, Gretch!" Regina said as she stood up. She was considerably taller than the bride, with killer heels that gave some significant inches. They did air kisses on each cheek and cooed and squealed for a little.

"It's been so long! You're so rarely in town I wasn't sure you'd come!" Gretchen enthused. Her husband stood on the sidelines, looking quite put out but trying to hide it.

"Oh, you know I always make time for you," A blatant lie but you weren't going to say anything about it. "I'm so happy you've found love!"

"Me too," Gretchen gushed, snaring her boo-thang by the arm. He'd zoned out so startled a little but recovered quick with a dashing smile.

"Hi, I'm Michael." Of course, his name was Michael. What was next? Chad? Tucker?

"Regina. Regina George." Regina said, then turned to you. "And this is my partner."

You stood up and shook his hand, then said your name. "Nice to meet you. Congrats."

Michael nodded, smiling uncomfortably. He'd seemed sociable and open with the other guests so you didn't get why he was being all shy now.

"Thanks!" Gretchen chirped. Her eyes flitted between you and Regina. "Sorry if this is abrupt, but you two are still together?"

"We did go on a break right before college." Regina chose her words deliberately. "But after that, we just couldn't resist. True love just pulls you in, doesn't it?" She put her arm around your waist and pulled you to her. You stumbled a little, falling into her. Your arms came around her neck.

Gretchen looked quite unsettled by the close embrace. "It totally does." She said, tone falling flat.

"Mmh. Well, what plans have you got? Honeymoon?"

"Michael's been planning it for us," Gretchen said. That surprised you considering she was such a control freak. Perhaps you were wrong.

"There's no keeping secrets from her," Michael laughed. "Surprising her is too damn hard." His Southern twang was prominent. Something was charming about him, you supposed.

"I just want it to be right, Mike!" Gretchen teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. "I've been better haven't I? I let Deborah do the flower arrangements."

"Yes, dear," Michael said, looking down at Gretchen with real, genuine love in his eyes.

Seeing them interact, so sweet on one another, made you sad. First of all, because you were so similar. You were on the same level, people just the same as them. Looking at them like this, in just the context of the moment currently playing out, you didn't want to ruin their wedding.

But you had history. Gretchen had outed you to the school in junior year of high school. It'd had devastating effects on your life as a whole. Your father went from cold neglect to open disdain, you lost the jobs you were doing around the neighbourhood, your peers ostracised you. Those close to you, Regina mostly, got targeted rumours spread around and more negative attention than ever.

Gretchen was not the sole reason for your and Regina's break up but definitely one of them. You had settled to forgive and forget when you came back to town, to stay away and not say anything in a silent, mutual agreement. You buried the hatchet and thought she had, too.

You should've known better. Watching her make googly eyes at her husband as if the things she did had no bearing, no weight, infuriated you. She had ruined your life. Things had progressed since you were in high school and outing didn't have quite the same fallout, but what she did to Kylie was still unforgivable. There hadn't been that much progress. Gay marriage was still illegal in some states.

"Man, Gretchen, seeing you like this brings me back." You said, eyeing her. "Those sure were the days," You sighed and played wistful.

The bride and groom shared glances. Regina picked up what you were putting down and got involved.

"You'll be seeing just how much of a wildcat she is, Michael," Regina said, laying it on thick. "You have my number, Gretch, just give me a call if you wanna relive old times on your wedding night." She finished off with a saucy wink. You almost couldn't hold in your laughter.

"Toodles," Regina wiggled her fingers and took you by the arm, leading you away.

Once you were a safe distance away, you asked: "Wonder if they'll talk about that in private?"

"About Gretchen being involved, allegedly, in a lesbian threesome sandwich? I'd bet on it." Regina grinned.

You steered towards the exit to the parking lot where your car was. You had the kazoos and water pistols in the trunk. Maybe you spent a good fifteen minutes pinning Regina to the side of your flashy vintage—Betty the Catalina, you introduced—sucking the soul out of her through her mouth. Making out. Whatever, that was neither here nor there.

While Regina set out to find a gullible mother to deceive into giving out kazoos and water pistols, you called a guy. Rick was his name and he owed you a favour. He happened to be the owner of several karaoke bars. He'd hook you up.

"Yeah, anything will do, just needs to connect to the loudspeakers—uhh, pretty new I'd say, nothing too fancy but they didn't skimp out, that's for sure—yeah, yeah, I'll give you the address. Can he get here in an hour? Maybe less? I can pay his speeding tickets, no worries."

After making sure a karaoke machine would be delivered to the reception, you strutted back towards the building. On the way, you spotted three youths huddled in a non-descript spot by some shed. They were only visible from the parking lot. You knew what they were up to.

"Hey, kids," You sidled up to them, prompting the tallest of them to fumble with the joint he was trying to light. He had acne all over and residues of black eyeliner on his eyes. He had a strip of hair dyed stripey like a racoon tail. It was pretty cool, to be honest.

"H- hey," He stuttered, voice cracking as he swiped some hair from his eyes. Oh, to be young.

"You got weed?" You decided to be blunt. (Ha, blunt.) The two others were shaking like leaves in their tuxedos.

"No. I don't, like, even know what that is," The ring-leader crossed his arms defensively and leaned casually against the wall of the shed. Or, well, he was going for casual but looked extremely spooked.

"Well, that's a damn shame 'cause I was just looking to buy some." You said and reached into your breast pocket to pull out your wallet. You opened it and pulled out a couple of fifties. "I got all this cash to burn. But, hey, if you don't got any..."

"You'd pay that much for weed?" The boy eyed the bills hungrily.

"I'll be straight with you, kid-"

"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen." He grumped. "Flint. Or Finnigan, I guess."

"Alright, Flint, I'm gonna put this bluntly. Your family sorta sucks." You looked at the other two. They were probably all cousins. Wouldn't tattle if Flint, the Cool One, told them not to. They didn't seem that much younger. As a responsible adult, you should've probably said something along the lines of 'don't smoke it's bad for you' but you were just glad they weren't shooting up or anything.

"Understatement of the century," He scoffed.

"Which side are you from, by the way?"

"The groom's." They all said in unison. That explained why you'd never seen most of these folk.

"I don't know much about him to be fair, but if he's shacking up with Gretchen I'm pretty sure they're equally sucky. Anyway, I'm trying to get everybody as fucked up as possible." You clarified, skirting around exactly what you were trying to do which was to ruin the wedding. Maybe these kids had better morals than you. "The bride sorta caused a rift between my girlfriend and I years back, outed me to the whole school, it was a scandal, we broke up and I spiralled. It was bad and I want revenge."

"She outed you? Like..." Flint looked around, looking scared someone was gonna hear. Nobody else was around. "Like you're gay?"

"I'm here with my girlfriend today." You said, smiling dopeyly. Your cheeks hurt. "I think we're back together. It's complicated. So, you wanna sell?"

"Hell yeah," He grinned, teeth crooked to the ninth degree. "Can we get in on it? Michael totally sucks, he orders us around like we're his minions or something."

The other two nodded along empathetically. They all had the same boxy, swoopy haircut that kept falling into their eyes. What luck that ran into the angsty teens of the clan.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to do without getting in trouble with your parents. Gotta be at least a little subtle."

Flint dug into his backpack and pulled out a plastic tupperware. There were some decent-looking nugs in there from what you could see through the frosted plastic. You handed over the cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you." You contemplated for a moment. "Any chance you could pull the fire alarm for the cake-cutting?"

The three matching evil grins were enough of an answer for you. Their little emo faces made your chest feel warm. You wanted to take them under your wing, or something.

"By the way, weed is fine. It's not great, I don't recommend it, but if you're gonna do drugs then this is best case scenario." You shook the plastic case in your hand. "Never do hard drugs. It's gonna make your hair fall out and teeth hurt like a bitch."

You left the three teenagers to smoke their blunt, knowing that your little shpiel probably went through one ear and out the other. You hoped they pulled through but if they didn't, you were planning on doing enough wicked shit that the sprinklers triggering would just be a cherry on top.

You found Janis smoking a cigarette at the same spot you'd been at earlier.

"You got a grinder?"

You opened the lid of the box, blasting the air with the potent smell of cannabis.

"Where the fuck did you get all that?" She asked as she reached into her purse.

"Not important. What is, though, is how we'll get the guests high."

Janis, the bright mind that she was, immediately got to work. You didn't even bother asking what she was up to when she crouched on the floor and began grinding away. She had fast hands, you observed, with how quick and clean she was rolling several blunts. Now that you saw clearly into the tupperware, lord almighty Flint had a lot of kush.

"What's the plan?" You asked after a moment, holding the box in one hand and blunts in the other. You stubbornly ignored the compulsion to stick one between your lips and light up. That was over for you.

"Find a Helen, a Beatrice, and or a Leigh-Anne, and convince them this is a miracle herb harvested from the government-protected, top-secret alpine springs of Florida, known for reversing wrinkles, repairing hymens, and with long-term use reducing hair growth neck down. It might even accelerate or delay menopause, depending on whose asking."

"Florida is the flattest state in the continental USA." You pointed out.

"Exactly." Janis didn't spare you a glance, just kept on rolling.

"So we're spinning a multilevel-marketing scheme on these people."

"Not really." Janis paused and turned to you. "We're just scamming them. Not even with money, with the devil's lettuce."

"That's arguably worse. I think this might be a felony."

"Oh, it definitely is."

Notes: The ball is rolling! At last! It only took five chapters good golly god.

Taglist posted seperately! If you want on it, comment so on that post!

[elvensorceress]

saturday snippet of longing and pining and being completely unaware of your own feelings! (feelings are hard, okay)

@tizniz @hippolotamus @livinginsunnyhell @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus @monsterrae1 @ronordmann @wh0rebehavi0r @epicbuddieficrecs @chaosandwolves @singitforthegirls @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @sofa-king-lame @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @blutterlie @sazanahashi @smilingbuckley @inell @bekkachaos @evaneds @rainbow-nerdss 💕

more of this 🥰

"I don’t know how anyone could not want you.”

Buck stares at him again with that piercing, soul-rending gaze that skewers directly through Eddie’s chest. But then Buck closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sardonic huff. “He’s straight. So. Doesn’t really work that way.”

Probably says something that Eddie’s first thought is, why not?

Why would it matter? Who would even care about sexuality if it were Buck offering his heart? Attraction is made up bullshit anyway. Who actually looks at someone and wants them when you know nothing about each other? Who wants to fuck just because they think someone is good looking? No one falls in love at first sight. It’s romanticized, telenovela fiction. And people lying to themselves because they’re lonely or want attention or orgasms or whatever. 

There’s a lot you can convince yourself of when you’re lonely, heartbroken, afraid you’ll die alone, afraid you’re a failure as a person, a husband, a partner. There’s a lot someone might do to be what other people want. There’s a lot that gets cut out and tucked away in order to be what you’re supposed to. 

All the more reason Eddie judges and dislikes anyone Buck dates. He’s totally justified. None of them get him and they don’t adequately appreciate him at all and Buck deserves all the love in the universe. At the very least, he deserves someone who will love him just as much and just as fiercely as Buck loves them. 

“Weren’t you ‘straight’ until Tommy?” Eddie asks. “Or— not that it was dependent on him, not that he did anything— but you thought you were straight until you realized you liked him. Right?” 

Buck looks at him, stares too hard at him for far too long and it makes goosebumps wash all over Eddie’s skin. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and swishing, churning flips through his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Buck answers quietly. “I don’t think that’s the case here though. Doesn’t matter. It’s not— It’s late. Too late. It’s really too late. We should sleep.”

Yeah. They should. Eddie has a long day of more packing to do tomorrow and another long distance tour with the realtor. Even if thoughts are whirling in his head. Too many thoughts. 

How does Buck know it’s unrequited? How does he know what he’s feeling now if he didn’t before? Did something change? How the hell would Tommy supposedly know if Buck didn’t know? 

How does Buck feel when he likes someone? 

How does anyone feel when they like someone? How do you know if you do? Is there supposed to be something you feel when you’re looking at someone beautiful? How would you know they’re beautiful if all you know about them is how they look? 

How do you feel anything for someone? Especially if you don’t know them? People say sex is better with someone you love, but is that more romanticized bullshit? Probably. Sex is overrated honestly. It’s fine. Mostly. Just. Not what everyone seems to say it is. Nothing earth shattering or life changing. Nothing all that intimate either. Not technically. It’s just distant, avoidant, using each other for a moment of relief. He and Shannon did it so they didn’t have to talk. When they didn’t want to talk or actually be close. They didn’t have to go on dates or bare their souls or anything. They could just take off some clothes. 

Isn’t that what everyone does? Isn’t that the difference between dating someone versus being friends with them? 

Is it supposed to be different? Is that why people like sex? Because it’s different for them? 

Does anyone actually feel the kinds of intense, fervent, passionate emotions that people make up stories about? Isn’t romance just another fantasy? Like fairy tale magic and otherworldly phenomena? Like dragons and unicorns and mythical creatures? It’s a nice fantasy, but still a fantasy. None of it is real. 

Love isn’t sex or attraction or beautiful people being beautiful. None of that is love. 

Love is sacrifice. Connection. It’s blood and battle and being torn apart. Giving up everything because there’s no alternative. Because you’re not whole anymore without the person you love. They’re part of you. So losing them is losing yourself. 

Is that all love is? Loss? 

Eddie reaches out and holds onto Buck’s shoulder. They should sleep. He’s tired, too. But there’s heaviness in his chest and a swirl of despair whirlpooling inside him. It’s small now, but it’s been growing and he needs to hold onto Buck. 

When it’s not enough to just grip his shoulder, Eddie lets his hand slide down until it’s again resting on Buck’s chest and he can gently rub back and forth a few times. He hopes it’s comforting. He hopes Buck knows he’s not alone. Eddie won’t let him be alone. Someone will love Buck the way he should be. 

A wave of envious aching crashes through Eddie’s chest and he swallows hard. Buck should be loved. Buck is loved. Maybe not the way he wants. But Eddie loves him. Every beat, every breath, every single shred of his soul holds love for Buck. It might not be enough, but it is there. Eddie would love him until Buck finds someone he wants who loves him properly. 

Eddie would love him after that, too. Even when Buck is happy and settled and doesn’t need him anymore. 

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and holds it tightly as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t turn back around. And he doesn’t let go. 

Eddie just wants to inch closer and hold tighter. 

There’s something faded, slipping away like tides and wet sand through his fingers. 

Why can’t he keep this?

Why can’t this be the answer? Why can’t Eddie love him the way he wants? Why can’t Buck love Eddie this way? Why can’t they be in love with each other?